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The Demon Crown
By Wulf (marawuti@spiritone.com)

***

Most people will tell you to steer clear of demons, 
especially in this business. Demons, they say, are 
treacherous, violent and unpredictable. They'll screw 
you every time. I must admit that I certainly did end 
up screwed after I met one particular demon. In several 
senses of the word. And that's not necessarily a bad 
thing. (MFF, fantasy)

***

CHAPTER I
---------

I'm a freelance by trade. From the two words "free," 
meaning unfettered and unencumbered, and "lance," 
meaning lancer, horseman, warrior, or soldier. In my 
case, I combine several talents -- I'm a fighter, but 
not a great one, a thief but not a highly skilled one, 
an assassin but not a subtle one, a horseman but not an 
outstanding one, and a wizard but not an accomplished 
one. While none of my skills is first-rate, I am 
second-rate at enough things that I can work a variety 
of assignments at an economical rate, with holiday 
discounts. 

I go by a variety of names -- I'm not even sure which 
one I was born with. I prefer Wulf, because it conjures 
up an image of me as a grizzled, northern warrior 
standing at the prow of a longship, an axe in my hand 
and fire in my eyes. 

It's a nice image. Too bad it's so far from the truth. 

In reality, I'm tall and rangy, with about enough 
musculature to propel me out of trouble at high speed 
when the going gets tough. I can pull and eighty-pound 
bow with some difficulty, but I'm not up to extended 
powerstroking with a Litharnan two-hander. My hair is 
naturally red, but it has a tendency to change, 
depending on who I'm running from, and what the current 
"wanted" poster looks like. 

I operate out of Stoneburg, the Free City, crossroads 
of the world, and home of the most corrupt and 
bribeable civil officials known to man, elf, or any 
other species. I'm most often to be found in an armpit 
better known as the Goblin's Eye, although I have a few 
other safe houses scattered around the Thieves' Quarter 
(some "quarter" -- it takes up two-thirds of the 
city...). 

It all started in the middle of a job. Tev the merchant 
had made more money than the rest of us thought seemly, 
and I was busy relieving him of some of it. 

Tev was certainly living well -- his mansion was lined 
with marble hallways, granite pillars and a whole lot 
of valuable (and, just incidentally, hand portable) 
artwork. Most of this was penny- ante stuff; while I 
took a few pieces to stay in practice, the real prize 
lay in Tev's crystal-roofed solarium, surrounded by 
alarms and traps, both magical and physical. 

It was a lovely bit of work -- a Xeshite erotic carving 
depicting a man, woman and tigress in an unlikely 
coupling which combined lyrical curves with skilled 
detail work. More than the aesthetic value of the 
piece, which was considerable, I wanted it because it 
was carved from a single chunk of Eish, a normally 
black mineral which refracted light shone on it into a 
shimmering rainbow of colors, and emitted light for 
several hours in darkness. 

I was busy overcoming a tricky pattern-spell, which 
wove an invisible network of magical lines all over the 
room, setting off alarms and pre-set missile spells if 
the lines were crossed. I was kneeling in the middle of 
an enchanted circle which I'd drawn with chalk, 
mumbling a counter-spell which would make the magical 
lines visible when I noticed a dim red glow in the air. 

At first I thought I'd set off a trap, but then I 
realized that nothing was happening to me, and no 
alarms were jangling. Then, to my surprise, I 
discovered that all the magical traps had vanished, 
leaving the way to the carving free and clear. I was 
about to thank providence for the event when I noted 
the source of the red glow. 

My heart leaped into my throat. 

I'd spent enough time on the frontier to know a demon 
when I see one; this one was a demon in spades. 

For the sake of the uneducated, I will now digress for 
a moment into a few paragraphs of exposition. Demons 
don't belong here. They showed up some centuries ago, 
having been thrown off their home plane and proceeded 
to make things really crummy for the rest of us who 
lived here. In fact, their name derives from the 
original misconception that they actually came from 
hell. The name sticks today, but "demons" as a race are 
considered distinct from "daemons," malevolent 
creatures of infernal origin. 

Some theorists even go so far as to suggest that the 
demons' arrival was somehow related to the cataclysm 
which shattered the old continent, transforming it into 
the scatter of islands, sub-continents and small seas 
which we live in today. After a time, things 
stabilized, and the demon realms remained separate from 
the realms of men, elves, dwarves, and all the other 
nasty little creatures. 

Although we're all technically at war with the demon 
isles, no one really takes it seriously anymore. 
Occasionally, we raid across each other's borders and 
cause miscellaneous havoc, and our various moronic 
rulers plan grand campaigns and threaten bloody war, 
but it generally comes to nothing. 

Contact between the realms is pretty much limited to 
the diplomatic level. I know that the White Emperor has 
several demon ambassadors at his court, but he's crazy 
and probably under their control, so he doesn't really 
count. Most of the rest of us never see demons, except 
on the frontier, where they're thick as flies. 

The individual confronting me was a demon, do doubt of 
it. Demons are never ugly in the traditional sense. 
Instead, they are all exceptionally beautiful, but with 
a disturbing undercurrent of the perverse, the lustful, 
the cruel. Needless to say, most humans find them 
fascinating. 

She was tall and voluptuous, all breasts and hips, with 
a swirl of night-black hair. Almond-shaped yellow eyes 
gazed at me from a chiseled, heart-shaped face, and 
thick, pouty, black lips parted to reveal sharp canines 
and a flicking, almost snake-like tongue. Her skin was 
a vivid crimson, decorated with flickering blue 
tattoos. She said nothing, but walked slowly forward, 
her high, black heels clicking on the marble floor. I 
continued kneeling, transfixed, in the center of my 
magic circle, unsure whether to fight, flee, or fall on 
my face and beg for mercy. 

As demons are highly resistant to mortal weapons, 
clothing and armor are a question of taste and fashion. 
This one had taste, but it was tawdry at best. She wore 
a lurid mixture of black leather, silvery mail and lace 
as tenuous as spider webs, seemingly inadequate to the 
task of confining the dangerous swelling of her 
breasts, but doing so quite nicely, thank you. A 
variety of implements of death and torture hung from 
her belt, and I did not for a moment think that any 
were just for show. 

"You're Wulf," she said, stating the fact with stark 
simplicity. Her voice could be described either as a 
chorus of evil angels or the enthused shriek of a 
masochist on the rack. Hard to imagine? I guess you had 
to be there. 

I nodded, dumbly, realizing that with all my 
considerable preparations, I had forgotten to pack a 
holy knife, one of the few items effective against 
demons and infernal guard-creatures. Shit. 

"No heartcutter, either?" she said, smiling sweetly, 
using the demons' name for the knife. "Shame, shame." 

She was reading my mind, too. Shit. 

"Such language from such an innocent-looking child," 
she continued, walking closer and squatting down at the 
edge of my circle. 

I finally found my tongue. "Who..." I swallowed. "Who 
are you calling innocent-looking?" 

If a viper could grin, he would look just like my 
voluptuous demoness did just then. "No one. I was just 
being complimentary. Actually, you have sin written all 
over you. I like that." 

"You would." I had pretty much given up on continued 
existence, so I was going to get in as many shots as 
possible beforehand. "So, are you going to kill me or 
what?" 

As she rose and stepped back, the viper-smile did not 
waver. "Or what? Exactly what does that mean? Do you 
mind if I get up?" 

"Certainly, although I've always liked men on their 
knees." 

The snake-tongue flicked across her thick lips once 
more. "And step out of that pathetic circle while 
you're at it. I could break it, but I don't feel like 
expending the effort." 

I believed her. My minimal protective spells had pretty 
much expired by this point in any event. I stood and 
stepped out. 

"Hm." She looked me up and down like a prospective 
horse buyer. "Not much meat on your bones." 

"Sorry to disappoint. I wouldn't make much of a meal." 
My heart raced furiously, but I kept up a bold front. 
"So, are you Tev's watchdog, or what?" 

She frowned. "Tev? Oh, you mean the master of the 
house. No, you won't have to worry about him or his 
guards. They'll be sleeping for quite a while. We're 
all alone." This last statement was punctuated with a 
lascivious glance through slitted yellow eyes. I 
shuddered. 

"So you doped the entire household just to talk to me?" 
I asked. "I'm flattered." 

"You should be. You come highly recommended." 

"By who? I don't have many customers who deal with your 
kind." 

"Her name is Livia," she replied. "We're quite... 
close." 

Gods... Livia. Sorceress, mercenary, fellow freelance 
with a moral code as flexible as a Xeshite python. We'd 
worked together in a variety of circumstances, and had 
actually managed to do some rutting under a waterfall 
in Kenth. Since then, much to my chagrin, she'd ignored 
my pleas for a return engagement, treating me as that 
most dreaded of companions, a "friend." I'd long ago 
come to the conclusion that my love and lust for her 
was doomed to remain unrequited. That she was keeping 
company with demons came as no real shock to me. 

"How close?" I asked, suspiciously. 

A giggle is a particularly ominous thing when it issues 
from a demon's throat. This demon gave it a rather 
lascivious twist in addition. I got the picture. 

"So." I said. "Exactly what did the little minx 
recommend me for?" 

"A job, among other things," she said with another 
secret smile. "My name is Narisha, by the way. Daughter 
of Lord Cammon the Flayer." 

My heart sank. "Defiler of Mie? Destroyer of Yitan? 
Assassin of the Nine Adepts? That Cammon?" 

"None other. Don't worry. He's not involved in all 
this. He doesn't even know I'm here." 

"Better and better. And if he ever does find out, I 
burn in hellfire and you get sent to your room without 
supper, right?" 

She rolled her eyes. "Such dramatics. You would think 
you'd never been approached by a prospective client 
before." 

Prospective client? I sat heavily down upon Tev's 
overly gaudy and expensive couch. It was the last thing 
I'd expected. 

"So what does a demon want with a human freelance?" I 
asked. 

"Not a well-known one, even." 

"Because it suits my purpose," Narisha said. "The job 
is one which I don't want other demons to know about, 
and I don't want to attract the attention of hiring 
anyone famous." 

"Gee, thanks." Praising with faint damns, this female 
was. 

She stood in front of me, feet planted widely, pulled a 
black leather riding crop from her belt and brandished 
it meaningfully. "I'm not praising with faint damns, as 
much as you might think I am. You're good. I know that. 
There is an item which I need retrieved, and you're the 
freelance I want to do it." 

I cast a nervous glance at the crop. "What's the item 
and where is it?" 

"Do you accept the job?" 

"I need more information." I knew that I was skating on 
thin ice here, as demons have notoriously short fuses 
and distressingly final ways of ending arguments. "If 
you're asking me to go steal the Gem of Ages from the 
Worldserpent's horde I'm afraid I'll have to refuse. If 
you want me to go knock over a beggar and take his cup, 
that's another story entirely." 

She considered this for a moment. I considered the fact 
that the whip didn't move to be a good sign. "Somewhere 
in between the extremes, if you must know." Her 
expression changed, becoming almost pleading. Gods, 
this was a first. 

"Yes!" she barked. "It is a first. I've never had to 
ask nicely for anything in my life. I lost something. 
Or, more accurately, something got stolen while it was 
in my care. Something that belonged to my father." 

"Go on." 

"We Only People -- " here, she used the demons' term 
for themselves -- "are nowhere near as united as you 
mortals think. We fight among ourselves constantly." 

"That much I know. I take it that a rival of your 
family took this 'item' and won't give it back? And 
your father will tan your hide when he finds out?" 

"Worse than that, I'm afraid," she said. "I could be 
banished." 

"Heavy," I replied. Banishment was a virtual death 
sentence, removing all family and racial protection 
from its victim, turning him out into a wide world full 
of enemies, both mortal and demonic. 

"I know that this is not a normal situation," Narisha 
said. "I'm at what you mortals call the end of my rope. 
I need help. I can pay." She reached into a pouch which 
hung at her belt between a coiled bullwhip and what 
appeared to be a pair of leather manacles, then held 
out her hand to me. My jaw dropped. There, nestled in 
her crimson palm, was a matched pair of ghost-gems, 
each worth an princeling's horde. It was said that the 
demons distilled the gems from souls in torment, but 
that was only a rumor. "One of these now. The other -- 
plus five more -- upon completion." 

I was astonished. I couldn't help myself. 

"Fuck me," I whispered. 

She giggled again, putting the gems away. "That could 
be arranged, too," she said, "but I was thinking of it 
only as a fringe benefit." 

With that, she stepped back, loosening the silver 
skull-buckle of her belt. The leather-and-mail tunic 
parted, revealing an expanse of crimson flesh, screened 
by black spider-web lace. She bore a variety of 
abstract blue tattoos, all of which flickered in the 
half-light. 

Demons also have the ability to inspire various 
emotions in lesser creatures. I wasn't sure whether the 
heart-hammering lust which swept through me was of 
magical or natural origin, and I didn't care. My 
breeches were feeling remarkably tight, but I my 
business sense still hung on like grim death. 

"What's the item?" I asked, panting as she slid her 
jacket off, exposing her magnificent breasts, large and 
ripe-looking, with prominent nipples the color of dried 
blood. 

"Oh, just a silly little crown," she continued. Long-
nailed fingers tugged at the lacing of her breeches. 
They were cunningly designed, capable of being removed 
without first taking off the black, knee-high boots she 
wore. A sinuous dragon flickered and writhed along her 
smooth, red haunch. You have to give those demons 
credit; what they don't know about sex isn't worth 
knowing. 

"And..." I muttered. Her hands pulled open my jerkin, 
effortlessly snapping the fastenings, and glided across 
my naked skin beneath. Her nails were long, black, and 
very sharp. "And..." I gritted my teeth. "...And who 
has this 'silly little crown'?" 

"Duke Janus, my father's rival," she whispered. "It's 
at his fortress in Hellmouth. Simple job, really..." 

She stood back, her exploring hands withdrawing. She 
was clad only in lace and her boots, inadequately 
covered with thin black spider webs. "So, do you 
accept?" 

I was breathing heavily, so I was barely able to choke 
out, "Sure, what the hell?" 

She grinned, revealing her sharp white teeth again. Red 
fire gleamed in her eyes. Then she dug her black nails 
into the lace between her breasts and pulled it apart. 
The twin prominences swung free. I noticed that her 
left nipple bore a twinkling green gem, set in a tiny 
gold circle. 

"Like your ring," I said, pulling my jerkin off. 
"Didn't that hurt?" 

"It certainly did," she hissed, relieving herself of 
the last of the lace. "It hurt terribly. That's why I 
did it." 

Naked now save for those damned boots, her black hair 
cascading down her back like a dark waterfall, she slid 
to her knees, and set to pulling down my breeches. I 
helped as best I could, finally allowing my now-
engorged member to breath free. 

"Oh..." she seemed enchanted with it, encircling the 
organ with her sharp-nailed fingers. She ran a claw up 
and down its length, barely breaking the skin. 

"We've elevated pain to an art, human," she whispered, 
hungrily. "There's such a fine line between pain and 
pleasure. We cross it with abandon. Eventually, we 
can't tell the difference." 

Gods, I'd seen this attitude before, in the perverse 
Countess Xylara and in the wicked Lady Thae'lynn of the 
dark elves, both of whom I remembered with a mixture of 
fear, loathing and uncontrollable lust. I groaned 
incoherently at the thought of once more dealing with 
such a female. There really wasn't much else to say. 

The snake-tongue flicked out, lapping my shaft. The 
dagger-like white teeth were just a fraction of an inch 
from my erect, painfully straining flesh. Fear mixed 
with ecstasy now. 

"Ahhhh..." she breathed. "You feel it now, don't you? 
Agony and longing together? You want it, don't you? You 
want to feel my lips embrace your proud stallion?" 

"Yessss," was about the only thing I could say at that 
point, although, in retrospect, I realize that her 
choice of metaphors was pretty appalling. For all the 
lust and desire which raced through my veins like 
boiling lead, however, there was also an edge of 
fear... fear of those sharp white teeth and razor-like 
claws. And the fear fed my lust. I knew then what it 
was to love a demon. 

"Feel it, then..." her lips, black and shining, 
encircled the head of my cock, and the long tongue 
caressed it as she slid her mouth down, down, down... 

Perhaps it was demonic sex-magic. Perhaps it was my 
fear continuing to drive me. Perhaps it was simply the 
exotic novelty of the situation... whatever it was, it 
was like nothing else I had ever experienced. Not with 
Livia, when we came together beneath the silver-white 
waterfalls of Kenth, not with Sarra the elf-druid in 
her grove at midnight, not with the lion women of the 
Veldt Lands, Ushandra the Warrioress, or any one of a 
dozen others -- gods and demons, what she made me 
feel... 

Her spittle was like fire, covering my organ with 
burning pleasure, spreading through my entire body, 
wrapping around my heart and my brain, transporting me 
to another place, beyond the moonlit recesses of Tev's 
solarium. 

The demoness and I seemed to inhabit a tiny universe 
all our own, floating endlessly in a void where 
pleasure and pain chased each other round and round, 
mixing and combining until they were indistinguishable. 

I no longer feared the teeth, the claws... rather, I 
wanted them. I wanted to feel her nails score my flesh, 
and shed my hot blood. I wanted her teeth to bite deep 
and drink in the gushing fluids... I wanted pain from 
her, and -- almost -- I no longer cared if I lived or 
died beneath her lashing tongue and sucking lips. 

Almost... Almost... I no longer cared. 

Fortunately for me, I have a tendency to retain a 
small, calm corner of my brain where reason and logic 
still function, even in the face of the most mindless 
passion. There, deep in the cobwebby recesses of my 
mind, where little mice nibbled at my random thoughts 
and memories, I realized that I did care whether I 
lived or died. 

I pulled myself back to earth along the rope which that 
thought formed. Back to where the naked demoness still 
devoured my hot, desiring flesh. Her mouth released me 
at that moment, and my cock, still slick with her 
burning juice, slipped between her heavy, sweating 
breasts. 

"Yesss..." Now it was her turn. "There, my little 
human... Spill your seed there for me..." 

Her nails clutched at the flesh of her breasts and 
nipples, digging furrows which oozed black blood. The 
blood mixed with her sweat and spittle, further 
lubricating the slippery tunnel between her mammoth 
breasts. So like her burning mouth... so like... 

Final passion swept over me like a crushing landslide. 
I groaned deeply and felt the passion spew out of me, 
splashing white upon the dark red flesh of her breasts. 
I continued to thrust between them, mixing all our 
fluids together as her even as her own sighs combined 
with my moans. Gods... 

I heard her mumbling something in her own language, 
chanting rhythmically as my climax went on and on, 
beyond the limits of what I knew was normal. Her tongue 
flickered out to lick up the hot seed and sweat and 
demon blood between her breasts. Then she leaned 
forward, grasping my head in both hands, thrusting it 
into the deep valley of her chest. 

"Drink, child," she whispered feverishly. "Share with 
me." 

A brief brush of apprehension was swept away by a new 
tide of lust, and our tongues met, sharing the 
different fluids that ran and mixed there. Fiery 
sensations chased each other down my throat and through 
my chest... I felt drunk. Gods... 

"Now, my darling human," her voice was hushed, full of 
emotion which I could not describe. "Now we are as one, 
you and I." 

I was too exhausted to inquire further. I slipped to 
the cold, marble floor and felt her smooth, sweating 
body slip down on top of me. I either fell asleep quite 
quickly at that point or -- as is more likely -- 
fainted, plunging down into moist, welcoming darkness, 
where Narisha's claws still caressed and tormented me. 

I woke some hours later to find that my dream had 
translated back into reality, and a more leisurely 
coupling with my lusty demoness ensued. I don't 
remember much of it, however, so I won't relate its 
details here. Suffice to say, when I staggered home an 
hour before dawn (with the Xeshite carving, might I add 
-- I wasn't completely befuddled by Narisha's charms), 
I collapsed heavily and slept. 

"Now we are one, you and I." Little was I to know how 
important those words were to become. 


CHAPTER II 
----------

Life is full of rude awakenings, but this one was ruder 
than most. Being rousted out of bed by a pair of ogres 
in ill-fitting constabulary uniforms is not my idea of 
a pleasant morning experience, especially after the 
previous night's debaucheries. And especially when 
their chosen method of awakening me was to kick my 
physically from under the covers. 

I was still half-asleep when I hit the floor, dreams of 
Narisha still swirling in and out of the mists. Before 
I could wake up completely, one of the ogres grabbed 
me, yanking me roughly to my feet, pinning my arms 
behind me. When at last I opened my eyes fully, I 
wished I had kept them closed. 

Ogre number two stood in front of me, looking 
ridiculous in his undersized blue and yellow jerkin, 
but didn't bother me. What was standing next to him 
did. 

"Scrutator Niall," I said with all the ill-grace I 
could muster that early in the morning. "Nice of you to 
drop in. Why aren't you out in the forest somewhere, 
making merry?" 

Niall chuckled, spitting out the spear of wood he had 
been chewing on. He was a short, odious little elf, 
thin and frail-looking, his thin hair swept up in a 
greasy pony-tail behind. The overall impression he left 
was one of a puddle of vile slime which had somehow 
taken on humanoid characteristics. As you may have 
guessed, I was very fond of him. 

"Spare me the banter, Wulf-breath," he growled. 
"Someone knocked out Margal Tev and his entire 
household with magic and robbed him blind last night -- 
I don't suppose you know anything about it?" 

I rolled my eyes. "Sure I do, constable. I met the 
demon who did it while I was robbing Tev's house. She 
zapped him and his guards, then she sucked me off right 
in Tev's solarium." 

"Don't get wise with me, footpad." Niall shoved his 
face directly into mine, eyes staring. "I'm a servant 
of the council." 

"You're a servant of whoever bribes you the most," I 
shot back. "The only reason you and your goons are here 
is because I won't pay protection. How much did Tev pay 
you to shake me down, anyway?" 

Niall was silent for a moment, then turned around and 
walked over to the single, sooty window, which provided 
a magnificent view of the adjoining brick wall. 

"I'm not an unreasonable man, Wulf," he said in a 
quiet, cultured tone. "Under other circumstances, we 
might have been friends." 

"That would be the day, wouldn't it?" I met the gaze of 
Niall's guard ogre, an unpleasantly pale specimen 
covered with brownish-green liver spots. "What are you 
looking at, Chim-Chim? I'm fresh out of bananas." 

The ogre looked perplexed. "Huh..." 

"Never mind. You'd have to be higher up on the food 
chain to get it. Did you know you were awfully short 
for an elf, Niall?" 

