Message-ID: <12691eli$9807022346@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: marawuti@ipinc.net Subject: Wulf: Nemesis 4/5 (m/f, m/f/f/f, f/f, cons. s&m) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <359bfe47.21781912@news.ipinc.net> The Elven Isles Lord Feanor thrust smoothly into the soft, welcoming depths of Lady Vaenetha, triggering a deep moan of desire. With strong hands, he grasped the soft roundness of her buttocks, pulling her to him with a demanding passion that even surprised him. Sex among elves was normally a drawn-out affair, rife with symbolism and ceremony, and its culmination was often a brief, passionless thing. Vaenetha, returned now to her homeland and Feanor’s ward, had brought with her a new perspective, a hot passion that the ancient elf lord had not seen in thousands of years. Perhaps it was her time with the rebels that had taught her such things -- Feanor, enthralled by her singular desire for pleasure, and her endless capacity to please him, did not care. "Oh, My Lord!" she cried, blonde hair flying, buttocks shaking violently from each of his masterful, domineering thrusts. "You’re making me... Oh, please, fuck me harder. Please fuck me..." Such words were never uttered by elvish lips. They were crude, meaningless syllables more suited to short-lived humans or filthy dwarves. Before Vaenetha came into his life, Feanor would never have considered speaking in such a manner. Now, however, it created a rush of burning desire, sending his heart hammering like a war drum, his limbs trembling, a wave of desire that Feanor realized was much like what he felt in battle. "I’ll fuck you," he growled, holding her soft buttocks even harder and redoubling the strength of his thrusts. "I’ll fuck you as hard as I want." "I’m coming, Lord... Oh, Gods... I’m coming..." Vaenetha tensed, then collapsed down onto the bed, crying out with a voice filled with the agony of sudden release. "Ahhhhhhhh..." The passion still raced through Feanor’s veins. He wanted her all the more, now, and even as the body-wracking waves of orgasm continued to pass through Lady Vaenetha, he seized her by the shoulders, turning her roughly onto her back. "Oh, please..." she cried. Her face was flushed, her nipples hard and swollen, straining against the silver rings and the chain which bound them. She had told him that she’d kept the rings as a symbol of her old foolishness, of the bondage in which she had given her self up to the Stormking, but they excited Feanor for different reasons. The sight of her nipples swelling, drawing the short chain tight, stimulating her all the more, and driving her toward the crashing release of orgasm made the elf lord want to take her as savagely as he could, and to thrust into her wherever he wished. Her legs were wrapped round his shoulders now, and his cock was at the gates of her cunt. Her moans, never stilled from the last orgasm, rose to new heights when Feanor thrust into her again. He felt her muscles tighten against him as a new round of climaxes gripped her. This is what he liked, what he wanted... The female was like a conquered enemy to him, reduced to utter servitude by the power of his cock, as an enemy was taken by the sword. Never before had a woman done this to Feanor, the greatest warrior in elf lands... Her last climax, a shattering explosion that made her seize the sheets in a death-grip, and rise up to meet him, belly straining, pierced nipples pulled tight by their chain, came moments before Feanor’s. Finally ready, he released into her, cock spurting forth, sending shocks through his entire body. Spent, the two elves fell together in a sweaty heap. "Gods, My Lord," she whispered. "I love how you fuck me." "I love to fuck you," Feanor replied, the new words sounding strangely natural. "I love to fuck you more than anything. Besides perhaps battle with our enemies." "Perhaps," Vaenetha sighed, pulling herself close, blonde hair covering them, "I can help you to do both." ***** The Elven Dragon Princes sat in solemn contemplation as the realm’s nobles debated and argued below. In their center, her beauty even more radiant and unearthly than the loveliest of her subjects, the Silver Lady sat, watching the proceedings in silence. Since the defeat of the Stormking and the disappearance of her daughter, Theanna, the Lady had grown withdrawn and distant, speaking to her subjects only rarely, and leaving the day to day running of her realm to the Dragon Princes. All knew that she was deeply saddened, and a few suggested that after countless centuries of rule, the Lady was at last preparing to leave the mortal realm, and go beyond. Most discounted such rumors, but each day they grew louder and more plausible. Lord Feanor, the Silver Lady’s Master of Arms and Supreme Marshal of all Elven Armed Forces, addressed the gathering, his voice ringing like the battle challenge of an ancient hero confronting the demon hordes. He wore a suit of blindingly bright godsteel, and beside him, quiet and subservient, sat his mistress, Lady Vanethae. Though condemned as a traitor for supporting the Stormking, Feanor had extended his protection to her, and now she dwelled in the safety of his stronghold. "It is well known," Feanor said, armored fist clutched before him, "that the upstart younger races of the world covet our wealth and knowledge, and would crush us if they had the chance! Now, Lady Vaenetha comes before us with news that they plan to do just that!" "Why," complained Lady Durenna Snowtree, "should we take the word of a traitress like her? She freely admits that she fought for the Stormking against the Lady, and were it not for your protection, would even now be condemned and imprisoned or worse! She has nothing to lose by lying!" "Nothing to gain, either," Feanor shot back. "As you said, she admits to her misdeeds, and begs forgiveness for them. She was misled by a conspiracy of the Dark Ones, aided, we have since learned, by the human masters of Litharna, Xesh and the White Empire! She has asked to live once more with her brethren and once more obey the word of the Lady. I have agreed, and she now lives as a full member of our society." "You trust her words, Lord Feanor? Why? All know what she is to you, My Lord! Is your trust bought by simply climbing into your bed?" A brief flash of rage flashed in the warrior’s eyes, but he stilled it. "You know better than that, Lady. My loyalty is to these princes, and to the Lady who watches over us all. And I have taken time to verify all that this woman has told me. The humans are creating an alliance that will take our lands from us and reduce us to pitiful servitude! I say that we should not let them do this! We must strike now while we still can. We will defeat our enemies and at the same time renew ourselves! Bring back our ancient days of glory when we rode upon dragons and none stood against us!" "Bah!" shouted Lord Heldamar. "You speak like a fool for all your authority, Feanor. This slut has addled your brain. The dragons are all dead. Dead or sleeping, and they cannot be awakened. None have stirred since the goblins invaded." "You are wrong!" Feanor shouted. "The dragons stir! They live again! It is the sign we have waited for. Their dreaming is over, and now they return to carry us to victory! Ask the Princes if you do not believe me!" All eyes now turned to the Dragon Princes who had, until now, listened in silence. The Silver Lady sat above them, but at the gaze of her fellow elves, she abruptly looked away, as if stricken. "The dragons live," said Prince Simenor, who may believed to be as old as the Silver Lady. "And we are told that they sleep more lightly now. Iskhana awoke for a time a month ago, and the others seem to be close to awakening as well. I caution you not to take this as absolute proof, Lord Feanor. Though the dragons may be awakening, this may not be the sign you seek." "What is it a sign of, then?" Feanor demanded. "We are in peril, my Lords and Ladies! The others move against us -- the short-lived humans, the greedy dwarves, the filthy orcs and the foul beast-folk. Now the dragons are returning, and the Gods decree that we set out once more on the road of conquest! Lords and Ladies, shall we heed their advice, or sit in silence and fade away as if we had never existed?" The souls of all the elven nobles watching teetered on the brink. If the dragons had, indeed, returned, it could only be a sign that the ancient glory of the elves would soon return as well. But if they were wrong... All eyes turned toward the Dragon Princes, and beyond them to the Silver Lady. At last she returned their gaze. Her eyes were tired, her voice faint. "I cannot endorse this course of action, Lord Feanor," she said. "But if this is what you would do, I cannot oppose it either. My heart is weary, Lords and Ladies, and if you wish to once more walk the road of conquest, to bring in all the pain and sorrow that that entails, you are welcome to do so. I will say nothing more." For many, this was a call to stop and think, and not to act rashly, the tired words of a demigoddess weary of the pain of the world. To Feanor, however, it was the exact opposite. "Lords and Ladies!" he cried. "Are you with me? Shall we awaken the dragons and summon our legions to conquer! Will we redeem the sorrow which the young, foolish races have visited upon our people?" Lady Vaenetha, sitting in silence beside her lord, smiled almost imperceptibly. Like Feanor, and like her true mistress, Protector Thae’Lynn, she knew what the answer would be. The Dragon Caves Lady Vaenetha crept in preternatural silence through the ancient and sacred caverns where legend held that the elven race had been born of dragons, birthed by the ancient god Valaron. For anyone besides the Dragon Princes to venture here was, of course, an offense punishable by death, and probable enshrinement of the escaping soul in the iron body of a Dreadguard. Lady Vaenetha had faced death before, however, and now the prospect held little fear for her. A low, sonorous rumbling filled the chamber, making