Niall grunted. "Such a sense of humor. Was that what 
got you kicked out of the academy?" 

"That, and the fact that I had scruples." 

"Scruples?" The word seemed alien to Niall. "Hell, 
Wulf-boy, you wouldn't know scruples if they snuck up 
and bit you in the ass! Tev says that several valuable 
items were missing from his house. You have any idea 
where they are?" 

"Not a clue, scrutator," I replied. "Isn't that your 
job?" 

Not that they were around here, either. I had had 
enough sense to secrete the items in a safe-house on 
the way home. 

Niall smiled. It was not a nice smile. 

"I was hoping you'd say that, my lad." He motioned to 
the ogre beside him. "Grud, search the place. Don't 
leave any cranny unexplored." 

"Duh, ya boss," said Grud with ogreish enthusiasm, 
turning to immediately start ripping my writing desk 
apart. 

"Skab," Niall continued to the ogre who held me. "Take 
Mr. Wulf out back and do the same to him." 

"Duh, ya boss." Skab nodded dumbly, a sadistic look 
gleaming in his eyes. He pulled me, not gently, toward 
the door and the steps down to the alley. 

"Oh, yes," Niall called just as we started down. "Leave 
him alive, please, Skab. I may want to charge him 
later." 

"Ya, boss," Skab said with a trace of disappointment. 

Well, despite the fact that I was not about to be 
killed, the notion of a beating from an ogre was not a 
pleasant one. To Skab, "leave him alive" could easily 
mean "reduce him to a crippled vegetable, but make sure 
that he still has vital signs." In fact, that would 
suit Niall just fine, as I could not then speak up in 
my own defense. Therefore, as the ogre alternately 
shoved and pushed me down the rickety stairs, I ran 
over various escape plans in my mind. Much to my 
regret, none of them involved escape from a 
psychopathic ogre with orders to beat me into a bloody 
pulp. 

However, as I'm fond of saying, fortune favors the 
lucky. The rickety steps were never designed to 
accommodate the 400-pound frame of a fully grown male 
ogre, and they'd been substantially weakened when Niall 
and the no-brain twins had traversed them earlier. A 
lurch, a splintering sound and a grunt of surprise from 
Skab indicated to me that something was wrong. In the 
instant that Skab suddenly plunged through a broken 
step, howling with agony as a nail-studded piece of 
wood pierced his tough hide, I twisted away, tumbling 
down the remaining steps to the street. 

I leapt upright (realizing as I did so that I was still 
shirtless, and my best boots were upstairs with Niall 
and JoJo the Caveboy) and cast a glance back. 

Skab's struggles had loosened the supports beneath the 
stairs, and in a moment the entire affair splintered 
and crashed to the ground in a cloud of dust and broken 
wood. Of Skab, I could see nothing immediately, nor did 
I care to. Heedless of my bare feet against the gritty 
cobblestones, I turned and ran, catching one last 
glimpse of Niall's red and angry face appearing at my 
doorway, twenty feet above the street, and heard his 
hoarse shouts of rage. Then I was gone. 

Within an hour I had visited one of my safe-places and 
obtained clothes and serviceable weapons. I then 
retrieved last night's loot and with the exception of 
the ghost gems, of course -- fenced it for far less 
than it was worth. Most of the resulting cash I spent 
on bribes to Niall's superiors to get him assigned to 
the sewer patrol for a few days, and consequently off 
my ass temporarily. All things considered, a completely 
wasted morning. 

I spent the afternoon in a funk, hiding out in one of 
my rooms at a dive called the Red Shark. I cast about 
desperately for someone to be angry at and, much to my 
regret, came up empty. 

I wasn't really angry at Niall. His kind are as 
inevitable as rats and roaches. He may have been a wart 
on the collective posterior of humanoid society, but 
even I had to admit that he was just doing his job. 

As for Narisha, all she was interested in was hiring a 
no-name freelance for a difficult job. Besides, much to 
my intense regret, when I thought of her, I felt an 
emotion somewhat deeper than mere lust. Damn, what the 
hell what happening to me? 

How about Livia -- she had recommended me. Probably in 
the heat of passion, the way Narisha described it, but 
that was irrelevant. Hell, she probably thought she was 
doing me a favor. Besides, despite her changeable and 
somewhat dangerous nature, I actually harbored some 
degree of fondness for the treacherous little vixen. 

After an hour or two of reflection, I came to the 
conclusion that I really didn't have much reason to be 
angry about anything. I was just starting to wonder 
when I'd see Narisha again (and wondering exactly what 
we'd do to each other) when a faint scratching at the 
door grabbed my attention. 

"Narisha?" I asked, not thinking, swiveling my head to 
look toward the door. 

It wasn't Narisha. The rickety door burst in abruptly, 
showering me with fragments of wood. As I sprang to my 
feet, fumbling for a weapon, I was confronted with a 
nightmarish vision. 

The thing looked like a sickly pink amalgam of man, 
crab and spider. A pair of snapping claws extended from 
an obese, fleshy body, which sprouted manlike legs and 
was topped off with a hairy, eight-eyed "head." 

Hunting beast. The demons use them to track down 
criminals, escaped slaves and particularly hated 
enemies. They came in a variety of shapes and colors, 
and I recognized this one as a heavy-duty customer. 

I was on the second floor, but a fall from that height 
was nothing compared to death -- or worse -- at the 
claws of the hissing, clacking monstrosity which lunged 
at me. I turned for the window, only to see a second 
thing -- this one looking like some kind of bat-
scorpion crossbreed shattering the glass and clambering 
in after me. It, too, hissed, opening a fanged maw, and 
sending a sticky, pink, spike-studded tongue shooting 
out right at my face. 

I ducked, yelling for help, and the tongue instead 
wrapped around one of the bed's cornerposts. I fell 
flat and rolled beneath the bed. The spider-thing 
scuttled after, grabbed the bedframe and heaved it 
over. Fortunately for me, it struck the bat-thing, 
sending it sprawling. 

My weapons went skidding across the floor. I ducked and 
grabbed desperately, reaching for a black-hilted 
dagger. My hand fell upon the grip and I pulled the 
dagger free. 

The bat-demon had recovered and was dragging itself 
across the floor at me, its long, stinger-tipped tail 
waving ominously. I sidestepped, seizing the tail in 
one hand, slicing with the other. 

Heartcutter, Narisha had called it. Demons have such a 
way with words. We call them holy knives or 
demonslayers. Whatever you call them, they do the job. 

Demon-flesh parted. The bat-thing was sliced stem to 
stern, rotten bone, black blood and writhing entrails 
bursting out. With a second stroke I severed the 
demon's tail -- no sense in being struck by the thing 
while it flailed about. 

Hunting beasts have no mind to speak of -- they are 
simply set in motion and follow their orders until 
destroyed. They don't follow logic, they can't be 
reasoned with, and they don't feel fear. I knew that, 
of me and the surviving beast, only one of us was 
leaving this room in one piece. 

The spider-beast rushed at me, hissing with single-
minded malevolence. A claw grazed my shoulder, ripping 
cloth, sending pain burning through my entire arm. I 
staggered, fell back... 

It leaped, limbs spread out, seeking to crush me 
beneath it. To my horror, I saw a yawning pink mouth 
open up in its midsection, fanged with backward-
pointing teeth. Desperately, I thrust up with my 
dagger. 

My arm shot down into the creatures' mouth, dagger 
pointed up. The thing's momentum carried it down on top 
of me, driving the dagger deep through its maw, into 
its vitals, and, with an explosion of foul, black 
ichor, out through its back. 

The demon was dead, but it didn't know it yet. Its 
crushing weight bore down on me, and I could feel its 
maw gnaw away at my arm, its tiny teeth cutting into my 
flesh like needles. I moved my arm, cutting again, 
slicing upward through its body, seeking its head. 
Demon flesh parted before the dagger, slicing cleanly 
and falling away. 

Then, I saw a human face, suspended above me. Then 
another. It was the Trus the innkeeper and his bouncer, 
Gralz. The bouncer's arm swung back and I saw a sword -
- not a holy blade, but adequate for the task at hand. 
Gralz thrust down, driving the sword down into the 
beast's head. More ichor poured out, burning me. The 
thing twitched once, twice, then lay still. 

Trus and Gralz pulled the steaming corpse off me, and 
dragged me out, panting and retching. The acidic blood 
had disintegrated most of my clothing, and was burning 
away at my skin. Trus doused me with a bucket of water, 
leaving me sitting, coughing, pink- fleshed and nearly 
naked for the second time today. 

"Gods!" Trus swore. "Gralz, get him some clothes. You 
all right, Wulf?" 

I looked up. "I don't understand," I said with as 
jaunty a grin as I could muster. "You told me you just 
sprayed for demons." 


CHAPTER III 
-----------

I at least had the presence of mind to slip Trus and 
Gralz some coins and instruct them to spread a story of 
how I'd been rent limb from limb before they could kill 
the beasts. That at least might keep pustules like 
Niall off my case for a while longer. My next move was 
to go see the only person I could think of who might be 
able to make sense of this mess. 

Livia maintains a neat little manor near the east wall, 
living a comparatively frugal life while she salts away 
the fruits of her illegal labors and mercenary work. 
She pays off the right guild officials and maintains 
some very tricky magical wards to keep her safe from 
unscrupulous individuals such as myself, and is 
generally considered a pillar of the community in the 
Thieves' Quarter. You know the type -- kind to animals, 
generous with beggars, and always sees to it that the 
attractive young men and women of the region have a 
warm place to sleep at night. Or any time, for that 
matter. 

To give her credit, she showed more concern for my well 
being than I thought she would. As I alternated between 
recounting my tale of woe and taking huge mouthfuls of 
food at her dinner table (I hadn't eaten all day), she 
gazed at me with wide blue eyes and made sympathetic 
noises at all the right moments. Gods only know why she 
cared -- as a friend and lover I was no prize, and I 
knew it. 

"Gods," she muttered, picking up a silver knife, 
inspecting it for a moment, then slamming it back down 
on the table, clearly agitated. "What a day. Are you 
all right, Wulf?" 

I took a huge bite of bird (what sort of bird, I really 
didn't care). "All things considered, I'm better than I 
should be. Now that I've eaten, I'm even better." 

"Damn that woman." 

I stopped in mid-chew. "You mean Narisha?" I asked, my 
mouth full. 

She nodded. "I'm sorry I got you involved in all this?" 

I swallowed, frowning. "Not to pry, love, but exactly 
how did my name come up? I mean, were circumstances..." 

"Intimate?" She nodded. "I'm afraid so. You still want 
to hear about it?" 

"It's never stopped you before. Give me the bad news." 

***

Livia's recommendation of Wulf as a suitable agent for 
the demoness Narisha's mission had actually been the 
result of mixed feelings. On one hand, she wanted to 
get him work. On the other, there had been times when 
Livia had wished Wulf dead and burning in hell, which, 
given Narisha's requirements, was not terribly 
unlikely. 

There was, of course, one other possibility, and that 
revolved around the exact moment at which Livia had 
given the recommendation. 

Narisha, naked save for a pair of long, lace, 
fingerless gloves, had at the time been crouched 
between Livia's thighs, her tongue darting in and out 
of the human woman as if it were a living thing 
separate from its owner. Livia, her short blonde hair 
plastered to her face with sweat and Narisha's own 
juices, was lying back, fingering her own nipples as 
the demoness pleasured her. 

Having been brought to the brink at least two dozen 
times, and pushed over a dozen more, Livia's mind had 
pretty much wandered from mundane matters, 
concentrating exclusively upon the demon-woman's 
tongue, hands, thighs and breasts. As yet another 
shattering climax rolled from her sore but still quite 
functional sex (these demons seemed to have an aura 
about them, Livia thought, that both enhanced and 
prolonged arousal -- she would have to study it later), 
the sorceress was therefore taken off guard by 
Narisha's next actions. 

The demoness' prominent lips embraced Livia's own, 
lower set, and her tongue darted inside, as persistent 
as a man's organ, but smaller and far more flexible. 
She felt ripples spread through her body once more and 
almost cried out, begging Narisha to stop. This she did 
not do, since such an entreaty would only spur the 
crimson-skinned creature on. And so, Livia hung 
suspended between desire and satiation, letting Narisha 
continue her gentle yet persistent exploration. 

Then, she said it. 

"Darling," Narisha spoke, raising her head from her 
labors, her skin moist with Livia's juices, her hair 
slick with sweat. "I have a job that needs doing. Can 
you recommend anyone?" 

Ripples still raced back and forth through Livia's 
body, lacing it with hot and cold flashes, and she 
barely had time to think on the question. It just so 
happened that at that moment Livia's mind went back to 
a day nearly two years ago when she had crouched on 
hands and knees beneath a cascading waterfall, feeling 
the icy water sheet down upon her as a man thrust into 
her from behind. She could barely feel his hands 
spreading her buttocks apart for the numbing pound of 
the water, and barely hear for the roar. The only 
sensation she could feel was the hot hardness of the 
man as he thrust in, withdrew, and thrust again, 
alternating hot and cold deep inside her. And the 
man... 

"Wulf," she gasped, grabbing Narisha's head and 
thrusting it down between her thighs again. "Oh, Wulf." 

Narisha's tongue did its work, while her sharp-nailed 
fingers crawled up Livia's sides to stroke and tease 
her erect, pink nipples. Livia rolled pliantly over the 
brink once, twice, thrice more before she finally fell 
back, gasping for breath, feeling secondary shocks 
tremble through her loins. 

Narisha raised herself up on an elbow, none the worse 
for her exertions. "You will have to repay this favor 
soon, you know," she said in her lyrical if slightly 
horrific voice. "All my little pupils must show their 
appreciation to their teacher." 

"Oh, I'll show it, never fear," Livia grinned. "I'll 
have you begging for mercy once I've recovered 
somewhat." 

The demoness toyed with Livia's nipple. "You should 
decorate these," she suggested idly, indicating the 
gleaming gem which hung from her own breast. "The pain 
is exquisite, and once the wound heals, the pleasure of 
having them touched is redoubled." 

"It's very pretty," Livia said. 

"So who is this Wulf?" Narisha asked. "What sort of 
work is he good for?" 

Livia had to stop short for a moment to even recall 
what Narisha was talking about. Damn these demons, she 
thought. Hot and wet one moment, and all business the 
next. 

"Not all business, sweetest little peach," Narisha 
smiled, stretching like a cat. "But I do have a bit of 
business which needs doing." 

"You know, most people do not take kindly to having 
their minds read," Livia said with all the gravity she 
could muster. 

"I know. Do I care? And besides, what harm is there in 
reading your mind, filled as it is with love and 
devotion to your sweet lover, Narisha?" 

"Love and devotion..." Livia snorted. "Lust and envy, 
more like. In any event, Wulf is a friend of mine. He's 
got a wide variety of skills..." 

"So I saw. I've never made love under a waterfall 
myself. Would you like to try it some time?" 

"There you go again... It can be very annoying, you 
know." 

Narisha shrugged. "I was along for the ride. I felt 
that hard stallion of his as well. Are you too 
sensitive to share your memories?" 

"No, not really. Anyway, Wulf's a jack of all trades. 
He has skills far in excess of his years and he can be 
a complete son of a bitch sometimes. He's been in love 
with me ever since Kenth." 

"And how do you feel about him?" 

"Ah, so you can't read everything. That's encouraging. 
The truth, Narisha, is that I am enormously fond of 
Wulf, but I respect him too much to get involved. I 
don't want to ruin our friendship." 

"And I know you, my dearest little kitten." Narisha's 
eyes glinted lustfully. "You only make love to those 
you know you can easily get rid of. The soul exception, 
of course, being my good self." 

Livia glared. "Wulf is my friend. I don't want to mess 
up his life further by fucking him." 

A chuckle. "All the same, he was a fine gallop, right?" 

Livia sighed, rolling her eyes. "Yes, he was. But I 
often wonder whether he's worth the trouble." 

"Am I worth the trouble, my little pet?" Narisha said, 
rolling onto her back. She raised her knees up into the 
air and spread them apart, her black-tipped hands 
reaching down to stroke between them. "Frankly, I don't 
care whether you think I am or not, because I'm going 
to feel your tongue here in a moment regardless. Aren't 
I, darling?" 

"Aren't I, darling?" Livia made a face. "Why do I love 
you so much, tell me please?" 

"Because you can't live without the thought of being 
able to nuzzle my beautiful breasts and suckle at my 
nipples like the child you are," Narisha replied. 
"Because you dream of my thighs and what lies between 
them every night. Because you love the taste of my 
juices and the feel of my tongue. Because I'm the only 
woman you'll ever really love. Am I right?" 

"Hmph. You're not even a woman, really." 

"Oh, but I am. More of a woman than any mortal can 
imagine." 

She reached out and drew a nail across Livia's nipple, 
leaving a tiny bead of blood. "Now come and taste me, 
my sweet, or I'll have you punished." 

"Promise?" Livia asked, sarcastically. All the same, 
her pulse raced as she positioned herself between 
Narisha's thighs and gently stroked at her distended, 
slick black lips, and she had to admit that at least 
some of what the demoness said was true. Love, faugh... 
But was it love she felt, or something else? 

"I think I'll get in touch with this Wulf, then," 
Narisha said. Then she sighed. "Enough business. Come, 
young lover. Worship at the gates of my temple..." 

Livia's tongue and fingers explored the moist interior 
of Narisha's cunt, tentative at first, but then with 
increasing force and authority. Soon, her face was 
slick and burning slightly from the rich juices which 
flowed there in abundance. 


CHAPTER IV
----------

It was not at all unpleasant. In fact, the demonic 
juices were somewhat intoxicating, sliding effortlessly 
past Livia's tongue, and down her throat to burn like 
fine liquor deep inside her. A mad sense of abandon 
seized Livia, and she spread Narisha's black cunt-lips 
apart, allowing the juices to flow down the demoness' 
crimson thighs. She cupped her hands beneath them, 
feeling the hot liquid dripping down, then slathered it 
over her arms, shoulders and breasts. It burned so, but 
brought such pleasure as well, tingling through her 
nipples, warming her skin, racing through her veins. 

"I love you," Livia whispered, thrusting her face once 
more between Narisha's muscular thighs, feeling the 
soft cunt-flesh against her mouth, drinking in the hot 
juices, licking and licking. "I love you so." 

"Of course you do," Narisha purred, her voice rising to 
a fevered, husky pitch. Her fingers toyed with the 
jeweled ring at her nipple, pulling hard, digging 
deeply into the soft flesh of her own breasts. "Drink 
deep from me. Taste me, my love." 

It was as if Narisha had control even of the flow of 
her own secretions, for a new flood of cunt-juice 
washed over Livia, more than she could have imagined 
possible; certainly more than possible for an ordinary 
mortal woman. Livia drank, but more flowed than she 
could take, and it dripped down her shoulders and back, 
soaking the coverlet beneath them. It was hot and 
sweet, and grew more so with each passing moment. 

Narisha sighed and moaned. It seemed that the demon-
woman was at last losing control herself. "You love me. 
You serve me. You're mine, aren't you?" 

"Yes!" Livia's voice rose to a strangled moan, muffled 
against Narisha's soft, red-black lips. "I belong to 
you... Only you..." 

Narisha splayed her thighs wider still, and Livia's 
questing tongue thrust deeper. She was drunk on this 
woman, she realized, and saying things which normally 
came very hard for her. Yet now, as Narisha's innermost 
depths opened up before her, her tongue clove dark, 
burning flesh, and the hot juices fermented inside her, 
a part of Livia really did love the beautiful demoness, 
if only for the moment. 

It did not occur to her that some moments last longer 
than others. 

Wulf:
 
I groaned. "You told her about the waterfall?" 

"Told her, hell. She saw it. Lived it. You know what 
she's capable of." 

Indeed I did. I still had one question. "You really 
love her?" Once more, I knew the answer, and was doing 
nothing more than tormenting myself. Of course, she 
loved Narisha. And of course, she'd never love me. 

I guess the tone of my voice was a bit overly petulant. 
Livia did not respond well in any event. She stood up 
and approached me, eyes wild. 

"I said I did, didn't I? Is there something wrong with 
that? Because she's a woman? Because you couldn't love 
anyone or anything to save your own life, you arrogant 
little cutpurse?" 

My jaw dropped. I stammered. "I... I didn't mean... I'm 
sorry..." Livia was about the only friend I could count 
on right now, and I wasn't about to alienate her. "I 
only meant..." 

With amazing swiftness, the fire went out, and Livia 
drooped like a rag doll. What the hell? 

"Damn," she muttered, to herself more than to me. "Damn 
it to hell..." 

"What's wrong?" Now it was my turn to be worried. I 
knelt and cradled her head in my hands. I wanted to say 
no, no, I love you. I love you more than anyone else in 
the entire fucking, shattered world, but I couldn't. I 
knew it would only make matters worse. Hell, maybe I'm 
a kinder person than I like to admit. Nah... not 
possible... 

I helped her back to her seat, and she looked at me, 
her eyes wide again, this time with something that 
looked like fear. 

"It's not right," she said. "It feels all wrong. She's 
done something to me, Wulf. Made me feel things that I 
don't want to feel. Gods. Has she done it to you, too?" 

With a chill I realized that she probably had. My 
feelings for Narisha were remarkably strong for someone 
I'd only spent a single evening with, but I finally had 
to admit that buried deep in my heart there was a 
hollow, aching longing for the demon woman. Damn. 

Suddenly, Livia closed her eyes and exhaled, as if 
finally discovering the answer to a childishly simple 
question. 

"Of course," she muttered. "I'm an idiot." 

"Well if you are, I'm a bigger one," I said as 
solicitously as I could. "I have no idea what you're 
talking about." 

"I'm talking about body fluids, Wulf," she said. It 
would have sounded ridiculous if she hadn't been so 
deadly serious. "Blood, sweat, saliva... other 
things..." 

"Yeah, yeah," I said quickly, thinking back to the 
previous night. "You don't have to draw me any 
pictures." 

"They're major components in sympathetic magic, aren't 
they?" 

I nodded, still thick-skulled enough not to know where 
she was going with all this. 

"Exactly what have we both shared with that red-skinned 
bitch?" 

Realization dawned with all the force of an ogre's 
club. "You mean we're ensorcelled?" 

"Mm. Maybe more than that. Demon magic is different 
from ours, but it still uses most of the same elements. 
I would imagine that demonic bodily fluids have a hell 
of a lot more potency than ours, and if we've managed 
to mix them..." 