the floor and walls tremble. Vaenetha bit back terror. She knew where she was and what she was to do; the will of her mistress was implacable. Ahead, a mountainous scaled form filled the vast cavern. It rose and fell with the rumbling, breathing in vast volumes of air, and expelling warm, sulfur-scented vapor. This was Dhruul, oldest and greatest of the dragons, his scales stained black with age, his spines as hard as diamonds and sharp as razors, his claws like the swords of a dozen angry gods. His name meant "thunder" and the last time he had awoken, a mountain lay splintered in his wake. To the elves, he was a god. To others, he was a devil. Vaenetha had come to awaken a devil. Hands shaking, she approached the monstrous thing, and found his head, tucked under one titanic claw, making the creature look incongruously like a sleeping cat. The head was easily the size of two warhorses laid end to end, a wedge-shaped mass of iron-hard scales, webbed fins and spines. Its eyes were closed; they had not opened in millennia. Reminding herself that the clumsy scuttling of a single elf woman could scarcely awaken a creature of such antiquity, Vaenetha scaled the beast as if it were a mountain summit, climbing up a claw first, then along a forearm, toward the deadly-looking mouth -- closed, but sporting several ragged fangs, overhanging Dhruul’s hard-edged lips. Nearer, now. The beast moved restlessly, and she almost impaled herself on a dorsal spine. Closer to the furrowed, craggy valley between its eyes, at the base of its head crest. Vaenetha fumbled at her neck and unclasped the necklace. At the end dangled an oddly-shaped gem, colored a deep reddish-black and glowing with inner fire. Stretching out almost to the limit of her reach, she placed the gem between the titan’s eyes and watched in amazement as it glowed suddenly bright, then vanished, sinking beneath Dhruul’s scales. She leaped clear not a moment too soon, for Dhruul’s head, long bowed in sleep, suddenly sprang up, smoke trailing from its nostrils, soaring like the tallest tree Vaenetha could imagine. The beast snorted, loudly, and puffed more smoke. Wings like the sheets of a titanic warship unfurled, buffeting Vaenetha with a gust of magically-enhanced wind. The elf retained her feet, and swiftly scanned her memory for the words she was to say. "Lord Dhruul, wisest and most ancient of all dragon-kind, thou art now a prisoner to the will of Trigon, and the whim of Lady Thae’Lynn N’Quy... Taka’val. Thrakhun. Tynoet’ta!" The dragon stopped and stared down at her curiously. For an instant, Vaenetha wondered whether the spell had failed, and whether she was about to be eaten. At last, a booming voice issued from the dragon. "Very well, elf. I serve Trigon and Thae’Lynn. What would they have of me?" Vaenetha felt the fear and dread flow from her limbs like water. She had succeeded. The dragon was enthralled. Vaenetha spoke, telling the dragon its duty, and images of blood and fire seethed in her mind. Gods, they were beautiful... The High Seas, 750 nautical leagues east of the Xeshite coast Captain Ixalia scanned the horizon for at least the hundredth time that day. The surface of the sea was flat and calm as overhead gulls wheeled in a cloudless sky. All around her, the crew of the "Raven" struck similar poses of puzzled anxiety. Below decks, the slave rowers dozed, taking advantage of a respite in their endless toil. The "Raven" and her escort of twenty smaller Xeshite warships had spent nearly a week on station here, at the crux of several important shipping lanes, responding to a rash of piratical attacks and disappearances of merchant vessels. So far, however, the cowardly raiders had yet to put in an appearance, causing Ixalia to gravitate between boredom and fear on a rapidly-shortening cycle. A lookout's cry of "Sail ho!" seized Ixalia's attention, and sent the crew into motion. Half-expecting another lone merchant vessel, trundling earnestly to some unknown destination, Ixalia strained to see, finally discerning a tall white sail leagues distant, but closing rapidly. As she watched, the sail was joined by a second, then a third, a fourth, and... "Merciful Mother!" came a shout from below, followed by a dozen similar expressions of amazement. At least fifty warships bore down on Ixalia's flotilla -- white-hulled, graceful vessels with painted sails and silken banners bearing images of eagles, dragons, griffons... "Elves!" shouted Commander Uxanor, his normally ferocious bearded face now clouded with doubt and apprehension. "Bloody, gods-blasted elves, captain! What the hell are they doing here?" "I wish I knew, Commander," Ixalia replied, striding with sudden determination aft. "I'm not about to sit around here idly speculating, either. Prepare for battle!" Uxanor seemed about to say something -- perhaps to point out to his commander that combat against the Elven fleet was certain suicide -- then dutifully turned and began barking orders. "And Uxanor?" Ixalia said. "Yes, ma'am?" "Send 'Seagull' back