"She might have a hell of a hold over both of us?" 

"She might. And the worst part of it is that I don't 
mind so much." 

I didn't either. Intellectually, I knew that it was all 
part of the spell. If I was magically compelled to love 
someone, then naturally I wouldn't see anything wrong 
with being magically compelled to love someone. The 
image of the demoness appeared in my mind, naked red 
flesh flickering with blue, fanged teeth bared in a 
sensuous grin. I felt my heart begin to beat faster... 

QUIT IT! 

I pulled myself back down to earth. My rational corner 
was still there, heavily besieged by external enemies, 
but functional nonetheless. 

"So," I said quietly, "exactly what do you think she 
did to us?" 

Livia started to reply, but a voice both beloved and 
hateful interrupted her. 

"Nothing you didn't want, I assure you." 

I looked up. She was there, of course, as tall and 
statuesque as ever. She was dressed more simply 
(obviously not out to make an impression this time, 
damn her eyes) in a long red satin robe, embroidered 
with silver, blue and gold dragons and birds. Her face 
was as radiantly wicked as ever, her pouty, blue-black 
lips curled back in what could only be described as an 
impish grin. 

"Where the hell did you come from?" I asked, anger and 
desire fighting each other to a standstill. Beside me, 
Livia made incoherent noises, probably wondering how 
Narisha had managed to blithely walk through all her 
pattern-wards. 

Someone once said that all demon laughter is mocking 
laughter. 

Narisha's response to this certainly qualified. 

"I come and go as I choose. You should both know that." 
She swayed across the room like a large, long-haired 
cat and sat backwards in one of Livia's chairs, leaning 
forward against the backrest, her long legs splayed out 
on either side. Blue shapes crawled and flickered along 
her thighs. Dammit, I couldn't tell if she was wearing 
anything under her blasted robe. 

"What do you think?" she asked, and snickered. 

"If you can read our minds then what the hell is the 
point of talking?" I asked, disgusted. "Now, 
sweetheart, I think it's time you provided us with a 
few answers." 

"Answers to what, my darling swordsman?" she leaned 
back, holding the chair back with her hands. 

"Who set the hunting beasts on me, for one." 

She snapped forward, all seriousness now. Her coy, 
teasing manner vanished in an instant. "What hunting 
beasts?" 

"The two drooling mutants who tried to turn me into 
sausages this morning at the Red Shark. If I didn't 
have my holy knife I would be residing in a demon 
gullet at this very moment." 

A moment of silence. Her intense, yellow eyes drilled 
into me, and I felt her enter my mind and absorb my 
memories of the incident. 

"Damn." She muttered. She actually looked distraught. 

"Hm," I said. "Two incidents of a demon showing real 
emotion in less than a day. Will wonders never cease?" 

"It's not funny," she shot back. "Duke Janus knows I'm 
here. His spies must have told him that I talked to 
you. Damn." 

"Well if nothing else, Duke Janus is short a pair of 
hunting beasts," I said, "and my friends at the Shark 
are spreading stories of my lurid death." 

Narisha smiled. It was a surprisingly friendly smile. 
"Good work, Freelance. Did anyone see you come here?" 

"Not as far as I know. To the great city of Stoneburg, 
Wulf the Freelance is now history." 

"Pity." Some of the old insouciance returned. "I was 
growing fond of him." 

Livia piped up. "Well, if Janus is thrown off the trail 
for the moment, maybe you could clue us in to exactly 
what kind of trebly-damned enchantment you've cast on 
us?" 

Now my demoness was really back in form. She smiled 
sweetly. "You pretty much pegged it with your first 
guess, my pretty little kitten. I've found that I get 
much better service out of those who adore me." Another 
giggle and toss of her head, and the transformation was 
complete. 

I was not thrilled by her revelation. "I should be 
thoroughly pissed by this time," I said, "but I'm not 
because you've ensorcelled me." I took a deep breath. 
"And that REALLY pisses me off!" 

Livia seemed to be experiencing the same conflict of 
emotion that I was. She spoke angrily, but I could tell 
the were hurt feelings underlying. 

"How could you do this to me, Narisha?" she demanded. 
"Did it every occur to you that I might have fallen in 
love with you without being compelled to?" 

A wry chuckle. "Consider the source," Narisha replied. 
"Only People consider love to be a transient emotion at 
best. At worst, it's an emotion you can manipulate and 
use to get what you want." 

"Isn't that exactly what you're doing to us?" Livia 
asked. 

To my astonishment, Narisha's expression softened again 
and she spoke in earnest tones. "I've never been like 
that, Livia. I'm what you call a demon, and my emotions 
are different from yours." Pause. Almost as if tears 
were fighting their way up. "But I can still feel 
emotions like yours. They never seem as transitory as 
they do for other demons. I do feel something for you, 
Livia. I suppose I used binding magic because I wanted 
you to feel the same." 

I rolled my eyes. "Would you two like me to leave?" I 
asked. "Remember, I'm the guy with the claw-marks all 
over him. I'm ashamed to admit to some affection for 
both of you. Do I enter into this equation, or am I 
just a handy poke?" 

They both looked at me -- Livia with sympathy, Narisha 
with amusement. 

Smoothly, in a single, graceful motion, Narisha stood 
up. "I reset your wards, Livia," she said. "And I threw 
a few of my own. I paid particular attention to anti-
demon spells." 

"You'll have to teach me one sometime," Livia 
suggested. All business sometimes, that woman... 

"Not to worry. Just don't use it against me." Narisha's 
yellow eyes narrowed. "I wanted to make sure we weren't 
disturbed." 

That aura of hers (I can't think of anything better to 
call it) seemed to expand somewhat, and I felt a sudden 
urgent pressure somewhere below my beltline. Oh, hell. 

Livia felt it too. I saw her uncross her legs rather 
too slowly, then swallow hard. 

Narisha smiled what was by far the wickedest smile I'd 
seen from her yet. 

"Watch me, Wulf," she purred. "Watch me and see if you 
can contain yourself." 

Gracefully, like a Red Temple nautch dancer, she tugged 
at the belt of her robe, and it slid smoothly open, 
revealing what seemed like acres of supple, red flesh. 
She shrugged it off, and it slid to the floor, and 
Narisha was standing before us, naked and proud, 
abstract blue images flickering up and down her body. 

I glanced at Livia. She was staring, mouth open, her 
expression that of a starving prisoner presented with a 
freshly roasted boar. Hell, I probably looked the same 
way. 

Narisha spoke. "Livia. Come here." It was the voice of 
authority. Although she did not speak to me, I almost 
obeyed nonetheless. 

Livia certainly snapped to, standing up and approaching 
our mutual crimson-skinned mistress. As she did so, she 
stepped out of her shift, leaving herself dressed only 
in a short undertunic, which left off about mid-waist. 
I watched, slack-jawed, almost physically unable to 
move without Narisha's say-so. 

Gods, but Livia is an attractive woman. Even half-
dressed she's finer than a dozen lesser woman fully 
nude. Her hips are substantial, but not overly so, 
curving gently from a slightly rounded stomach, leading 
into a pair of muscular legs. If I hadn't been 
thoroughly aroused by this time, I would have been when 
Livia silently kneeled down at Narisha's feet and 
reached out her hands to stroke the demon-woman's 
sides. 

"What a good girl you are," Narisha whispered. "Now, 
show him how much you love me." 

Narisha's skin was warm beneath Livia's hands -- warmer 
than human skin. The flickering tattoos twitched across 
the demoness' thighs as Livia moved close, sliding her 
hands around to cup Narisha's buttocks. 

"See her, swordsman?" The warm purr of Narisha's voice 
slipped through the air like falling rose petals. "See 
how she adores me?" She looked straight at Wulf. "I 
think she loves you, too, Wulf, though she'd never 
admit it. Perverted little minx, she only makes love to 
those she holds in contempt. I've told her that opening 
that sweet pink box of hers to those she truly loves 
and desires might make her a happier woman, but does 
she listen to me? Disobedient little whore... mmmm... 
Lick me, little whore..." 

Inside Livia, anger at Narisha's words fought with 
love, was defeated, and finally swept away by sheer, 
heart-pounding desire. Livia's tongue sought out the 
softness of Narisha's belly, then quested lower, 
grazing the tops of her thighs, and finally the silky 
hair between them. Heat seemed to roll off the 
demoness' sex as if it was a furnace, but she resisted 
the urge to bury her face in it, instead grazing it 
lightly with tongue and lips, reveling in the shudders 
of anticipatory pleasure which shook Narisha's body. 

"She's a cunning little one," Narisha whispered, the 
hissing sound filling the silent room. "She likes to 
make her lover wait... ah... the agony of pleasure 
delayed, my little love..." 

Livia ran her hands up and down the demoness' thighs, 
scoring the red flesh lightly with her nails. She 
glanced up to see Narisha's face contorted as if in 
deep concentration, her black- taloned hands massaging 
the overflowing mounds of her own breasts, tugging at 
the gold ring that pierced one nipple. 

"Ah... I can't wait..." Narisha's voice was cut with an 
edge of what might almost be called agony. "Love me, 
Livia... Worship me..." 

A strange sensation filled Livia, as it so often did at 
moments such as these. It was as if she, a mere human, 
held an unearthly being -- a demoness -- in thrall, 
balancing on the edge of ecstasy, forcing her to beg 
and plead for pleasure. It was not a moment to be 
wasted, Livia knew. 

"On the couch, demon," she whispered. "Sit there and 
wait for me." 

Amazingly, Narisha obeyed, stepping backwards with 
feverish haste and sitting down on Livia's leather 
sofa, leaning back luxuriantly, her eyes feral and 
narrow, her black lips slightly parted, large breasts 
rising and falling, the gem at her nipple glittering in 
the light as they moved. Slowly she opened her legs, 
hands planted upon her thighs, exposing the blue-black 
of her cunt lips. 

"Please put your lips there, little kitten..." Narisha 
pleaded now, in near-human tones. "Show me your 
love..." 

Again, Livia kneeled, and began to stroke at the 
crimson skin of Narisha's thighs. Her tongue flicked 
out, stroking the now-wet softness of the demoness' 
sex. 

"You want it now?" she asked, softly. 

"Yes..." Narisha moaned. "Please." 

"How much do you want it?" 

"More than..." Narisha's words faded into an incoherent 
groan. 

She writhed on the couch like a sinner in torment. Her 
hands moved frantically along her thighs, as if urging 
Livia to devour her, and end her agonized anticipation. 

"More than what?" Livia asked. She kissed the moist 
black lips lightly, just enough that her lover could 
feel it. 

"More than..." Rather than give a coherent reply, 
Narisha simply placed her hands behind Livia's head and 
thrust her sex against the blonde woman's face. 

"Show me. Love me, little kitten. Love me." Demonic joy 
laced the words, joy and fulfillment. 

"I'm your kitten now?" Livia whispered. "Aren't I still 
your whore?" 

"Mmmm. Yes, dearest. You're my favorite little whore. 
You're my sweetest little kitten. You're whatever I 
want you to be." 

Caged by the hot smoothness of Narisha's thighs, Livia 
at last allowed her tongue to slip between the swollen 
black lips, cleaving to the hot sweetness inside. 
Again, the demonic juices filled her mouth, filling her 
with a terrible intoxication. Like a long-denied 
drunkard with a bottle of liquor, she drank deeply. 

"Drink from me, little one..." Urged Narisha. "Take all 
you want from me..." 

Livia obeyed, tongue working at the slick prominence of 
Narisha's clitoris, feeling her lover's cunt-juices 
flow into her mouth, down her chin, across her 
shoulders, soaking her shift. 

"Say you love me." It was both a command and a plea. 
"Say you love me now." 

"I love you," Livia murmured, mouth against soft, 
secret flesh. She felt light-headed and disoriented, 
but the truth of her emotion was like a shining beacon. 
As she continued to lick and bite at the tender skin, 
her thoughts took wing and flew rapidly with heart-felt 
intensity. 

Did she speak, or did the words flow freely from heart 
to mind? Whatever it was, she knew Narisha could hear 
them, and the demoness' pleasure was redoubled. I love 
you. I want to belong to you. I want to dance naked 
with you under the moon. I want to suckle at your 
breasts like a child. I want to embrace you in the 
waves of a warm ocean. I want to lie with you in the 
rain and watch it moisten your skin. I want to taste 
your sweetness beneath the boughs of a dark forest. I 
want to hold your body against mine on a wind-swept 
mountain top. I want to feel your tongue inside me as I 
lie under the desert sun. I want to kneel at your feet 
and wear your collar and be your slave. I want to rule 
over you and make you obey. I want you to call me 
filthy names. I want to scream at you and make you feel 
my rage. I want to worship you, make you my goddess. I 
want you to worship me. 

"I love you," she repeated, out loud this time. Narisha 
stiffened, moaning deeply, and Livia felt contractions 
raced through her body. The blue tattoos flickered in 
time with her as waves of orgasm wracked her. 

"Oh, dearest..." Narisha's climax lasted for a full 
minute, then another. Her back arched, her belly 
straining upward, her breasts straining, hands curled 
into claws. 

"Dearest... Livia... Oh, fuck... Oh, fuck... Oh, my 
darling. Oh, my filthy little slut. Oh, my angel..." 
Her words were choked, forced from a constricted 
throat, finally merging into incoherent animal sounds, 
until at last she lay limp, sweat glistening on her 
breasts and belly as they rose and fell. 

"My love," she sighed, stroking Livia's face with a 
long- nailed hand. "My best beloved. You move me like 
no one else." 

"Mpph," came a muffled grunt from Wulf. Livia turned, 
ashamed that she had forgotten him. 

The mercenary looked somewhat nonplused at Narisha's 
comment. He also looked extremely uncomfortable. 

"You aren't finished yet, my dearest little pet." 
Narisha lazed back on the couch and languidly motioned 
Livia to rise. "Show him, too. Show him what you showed 
me." 


CHAPTER V
---------

To say I was aroused would have been like calling the 
Third Siege of Xath a minor disagreement. As before 
with Narisha (damnably predictable, that woman), my 
breeches had grown incredibly tight, and I had an 
erection you could attach a pulley to and lift an 
obelisk with. I was still mildly annoyed that much of 
my mixed love and desire for both the women so amply 
displayed before me was a result of magical 
intervention, but took comfort in the fact that any man 
not exclusively attracted to his own gender would be as 
uncomfortable now as I was. 

Livia's declarations of love for Narisha still echoed 
in my ears. The analytical corner of my mind wondered, 
even as the object of my speculation swayed gracefully 
toward me, slipping off her soaked shift, whether Livia 
really meant it or whether these words were also the 
result of ensorcelment. 

Clothed, Livia could corrupt even the most dedicated 
Idrianic Cenobite. Naked, she was nothing short of 
divine. Or -- if the sensual Narisha, now reclining 
like a vast, shapely mountain range on Livia's couch, 
could be discounted -- diabolical. Smooth, white 
shoulders and slender arms; breasts pleasantly large 
and shapely, but not excessively so; and a belly and 
legs which have already been adequately described. 

Even considering this preternaturally exquisite body, 
Livia's face is really her best asset -- softly curved, 
pale-skinned, with a delicately upturned nose and a 
light spatter of freckles. Her eyes were a transparent 
blue, and as she licked her full lips, I saw a pearly 
flash of teeth. I suppressed an anticipatory shudder. I 
had dreamed of this moment for endless seasons, finally 
convincing myself that it would never happen. Now, here 
it was, offered up to me like a holy sacrifice in 
temple. 

"Take the pleasure she gives you, swordsman," Narisha 
said, with husky excitement. "It's our gift to you." 

Livia's lips caressed my cock, and her tongue moved to 
lick it up and down. From the couch, Narisha watched, 
eyes rapt, her breaths growing quicker. She tugged at 
her nipple ring, and her long, flexible tongue flicked 
out to moisten her lips. 

"Tell him you love him," Narisha ordered. "Like you 
told me." 

Livia kissed my cock once more, then looked up at me, 
blue eyes wide and sincere. When the words came, they 
were at once painful and exquisite. Joy and sorrow 
combined in me as Livia spoke. 

"I love you," she whispered. Her words were stark with 
clarity, and I knew that she meant them. "I love you, 
Wulf. I love you both." 

"Oh, gods, Livia," I whispered. "I've always loved 
you." 

On the couch, Narisha tossed her head back and groaned 
briefly. It was as if the emotions of others were as 
intense as their caresses for her. A tiny spark raced 
through my mind, and I felt a small portion of the 
demoness' climax. Gods, what had she done? 

"I've made us all one, Wulf-cub," Narisha said, softly, 
as Livia's lips again encircled my shaft, sliding it 
inside her beautiful mouth, filling me with renewed 
sensation. "We're joined, now. Joined in love and 
pleasure." 

Livia enveloped me again, and I realized that I still 
didn't mind what Narisha had said. If I was joined with 
these two, so be it. I could think of worse fates. 

"Ride him now," Narisha said. She was sitting up now, 
watching us with (if possible) even greater 
fascination. "Ride his stallion." There was that damned 
overblown metaphorical sense of hers again... 

I reclined on the floor, a thick rug insulating me from 
the cold marble. Livia crouched above me, slipping my 
organ between her legs, stroking it against her sex. 
Dammit, it really did seem to buck and caper like a 
wild stallion. At least, so I thought at the time. 

"Put it in," I said, feeling the same intense desire as 
Narisha had. "Please, let me feel you all around me." 

Livia smiled, opened her mouth wide, pink tongue 
touching ivory teeth, and slid down my shaft, my cock 
penetrating her wet cunt, deeper and deeper... Her soft 
cunt-flesh surrounded me, pulling me in, and then she 
rose up on her knees again, slipping me out, then down. 
Again and again... Gods... For the second time in as 
many days, I felt transported to paradise. 

Then, black-tipped red hands slid to surround Livia's 
pale white breasts, and Narisha appeared behind her. 

"You make my lover happy," Narisha said. "Can you make 
us both happy?" 

Two faces, one pale and angelic, the other devilish and 
crimson, gazed at me as Narisha kneeled behind Livia 
and matched her movements, as if they were both the 
same being. Her hot demon- flesh was smooth against my 
sides, complimenting and contrasting Livia's pale skin. 
They moved up and down together, my cock straining 
inside Livia, her pleasure translated directly into 
Narisha's brain. Their expressions melted into open-
lipped looks of intense pleasure. 

"Now me," Narisha gasped. "Put your shaft inside me." 

As one, they moved forward, and without a break, my 
cock moved between Narisha's thighs and inside her 
inhumanly hot and moist cunt. 

I'd never have been able to accomplish such acrobatics 
if I'd practiced for a month, and now I was performing 
like a Xeshite pleasure slave. Gods... Livia.

It was an indescribably sensation Livia had felt, the 
hardness of Wulf's cock inside her, and the hot supple 
flesh of Narisha behind, hands stroking as the 
demoness' vast breasts pillowed against her back. The 
tiny ring and gem in Narisha's nipple bit against 
Livia's tender flesh, further enhancing sensation. 

Then they moved, and Wulf was inside Narisha. She felt 
no jealousy that the hot shaft had moved away from her, 
only joy that she and Narisha could share this man, 
whom she finally realized she loved. Narisha's moans 
joined Wulf's in a chorus of sensual agony. 

"I love you," Livia whispered, to both of them. "I love 
you." 

I didn't know where all the energy came from. It was 
probably more of Narisha's sex magic, but I can't be 
certain. The upshot was that all three of us ended up 
in Livia's bedroom, sprawled in curious conjoinment on 
a bed large enough to comprise a small country estate 
(upon which, might I add, many a young male student or 
knockabout had learned the true meaning of the word 
"ecstasy" only to be tossed out on his ear the next 
morning). 

Livia lay near the head of the bed, her legs drawn up 
and splayed, stroking Narisha's head as the demon 
woman's tongue delved up and down her thighs and 
flicked in and out of her exposed cunt. As for myself, 
I was on my knees behind Narisha, entering the demoness 
from behind, gripping her soft, shapely buttocks and 
watching the blue patterns flicker and change as my 
cock slid in, then emerged, slick and tingling with her 
inner sweetness. 

Everyone seemed extremely happy. 

Sensation spread from my Narisha's center to my 
shaft... That burning, tingling feeling which I had 
felt when I tasted her rolled through me now, entering 
the taunt flesh of my organ and extending out through 
my body. It was as if every sense was sharpened, 
heightened to an unnatural degree. Every sight and 
sound was magnified, every touch and scent redoubled. 
For a few moments, I perceived the world as a demon 
did. 

I felt that I could thrust in and out of Narisha's 
moistness indefinitely... I never wanted to stop, but 
only to remain this way, suspended on the edge for all 
time, forever joined to my two lovers, forever both 
master and slave. Again and again my cock slid into the 
demoness' beautiful cunt, gaining energy and desire 
with each stroke in an ever-growing cycle of fleshy 
pleasure. 


CHAPTER VI
----------

Livia:
 
The demon-woman's tongue moved freely through Livia, 
seeming to reach beyond the mere physical reaches of 
her cunt, and slip like a thin, vastly long snake deep 
inside her to touch her heart, her mind, and -- if 
there was such a thing -- her soul. A thin wailing 
slipped from her throat, growing louder, involuntarily 
rising to a heady cry of increasing desire. 

Narisha's hands encircled her buttocks, pulling Livia's 
hot moistness closer, thrusting the endless tongue 
deeper and deeper. Livia laced her fingers behind the 
luxuriant black hair, thrusting with increasing 
urgency. How the demoness could breath, Livia did not 
know, but it didn't seem to matter. 

Behind Narisha, Wulf stroked her with his cock, 
thrusting between the firm red expanse of her buttocks, 
entering her again and again, seemingly tirelessly. 
Livia had experienced it before... it was Narisha's 
doing, and afterwards she knew that they would all 
sleep for a day or more. 

Narisha's tongue seemed to coil and writhe inside her, 
touching her more deeply than Livia had ever thought 
possible. Heat and desire swelled in her loins, her 
belly, her chest, growing hotter and hotter until she 
couldn't contain it. Orgasm rose slowly like a silvery 
bubble through a tropical ocean, gaining strength and 
intensity as it did so. She knew it was coming, she 
could feel it, but it still shimmered and glistened in 
the distance, growing closer by the second. 

Wulf: 

Narisha absorbed me, and, as if echoing the sentiment 
of her words, I felt that we were one. All three of us 
had joined to become a single entity, dedicated only to 
pleasure. Emotions roiled inside me, ones which I had 
only recently denied even existed. 

"Narisha," I gasped, only barely able to form words as 
I pushed inside her again. "Narisha, I love you." 

Then, I think the most astonishing event of the past 
days occurred. Narisha continued to lavish attention 
upon Livia, but she replied with the same intense 
sincerity I had heard from the blonde sorceress. 

"I love you, Wulf," she said. Gods, I thought, there's 
a lot of love in this room right now. "I love you 
both." 

That was enough for me. Words are the greatest 
aphrodisiac, and these seemed to push both Livia and me 
over the cliff we'd spent all afternoon climbing. Her 
cries rose to a wordless wail in which every desire 
seemed embodied. She tensed, released, tensed again, 
and I could see uncontrolled orgasm crashing endlessly 
through her. 

It was enough for me, too. I finally came, feeling the 
hotness of my cock gushing into Narisha. I had been 
loosed like an arrow, plunging on without regard for 
myself or anything else. My seed flooded into the sweet 
demon-cunt, mixing with her flowing juices, dripping 
down the carven columns of her thighs... 

I felt Narisha's climax as well, and her cries joined 
those of me and Livia. All three of us seemed instantly 
united in a single orgasm, which rocked through our 
bodies, bounced back and returned again and again, like 
a massive bolt of lightning over a storm-tossed sea. 
Yes, we were one now, and I knew it was what I wanted. 

We slept then, twined together like the branches of an 
ancient oak, and dreamed of each other. 
 

CHAPTER VII 
-----------

We didn't stir until late afternoon of the following 
day. My dreams wandered from Narisha to Livia and back 
again, inspecting every inch of their bodies and minds, 
running endlessly through lush fields of flesh, feeling 
again and again the hot softness of their touch. 

Once we had finally roused ourselves from that damned 
bedstead (not that I wanted to leave, mind you), we ate 
in Livia's dining room, served by a number of sprites 
who seemed to serve our sorceress out of heartfelt 
devotion, rather than magical compulsion. I ate (again) 
ravenously, but Livia (damn her) seemed to have 
retained the appetite of a bird. Narisha took her meat 
rare, and ate noisily with her fingers. Well, I guess 
they weren't ahead of us in all the social graces. 

After that, we retired to Livia's sitting room, which 
provided a lovely view of the Thieves' Quarter, with 
the noble realms misty pink and green in the distance. 
The glass was enchanted, of course, providing outside 
viewers with a boring, empty, mundane room no matter 
what orgiastic rites were actually going on inside. The 
room was pleasantly paneled in red flamewood, lined 
with leather-bound books, and furnished with deeply 
upholstered chairs and a desk large enough to raise 
cattle. 

We'd all dressed properly at last, Livia in the pale 
blue robes she favored, myself in clothes she'd 
provided, and Narisha in one of her lace, leather and 
chain mail numbers (gods only knew where she kept them 
all). It was with physical effort that I pushed all 
sensual considerations aside and concentrated on what 
Narisha was saying. 

"The crown is an important artifact," she said with 
calm authority. "Among other things, it symbolizes my 
family's primacy and our position as defenders against 
the Outer Darks." 

"Hey, wait a minute," I interrupted. "I've never heard 
of that. What are the Outer Darks?" 

Narisha looked thoughtful. "I suppose you could say 
that they're the realms we were driven out of." 

"You mean hell?" 

She laughed, but there was little cruelty in the sound. 
"No. You listen to your own legends too much. The Only 
People are from another place, yes. But it's not a 
fire-and-brimstone realm where sinners are punished. 
Well, perhaps it is now. We haven't been back in quite 
a time. In any event, our enemies still live there, and 
it's important that we keep them there." 

Now Livia spoke up. "That's your family's duty, then?" 

"Among others. Also among other families'. It's a very 
influential position. Unfortunately, you need the crown 
to symbolize it. Duke Janus apparently feels that my 
father's been falling down on the job, and has stolen 
the crown. I'm sorry to say that it happened on my 
watch, while my father was in the White Empire, so I'm 
responsible for getting it back." 

"Okay," I said. "Now we know what we're going after, 
perhaps you could tell me how to get it." 

"You're the freelance, you tell me." 

I growled. "A little more information about Janus and 
his palace would be in order, I think." 

Narisha rummaged around behind the desk, and pulled out 
a bundle of rolled parchments. She selected one and 
unrolled it on the desktop, weighting it down with an 
inkwell and paperweight (another Xeshite erotic, I 
noticed). 

The parchment was a nautical chart, scribed in bright 
colors with fanciful notations in some angular script I 
didn't recognize. 

"This is one of our charts," she said. "It shows the 
way to Arak Island and Hellgate keep." 

My eyes widened. "There's not an admiral in the realms 
who wouldn't trade a roomful of gold for this chart," I 
said. 

"Don't I know it. I'm lending it to you in the hope 
that you won't betray my trust and sell it." 

I rolled my eyes. "I'm unscrupulous, yes. But I don't 
betray my friends." 

"Or lovers?" 

"Or lovers. Get on with it." 

She then showed us, in quick succession, a number of 
other diagrams, depicting the island itself (a tangled 
jungle, apparently), the interior layout of Janus' Keep 
(whose architecture would only be logical to another 
demon), and finally, a crude rendition of a number of 
secret escape tunnels which Janus had had constructed. 

"Two of our best lost their lives making this diagram. 
You can use the tunnels to get into the keep. After 
that, it's up to you." 

I raised my eyebrows. "You've got it pretty well 
figured out, love. Why didn't you just send a regiment 
or so of your own warriors?"

She shook her head emphatically. "The place is crawling 
with anti-demon wards. Some of them would melt the 
flesh of anyone from our household if he so much as 
glanced at them. Janus doubled the guard after our 
spies got this information." 

"What assurances do you have that the layout hasn't 
changed?" Livia asked. "The tunnels may be gone, they 
may be rigged with traps, or they may be in another 
location altogether." 

"It's a risk," Narisha agreed. "The tunnels are sure to 
be trapped, but it's unlikely they've changed the 
layout. Janus wouldn't want to waste all that slave 
labor." 

"Slave labor?" I asked, alarmed. 

"Human slave labor. Hundreds died making those 
tunnels." Narisha looked away. "Please believe me when 
I tell you that not all the Only People are like 
Janus." 

"I believe you," I said. "I've known dozens of humans 
who can be as cruel as a demon." 

Livia still seemed concerned about the practical. "Once 
they're inside the palace, what then? A band of humans 
will stick out like a whore at a Rexxaran feast." 

"I'm counting on stealth," Narisha said. "But I brought 
some items which might be useful." 

More rummaging, and the demoness withdrew a number of 
small, silver amulets. I looked at one. It was a 
cunningly crafted image of a mouse. 

"Stealth enhancement, I take it?" I asked, fascinated. 
"More sympathetic magic?" 

Narisha nodded. "It won't make you invisible or 
anything so useful, but it will help keep you hidden, 
especially from demons. They work better if you keep 
still." 

"Thanks." I'd used such things in the past, and knew 
better than to depend on them, but they were a hell of 
a lot better than nothing. 

Then Narisha held up a brass amulet, which dangled from 
a chain, dancing and sparkling in the light of the 
setting sun. 

"There's probably something guarding the crown," she 
told me. "You'll have to deal with it alone, or else 
this won't work. Hold the amulet up and say..." Her 
lips, tongue and throat contorted in a string of words 
in some obscure demon dialect. "Got that?" 

I shook my head. "No, but we can go over it later. What 
else have you got there?" 

Narisha looked straight at me, yellow eyes locked with 
mine, deadly serious. "I have one more present for you, 
swordsman," she said. "I am taking a terrible risk in 
giving it to you. I must have your assurance that you 
will use it properly." 

"I'll know better when I see what it is," I said, "but 
I give you my assurance anyway." 

Without another word, Narisha bent down, reaching 
behind the desk again, and stood up holding a long, 
narrow bundle covered in gray rags. She handled it 
gingerly, and when she set it on the desk, atop the 
unrolled charts, she seemed relieved to have it out of 
her possession. 

"Open it," she said. 

Sensing the fatal seriousness of her words, I hastened 
to comply, tugging at the leather thongs which bound 
the package, and unwrapping the rags. When the contents 
were revealed, I stepped back with an involuntary cry. 

It was a sword. But no ordinary sword. It most closely 
resembled a Litharnan two-hander, but seemed much 
older. The pommel bore a large red gemstone, its grip 
was wound with weathered black leather, its crossguards 
in the form of intertwined dragon's heads. The blade 
was the strangest of all, however. It was a glossy 
black color, and bore gleaming silver runes. They were 
very old, but I could read them. 

"Pierce the demon heart," I read. "Strike in the name 
of justice." I looked up at Narisha. "It's a holy 
sword! I've never seen one so large." 

She nodded, face shot through with apprehension. "Yes. 
It was carried by the warrior Sir Goltha of Litharna, 
over a thousand years ago." 

"From the demon wars," Livia declared. "That must be 
Lawgiver, the sword of justice. Everyone thought it was 
destroyed when Goltha was killed." 

"His ship was sunk and he drowned," Narisha said. "Our 
swimmers brought it back, and we've kept it ever since. 
We can't destroy it; it's magic is too powerful. But we 
could keep it out of human hands -- prevent it from 
ever being used against us." 

My heart lurched. "You're giving it to me?" 

"Loaning it, my beloved," she said. "But you must swear 
never to use it against me or any member of my 
household." 

I've never put much stock in oaths, faith or religion. 
But now I did, and I fortunately knew the right words 
to say. I kneeled before the desk, bowed my head, 
placed both hands on the great, black blade, and spoke 
softly. 

"By all the gods, by all my ancestors, and by all that 
I hold sacred, I swear I will never use this blade 
against you and your household, nor against any who 
bear your arms, wear your colors, or swear fealty to 
you. This I swear, from this day until the end of the 
world, or until you release me from this oath. May my 
soul lie in torment should I violate this oath, and may 
my name be cursed to the seventh generation." 

I raised my head. Narisha was staring at me in flat-out 
disbelief. Black tears ran down her cheeks. Her dark 
lips trembled. 

"You do love me," she said. 

I nodded. I had meant it, for once. 

Evening lengthened shadows over the eternal city, from 
the squalid huts of the Barrens to the jagged, evil 
towers of the Forbidden Enclave and the graceful 
curving structures of the Noble Quarter. I gazed out 
the windows of Livia's sitting room, wondering if my 
death lay out there, and if it was anywhere near as 
savage as what these two women had put me through. 

I picked at my food, my mind racing over plans for the 
coming endeavor. Livia ate as delicately as ever, while 
our demoness slavered and tore at her rare beast. I 
could have sworn her fangs had grown longer, but I 
couldn't be certain. 

"I have the most delicious plans for after dinner," 
Narisha said, delicately wiping her blood-stained face 
with a white napkin. "There's a Xeshite sex ritual 
which requires three participants. First, one of the 
women lies on her back with her legs." 

"I hate to interrupt," I said, "and I hate the thought 
that I'll be missing the evening orgy even more, but in 
all honesty I'm going to have work to do tonight." 

Livia nodded, "You need to get ready to go." 

"I do. I also want to get my team together; I've got a 
few people in mind, and the sooner I contact them, the 
sooner I can leave. I don't want the news that I'm 
really alive to spread too fast." 

Narisha pouted prettily. "You make me sad, beloved." 

"Sorry. Hold the thought, though. It'll keep me going 
through the journey." 

The demoness sighed, and her vast, soft bosom heaved 
and quivered alluringly. "Well, at least my Livia will 
be here." 

"Yes," I agreed. "You two do as you please. Think of me 
once in a while, though." 

"Always," Livia said, and took a sip of wine, "Always." 

They were already together on the bed when I left, 
moving in a luscious tangle of red and white flesh. I 
gritted my teeth, counted backwards from a hundred, and 
walked out into the night, Lawgiver securely scabbarded 
on my back. 


CHAPTER VIII
------------

Stef is normally an extremely companionable fellow, 
even of temperament and jolly of disposition. He is a 
handsome, chisel- jawed man with deep blue eyes and 
curly blonde hair. He is usually smiling and almost 
never has a cross word for anyone. Unfortunately, these 
delightful character traits vanished the minute he 
caught sight of me.

"You!" he thundered, taking up a ceramic pot from a 
nearby table and brandishing it threateningly. "I hate 
you! Get the hell out!" 

"Stef," I began in my most diplomatic tone, "I just 
want to." 

He let fly with the pot. It smashed against the lintel 
over my head, showering me with water and broken 
crockery. 

"I warned you!" he continued, face contorted with a 
strange mixture of anger and fear. "I told you to get 
out and you didn't! If I killed you right now, no judge 
in the city would convict me!" 

I was getting a little tired of this. "Dammit, Stef," I 
barked, "didn't know the dragon wasn't really dead! I 
want to make it up to you!" 

A silver tray splanged into the wall beside me. 

"Make it up to me? You are a walking, talking omen of 
pure catastrophe! Despair and failure follow in your 
wake! What can you possibly do to make it up to me?" 

"I've got a job."
 
A pair of candlesticks this time. I dodged, but one of 
them caught me upside the head. 

"Go to hell, Wulf! Every time you offer me a job, 
disaster strikes within the hour! It took a month to 
get my arms back after that last fiasco! Get the hell 
out of my life! NOW!" 

I stopped and glared at him. "Phaedra's flaming tits, 
Stef, enough is enough!" I barked. "You throw one more 
household object and me, so help me I will pull out 
your pancreas and tie it around your neck! I've got a 
job for you!" 

By the grace of all the gods, Stef finally stopped 
heaving things at me, and only stood, glowering and 
panting. 

"What limbs do you want me to sacrifice this time, 
Wulf? I've got two legs left relatively unscathed." 

I took a deep breath. Maybe we could talk now. "None if 
we're lucky. How are the new arms working out, by the 
way?" 

His scowl deepened. "Considering the fact that one was 
taken off a Skyrian wrestling eunuch and the other was 
from some effeminate White Empire sorcerer, not badly. 
They should be the same size in a year or so." 

I mustered all the sympathy I could spare. "I'm sorry. 
I really could have sworn that dragon was dead..." 

"Never mind." He waved one beefy arm at me, then 
gestured with the other (noticeably thinner, I could 
see) to sit down. "I can see I won't get rid or you 
until you give your pitch. So sit down and tell me so I 
can tell you to go fuck a hunting beast." 

"Thanks, I just did," I mumbled, sitting down. 

"Huh?" 

"Nothing. Anyway, here's the buzz."


CHAPTER IX
----------

I found Odo the dwarf, not surprisingly, sleeping off a 
drunk.

Vurrg, innkeeper at the Goblin's Eye, had hung Odo from 
one of the torch brackets in order to get him out of 
the way while he dirtied up a little. I retrieved Odo 
from this humiliating position and dragged him home. He 
growled and mumbled a little, but did not wake, 
preferring -- apparently to remain in his dream world 
where he was ravishing some chesty human temptress 
named Ula. 

I'm surprised that the little runt doesn't constantly 
have a swarm of flies around, given the fact that he 
rarely bathes and never combs out his beard. Despite 
his odious hygienic habits, however, Odo is the meanest 
little son-of-a-bitch who ever swung a battleaxe, and 
takes a perverse pleasure in killing such traditional 
foes as elves, goblins, other dwarves and especially -- 
demons. I figured that we'd be well underway by the 
time he recovered from his drunk, so there wouldn't be 
much he could do to prevent being dragooned into our 
little band.

*** 

The reams and reams of cheap fiction which the 
Litharnan printing presses crank out each year seem 
always to feature the same rag-tag band of adventurers 
-- the beautiful sorceress, the brawny barbarian, the 
crafty thief, the plucky dwarf, the mysterious elf, and 
so on. As usual, reality doesn't jibe. 

I was, at best, an imitation barbarian, our thief was 
reluctant at best and had only just recovered from 
having his arms pulled off by a sadistic dragon, the 
dwarf was a drunk, and the elf was on the police force 
trying to bust our ass. The beautiful sorceress seemed 
content to stay at home and be repeatedly ravished by a 
demoness, and our best warrior wasn't even brawny. 

Not that she had to be. Xitaa (pronounced "Zee-tah") 
was a priestess-sister from the Temple of Rexxara. For 
those of you who don't know, Rexxara, the Mother of All 
Battles, is a southern import who has managed to gather 
a considerable following here in the heart of decadent 
civilization. Dedicated only to the joy of righteous 
battle, Rexxarans must, among other things, shave off 
all their body hair (yes, ALL their body hair) save a 
small scalplock or strip in the middle of the head, 
practice a regimen of strenuous daily exercises, 
contribute all battlefield booty to the temple, and 
forsake all worldly pleasures. As might be expected, 
this means no booze, no sex, and only the most simple, 
nourishing food. (This, mind you, is just what I 
believed to be true at the time; the facts of the 
matter were considerably more interesting.) 

All this meant that Xitaa was one of the best warriors 
around, unlikely to be swayed by the pleasures of the 
flesh, and possibly able to persuade Rexxara to grant 
us a miracle or two if things looked really bleak. I 
had met her on several occasions in the past, and she 
had made it clear that she was available for any 
righteous sword-cleaving which needed to be done. That 
night, I contacted her at the Rexxaran monast, where 
she and her fellow righteous warriors were preparing to 
retire and dream of killing cringing orcs and savage 
trolls. 

Besides (and here we have Wulf being an obnoxious male 
who thinks with his gonads again), she was damned easy 
to look at. Clad in her traditional Rexxaran plate 
armor (gleaming silver and brass), she cut a 
magnificent figure. She was muscular and well- 
proportioned, and kept her kinky black hair in the 
single strip favored by most Rexxaran women, with a 
single one of the goddess' runes tattooed on her bare 
pate. 

She had enough vanity to paint her well-shaped lips 
blood red, and line her cool, almond-shaped eyes with 
black kohl, with a single spiral painted at the outer 
corner of each. Her eyes, which could drill you as 
surely as a crossbow bolt, were vivid violet and rarely 
if ever blinked. If I hadn't known that she was as 
unreachable as Phaedra Herself, I'd have been lust-
smitten the moment I saw her. As it was, I ignored my 
baser instincts and told myself that she was just a 
fellow warrior. 

"You say there is killing to be done?" she asked. 
Delightful woman, really... 

I nodded. "Probably a lot. Demons in particular. We're 
heading for the heart of demon country and trying to 
steal a valuable artifact. I suspect your sword will 
get a lot of use." 

She eyed me up and down, as if I was a horse she was 
thinking of buying. 

"Do you have the courage to stand beside one of the 
Faithful?" she asked. 

"If I do not, let me die honorably," I replied. I know 
that Rexxarans dig that kind of talk. 

She smiled. It was a grim smile. "We shall see how 
worthy you are to bare your sword and be blessed by 
Rexxara. How much will you donate to the temple for my 
assistance?" 

I named a figure. It was large, but only a portion of 
what I would get for one of the ghost gems. 

She bowed her shapely, smooth head. "It is good. May 
the Mother of All Battles bless our endeavor." 

I stood up. "I hope to leave at first light, if I can 
secure a ship." 

"Let it be done. Let many souls be shriven and face 
Rexxara's mercy." 

I repressed a shudder and left. Xitaa made me think of 
a sleek, jungle cat -- all sensuous movement and 
beauty, but with an underlying current of sheer, 
unrestrained violence. I hoped that it would never be 
directed at me. 


CHAPTER X
---------

There still remained small matter of a ship. As the fog 
rolled in, shrouding the moon Little Sister with a 
silvery veil, I thought quickly of the captains I knew 
who could be had at short notice. 

I was still thinking when I arrived at the docks. 
They're a forbidding place, even during the day. A vast 
wilderness of dark warehouses, rotting piers, seedy 
inns and mysterious vessels with cloaked lanterns and 
unknown cargoes. The quiet sound of lapping waves and 
creaking ropes constantly fills the air, along with the 
scent of rotting fish and seaweed. Rumor has it that 
the Cult of Slaerth controls much of the activity on 
the docks, but no one has ever proved it. 

Tonight, with the moon riding at full sail through an 
unsettled sky, the docks were even less welcoming than 
normal. A few cracks of smoky yellow light showed 
through closed doors and shuttered windows, but for the 
most part, the region was bathed in lambent silvery-
blue, and the shadows were deep indeed. 

In my mind, the search had narrowed down to two 
candidates. Captain Fish (it was a nickname, of course 
-- I didn't remember his real name) had brought in his 
sloop, Bluefin, two days ago, and was still in port for 
lack of cargo. Unfortunately, he had let his entire 
crew go, and it would take at least one more day to 
attract another. Even then, the crewmen who could be 
recruited on such short notice would not be ones I 
would trust to sail us into the heart of the demon 
isles. They would, however, be cheap. 

Skate was a mercenary cutter, small and fast, with a 
sharp crew and professional captain, one Kamaz, a 
serious woman with gray-streaked hair who swings a mean 
cutlass. The problem with Skate was that all this 
professionalism didn't come cheap. With the amount 
Kamaz charged, I could practically buy my own ship and 
sail it north alone. 

I walked along the misty docks, more or less lost in 
thought. That was my mistake -- the docks are the last 
place in the realms where one should wander, lost in 
thought. Then again, after the last couple days' 
events, including as they did bouts of mindless 
violence interrupted by orgiastic debauchery, my 
alertness wasn't what it should have been even in the 
best of times. 

In any event, I was taken by surprise. The hatefully 
familiar silhouette which appeared from behind a pile 
of crates caused me to jump a good foot, and stagger 
backwards, only to find myself held by a pair of 
powerful -- and equally familiar -- arms. 

"Wulf!" Niall's contemptuous words lashed out like a 
whip. "You bastard! I knew you weren't dead!" 

He approached, moving out of the shadows and into the 
full moonlight. "Two days on sewer patrol because of 
you, you piece of troll vomit! I'm going to make you 
sorry your father ever porked your mother!" 

"Well, well, if it isn't the littlest elf," I grunted, 
trying to remain flippant while my mind frantically 
tried to come up with an escape plan and failed 
miserably. "What's the matter, lose your pointy-toed 
shoes?" 

The ogre behind me tightened his grip. I suspected it 
was Grud, since Skab was probably recuperating from his 
wounds with the aid of a quart of Old Dragon's Breath. 