to Xesh with word of the engagement. If this is an invasion fleet, I want our forces to be ready." "Aye-aye," Uxanor replied, and relayed the order to an aide. Sails were furled, rowers whipped out of their stupor, and slowly the Xeshite fleet moved forward, led by the vast grey armored bulk of the "Raven." Ballistae were loaded with great spiked bolts the length of a man, springals charged with dozens of tiny missiles, onagers with black balls of tar, ready at any moment to be set alight. "Are they armed for war, Captain?" Uxanor asked. "We should be cautious until we learn their intentions." "That is my plan, Commander," Ixalia said, firmly, allowing a pair of slaves to strap on a boiled leather breastplate, tassets and sword. "We will not initiate hostilities. If they mean no harm, they will say so." A slave placed a high-crowned helm upon her head, giving her a lean, hawkish appearance. "Just the same, I feel that this is no peaceful expedition. If they mean war, then we will give them war." But as the small Xeshite flotilla advanced, and the numbers of elven vessels grew, it seemed that the humans were hopelessly outmatched, and rather than war, all they would give their advancing foes was a little exercise. "Raven" was the sole dreadnaught, heavily armored and capable of withstanding heavy physical and magical bombardment. The remainder of the fleet was light galleys, slender and fast, intended primarily for chasing down commerce raiders. Against the imposing swan- and dragon-ships of the elves, they appeared about as effective as pebbles against a charging rhinoceros. If any of this concerned Ixalia, on the stern castle of the "Raven," grim and quiet in her black armor, she gave no sign. When the first fireballs began to arc up from the elven ships, proving conclusively that their intentions were not friendly, she moved only slightly, ordering her captains to return fire and her wizards to cast counterspells. "Skua" and "Tern" caught fire soon thereafter and fell out of formation, but the remainder of the fleet forged on, actually damaging an elven swanship with concentrated missile fire. They were close, now -- close enough to glimpse the serried ranks of elvish warriors lining the decks of their vessels, clad in silver scaled armor, bearing great white shields and red-shafted spears. Arrows rained down from squads of elvish marines, cutting down Xeshite crew. The humans responded, and more fell, staining the water red and drawing the menacing fins of cruising sharks. Ixalia stood impassive, and the "Raven" bore down upon a great white elven warship, betraying her anxiety only with a slightly furrowed brow. The enemy's missiles, and the crackling discharge of magical energies slowed "Raven's" advance not at all, and in a moment, the two vessels would crash together... Suddenly, a vast dark form took shape above the elven ship, a cloak of magic falling away to reveal a black, serpentine body held aloft by wings that seemed to blot out the sun and wrap all in fearful shadow... "Dragon!" cried Uxanor, drawing his sword and racing forward, even as the Xeshite crew around him fell back or leaped overboard in panic. "DRAGON!" Uxanor's bravery was admirable, but in the end, suicidal, for a dark red-orange cloud of burning wind rushed from the dragon's open maw, enveloping Uxanor and the entire forward section of "Raven," incinerating a dozen crewmen. "No." It was a quiet syllable, uttered as Captain Ixalia loosed her own weapon and prepared to join her officer in eternity. "By the gods, no." A few valiant crewmen loosed arrows at the dragon, but these fell like so many toothpicks. The ballista operator swiveled his weapon, taking aim at the onrushing behemoth, and loosed its razor-tipped shaft. The missile sped through the air and caught the dragon in the shoulder, but barely penetrated the ancient, weathered scales. An instant later, ballista and operator vanished in a second ball of flame. The dragon landed heavily athwart the warship, making the entire vessel pitch and roll, almost swamping it. Then Ixalia and a handful of surviving marines were upon the dragon, screaming and stabbing with swords and spears. Once more, these were almost useless, doing little more than scratching the surface of the ancient beast's iron-hard skin. "Xesh!" Ixalia shouted, hewing with her sword. "Death to the elves!" Then a mighty claw reared up before her, and she knew that she could not avoid it. The claw swept ponderously down, knocking aside or crushing the Xeshite defenders. At last, it struck Ixalia, sending her tumbling end over end through the air, the red-stained sea and blood-maddened sharks spinning closer and closer... Ixalia struck the water with a great splash, and her last thoughts were of Xesh and the husband she had left behind. Moments later her flagship was torn asunder, planks ripped by dragon claws, mast snapped in twain by jaws that had torn the throats of evil gods, hull stove in and burned by more blasts from that titanic maw. Everywhere, Xeshite vessels