A shudder passed through Niall, then the affected air 
of a calm, detached city scrutator returned. 

"Mind you, Wulf, I don't really care what you did at 
Tev's. For all I know, a demon really did go down on 
you in his solarium." He paused, and drew a deep 
breath, idly scratching one of his pointy elf-ears. 
"What really bothers me, Wulf..." 

"Is the fact that you have no penis?" I asked. "That 
would certainly bother me." Yes, it was crude and not 
all that funny, but it was the best I could do at the 
moment. 

It didn't phase him. Gods, I was in trouble. 

"No, Wulf," Niall continued. "I am not bothered by your 
petty trivialities. What I am bothered by..." 

Without a second thought, punched me in the stomach as 
hard as he could. Pain and cold shock exploded through 
me, and I tried to double over, but the ogre held on 
tight. 

"Heh, heh," said Grud. Damn, but ogres are easily 
amused. 

"...is your absolute contempt and lack of respect," 
Niall continued with a straight face, "for the law." 

I looked up, mustering up what defiance I could. I 
coughed heavily and said, "The law, Niall? What the 
hell did you ever know about the law?" 

Niall chuckled. "I've forgotten more about the law than 
you'll ever know, you insignificant little footpad." He 
moved close and shoved his face directly into mine. 
"But that's not really the point is it? What's really 
important is what the law represents. What it 
accomplishes. Am I right?" 

"I have no idea what you're talking about, scrutator." 
Niall was apparently even crazier than I'd thought. 

"You don't? Ha!" A single syllable of laughter exploded 
from Niall's throat. "That's very funny. Isn't that 
funny, Grud?" 

"Duh, yah boss," Grud rumbled, clearly so far lost in 
our conversation that he couldn't have found his way 
home with a map. 

"It doesn't surprise me that you don't know what I'm 
talking about." Niall's voice was icy-cold and logical 
now. I began to wonder whether my quest was about to 
end before it started. "You may think that I've come a 
long way from my ancestors, who lived in white towers 
and fought noble wars and rode dragons. You may think 
that I've turned my back on everything that an elf is, 
and become just as grimy and unpleasant as you humans. 
But you're wrong, Wulf. I remember. I remember that my 
people wrote the first laws, and made the law what it 
is today." 

"You've lost it, Scrutator," I rasped. "Whatever you 
might have had once upon a time, you've lost it 
completely. Why don't you just admit that you've got a 
height complex and let it go at that?" 

It was as if I hadn't even spoken. "You see," Niall 
continued, "the real point of the law is its end 
result. The route it takes to that result is 
irrelevant. That's what my ancestors believed, and it's 
still true. Oh, I'm sure that there are those repulsive 
little wizardly philosopher types who whine about how 
the end never justifies the means, but what do they 
know, really? They spend their lives cloistered away in 
academies and towers and dusty libraries -- they have 
no knowledge of what it's really like on the streets, 
in the gutters, in the..." He drew a breath. 
"...Sewers." 

Niall turned and walked toward the gleaming water, but 
his ratty little voice continued to echo across the 
docks. 

"No, the real point of the law, the real intent... 
That's what was important to the old Dragon Kings, and 
that's what is important to me. Through all the 
voluminous, labyrinthine laws which are necessary to 
run a cesspool like Stoneburg, through all of them 
there is a common thread. And that, my friend..." 

He whirled and advanced rapidly, shaking a finger at 
me, until his face was once more inches from mine. 

"...is to keep lowlife pieces of filth like you down on 
your knees and out of the way of the important people! 
Now you and your disgusting kind may scoff at us -- the 
people in charge of enforcing the laws. But you scoff 
simply because you fear the law, you hate the law. You 
know in your heart and soul that the law was conceived 
and designed specifically with you in mind. You and the 
legions of scum and perverts you associate with." 

Nearing the end of his rant, Niall relaxed, 
contemplating my fate with near orgasmic satisfaction, 
eyes closed, face beatific. 

"But I shouldn't blame you for being what you are. You 
are unavoidable, Wulf. You're an occupational hazard. 
My only joy in life comes from making the laws work, 
which is something I am about to do." Another deep 
breath, slowly and luxuriantly exhaled. He smiled, a 
razor thin little smile. "Grud, pull this bastard's 
head off." 

"Duh, yah boss," Grud replied, predictably. 

Good-bye, Narisha, I thought to myself. Good-bye, 
Livia. I really did love you... 

Fortunately for me, my final declaration of love was 
premature. Not only did Grud's grip not tighten, his 
entire warty, stinking body began to relax and slide to 
the ground. Again not questioning good fortune, I 
dodged away, disentangling myself from the collapsing 
ogre and tugging Lawgiver free from its scabbard. 

I needn't have bothered. Grud's collapse did not stop 
when his body reached the ground. The ugly beast 
continued to collapse, deflating like a punctured 
bladder, exuding a pool of disgusting, ogre-colored 
slime. My ears tingled, feeling the faint crackle of 
magical energy. Magical? 

Livia stood nearby, a short rod clasped in her hand, 
her grim gaze fixed directly on the disintegrating 
ogre. 

A shriek from Niall riveted my attention. I stared in 
mixed horror and amazement. 

Niall writhed and struggled in the grip of a horrific 
creature. Outwardly humanoid, it was a muscular, clawed 
thing with black-striped red fur. Its snarling, 
tigerish head bristled with white, dagger-sharp teeth. 
As I watched, the long black claws scored deep slashes 
across Niall's belly, sending entrails gushing, while 
its maw took a huge chunk out of his neck, chewed, and 
swallowed a mass of torn flesh and jagged bone. 

I shuddered. Not that I ever liked Niall, but no one 
deserved that kind of death. I wasn't too terribly 
alarmed -- I suspected the thing was one of Livia's 
servitors and under her control. 

"Are you all right?" she asked, looking me up and down. 

I nodded. "Who's your friend?" 

Livia looked uncomfortable. I followed her gaze to 
where the thing was still rending Niall's remains, 
which by now resembled the beef stew served every 
Friday at the Goblin's Eye. As I watched, I let out an 
involuntary cry of shock and horror. 

It was Narisha. 

She had returned to her voluptuous womanish shape, but 
still retained her red and black stripes, and crouched 
on hands and knees like an animal, ripping and tearing 
at what was left of poor Niall and stuffing bloody 
gobbets into her mouth. The fact that she was naked 
only added to her animalistic appearance. She looked 
somewhat like a Kaitian tiger-woman, but far more 
heavy-bodied, muscular and savage. 

Narisha saw that I had noticed, and stopped short, 
sitting back, and leaning against a crate, panting. 
Blood ran freely down her face, slightly darker than 
her crimson flesh, soaking her shoulders and dripping 
from the heavy curves of her breasts. The jewel at her 
nipple glittered faintly. Slowly, the stripes faded, 
and in a moment she was her old self. 

"W-Wulf," she said, weakly. "I'm sorry you had to..." 
Her words trailed off and her head fell forward. 

I could only stare at the mess she'd left. I had heard 
of demonic shapechangers, but I'd never actually seen 
it. Now, I had proof. 

Narisha composed herself and looked up, head high. 

"I try not to show that side of my nature, Swordsman," 
she said at last. "But he was going to kill you. You, 
Wulf. I realized that I couldn't let that happen." 

I finally found my voice. "I... I don't begrudge that." 
I swallowed. "I've seen worse. Thanks." 

All the same, I was troubled. Niall had been about to 
have me murdered horribly, true. But had the situation 
been reversed, I would never have done the same to him. 
Damn, I thought. Have I got a hidden streak of decency 
or something? 

"You said to think of you," Livia said. "We did. We 
checked in on you in one of my scrying crystals. When 
we saw what was happening I cast a transit spell, got 
us here instantly." 

"Gods," I muttered. "You probably set off every 
proximity ward for a league around. Someone'll know 
what's up." 

Narisha joined us. Niall's blood had begun to dry, 
scaling up around her mouth and neck. Damme, but she 
was still beautiful. 

"Not too terribly unhappy with me, are you, lover?" she 
asked, tracing a bloody pattern on one breast. "I'll 
never do that to you." 

"I should hope not," I replied. "No, I think I've 
accepted you as you are, regardless of what you turn 
into. You don't accidentally change while making love 
do you?" 

She looked at me, smiling. "As a matter of fact I do," 
she said, "but I've got other shapes as well. Maybe 
you'll see them some day. Wouldn't you enjoy making 
love to a snarling panther?" 

"I usually leave such things to dark elves," I said 
dubiously, "but I'll take it under advisement. Not that 
I'm ungrateful, but you two had better get back before 
this place is swarming with scrutators. Naked demons 
tend to arouse suspicions." 

"Among other things," Livia muttered. 

I stayed long enough to make sure that they 'ported 
back home safely, then rapidly left the vicinity. Skate 
was at the other end of the dock, well away from any 
official attention. 

I found Kamaz asleep, but woke her up anyway, barging 
past the officer on deck, and cut a quick deal with 
her, agreeing to have Skate ready and under full sail 
at dawn. With that, I headed back toward Livia's, 
taking a much more circuitous route than normal, and 
staying close to the shadows. 


CHAPTER XI
----------

Skate glided through the water like her graceful 
namesake. Kamaz's little cutter was a truly fine ship. 
She managed well with a minimal crew of less than a 
dozen semi-cutthroats, her fine white sails bellying 
into the wind like the wings of an albatross. Our 
quarters were quite luxurious (at least for shipboard) 
-- roomy, with genuine feather-beds, writing desks and 
ample storage. 

Our vessel was quite capable of defending herself, as 
well. A pair of ballistae forward and aft could easily 
be mounted behind armored mantlets, while there was a 
small catapult stored disassembled below decks for 
heavier combat. Skate's main strength was her speed, 
however, and given the swift pace which we were 
setting, I was grateful. 

As I said at the beginning of my narrative, I'm not 
much skilled with two-handed weapons, so I spent the 
days at sea practicing with a Litharnan greatsword I 
had collected from Livia's arms store. Lawbringer 
remained locked away and hidden in my cabin, for use 
only when we reached our destination. 

My companions did likewise -- Stef practiced 
lockpicking, stealth, and other thiefly skills; Odo 
(once he sobered up and realized where he was) prayed 
to his gods, chanted, sharpened his axe, and fantasized 
about chopping demons into small pieces; and Xitaa, 
bless her violent little heart, actually deigned to 
spar with me. We used wooden swords and pulled our 
punches, but I bore bruises after each bout 
nonetheless. No, I don't think I'll ever be what you 
would call a great swordsman. 

Xitaa also burned a lot of incense, and spent a lot of 
time meditating and reading. Fine pursuit for such a 
healthy and active young woman, I thought. 

I stayed in contact with my two beloveds through a 
scrying crystal Livia had given me. All was going well 
back home -- as far as everyone knew I was still dead, 
and Niall's disappearance was blamed on angry guildsmen 
who felt their protection payments were too high. Livia 
said that she missed me, and kept me up on current 
events. 

Narisha rehearsed me in the demon-incantation that went 
with the amulet, and insisted on giving me a blow-by-
blow description of her and Livia's mutual encounter 
with the young poet and student. She had nearly scared 
him to death, appearing unexpectedly as he and Livia 
were delicately conjoined, then the two of them had 
almost killed him in a much more constructive fashion. 
I made a face, but listened anyway. Was it magic, or 
was it me, I wondered? They could do anything, with 
anyone, and for some bizarre reason I seemed to care 
about them all the more. Damn. 

With a good south wind behind us, we sailed at full 
reach, putting ourselves days ahead of schedule. The 
Yellow Jungle Isles and their reptilian inhabitants 
slid by without incident (the damned Jarreks have a 
tendency to swarm out in their war canoes if you look 
at them crosseyed), we crossed through sea nomad 
territory and never saw a single bloody city-raft, and 
passed the Black Cliffs unnoticed by any lurking 
Slaerthists. 

The only real incident which marred the journey was a 
run-in with a tribe of naked wyvern-riding savages who 
swooped down on us with violent intentions. Fortunately 
for us, they turned out to be Rexxarans, and Xitaa was 
able to defuse their war-lust and send them off with 
our best wishes. Within days, we were well within demon 
waters. 

Skate remained at full alert for those days, with 
double patrols walking the deck and all eyes constantly 
scanning the horizon. Kamaz, a stern-faced, powerfully 
built woman, brooked no slacking and had us all help 
out. 

Thick sea-fogs tended to envelop the deck at night, 
rising like living things out of the black water 
beneath us. A sailor claimed to have seen a vast, black 
ray-like creature glide beneath us, cast a single 
malevolent red eye our way, and then continue on its 
way, trailing a vast, rudder-like tail behind it. Once, 
while I was on watch, I'd swear I saw a writhing mass 
of black tentacles on the horizon, glinting wetly, but 
then they disappeared and, luckily for us, did not 
return. 

Strange things happen in demon waters. Most magical 
theorists believe that the temporal rift which 
delivered the demons here also dragged along some of 
their own magical energy with it, or altered our own 
magical energies in such a way that normal spells don't 
work, or work strangely. I didn't dare try it out -- 
there was no sense attracting attention to ourselves so 
close to our goal. My communication with Narisha and 
Livia ceased for the time being, and I left them to 
their sybaritic rituals without having to hear about 
them. 

And we were close, no doubt of it. Kamaz discovered 
that our charts were out of date, and that many of the 
shoals and shallows listed on it had changed, growing 
shallower and muddier, or dropping down to unknown 
depths. Despite this, we proceeded smoothly, sailing 
through the black waters without encountering any 
demons or their bizarre, self-propelled ships. A little 
over a week after leaving Stoneburg, Arak Island 
swelled ahead of us, shimmering in the noonday sun. 

It looked like something in a painting -- a vast, 
shaggy green island, tangled jungle rising to a 
towering prominence near the center, where Hellgate 
Keep, stronghold of Duke Janus and his household, 
crouched like a moldy vulture. Of course, we were 
approaching from the Keep's blindside, and would be 
anchoring in a sheltered inlet along the island's 
eastern edge. I could only hope that our approach had 
gone undetected, and that Skate would be safe at anchor 
while my team hacked through the jungle and stole the 
treasure from under demonic noses. 

Kamaz saw us off with her usual aplomb, gazing sternly 
at us as we made for the shore in a ship's boat. On the 
entire journey, I hadn't seen the woman show emotion 
even once, and she didn't show it now. 

My companions reflected their various personalities, 
either looking apprehensively toward the towering green 
lushness ahead like Stef, lost in thoughts of battle, 
sex and booze, preferably in combination, like Odo, or 
sitting calmly with a look of deep serenity like Xitaa. 
As for myself, I'm not entirely sure what I looked like 
--

I only know it wasn't terribly happy. 

"Less than a day in and out," I said. "I want this to 
go smoothly."

"Yeah, but it never does," said Stef, his brows 
knitting, his handsome blonde face contorting into an 
expression which said "Gods and demons, Wulf, you've 
gotten me into it again..." 

"Hrm," grumbled Odo, fingering the blade on his 
battleaxe. He was in what might be called standard 
dwarf gear -- chain shirt, steel cap, heavy gauntlets 
and a bad attitude. "I'd hate to go through all this 
trouble and not meet at least one demon." 

"Goddess provide," Xitaa muttered, her protruding lips 
barely moving. She had gone through some rather 
involved rituals the night before, involving anointing 
herself with sacred oils and inhaling various burning 
herbs, and this morning had made herself up with heavy 
kohl and black, shiny pigment on her lips, contrasting 
with her naturally pale skin. In armor she looked like 
Death's younger sister. 

We beached the boat and concealed it in the underbrush, 
all muttering prayers that the demon patrols weren't 
too heavy on this part of the island. Without further 
fanfare, we struck off into the jungle. 

I breathed deeply. The air was humid and lush as the 
thick green all around us. Birds shrieked overhead, and 
insects thrummed ceaselessly, like the constant rhythm 
of a fever dream. I led the way, hacking through 
vegetation with a sickle; Lawgiver was strapped 
uncomfortably to my back projecting sufficiently on 
both sides to make the going unpleasant. 

The other three followed along behind, all professional 
enough to keep their mouths shut. Each warily scanned 
the jungle around us for any signs of the enemy. Odo 
and Xitaa each carried a spanned crossbow (which I 
trusted would not accidentally go off at a bad moment), 
and Stef carried a brace of throwing daggers. Narisha 
and Livia had pronounced a few cantrips over our 
weapons, giving them added potency against demons, 
although none of the normal arms had even a tenth the 
power of my own weapon. All things considered, I 
thought, we were quite a capable bunch. 

Our capabilities were tested only once when a pair of 
six-legged reptilian monstrosities charged us, 
bellowing and hissing. They were hunting beasts -- 
crested and horned, with the bizarre, cone-shaped eyes 
of chameleons. They gave us a worried moment or two, 
until Lawgiver's anti-demonic enchantments helped me 
slice them into sections. Odo even got in a hack or 
two, but he seemed disappointed not to have been 
awarded the deathblow. Breathing heavily, and hoping 
that the jungle contained no further horrors, we 
continued. 

We reached the entrance to Hellgate with no more 
encounters. The tunnel entrance was unguarded, 
overgrown with vines, and to all appearances, quite 
forgotten. I hoped that appearances were, for once, 
correct. Stef assured us that it was, indeed, abandoned 
and contained no hidden pitfalls which he could see. 
With all due caution, we entered. 

About a hundred yards in, when the greenish light of 
the jungle had faded to a tiny pinhole behind us, and 
the drips of water, scuffling of vermin, and flutter of 
bats (or something) was amplified to alarming levels, I 
began to wonder whether the mouse- amulets we were 
wearing were nothing more than window-dressing with no 
real magical abilities simply intended to make us feel 
better. 

I could just see my wicked Narisha explaining herself -
- "Well, if you thought they worked, it was as good as 
if they really did, wasn't it?" then a sweet giggle and 
an invitation to play. 

And Wulf -- the idiot -- rushing to play without regard 
for the consequences. 

The tunnel turned out to be a nightmare, but 
fortunately one of the more mundane kinds. We scrambled 
over piles of rubble, crawled through filthy muck, 
squeezed through passages barely two handspans wide 
(Odo only got stuck once), and contended with cascades 
of water pouring from the roof (which had the positive 
effect of washing most of the muck away) before finally 
reaching the end and the rusty, encrusted interior of 
an iron door. There were no more hunting beasts, no 
shambling legions of undead, no strange demonic magical 
wards -- we had made it without any unnatural 
confrontations. I knew, however, it was too early to 
heave a sigh of relief. 

The door was the next obstacle. I was reluctant to open 
it magically for fear that it might set off wards or 
alarms inside. If that happened, we'd be on Janus' 
table that night, saut‚ed in lemon butter and stuffed 
with chestnuts. I turned to Stef. 

"Okay, tapper," I said, gesturing. "Do your stuff." 

Stef cracked his knuckles and approached the door. We 
watched in tense silence as he rapped quietly on the 
rusty surface, tested rivet heads, and searched for 
hinges. After a few minutes of intense concentration, 
he turned to me with the final verdict. 

"Can't be done," he said. 

I glared at him. "I'm so glad I brought a professional 
along."

He shrugged. "The rivets are solid, it's heavily barred 
from the inside, and I can't reach the hinges. Got any 
ideas, boss?" 

I sighed. "Sorry. I'm just on edge. I guess I'd better 
start casting. Just hope that this demon-magic doesn't 
screw me up." 

"I'll close my eyes." 

While Stef stood back, Odo fidgeted, and Xitaa looked 
solemn and beautiful, I laid out my components, wrote 
runes on the door, and gestured appropriately. I'm not 
one for shouting my invocations; I prefer to keep them 
reasonably secret -- besides, shouted spells might 
attract attention. I mumbled the words as softly as I 
dared and held my breath as the runes glowed white- 
hot, and a circular hole slowly burned itself into the 
middle of the door. Sparks flew and an acrid smell 
assailed my nostrils, and in a few moments it was 
finished. A clean, circular plug of metal two inches 
thick slowly toppled from the door. 

I jumped. "Catch it!" I whispered urgently. I didn't 
need a loud clanging noise to complete the racket I'd 
created by casting. Odo trundled forward, arms extended 
to intercept the falling metal, but succeeded only in 
breaking the thing's fall as it crashed down on him 
with a muffled thud. 

Stef and I heaved the circle off, revealing Odo half- 
embedded in the gravely floor. He growled, climbed out 
(leaving an interesting negative image of himself 
behind), and dusted himself off without a word. 

"Sorry," I whispered. 

"Mrrph," Odo grunted. "Let's go kill something."


CHAPTER XII
-----------

We had entered an unused section of the fortress, 
raising my hopes that there were no wards set. As we 
crept through the dusty, darkened corridors, no hellish 
legions or demonic sorcerers assailed us, and I began 
to consider the possibility that we might have slipped 
in undetected. 

In the dim light from a vine-covered grating overhead, 
I inspected the map of the fortress which Narisha had 
given me. We didn't know exactly where the crown might 
be kept, but she had marked some of the more prominent 
possibilities. Unless I had the map completely 
backwards, the nearest possible hiding place was only a 
hundred yards or so away. With as much haste as we 
could manage while staying relatively quiet (Xitaa's 
armor clanked a bit, but you can't have everything). 

The room we sought was in the abandoned area, and was 
also dusty and deserted. Resignedly, we moved on. 

The fortress corridors seemed almost comfortingly 
familiar. The demons seemed to use similar patterns to 
our own human architecture, although their exteriors 
were baroque and complicated. Lintel stones and 
corridor walls were often fancifully carved with 
monstrous visages and abstract designs, but even these 
had a relatively mundane look to them. I was feeling 
much more optimistic as we approached a more well-
traveled and -lit section of Hellgate. Here, torches 
burned and sunglobes shone, making one feel for all the 
world like a small bug on a very large plate. 

Another possibility proved a washout -- this room was 
full of crates and jars of various sizes and designs. 
Odo's eyes sparked and he made a grab for one jar 
(whether he thought it contained wine or gold I'm not 
certain) before we dragged him off. 

Blue shadows wavering around a bend in the corridor 
alerted me to approaching hazard, and I waved everyone 
back into the shadows, hoping desperately that 
Narisha's amulets really did work. 

A pair of male demon sentries stalked down the hallway 
as we cowered. They wore male versions of Narisha's 
leather-and-mail number and looked grim. The lead bore 
a long, possibly decorative, scar down one cheek, while 
the other carried what looked like a black longbow. As 
I watched, the bow seemed to waver slightly, and I 
heard a mumbling sound, as if the bow was whispering 
softly to its owner. 

I tensed, my hand straying to Lawbringer's hilt, but 
the demons continued on. The second one backhanded his 
bow, growling something along the lines of, "whiny 
bitch..." 

I let out the breath I'd been holding. Either Narisha's 
mouse-amulets really worked, or we hid better than I 
would have thought possible. 

We continued. On the third candidate room, we got 
lucky. Peeking around a corner, I saw a pair of demon 
guards standing watch outside a barred iron door with a 
large brass padlock, leading me to believe that 
something important lay beyond. 

"Jackpot," I whispered to Odo and Xitaa. "Ready to kill 
something?" 

That was about all they needed. While Stef held back, 
the three of us burst out onto the surprised demon 
guards. Lawbringer literally leapt in my hands, lashing 
out to cleave the first demon even as he drew his 
sword, while Odo and Xitaa's ensorcelled weapons hacked 
down the second. They took about a dozen blows to 
accomplish what I did in one (demon flesh being what it 
is), and their victim was a little less tidy than mine, 
but I wasn't about to complain. 

"Stef!" I hissed, gesturing at the lock. "Open this 
bastard and get me inside. The shit's gonna hit the 
windmill now." 

Without a word, he went at the lock with his picks and 
needles, and in a moment, it popped open and Stef 
grinned. 

"Good job," I said. I thought about Narisha's 
admonition and fingered the amulet in my pouch. "You 
three get rid of the bodies. I'm going to have to go in 
alone. I'll let you know when I'm finished." 

Odo looked crestfallen (all this time and only one dead 
demon, and that a joint effort), Xitaa nodded briefly 
and began to drag one of the bodies away, and Stef cast 
me a quizzical look, then began to tug on the other. I 
drew a deep breath, held the amulet close, opened the 
door and entered. 

Numbing cold assailed me the instant I opened the door. 
I closed it behind me, not wishing whatever was inside 
to get out, or to have my companions see me casting a 
demonic spell. I pulled out the amulet and gazed at my 
surroundings. 

Frost rimed every surface. Beneath my feet lay a sheet 
of gleaming ice. Icicles like crystalline daggers as 
tall as me hung from the walls. My breath came in vast 
clouds of steam, and it hurt to inhale. The cold air 
pinched at my face, and soon my skin was aching. 

Ahead lay a blank wall, as icy and cold as the rest of 
the room. I took a step toward it, sliding my boots 
across the ice- sheet to maintain friction, and the 
wall seemed to suddenly slide backwards, growing 
smaller, running away from me. The room stretched into 
an icicle-lined hallway, thirty, forty, fifty feet. 

Clutching the amulet tightly, making sure that 
Lawbringer was free in its sheath, I hurried down the 
steadily-lengthening corridor, slipping now and then, 
but retaining my feet. 

The lengthening of the corridor slowed (or was I 
catching up with it?), and the end began to approach. I 
strained through the fog of my own exhalations to see 
what was there. My heart leaped -- in the center of the 
wall was a recessed niche. And in the niche lay a 
black-and-silver, jeweled crown. Gods, had I actually 
managed to.

No, of course not. 

A billow of cold wind stopped me, kicking up a storm of 
ice chips, and I stumbled backward, slipping and almost 
falling. A thin, warbling shriek split the air, and as 
I tugged my sword free I saw a tall, dark form rising 
up from the clouds of cold air. 

It came at me, long, skeletal arms outreached. It might 
have been human once -- I wasn't certain. A frost-
covered skull-like visage leered and shrieked, blue 
eyes glowing from sunken sockets. Scraps of long, 
snarled black hair trailed from its skull and it wore 
some kind of tattered gray garment. 

It floated a foot off the floor, speeding toward me as 
if blown on the cold wind, and I realized I only had an 
instant to cast Narisha's spell. I held the amulet 
before me like a shield and rasped the impossible 
syllables which Narisha had taught me. 

The thing kept coming, bony arms reaching, claws 
clutching... 

I continued to growl and gargle the demon-spell. 
Dammit! Those demons had a different word for 
everything... 

The amulet glowed, emitting a flash of coruscating 
colors, lancing out in a beam to strike the thing. It 
hissed, and the cold suddenly increased... 

Then it was gone. 

Not entirely. The room was still bone-numbingly chill, 
but the dry, painful quality of the cold had moderated 
somewhat. The walls were still hung with stalactites, 
and the floor was still covered in a jacket of ice, but 
I realized that the room had returned to its original 
dimensions; the niche was still there, crown and all, 
but for the moment I was fixated on what the ice-ghoul 
thing had evidently transformed into. 

An exquisite creature, seemingly carved of pale blue 
ice sat on a low couch, regarding me with wide, purple 
eyes. Her face was small, softly curved, with round 
cheeks, well-defined, dark- blue lips and long, 
straight blue-black hair. She was dressed in a white 
shift which exposed a considerable expanse of leg, 
drawn up beneath her protectively. But most remarkable 
of all, a pair of delicate, butterfly-like wings, all 
frosty and colored in (surprise!) shades of blue. They 
had an unhealthy look to them, drooping sadly as if 
overburdened by the weight of ice and imprisonment. 

She was faerie, by the gods. I'd been around the isles 
for years, and I'd never even seen one, even going so 
far as to nurse doubts whether they actually existed. 
Rumor had it that their beauty was sufficient to strike 
mortals dead. Fortunately, while the icy blue creature 
before me was a being of near-unearthly beauty, I was 
still very much alive. So much for that particular 
legend, I thought. 

"You spoke the words," she said, in a tiny, uncertain 
voice as if unused to verbal communications. 

"Yes," I said. "Was that just an illusion?" 

"Not real, no. Not like me. You come to free me?" 

I nodded. "Yes," I said. "You're fr..." I stopped 
short. Around the faerie woman's slender neck was a 
collar, connected to the wall by a chain. Both were 
seemingly made of ice. 

"Wait," I said. I approached. Cold still rolled off 
her; I wondered idly if it was part of the spell which 
had imprisoned her. I set my feet as best I could 
against the ice, then swung Lawbringer heavily against 
the ice-chain. 

To my surprise, nothing happened. Lawbringer struck the 
chain full-force, but did not even chip the crystalline 
surface. 

"Damn," I muttered. 

She gazed at me sadly. "Can't break the chain that way. 
Chain is faerie-magic. Sword kills demon-magic." 

I sighed and sheathed the blade. "How do I break the 
chain, then?" 

The wide eyes met mine and locked. "Demon curse," she 
whispered in a voice as cold and hopeless as the 
cubicle she occupied. "Mortal love frees me. Makes me 
warm. Nothing else. No mortals here, so faerie can 
never be free." 

Fucking demons. I looked apologetic. "I'm afraid mortal 
love takes time. I... I can't feel love for you if I 
just..." 

She interrupted me with a scornful snort. "Not 'love' 
love, man," she said, sounding almost amused. She ran 
her hands up and down her body as her shift grew 
tantalizingly tight, and gestured rather explicitly. 
"Lo-o-o-ve!" 

Wulf is slow sometimes, but for once his mind was a 
trap of finest spring-steel. I realized exactly what 
she meant after only thirty seconds or so of intense 
thought. 

"You want me to..." I began. 

She hugged herself passionately and again her shift 
grew taunt across her firm breasts. Her expression had 
grown at once hopeful, joyous and mischievous. "Love 
me!" she said. "Love me, man. Love me and melt my 
chains." 

I shrugged mentally, hoping that my companions in the 
hall could spare me for a few more minutes. I 
approached, loosening my jerkin and breaches. Gods, how 
would I be able to perform in this cold, I wondered? 

"You love me now?" she asked. 

"If the cold allows," I replied. Hell, the consequences 
of dysfunction here meant keeping an innocent being in 
chains indefinitely. I'd encountered disappointed women 
before (one of whom still persisted in referring to me 
as "Mister Flopsey"), but this would be more than I 
could stand. Performance anxiety began to rear its ugly 
head. "I don't know if I can..." 

"Hm," the faerie said. "You can. Start here." With a 
wriggle, she slid out of her shift. Her blue flesh was 
tight, her body slender but firm. Her small breasts 
were perfectly matched to her delicately flared hips 
and her nipples, like her lips, were a dark bluish-
black. She stroked at the dark blue hair between her 
legs. "Start here, man. Warm first. Then love. Lots of 
love." 

"My pleasure," I said, kneeling down. "My name is Wulf, 
by the way." 

"Wulf-man. Yes. Love me. Love Orchid." 

I placed my hands on Orchid's thighs (I briefly feared 
that my hands would stick, like a tongue to a cold 
piece of metal, but fortunately this did not happen). 
Her flesh was cold and smooth as ice. Beneath my hands, 
however, I felt her skin grow warmer and softer. The 
mere touch of a human had begun to thaw her icy prison. 

"Oh, yes, man." Her voice was excited and high as my 
fingers massaged the dark blue lips of her sex. They, 
too, were icy at first, but began to warm and grow soft 
at my touch. Taking a deep breath, and hoping to avoid 
frostbite, I moistened my tongue and delicately placed 
it against Orchid's nether lips. 

She quivered, hands clenching and unclenching. Her 
thighs and cunt were streaked with blue-white now, and 
although the softness of her sex was still cold, it was 
warming and moistening rapidly. I breathed the growing 
moisture deeply; she was as rich as a fine wine, and I 
consumed her with building enthusiasm. 

Orchid's body tensed now, she leaned back, belly 
tightening, hands held in fists. She moaned, and the 
sound vibrated through my mind and into my soul. Her 
color paled, growing lighter and lighter blue and, 
looking up, I saw flashes of bright, butterfly color 
pulsing through her wings. 

"Ohhh, man. Wulf-man... You love me. Yes." 

I stroked her thighs and held her buttocks as she 
lifted herself up from the couch. Beneath my tongue, 
more juices flowed, and the soft, succulent flesh grew 
almost warm. The room was still cold, but I was working 
on an erection of epic proportions. 

The pulsating blue-white colors came faster and faster. 
I sucked and licked, nibbling at her lips (now flashing 
pink and blue as the temperature soared), tasting her 
deeply. I wanted to make use of the hot hardness that 
was growing below my belt, but I was still concerned 
about wilting in the cold. 

I decided to chance it. I stepped back, divesting 
myself of clothing as quickly as I could manage. The 
boots caused problems, and I had to pause to pull them 
off, feeling the cold creep through my body, softening 
my epic erection. (I suppose I could have kept some of 
my gear on while I plunged away, but I'd always felt 
this was rather tacky.) 

"Come to me, man," Orchid whined, urgently, stroking 
herself up and down. "Fill me with yourself..." 

I positioned myself between her blue-white thighs, 
placing my cock against her pouting, still-moist cunt-
lips. Her frenetic urgings continued, and I slid 
smoothly inside, feeling ice-cold suddenly transform to 
eager warmth, then moist hotness. My erection returned 
in all its glory as I began to thrust in and out. 

As Orchid writhed, moaning wordlessly now, I moved atop 
her, holding myself up on the narrow couch, watching 
her face contort and listening to her sighs and groans. 
I crushed my mouth against hers. Yes, not surprisingly, 
her lips were as cold here as they'd been elsewhere, 
but they warmed swiftly. I tasted her tongue as it 
slipped eagerly into my mouth, and felt a continuous 
flow of magical heat and excitement flowing from the 
faerie-woman's head, heart and cunt. 

"Mmm," I mumbled. "I want to warm you. Set you free." 

"Set Orchid free," she replied. "Love me. Fill me with 
your love." 

I continued to "love" sweet Orchid for some time. My 
cock slid in and out as I kissed her, stroked her and 
played with the delicate flesh of her breasts and 
nipples. She seemed to particularly like this last, and 
when I moved my hands elsewhere, she continued to 
stroke and pinch with her own fingers. 

Still, after all this effort, her color never improved 
beyond a pale blue, and her chains remained as strong 
as ever. True, the rest of the room seemed to be 
thawing -- the floor was now slushy, the icicles 
dripping a steady tattoo to accompany our lovemaking -- 
but Orchid herself seemed to reach a certain point and 
go no further. 

"I want more," she groaned. "Give me more love now, 
man." 

My head started to loll and my eyes crossed. "I can't 
give you any more than this, Orchid," I gasped. "I'm 
doing the best I can." 

"No," she said impatiently, even as my erect organ 
continued to caress the inside of her now-hot sex. 
"More love. Need more love. Need more man, now." 

The brief urge to tell her, "Sorry, toots. So long," 
crossed my mind and was swiftly crushed by my innate 
sense of gallantry. My own frantic plunging was clearly 
not enough to break the ice- chain spell. What was the 
alternative? Another person to "love" Orchid? 

Bingo. But who? Odo was too lost in battle-lust and 
would probably scare the hell out of Orchid (and 
besides, I had no real desire to see the greasy little 
freak naked), and Xitaa's religious restrictions were a 
bit too strict. The only alternative was... Gods. 

I discreetly poked my head out the door, hoping to 
conceal enough of myself that no one would notice that 
I was mostly naked and still pretty excited. 

They were still there, thank the fates. They looked 
rather bored, and no more corpses decorated the 
polished floor. I hissed urgently. 

"Uh, Stef?" I asked. "Could you step in here for a 
moment? I need some help." 

Stef was quicker on the uptake than I was. He looked at 
the scene inside the now-dripping ice-room, glancing 
quizzically from me to Orchid, who lay, eyes slitted, 
coyly playing with herself as she waited for action to 
resume. 

"She's a faerie?" he asked. 

"Yeah, and she needs..." I faltered. "She needs help 
to... to..." 

"Gods damn it all, Wulf," Stef complained, taking note 
of my unclothed and still relatively aroused state. 
"We're out there waiting for Havra-knows what horror to 
come lumbering down the hall, and you're in here 
porking some female? Give me one good reason why I 
shouldn't." 

"Hello, beautiful man," said Orchid in a happy, sing-
song voice. "Come to help set me free?" 

I shrugged helplessly. "I know what it looks like, 
Stef. She needs what she calls 'mortal love' to break 
her chains. It's a curse.

I can't seem to provide enough 'mortal love' to do the 
job, so..." 

"You like Orchid?" she asked again, sitting, holding 
her ripe, firm, and now almost white breasts up for 
inspection. "You love Orchid, beautiful man?" 

Realization finally dawned on Stef's chiseled features. 
"You mean, she wants us to..." 

"You win a cookie," I replied. "Think of it as my way 
of making up for you getting your arms ripped off. Now, 
strip for action and help me, for gods' sake." 

Stef grinned. 

My semi-friend Stef ended up displaying several talents 
which I hadn't suspected. First of all, he was hung 
like a plow-horse, a situation which might have 
disturbed another female, but seemed to suit Orchid 
just fine. 

"Big man," she whispered, in what I hoped was mock-awe. 
"Let Orchid kiss your staff, big man." 

As I resumed my former place between Orchid's thighs, I 
watched as Orchid tilted her head over the edge of the 
couch, her lips (now a pinkish violet, pulsating with 
color) embracing Stef's thick organ, making muffled 
sounds of delight. I slipped my own cock inside her and 
resumed my former activities, feeling her grow still 
warmer inside. The dripping and melting in the room 
increased; I felt water dribbling down my naked back 
and cold water splash against my neck. Rather than 
discomfort, I felt all the more stimulated. 

Orchid sucked at Stef with an eagerness I'd rarely seen 
before. His own face was contorted with an expression 
almost like intense concentration, and he made a rusty 
sound deep in his throat as the faerie-woman devoured 
his slick organ. 

I felt her hands grab my buttocks and pull me in, 
faster and faster. My shaft was hot now with her 
juices, and her groans, muffled by the thickness of 
Stef's cock, grew louder and louder. Her sweet cunt 
around my cock tightened and the heat increased. Water 
poured down from every corner of the room, (reminding 
me of Livia and the waterfall, not surprisingly) 
beading up and running down our bodies. Cold water 
splashed down on Orchid's heaving belly and breasts; 
her nipples grew hard and swollen in response. I pumped 
faster and faster, and I could see Stef doing the same. 

She groaned still louder, echoing from the slick walls, 
shaking my heart and vibrating my spirit. Orchid made 
incoherent sounds, clawing now at Stef, pulling him 
into her mouth with fervent intensity. I had never 
thought that a woman could come simply from sucking a 
man off, but Orchid seemed to be an exception -- 
besides, she wasn't strictly human anyway. 

The room was almost warm now; the melting ice had left 
the air heavy with humidity. Orchid was almost 
normally-colored now, her skin alabaster white, her 
lips and nipples rich coral-color, her hair was 
lustrous blue-green. But the most vivid and beautiful 
thing about her now was her wings -- they glittered and 
shone with a dozen colors, all rimmed in black, like 
stained-glass windows. Being pinned beneath her as she 
furiously sucked both of us into her didn't seem to do 
them any harm, either. 

Orchid released Stef, spittle trailing from his thick, 
slick shaft. She looked at me. "You now. You here," she 
said. "You there," she said to Stef, pointing at me. 

I took advantage of the break to catch my breath. I was 
gasping pretty heavily now. "Trade off?" I said to 
Stef. 

Also looking rather ragged, he nodded wordlessly, and 
we moved to opposite positions. Orchid took my cock 
into her mouth, as Stef slid his own shaft into her. 
She stiffened as he entered her, and pulled harder on 
my cock. I wouldn't be able to keep this up much 
longer, I realized and, by the look of him, Stef 
wouldn't be able to either. 

Her lips moved faster and faster, purple eyes fixed on 
mine, hot tongue flicking up and down the length of my 
organ. The ice- chain looked thinner now, and meltoff 
ran freely down her neck and shoulders. The misty rain 
continued to pound down; all the ice was gone now, but 
the room was now awash in gallons of water. 

As the heat of her mouth grew and grew, I realized that 
faeries must have a much higher body temperature than 
humans -- Gods, the cold must have been hellish for 
this poor creature... 

She let me go now, and spoke in a husky whisper. "I 
want more," she said. "More love. More men. Give me 
more." 

I looked at Stef. He seemed oblivious, pounding his 
heavy cock in and out of her saturated cunt. I was not 
surprised when I saw steam rising from her sex as Stef 
continued to thrust and thrust. 

"No more," I said, again rejecting Odo for personal 
reasons. "We're all there is, Orchid." 

She looked distraught for a moment, then her face 
brightened. "I can make more now," she said, excitedly. 
"Faerie magic works now. I can make more." 

She seized my cock again and stuffed it into her mouth. 
There was a shimmer in the air beside us, and a crackle 
of magical energy. Then, at either side of our 
voracious little fairy stood a naked, erect male form. 

I looked at our new companions, and almost jumped out 
of my skin. One was me -- hairy, grizzled and 
bewildered-looking as ever -- and the other was 
handsome, blonde Stef, complete down to every ripple of 
his washboard stomach. Simulacra? Illusions? 
Shapeshifting elementals? I could not be sure. 

What was certain was the single-minded determination 
with which they stepped forward, each placing his erect 
cock in one of Orchid's hands. She wrapped her pale 
fingers around the engorged flesh and began tugging 
with the same fervor that her mouth sucked and nibbled 
at my cock. The sight was almost too much. I could feel 
orgasm sneaking up on me like a House Kinif assassin. 

The next thing I knew, the chain shattered, flinging 
ice shards all across the room. We tumbled to the floor 
in a slippery tangle of limbs, splashing down into half 
a foot of warm water. I was on my back, my legs wrapped 
around Orchid's shoulders, as her mouth practically 
raped my defenseless organ, teeth delicately scoring my 
taunt skin. Stef was beneath us (hopefully not 
drowning); her buttocks worked furiously, pulling him 
in and out. She retained her grip on the two simulacra, 
who emitted moans which seemed echoes of Stef's and my 
own. 

Another multicolored shimmer gleamed behind her, and 
yet a fifth figure appeared, this one a seeming amalgam 
of the two of us -- my face on most of Stef's body 
(although a few of my scars and tattoos seem to have 
been duplicated as well). Also moving stiffly and 
apparently without much will of its own, the man-thing 
manipulated its own engorged cock (it resembled Stef's 
more than mine, I noted briefly), placing it between 
pale globes of the faerie-woman's buttocks, then thrust 
into her. 

It's never been one of my favored modes of lovemaking 
(although Narisha's requested it often enough), and it 
never struck me as the most exciting thing in the 
world, but the fifth cock to nestle in one of Orchid's 
intimate places set her off like a blazing inferno. She 
pumped Stef in and out with almost blinding speed. Her 
mouth had transformed into a fiery tunnel which I could 
barely tolerate. With both hands she embraced the two 
simulacra's cocks, tugging and stroking, while the 
final player in our little menage thrust a duplicate of 
Stef's organ into the faerie's final available orifice. 
Her wings, free now, flapped and fluttered gracefully, 
colors coruscating and shining, almost glowing with a 
rainbow of shades. 

I couldn't restrain myself any more. Orgasm flooded 
fiery sensation through my veins and I felt my cum gush 
into Orchid's eager mouth. Her own muffled wails rose 
to a deafening level, and Stef's shorter and shorter 
grunts indicated he was on the edge as well. With a 
heaving grunt, he came as well. 

Simultaneously, our simulacra thundered over into 
orgasm, hot white fluid splashing all over Orchid's 
hands and arms, while behind her the last one exploded 
all over her heaving ass. 

"Ahhhh," Orchid gasped, letting my collapsing organ go, 
letting cum run from her mouth. Our five-fold 
contractions seemed to rocked through her body, and she 
twitched and heaved, as if her own climax fired off all 
her muscles at once. "Ohhh, man... I am free..." 

The three duplicates vanished in flashes of 
multicolored light, and she rose gently to the surface, 
disengaging the also- spent Stef, who lay, like me, 
gasping in the now-warm water. The room was downright 
hot now, the ice transformed to steam, and the demon 
crown was still safely in its niche. 

Orchid was now bathed in flickering, coruscating 
lights, seemingly shining from her slowly flapping 
wings, illuminating her sweet, naked body with an 
unearthly glow. She hovered near the ceiling, beaming 
down on us with a smile that could shatter glass. 

"Orchid loves you," she said, and her voice echoed 
through us, as if it came from beyond the confines of 
the room. "Orchid loves you very much. I want more. I 
want more men for me. Ten. A hundred. I will have many 
men where I go, but you come see Orchid. Orchid will 
love you special. Feel love in Orchid's land -- feel 
her special love." 