burned or sank. The elven fleet sailed on, as if the battle had been nothing more than a minor annoyance. The dead or dying floated in its wake. The sharks fed well. * * * * Lord Feanor watched with satisfaction as the smoke of the burning human vessels vanished in the distance astern. Ahead lay the jungle-clad shores of Xesh and the walled human city where his people's enemies lived in ignorance of the coming retribution. "We are victorious, my love," whispered Lady Vaenetha, stroking his back with long, sharp-nailed fingers. "Soon all will know the might of our people." Dhruul the dragon flew above the fleet, wheeling and diving against the burning orange of the setting sun. Soon, his brothers and sisters would fly, as well, and then... ...Then, truly nothing could stand against them. "So they will, my sweet," Feanor said, and though his once soft voice now bore an edge of cruelty, he did not care. "So they will." Wulf Our flight north barely missed the path of the elven armada, and if it had been anyone else besides the ear-boys who had besieged and sacked the city of Xesh a week later, I might have actually cheered. As it was, with tales of elven atrocities spreading like wildfire, I could only mourn for the loss of innocent life. Elven intentions seemed obvious -- the complete destruction or subjugation of any race that might represent a threat. To the elvish psyche this, of course, meant EVERYONE, including yours truly. With coastal Xesh firmly in elven hands, the enemy now had a secure base of operations to take out any other civilized realm -- Necrotia, Litharna, Murvane, the Empire. I doubted they would move south against the Veldt Lands -- the thought of the brave Sholanti warriors cutting down the elves like ripe wheat was way too appealing an image to ever come true. So far, no word came from the invaders themselves, but few harbored any illusions that millennia of elvish resentment and insularity had finally borne bitter fruit. Xeshite refugees told of wholesale slaughter of any cities which dared to resist the green banners' advance, and of harsh conditions imposed on those who capitulated. The elves set themselves up as absolute overlords, with their new human subjects reduced to slavery in all but name. Not that I wept too many tears for the Xeshites. A few centuries on the receiving end of an overseer's whip might teach the decadent bastards manners. I wondered, however, with no little concern, how my former mistress Xylara, her sister Nineh and their respective households of newly-freed slaves would fare against the elves. True, both their estates were defensible and located deep in the jungle, where by all accounts the elves had yet to penetrate, but a nagging (and in many ways to me, surprising) fear for their safety lurked deep within me. Of course, we couldn't do much about it. Xesh city and other coastal towns were closed and sewed up tighter than an Inquisitor's asshole; any approach was sure to invite the wrath of the elven navy. As we sailed north, fear of the once graceful but now fearsome elf warships grew in all of us, and we struggled to leave the area for safe landfall in Necrotia, Stoneburg, or points north. I was now even more prepared to move to Cold Island and live in an igloo for a few years. For all our speed and caution, we were still caught. Early one morning, our lookout spied a white sail on the horizon, bearing down on us with a daemon's own speed. We came about and tried to run, but three more sails appeared to windward, and within an hour we were caught in a trap, squeezed like a reluctant nut between four armed and armored opponents. Soon, the lead vessel, a towering blue and white dragonship with a pair of glittering magefire projectors at the bow, was within a few spearcasts of us, and a faint cry echoed across the waves. "Humans! Heave to and prepare to be boarded! This is your only warning!" I turned to look at Livia, and she seemed paler than normal. "What do you think, Captain?" I asked, knowing the answer. "Do we fight suicidally or give up and take our chances with the prick-ears?" Livia did not reply, but only glanced toward Narisha. Our mutual lover growled. She was armed and armored for war, which for a demon means practically naked with a long black sword in one hand. She was a proud woman, and I suspected that the prospect of surrendering to a race as contemptuous as the elves was a bitter one indeed. "I'll die on my feet before I live on my knees, my loves," she said, grimly. "But I'll not force the two of you to do the same. There's another to think of, however." Oh, gods... I hadn't thought of Daedora. The elves would probably kill her on sight. As one, we all turned to see her standing, outwardly calm at the railing, staring at the oncoming warships. As I watched, I saw her hands trembling ever so slightly. "Let them come," she said, softly. "Let them come. I must tell someone what has happened. They must listen." She paused. "If they do not, then they can all perish. Our people..." she faltered, tears