I waved weakly. "Bye, love," I said with all the energy 
I could muster. "Have a good trip." 

Stef waved as well, but could only manage a rusty 
squeak. 

She waved as well, then faded away, her lights growing 
dimmer and dimmer. 

"Orchid loves you," she said, as if receding down a 
long tunnel. "Remember. Orchid loves you both." 

Then she was gone. 

I looked at Stef, barely retaining enough strength to 
swivel my head. "So, how 'bout getting that crown and 
getting the hell out of here?" I said. 

Stef nodded. "Argle bargle," he replied. 


CHAPTER XIII
------------

"What took ya so long?" Odo demanded as we hurried from 
the room. The crown was safe in my backpack for now. 
"And why ya so wet?" 

"Guardian water elemental," I said briefly. "Spewed all 
over us before we could kill it." 

"Hmph," the dwarf grunted. "Shoulda called me." 

Stef shook his head wordlessly while I ignored the 
little psychopath and motioned everyone to follow me 
down the corridor. "Come on," I said. "We got what we 
came for, now let's get the hell out." 

Stef chuckled. "Almost too easy, huh?" 

I was about to reply when I realized that the blonde 
idiot had probably jinxed us with that remark. 
Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Lots of footsteps. 

"Double time!" I hissed. "We're outa here!" 

We all sprinted for the exit, away from the footsteps. 
Unfortunately, myriad footfalls also sounded down that 
route, as well.

"Crap," I muttered. "You had to go and say it, didn't 
you, Stef?" 

"Sorry," he said contritely, drawing a throwing dagger. 

"Hah!" Odo barked, swinging his axe. "We'll make mince-
pies of 'em. Come and get me, ya red skinned 
motherfuckers!" 

Dwarves, I reflected, were not long on subtlety. 

In front of us a squad of demons appeared, led by the 
pair we'd seen in the hallway. The bowman had his 
weapon out and strung, a heavy black arrow aimed 
straight at me. The bow continued to groan and mumble, 
while the other ten (or was it fifty?) or so demon held 
weapons in various shapes and colors, all crackling 
with so many enchantments I felt my hair start to stand 
on end. 

I turned around. Xitaa was whispering some battle chant 
under her breath, slim longsword held on guard. Behind 
us it was worse. A similar crowd of demon-warriors, 
both male and female (and, gods help me, I'd probably 
have been willing to jump in the sack with any one of 
them, regardless of gender -- such is the demons' 
attraction to us, I guess) stood watching us with 
expressions ranging from wariness to amusement and 
outright hate. 

In the middle of the crowd, however, stood the biggest, 
most muscle-bound demon male I'd ever seen. A set of 
heavy goat horns curled from his temples, fangs 
overhung his thin lips, and in each hand he held a 
blade which made Lawbringer look like a toothpick. He 
wore little in the way of clothing, revealing a chest 
the size of a White Empire dreadnaught and arms like 
high elven guardian trees. On either side of him was a 
snarling hunting beast resembling a cross between a 
bull mastiff and a sabre-toothed tiger, each wearing a 
spiked collar, their eyes glaring with red- yellow 
animosity. I had a sneaking hunch that the demonic 
muscle- boy was Duke Janus himself. 

"Surrender yourselves, humans," Janus growled in a 
voice like mountains colliding. "This is your only 
warning." 

I considered this, then spoke. "Couldn't we just talk 
like civilized." 

"Kill them," Janus rumbled. 

So much for diplomacy. 

The demons hastened forward. I remembered the bowman 
behind me and dodged. The black missile whizzed through 
the air and struck a wall, coalescing into a sizzling, 
black blob which oozed up the stonework like a living 
thing. 

Lawbringer rang from its scabbard, runes flashing blue-
white, lightning crackling up and down its length. The 
demons in front of me hesitated, their eyes reflecting 
what might have been fear, at the sight of the 
legendary weapon. 

"Time to kill!" Odo bellowed from behind me, and I 
heard his blade swishing through the air, contacting 
something with a meaty chunk. That was about all the 
time I had to think about Odo as the demons overcame 
their fear and charged in a body. 

"For the Mother of All Battles!" Xitaa shouted, 
swinging her sword. The enhanced metal sliced a demon's 
arm (it would have split an ordinary human in two, 
however), sending him staggering back. 

As I've said repeatedly throughout this narrative, I'm 
not the best swordsman in the world, but with 
Lawbringer and doing most of the fighting, I certainly 
felt like it. The sacred blade slashed effortlessly 
through air and demon-flesh alike, its runes flashing 
brightly, leaving long silvery trails. 

No demon blade could touch me. Neither claw nor tooth 
nor arrow could harm me. The demons before me fell 
back, crying out in panic. "He holds an enchanted 
blade!" they cried. "Ware! Heartcutter!"

I felt no mercy now -- it was Lawbringer taking 
control, turning me into the living embodiment of 
Goltha of Litharna, the Demon-Slayer. Male and female 
demons fell before the blade's onslaught. One female 
fell to her knees, black hair cascading, her eyes 
gazing up at me almost beseechingly. She looked like 
Narisha, and I saw a tattoo much like my lover's on one 
breast, peeking out of her studded corset. Sorrow raged 
deep inside me as the blade slashed through her, 
sending her head spinning, and I knew that later I'd 
feel horrible. 

Beside me, Xitaa also strove against the red-fleshed 
horde, albeit with somewhat less success. I glanced 
over to see her trading blows with a slim male demon 
dressed in a purely decorative chain mail vest. She 
beat back a blow from the demon's axe then lunged with 
her thin blade (a move popular with the Xeshite 
blademasters, but not well known in my neck of the 
woods), plunging the point though her opponent's 
unarmored chest. Yes, even though the demon's body 
could shrug off incredible damage, two feet of steel 
though the chest still finished them off admirably. 

I swung again, sending an armless demon shrieking down 
the corridor. I realized that I now faced Duke Janus 
alone. 

"Hello, demon," I hissed through clenched teeth. "I 
bring pain." (Not my own words, I don't think. Maybe it 
was something Sir Goltha said once.) 

Janus seemed unconcerned. He nodded briefly, and the 
nightmare-dog hunting beasts leaped at me, fangs bared, 
spittle strings trailing like streamers, their red eyes 
glowing brighter and hotter. I slashed, Lawbringer drew 
a glittering arc that cut through both beasts 
midsections, slicing them in two. Blood and other, less 
savory, substances splashed against the stone walls. 

Janus was still unmoved, and leisurely moved toward me, 
brandishing his twin swords. 

"You bring me pain, human," he rumbled. "I bring you 
much, much more." 

Our weapons clanged together and to my surprise, 
Lawbringer's swath of destruction finally crashed to a 
stone cold stop. Something in the demon's weapons had 
made the blade's magic flee, and I was once more just a 
second-rate swordsman trying to fight with a sword I 
could barely hold up. 

Janus chuckled. "We demons have our own heartcutters," 
he growled, like a veldtland saber-cat ready to pounce. 
"And you will know pain, human, not me." 

I parried clumsily, but he knocked Lawbringer from my 
hands. Panic seized me in a rough grip, and I turned to 
flee. Calmly, without hurry, he stabbed me in the back. 

I fell. I screamed. I did, indeed know pain. The 
substance of the demon-blade coursed through my veins 
like acid. I rolled over, looking up at Janus. He stood 
above me, smiling evilly. 

"I'll not grant you the mercy of a quick death, human," 
he said. "You've cost me many fine warriors today, with 
your pathetic little toy sword." The wickedly fanged 
point of one of the blades moved inexorably toward my 
face. Gods. Narisha... 

"Mother of All Battles! Deliver your servant!" 

Xitaa's entreaty echoed down the corridor, riveting the 
few surviving combatants. Janus looked up, annoyed. 

"Purge the demon! Goddess save us!" 

Xitaa stood proudly, legs planted widely apart, arms 
upraised, sword pointing skyward. She looked for all 
the world like one of Rexxara's own battle-maidens, her 
armor splashed with blood, her face and voice defiant. 

A deep rumbling filled the hall. Gods... No, I thought 
-- Goddess... 

Light flashed down Xitaa's blade, and then lanced out 
to strike Janus in the chest. 

It wasn't enough to kill. But it was enough to send the 
duke tumbling backwards, his twin blades clanging to 
the floor. 

My pain seemed to vanish, and the clean peace of pure 
battle filled my soul. I stood. 

"Lawbringer!" I shouted, and the great sword flew 
through the air to plant itself in my hands. I advanced 
upon the stunned Janus. 

He struggled to his feet. His swords were gone. He 
looked at me fearfully. 

"No pain, demon," I said quietly. "I'll cause you no 
pain." 

I killed him quickly and watched his lifeless body 
crumple to the floor. Wearily, I sheathed Lawbringer 
and turned to go. 

Xitaa joined me. As we stepped over piles of sundered 
demon bodies, I looked frantically around for Odo and 
Stef. 

Odo was easy. He had been slammed against a wall and 
lay, insensible but alive, cradling his precious axe. 
Stef, on the other hand... 

His head was about ten feet away from his body. A demon 
sword had sliced cleanly through his neck. He probably 
never knew what hit him. 

I kneeled down, frantically mumbling charms to 
determine if his body still retained its vital spark. 
Deep inside him, I thought I detected a faint pulse. 
Gods, maybe... 

Xitaa kneeled beside me, placing Stef's head on his 
chest. She knew what I was doing, and joined me in 
hastily muttering a binding spell, hopefully enough to 
keep his spirit alive for the duration of the trip 
back. If we were very lucky, a high priest of Phaedra 
might be able to put him back together. 

Grimly, we packed up our companions, and hurried from 
the dreadful fortress, now little more than a 
slaughterhouse. 

Now, with all the fighting over, I could finally feel 
sick. 


CHAPTER XIV
-----------

Weariness pretty much oozed from every pore of my body. 
We had succeeded, but in my estimation, the price had 
been almost too high. 

I saw to Stef's sundered remains and made sure that the 
binding enchantment was still active -- all the while 
steeling myself for the beating which Stef was sure to 
deliver once he recovered. I made a mental note to 
offer him a bonus as soon as he was capable of 
communication. 

Odo was still out cold, and I hoped that his dwarven 
constitution would pull him through. For the moment, I 
thought, crossing the deck with the Demon Crown secure 
in my seabag, there was nothing I could offer save 
prayer. 

In retrospect, I should have realized that my travails 
weren't over, but what happened next exceeded anything 
I could have foreseen. 

I knew something was wrong the instant I opened my 
cabin door. The interior was lit with the rich, yellow 
glow of a dozen oil lamps, scattered throughout the 
small chamber, and the exotic scents of spicy incense 
filled the air. 

The incense burned in four small braziers, one placed 
at each corner of the bed. The intruder who had placed 
them there, however, was the most astonishing thing of 
all. 

Xitaa the Rexxaran sat cross-legged on my bed, hands 
placed together before her. Rich, violet eyes stared 
into space, as if focused on something distant, and 
only barely visible. Her breathing was slow and 
measured, and her white skin gleamed in the lamplight. 
I saw an open bottle of oil on the floor, centered at 
the foot of the bed. 

Oh, yes -- did I forget to say that she was completely 
naked as well? Doubly so for her near-total lack of 
hair, save for her long, now-braided scalp-strip. Her 
skin was quite fair, decorated here and there with 
small (but strangely tasteful) scars. Her wound from 
the battle at the keep had healed completely (probably 
with the help of prayer), and was now indistinguishable 
from her other scars. My own nasty wound, I noted, had 
also been healed by Rexxara's timely intervention. 

"Welcome, Sword Brother," she said. Her voice had a 
strange timbre -- a subtle shift of tone which made it 
sound even deeper and more serious than it had before. 
"Come, partake of Rexxara's blessing and absolution." 

With that, she moved her hands apart, extending her 
arms, elbows slightly bent, palms facing me, presenting 
a small, rounded pair of breasts, with exquisite pink 
nipples, to my view. 

That was about all the encouragement I needed. I 
entered with more haste than was strictly seemly, 
shutting and bolting the door behind me. I made to 
approach the bed, but she stopped me with an abrupt 
gesture, her shapely violet eyes fixing me with an 
intense gaze. 

"Come no nearer until you have prepared yourself, 
brother," she said. "For I am no longer entirely the 
woman you knew as Sister Xitaa. I have shed blood and 
taken life as the Mother of All Battles has decreed. 
But now, having performed the rituals for the taking of 
life, we must perform the act which symbolizes the 
giving of life." 

I had surmised as much, and was quickly coming to the 
realization that these Rexxarans weren't anywhere near 
as stiff-necked and repressed as everyone thought. 

"I am Xitaa," she continued in a voice which was at 
once imperious and softly inviting, "but I am also now 
vessel to Mother Rexxara, Goddess of Just Battle. Join 
with us, brother, wash clean the blood of our enemies 
with the perfect love of the Goddess." 

Gods -- I guess you learn something new every day, eh? 
I was about to take Rexxara/Xitaa up on her offer 
(making love to a goddess not being something anyone 
would turn down readily), when she stopped me again. 
Gods! 

"Prepare," she whispered, all seductive grace now. Her 
hands moved in intricate patterns, palms weaving in and 
out, breasts and belly moving rhythmically. Shadows lay 
between her thighs and I was suddenly seized by the 
intense desire to see what was hidden there. 

"Prepare," she repeated. "Unclothe your body that the 
Goddess may see you. Anoint yourself with her sacred 
oils that you may be purified." 

I didn't hurry; haste struck me as unseemly right now. 
I took a deep breath, filling nostrils and lungs with 
spicy fragrance, then loosened my shirt and breeches. 
In a few moments, I stood before Xitaa, naked as the 
day I entered the world. 

The Goddess seemed to approve -- a smile crossed 
Xitaa's sculptured face for the first time. It was 
assisted, I imagine, by the actions of my organ, which 
rapidly rose from half-mast status to full -- and 
rather uncomfortable -- attention. 

"It is good," she said, and her seductive tone 
increased, dripping from her words like honey. "Rexxara 
desires you. Anoint your body now, and receive her 
favor." 

The oil was a fragrant concoction, and I'm sure it cost 
a fortune (assuming non-Rexxarans could even purchase 
it, of course). I slathered it on my neck, chest, 
stomach and thighs, rubbing fiercely. 

It tingled and burned much like the fluids of my 
beloved Narisha. I thought of her briefly (my erection 
jumping a bit further at the notion), but I realized 
that she wasn't here. This was one experience I wanted 
to keep to myself. 

"Approach, warrior," Xitaa murmured. She lay back on 
the bed, now, torso elevated on a pile of pillows 
arranged with ritualistic precision, and uncrossed her 
legs, while carefully lacing her fingers behind her 
naked head. 

"Let me gaze on a goddess for a moment," I said, 
running my eyes up and down the warrioress' body. 

She was a muscular woman -- each individual sinew 
firmly outlined and distinct (I suspected strongly that 
she could beat me arm wrestling). Solid, angular 
shoulders gave way to arms which looked strong but in 
no way grotesque. Small but well-formed breasts rose 
high above the sharpness of her ribs and the taunt 
smoothness of her belly. Her thighs powerful and pale 
as those of a statue -- framed her sex, smooth and 
hairless as the rest of her, clean-shaven and delicate, 
creating a gentle, soft center amid the harsh rigidity 
of her fighter's physique. 

Yes, I believed a goddess lived in those corded arms 
and powerful thighs, but She also dwelt in the fragile 
pink flower of her cunt. 

"Let me worship Rexxara," I said simply, and joined her 
on the bed. 

Goddess she may have been (or at least an avatar), but 
her tastes were strictly earthly. We flowed together 
like water, our slick skin sliding without friction, 
the pressure of fingers and mouths running freely along 
each other's bodies. 

I kissed her deeply, tasting wine and other, more 
exotic things on her tongue. She returned my kisses 
with passion, roaming inside my mouth as our bodies 
combined and recombined. 

My hand sought her breast, gliding along her oil-slick, 
hairless belly to enclose the sweet little globe and 
tickle its rapidly-hardening center of desire. She 
moaned against my mouth, sending delicate vibrations 
through me. 

"Worship me," she whispered, fiercely. "Worship me!" 

Her own fingers ranged over my chest, fingering my own 
nipples as I toyed with hers. I moved lower to embrace 
her breasts with my lips, rolling swollen nipples 
between my teeth. 

Her mouth free, Xitaa provided a running commentary, 
part ritual, part passion. 

"Nurse at the breasts of the mother of passion, 
mortal," she gasped, words barely coherent. "Stroke my 
flesh and feel my blessings radiate outward... we join 
together in penance and faith, you and I... worship me 
and worship the Goddess..." 

My mind grew strangely divided. In one half, I gave in 
to passion, and explored the eager body of this 
goddess-woman, taking back pleasure from her lips and 
fingers to equal what I gave. 

The other half of my awareness writhed in something 
resembling religious ecstasy. That this act -- so 
thoroughly pleasurable and essential to our natures -- 
could be considered a form of worship aroused a deep-
seated longing in me, and now both halves fed off of 
each other. I truly believed, now, that Xitaa was an 
earthly incarnation of a terrible goddess of violence 
and passion, of creation and destruction. 

"Take my body," I rasped with the same pent-up desire 
as Xitaa had spoken. "I surrender to the Goddess..." 

Then Xitaa was kissing and fondling my engorged cock, 
tracing its outlines with finger and tongue, all the 
while continuing to chant in a near-trance of religious 
and sexual fervor. 

"Oh, the Goddess is good, she is kind... Let her lips 
embrace your manhood, be one with her... Pay homage 
with your lips and tongue... Pay her homage and she 
returns your pleasure tenfold... Now, man, belong to 
the Goddess, accept her love... Love her, lie with her, 
find joy in her sweet recesses, find pleasure in her 
soft breasts and loving cunt..." 

Her lips encircled my cock and, without further 
preliminaries, she swallowed its entire length, eyes 
closed, body trembling. Soft, wet warmth enveloped me, 
as if she were sucking my entire body inside her. 

I was damned if I'd be the only one accepting Rexxara's 
blessing. With a heave, I pulled Xitaa's hard body atop 
mine, placed my hands on her thighs, spread them apart 
and thrust my face into the depths of her pink, 
hairless sex. 

She stiffened, and a high-pitched sound escaped from 
her throat, vibrating through my manhood, then her 
trembling increased. She periodically released my cock 
to utter another invocation, then enveloped it again, 
groaning deeply, stroking with lips and tongue, as a 
feverish heat rose deep inside me. -- -- "Feel the 
Goddess' passion... mmm... against your burning 
flesh... mmm... Her blessing in each caress... mmm... 
of her loving tongue." 

All of this made me even wilder, of course, and as 
sexual and religious passion grew closer and closer 
together in my mind, I wanted her more and more. I told 
her so. 

"Let me put my cock inside you," I gasped. 

She complied instantly, lying back on her pile of 
pillows, opening up her beautiful cunt for me, now 
slick with my own spittle and her sweet honey. 

"Fill the cunt of the Goddess," she said in excited, 
yet strangely measured and ritualistic tones. "Fill her 
cunt with your manhood and accept her blessing." 

Pure, wild lust had pretty much taken over, and without 
further preliminaries, I slipped my cock between the 
moist pink lips and thrust deeply into the warm wetness 
inside. 

After all the build-up, Xitaa's climax was 
instantaneous, clamping down on my cock like a fist. 
Through clenched teeth she groaned, gasping out a 
further litany. 

"Fill your goddess' womb, man... Ohhh... Spill your 
seed inside her blessed cunt... Ohhh... Fill her... 
Love her..." 

I let her climax progress before I finally abandoned 
control. "Share with the Goddess, blessed, beautiful 
mortal. She loves you, loves your cock, loves your 
seed... Ohhh... Fill her mortal... Ohhh... Fill her 
now..." 

On cue, I crashed noisily and unstoppably into orgasm, 
hot semen geysering from my cock, spewing into the 
moist goddess-cunt. 

I groaned -- it was not over... A second wave crashed 
over me, and blinding orgasm flashed through my veins 
again. 

I think I went somewhere else for an instant. Perhaps 
it was only Xitaa's religious trance, or perhaps I 
really did move briefly to the land beyond, where the 
gods all dwell. 

In the last instant of my second orgasm, I saw her -- a 
beautiful, red-haired woman clad for battle, naked 
sword in her hand, cold fire in her eyes. 

I met those eyes without fear. As our gazes locked, the 
beautiful woman smiled a secret smile, and nodded 
approvingly... 

Then, she was naked, lush and fleshy, breasts like 
small planets, hips wide and inviting, hands held out 
seductively, still smiling a secret smile... 

Then I was back, lying on the bed, my last scintilla of 
strength drained, and Xitaa was beside me, collapsed 
into sated unconsciousness. 

Rexxara? I don't know. Perhaps. At that point, I knew 
better than to speculate. I was pretty useless for the 
remainder of the trip back. Xitaa immediately returned 
to her steely warrioress' persona, and Odo eventually 
recovered, assaulting one crewman and demanding rum. We 
kept the soul-binding renewed, and I hoped desperately 
that we'd gotten it cast in time. 

Skate's crew remained friendly in a distant, 
professional way. They had some idea what we'd been 
through, and didn't begrudge me my exhaustion. The last 
bit of exertion with Xitaa I didn't share, but it 
certainly added to my total collapse. I didn't even 
have the strength to communicate with Livia and Narisha 
-- I figured to surprise them, anyway. 

We escaped demon waters without further danger, and 
skirted hazardous areas on the way back. I was grateful 
that I wasn't called out to fight off pirates or fish-
people or even a cloud of fierce mosquitoes, and the 
sight of the teeming open sore that was Stoneburg was 
one that I never thought I would be happy to see. 

The place simply wasn't the same. The buildings seemed 
even more run-down, the streets even more filthy, the 
inns even less appealing. Even the women looked tawdry. 
Slowly, in a fog, I walked down Skate's gangway and, 
accompanied by one of Kamaz's larger and more 
threatening crewmen, hocked a soul-gem to a wide- eyed 
nobleman for about half what it was worth. 

Even so, I received enough chinking, gleaming coins to 
pay off Kamaz, her crew and Odo with a substantial 
bonus, make a large contribution to Xitaa's temple, and 
drop another bundle to a Phaedran priest to rejoin 
Stef's sundered remains and nurse him back to health. I 
chewed my nails to the elbow for several hours waiting 
to see if the spells took, and finally the priest 
returned with a beatific smile to inform me that my 
friend "would be fine." 

"Is he awake?" I asked, worriedly eyeing the door to 
the infirmary. 

"Oh no," the priest said sadly, no doubt figuring in 
his head how many women my gold would entice to the 
temple that evening, and whether he'd have to settle 
for sloppy seconds after the grand patriarch. "An 
injury of this magnitude... He'll sleep for days. Shall 
I send him to you when he awakens?" 

"No!" I said hastily, almost leaping to my feet, then 
calmed myself forcibly. "I mean, don't say anything 
about me." I held out a pouch full of gold and very 
pretty gems. "But do give him this, please." 

The priest grabbed the pouch a hair too fast for my 
tastes. 

"And," I added, ominously, "if he tells me that he 
received one copper groat less than what's in there, 
I'm coming back with an army of Jarreks and burn this 
festering boil of a temple to the ground." 

I heard the priest begin to respond indignantly, "My 
good man how dare you..." 

But by then I was gone. 

The final phase of my mission had arrived. With 
puppyish eagerness (for which I thoroughly despised 
myself) I hurried to Livia's, the crown still safe in 
my pack. 

Thankfully, her sprites recognized me and let me in. I 
walked through her long, marble entry hall, feeling the 
satisfaction of a job accomplished, and the fevered 
anticipation of pleasures to come. 

Livia was busy shelving books in her library as I 
entered. She was dressed in a white gown, her pale hair 
gleaming in the sunlight. To my own senses, narrowed 
down only to the thought of at last seeing her again, 
the library seemed a bit brighter and warmer than the 
tarnished city outside. 

"Hello, Livia," I said. 

When she turned, her pale blue eyes met mine. She 
caught her breath, then flung herself at me. 

"Wulf!" She cried, embracing me with sufficient 
strength to crack my ribs. "Why didn't you contact us?" 
she demanded, fixing me with a stern gaze, the pale 
blue growing slightly clouded. "I was afraid you'd 
been..." 

"No," I replied. "But what did happen is a long story. 
From what I'm given to understand, however, Stef will 
survive, but he'll have a scar all the way around his 
neck." 

"Ah." She looked contrite. "Any other casualties?" 

"Well, almost me, but for the intervention of the 
Mother of All Battles. But I'll tell you later. Where's 
Narisha?" 

Livia's eyes narrowed. "In the bedroom. Care to see 
her?" 

I grinned. "Love to. Lead on." 

She didn't lead me to the bedroom, however. We ended up 
in her scrying room and uncovered one of her crystals. 
(Damme, she could watch any corner of her house! I 
hadn't realized.) The sight revealed was both maddening 
and sweetly familiar. 

Narisha was on her hands and knees, naked save for a 
slender chain around her waist, and various anklets and 
bracelets. A slender, boyishly handsome young man was 
positioned behind her, pushing a similarly slender, but 
quite long, cock into her, while she kept her tongue 
busy between the legs of a black-skinned, silver haired 
woman with plump breasts and long legs. 

"Your poet?" I asked. 

Livia nodded. 

"The woman?" 

"Dark elf noblewoman," Livia replied. "A friend of mine 
who happened to drop by. Very entertaining woman." 


"I imagine. Hope she's less homicidal than the other 
dark elves I've met." 

"Ha, ha. Anyway, she'd never had a demon before, and 
"Looks as if the demon's having her." I frowned. "If 
we're going to be voyeurs, can we get sound on this 
thing as well?" 

Livia made a gesture, and I heard Narisha's voice, 
harmonizing with the moans of her two companions. 

"Sweet little elf," she whispered, then dipped her head 
to lap at the wet black flesh. "My sweet little 
princess." The poet moaned deeply. 

"My boy want to come?" she asked alluringly. "Come for 
your lover." 

On cue, the young one contorted in orgasmic ecstasy, 
clutching Narisha's fleshy buttocks and wailing 
incoherently. 

"Yes, yes," whispered Narisha. "You come so well for 
your lover..." Then she was back to work on the elf. 

"Damn," I muttered. 

"What?" 

"The stupid red-skinned tart still has me," I growled. 
My breeches were tight as a drumhead. Again. "You feel 
the same?" 

Livia nodded, looking vaguely embarrassed. "I think the 
spell wore off a long time ago, though," she said. 
"This appears to be real, now." 

"Grrr," I said. "Well, shall we go inform her of my 
triumphant return when she's finished?" 

Livia considered this. "That could be hours yet," she 
replied, "and in all honesty I'd rather have you to 
myself for a while." 

I didn't argue. She glided to her knees and loosened my 
belt, pulling out my now-tumescent organ with 
experienced fingers. 

"I've missed you," she whispered, planting kisses along 
the hot flesh. "Oh, how I've missed you." 

I gave myself up to her touches, and we were soon fully 
interwoven, the sounds of Narisha and her other lovers' 
passions filling our ears. 

Narisha's companions had retired when we sought her 
out, the dark elf (whose name, I learned, was Daedora, 
and was related to the deadly Lady Thae'lynn only very 
distantly) to her chambers, and the poet to wherever 
poets go. Narisha lay in all her naked glory, 
inadequately covered by black silk sheets, dozing and 
breathing shallowly. 

I kissed her gently, and her yellow eyes flickered 
open. 

"Swordsman!" she cried, in a tone reminiscent of 
Livia's. I was gratified. 

"Through fire and water, I have returned," I said, 
quoting a White Empire warrior's traditional phrase, or 
some such balderdash. I held out the crown. "Yours, I 
believe?" 

She snatched it up and inspected it. 

"Darling man!" she declared, throwing her head back and 
howling with joy. Her breasts heaved disconcertingly. I 
noticed that she'd changed her nipple gem to a gleaming 
black stone. 

"And you'll be happy to learn that Duke Janus is 
history," I said, "thanks to your generous offer of the 
sword." 

She grinned broadly. "Kneel down, freelance," she said. 
"I want to see it all." 

I complied, as Livia sat on the bed nearby. Narisha 
placed her hands on my temples, and I felt the past 
weeks' experiences flickering from my mind into hers. 

Narisha's face underwent a variety of interesting 
contortions, all of them pleasant. "Oh!" she exclaimed. 
"Yes! Oh!" 

When we reached the interlude with Orchid, she closed 
her eyes and sighed. 

"A faerie woman! I should have known." 

She took her hands away and savored the sensations I'd 
sent her. 

"You both did well," she said. "Or should I say, all 
five of you?" 

I shrugged. "She seemed to take energy from all of us 
and give it back. I'm not entirely sure what really 
happened." 

"Faeries are empathic," said Livia. "They absorb the 
emotions and sensations of those around them. The more 
partners they have, the more sensation and pleasure 
they gain." 

"They're very fond of orgies," Narisha said, wistfully. 

"You and Stef apparently pumped in enough sensation to 
recharge her magical abilities," Livia said with all 
the aplomb of a sorcery instructor at the academy. 

Narisha continued to review my adventures. When she 
reached the battle with Janus' warriors, the bloodlust 
I'd seen in her wild eyes as she killed Niall returned, 
and when she witnessed Janus' death, her face 
transformed somewhat, taking on the bewhiskered 
appearance of the black and red striped tiger-like 
creature. A snarl escaped her throat. 

Then she was back to normal, and followed the story up 
to that magical encounter with Xitaa. 

"Ohhh," she muttered softly as her hips began to 
gyrate, jouncing the bed up and down somewhat. "Oh, so 
beautiful..." 

I'm not sure if she came or not at the end of the 
scene, but she certainly seemed to enjoy it. 

"Such a lovely creature, your priestess," she said. 
"Perhaps she can join us someday." 

"Well, in the first place, she only does it after she's 
killed someone," I replied. "And in the second place, I 
think she prefers men." 

"I can show her the error of her ways," Narisha purred. 

We finished my mental narration, and I looked up to see 
her smiling prettily, gazing down at me with 
unconcealed affection. 

"My darling, darling," she whispered, stroking my 
cheek. "I'm yours forever." 

I smiled back. "I'll believe it when I see it, love." 


CHAPTER XV
----------

We ate an early supper by candlelight, joined by 
Daedora, who took her food quietly and delicately, 
speaking little, but occasionally fixing me with the 
smoldering gaze of her pale, white eyes. Narisha 
excused herself to clean up and prepare for our 
official reunion in her bedchamber, and Daedora said 
she needed some rest (given the force and volume of the 
orgasm I'd heard from her, I well believed it), leaving 
Livia and me alone in the dining room. 

"Well," I said at last. "What now?" 

"What do you mean?" Livia's blue eyes sought me out; 
her blonde hair reflected dimly in the candlelight. 

"I mean, this isn't the most orthodox of arrangements -
- you, me, her. I need a little guidance, or at least 
some idea of what the hell I'm doing. Have you got any 
idea where we should go from here?" 

She shrugged. "I've done well over the past few years 
living day to day," she replied. "I see no reason to 
stop now." 

"I'm afraid that I don't really have that option," I 
said. "The fact is that Stoneburg believes I'm dead. If 
I show my face anywhere and prove that I am, in fact, 
alive, the authorities might start asking me some tough 
questions about Scrutator Niall's mysterious 
disappearance, among other things. I can't stay in this 
city." 

Livia looked stricken. "Are you saying you're leaving?" 

I touched her hand. "I'm saying that we should all 
leave, for a while at least. A sea cruise will do us 
some good, and let us get this twisted, bizarre 
relationship straightened out. The Empire is beautiful 
this time of year, and there are beaches in Xesh where 
no one ever goes besides jarrek beachcombers." 

She considered this. "How long?" 

"As long as you want," I said. "I've made an offer to 
Kamaz for Skate, and I suspect she's willing to take 
it." 

"We'll need a crew." 

"Always the practical one, my love." I leaned back and 
stretched. "I just want you to think about it and tell 
me." 

She nodded, then smiled. "Tomorrow," she said. "We'll 
worry about it tomorrow." 


CHAPTER XVI
-----------

Memories of that night are rather fuzzy to me. Narisha 
and Livia had obviously planned it for some time. The 
bedroom was softly lit by blue stargems. Incense glowed 
redly, filling the room with fragrance. The three of us 
lay on the bed in an indiscriminate tangle, touching, 
kissing, licking and sucking without regard for who was 
who.

Was that Narisha's tongue, or was it Livia's, which 
hotly stroked my cheek? Whose hand gently brushed my 
chest? Did I gently suck at Livia's nipple or 
Narisha's? (Oops -- my teeth bit solidly on polished 
stone must be Narisha.) As I kissed one tender mouth 
and felt another caress my cock, I realized that I 
didn't care. 

The bedchamber was like another world, separate from 
the city and the sea and the shores beyond. There, we 
came together in limitless combinations, finding new 
truths in the simple geometries of passion. In the 
dark, incense-perfumed depths of that small room we 
journeyed to different realms, each finding universes 
within the confines of the others' bodies. 

The passion didn't stop after Livia came to a moist, 
heart-stopping climax, or when Narisha cried out like a 
soul in torment, her succulent cunt grasping my cock 
like a fist, or even when I splashed hot come across 
Livia's breasts and belly, and Narisha slowly and 
luxuriantly licked them clean. 

As I said, the women had prepared for this moment. 
Livia shared a thick green concoction with us, which 
restored our vitality in a moment, and sent us into the 
throes of new passions. 

Livia and I took turns lapping at Narisha's wet, black 
cunt lips, holding her between us, forcing her to 
climax after climax, drenching us in her intoxicating 
demonic fluids. 

Then, it was Livia's turn. Narisha held her wrists and 
whispered hotly in her ear as I thrust my organ deeply 
inside her, feeling her come around me, moaning and 
begging for more. 

Gods, that potion must have added a bit of enthusiasm, 
I realized as I took my place between the two women, 
watching them share my cock between their two sets of 
pouting lips and flickering tongues, breaking off now 
and then to kiss each other deeply and stroke each 
other's bodies. I couldn't hold out long with this kind 
of treatment, and poured forth once more, my body 
tensing and convulsing. They shared my seed as well, 
licking from each other's faces. 

They left me alone for a time as they pleasured each 
other and I watched the two supple bodies, scarlet and 
white, sliding together, kissing, sucking, licking... 

I felt something of what Orchid must have felt as my 
own brain and heart echoed with my two lovers' orgasms, 
and I sighed deeply, happy for myself and for them. 

This went on for the rest of the night. I suspect that 
potion was rather valuable, and we must have consumed 
over half of it. 

My exertions didn't get any easier, either. Claiming to 
have been kept awake by our moaning, groaning and 
sighing, Daedora slid in to bed with us, sleekly naked, 
her black skin blending into the fragrant shadows. 

I had forgotten the sweet delicacy of elven flesh and 
its enticing qualities. This particular dark elf was 
somewhat less wicked than the last one I'd been with, 
so I was able to make love to her without fearing for 
my life. The four of us were at it until dawn, when 
Daedora left us to lie in exhaustion. 

As I drifted off to sleep, I remember speculating about 
what an impressive orgy we would have with me, Stef, 
and the still-nameless poet on one side, and my two 
lovers, Orchid and Daedora on the other. Perhaps if she 
had killed an orc or two, Rexxara might be persuaded to 
join in. 

We dragged ourselves out of bed around noon and took 
some sustenance. I explained my plans for Skate and a 
pleasant sea journey to Narisha, and to Livia, who 
seemed to have forgotten all about them, for some 
reason. 

"The money from those damned ghost-gems will keep us in 
luxury for years," I said, "and we can sail that ship 
anywhere. Livia, you can let your poet manage your 
place in your absence, or something." 

Narisha looked sad and wistful. "It sounds wonderful, 
my dearest lover," she said, her once-fearful voice 
tinged with tenderness and sorrow, "but I can't stay 
here." 

If she'd shoved a dagger into my heart I wouldn't have 
been more surprised. Livia looked the same way, staring 
speechlessly. 

Our demoness bowed her head. "I have to go back. I have 
to return the crown. I doubt that my father will allow 
me to return." 

I was about to start babbling questions, suggestions, 
and ways out of the dilemma when a booming voice echoed 
from behind us. 

"Perhaps not." 

A tall, powerful and devastatingly handsome male demon 
stood in the doorway to the dining room. He was clad in 
a simple leather jacket and breeches, and many of his 
living blue tattoos matched Narisha's. I was just 
noting that his taste in clothing was far more 
tolerable than Narisha's or Janus', when Narisha 
squealed. 

"Daddy!" 

Of course. 

"Lord Cammon the Flayer?" I asked, rising to my feet. 

"The same," he rumbled. "I prefer Lord Cammon the Just, 
however, and don't believe those stories about my 
burning Mie and killing the Nine Adepts, either. Pure 
propaganda." 

"Come sit," Livia said, hastily, offering a chair. 
"Care for some breakfast? Uh, or is it lunchtime?" 

He shook his magnificent, goat-horned head. "I'm just 
passing through to collect some property." 

"A certain crown?" I asked. 

"You guessed it. Not bad for a human." 

"How did you get here?" Livia demanded. "This house is 
warded to hell and back." 

He shrugged, approaching the table. "I'm a better 
sorcerer than you are. Now, about that crown?" 

I retrieved it from the bedroom and handed it to him. 
He took it with a grateful nod. Narisha had been 
uncharacteristically silent through all of this, 
staring with mounting concern, first at me, then at 
Cammon. 

"I'm so sorry, daddy," she babbled at last, looking 
more troubled and uncertain than I'd ever seen her. "I 
know I was supposed to look after it, and it was a lot 
of responsibility, and you said you'd be really upset 
if I lost it, but..." 

He waved a hand. "But you dropped the runestick. Yes, I 
know. You almost lost us everything, daughter. But in 
the end it had a positive effect. Your frail little 
human friend here sliced my greatest enemy into 
lunchmeat, and we're all the more powerful for it. I 
forgive you." 

She stared without immediate comprehension. "You do?" 

He nodded. "Of course, I can't let your transgressions 
go unpunished." 

Narisha closed her eyes and made a face, steeling 
herself for the worst. 

"Go ahead, daddy," she said. "I'm ready." 

Instead of addressing her directly, he turned to me. 

"Human, you've done me a great service," he said, 
placing a massive paw on my shoulder. "You consider my 
daughter a friend." 

I swallowed. "More than that, my lord. I... I love her 
very much. Both she and you have helped me to 
understand your kind, and I know now that you're 
intelligent, rational and sensitive beings like us. For 
that, I'm grateful." 

"If you consider us sensitive, you're dead wrong, 
human. We're a pretty gamey lot, actually. In fact, 
we're just as bad as you are. In any event, you're a 
fit companion for my daughter." 

He turned to Livia. "And you? Do you feel the same 
way?" 

Livia seemed reluctant to respond. 

Cammon made an impatient gesture. If he'd had an axe in 
his hand, he'd have decapitated me. "Don't worry, I 
don't share the prejudices of your narrow-minded 
priestly types. Are you lovers?" 

Livia colored. "Y-yes, my lord. I love her, too." 

"Good." Cammon looked at Narisha. "Daughter, as your 
punishment, I decree that you roam the world for a 
period of not less than five years. You may retain all 
your powers, ranks and privileges, but you may not 
return to our estates during that time. I give you into 
the care of these two humans, and hope that you can 
learn from each other." 

Narisha's eyes sprang open, and she smiled, throwing 
her arms around her father's shoulders. "Daddy! I love 
you!" she declared. 

Actually, Cammon did stay for lunch, eating roast boar 
and greens with manners completely unlike his daughter. 
By the end of the meal, I was actually developing quite 
a fondness for the old bastard. He was practically my 
father-in-law, after all. 

Cammon bid us a warm farewell, kissed his daughter and 
embraced Livia and me, then mumbled a spell and was 
gone. 

"Well," I said. "That's that." 

Just then, Daedora wandered gracefully into the room, 
clad in one of the lacy, revealing numbers of which 
dark elves seem so fond. After Thae'lynn, I was glad 
Daedora had no fondness for body piercings. Narisha's 
nipple ring was quite enough for me. 

"Good morning," she said, sweetly. "Have we all 
recovered?" 

"Hello, my sweet little elf," Narisha said, pressing a 
finger to her chin and looking thoughtful. "By the way, 
have you ever sailed a ship?"


CHAPTER XVII
------------

Skate set sail four days later, riding the warm trade 
winds south, toward the vast and decadent expanses of 
the White Empire, and the pale, sandy beaches of Xesh. 

Livia was our nominal captain, owing to extensive 
sailing experience while roaming the outer sea as a 
teenager, and the fact that she could command her 
sprites to do much of the shipboard work. The rest of 
the crew included myself, Narisha, Daedora (no, she'd 
never sailed a ship, but she was willing to learn -- 
besides, she told us, the sex was the best she'd ever 
had), Stef (I talked him into it, but I had to let him 
thrash me a little bit first), Odo (he had all the 
nautical skill of a small piece of lint, but he was a 
hell of a fighter), and a number of Skate's old crew, 
who couldn't bear to leave the old gal. 

The gleaming blue water of the southern seas spread out 
before us, and the sails bellied before a stiff breeze. 
I stood with Livia at the bow, watching a pair of 
dolphins swim and cavort, gleaming blue in our bow-
wave. I wondered if we'd see any merrow on the trip. 
The possibilities seem endless. 

"How's your eye?" Livia asked. She was dressed in 
shipboard style breeches and boots and a loose, roomy 
shirt. Looking at her, I reflected that she was shaping 
up into a fairly decent captain. 

"Not bad," I replied. "At least I can open it now." The 
black eye actually, it was a variety of exciting colors 
by now -- was a gift from Stef, who had managed to 
track me down despite my best efforts to the avoid 
detection. Another sack of gold had mollified him 
somewhat, or had at least prevented him from killing 
me. At length, he'd agreed to help sail Skate, 
especially when I told him that we might go pay Orchid 
a visit. That morning, I had heard the crew making bets 
as to which part of his body he'd lose next. 

"I'm glad," Livia replied. "Your eyes are precious." 

I chuckled. "So are yours," I said. "So is all of you. 
So is Narisha. So are Stef, and Daedora, and Odo, and 
the rest of the crew.

Hell, we're in pretty good shape, aren't we?" 

She nodded, smiling. "I've been reading your memoirs." 

"Oh, really?" I asked, somewhat incensed. "They're not 
really finished yet. What did you think?" 

"You use too many similes, but the basic style is 
competent. You do tend to portray yourself as a female-
magnet, however. I find the lurid details of your sex 
life less than believable." 

"Gee, thanks," I replied sourly. "I bet I got the stuff 
with you right, though." 

For once, she didn't respond. We watched the dolphins 
in silence for a time. I squinted toward the horizon. 
"So where to first, captain? The fleshpots of the 
Empire? The deserted beaches of Xesh where two or more 
broad- minded individuals could make love in the sun 
for hours on end? The Green Archipeligo where you can 
rent a jungle villa for a mere pittance and wander 
around naked all day? The Cold Isles where you can 
cavort wildly in the snow? The Lastlands? The Desert 
Lands? Litharna? Murvane? The Veldt Lands? Anywhere 
else your heart desires?" 

She sighed. "I don't know. I don't care. Anywhere, as 
long as you're there." 

"And Narisha?" 

"And Narisha. And maybe Daedora, too." 

I put my head in my hands. "Is the triangle about to 
become a square?" I asked. 

"Hm. Could be," Livia replied. "Anything's possible. 
Narisha's with her in the cabin right now. By the way, 
I have a present for you." 

I looked at her and raised my eyebrows expectantly. 
"Yes?" 

She reached into a pocket and proffered a small stone 
carving which glimmered in rainbow hues. 

I took it. Eish, Xeshite, erotic... 

"The one I stole from Tev," I said. 

She nodded, smiling. "I thought it might have 
sentimental value," she said. "Now, since our other two 
lovers are otherwise occupied, what say you we retire 
to your cabin by ourselves?" 

Oh, hell, I thought. I must have attracted all the 
bizarre fortune that other people missed. I sighed, 
pocketing the figure, figuring that it was about time 
that I just accepted things. After all, I was alive, 
relatively wealthy, and in love. With two (three, now?) 
women. 

Gods, Narisha had done a job on us. But I still loved 
her, even if she was back in her cabin even now, making 
violent love to a dark elf woman. Besides, Daedora had 
possibilities as well. I squeezed Livia gently and 
kissed her briefly on the lips, then followed her 
gently swaying form back amidships. I loved them all, 
and if they loved each other, so much the better. 

Damn, but love is strange. 

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 50