welling up. "We aren't worthy. Neither of us. If we can't make anyone understand what's happened, then I'd just as soon die. Let them board. I will try to make them understand." Livia looked at Daedora, then at the weathered faces of our sailors. I knew that if she gave the word, they'd all die gladly. Livia, however, was a far gentler and more merciful woman than she'd been when we'd first boinked under that waterfall in Kenth, and she seemed not about to order others to certain death. She spoke, holding emotions in check. "Heave to," she said. "Let them come aboard." Minutes later, our beloved "Skate" was swarming with elf marines, and we were being disarmed and escorted none to gently, onto the decks of the elven flagship. I strained to read the runes at the bow. "Dolphin." A pleasant name for a vessel on such a grim mission. We were subjected to a variety of hostile glares as we clambered aboard, and I wondered why. I'd never personally had anything against elves (I'd even helped them on occasion -- those I hadn't killed, of course), but as a group they seemed to think the world hated them. In many ways such sentiment was a self-fulfilling prophecy; act as if you're at war with the world and eventually -- you guessed it -- the world will be at war with you. Angry voices greeted Daedora's appearance. I'd picked up enough elvish over the years to understand, and what I heard wasn't good. "Dark one!" "With the humans! It's as Lord Feanor said it was!" "Kill them all! Feed them to the sharks!" A few hands darted to weapons but fortunately for us the elves were a disciplined people, and the barked orders of sergeants stilled the storm of insults. Gods only knew what they intended for us later, but for the moment the elves did not seemed especially murderous. Behind us, the crew was getting similar treatment. Suddenly, from the stern castle, a voice boomed out. "Captain! Bring those four to my quarters! The two humans, the demon and the dark one! I've questions for them!" I looked up to see the speaker, but all I saw was a tall elf in elaborate robes turning away and vanishing belowdecks. A squad of glaring elves in blue-silver armor escorted us down narrow companionways to the stern, and into the presence of the robed elf. "Leave us," he snapped, waving a hand. A faint echo of the last time I'd been summoned to an elven officer's quarters, that of Lady Thae’Lynn herself, gnawed at me, but I doubted that this particular elf had the same intentions as the perverse countess. The elf turned and my jaw dropped. "So, Livia the sorceress," he said, quietly. "You've added a few companions to your entourage." "Hello, Admiral," Livia replied. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" Admiral Nae'mitz, commander of the Sea Griffin fleet, advanced on us with long strides, his expression unreadable. He looked at me. "You, I know. You were the princess' defender and you helped us defeat the Stormking." "I'm afraid that I may live to regret that particular act," I said, too tired of running to be polite. "Your people have repaid mine with blood and war. I'd as soon have left you to the tender mercies of the Stormking." To my surprise, Nae'mitz did not react angrily. "You may be right, human," he said. "I heard what my people did in Xesh, and I am ashamed. Perhaps you can help me set things right." He turned to Narisha and she stared back defiantly. The contrast between the tall, slender and elegant elf in all-concealing robes and the muscular, demoness clad in black leather that revealed more crimson skin than it concealed was striking. "A demon," he said. "Lady Narisha, if I am not mistaken? I am acquainted with your father." That threw her. Narisha's poise broke for a moment and she stared in disbelief. "I am not so insular and foolish as many of my people," Nae'mitz said. "Your house is an ancient and honorable one, and I am pleased to at last make your acquaintance." "The same, I guess," Narisha mumbled, totally at a loss for words. I looked around. The world hadn't ended, fortunately. Finally the admiral looked at Daedora. "Again, unlike other elves, I've not rancor for our cousins, Lady," he said. "I do not know your name, but rest assured that the color of your skin does not influence my opinion of you. That you are with Livia speaks well." Daedora met his gaze. "Thank you, Admiral. It so happens that I have information which may explain the present state of war between your people and the humans." "I see." Nae'mitz stepped away, looking thoughtful. "Please sit, all of you. And please accept my apologies for my crew's rudeness. As I said, I am anything but happy about my realm's recent actions, but as a loyal servant of the Lady, I can do little save obey the orders of her representatives, even if they are as contemptible and cruel as Lord Feanor. Sit. Please." I think all of us were more than a little stunned by Nae'mitz's reception, and sat down numbly at his map table as he poured blue-green elf wine for us. "Perhaps it is the will of the gods that I find you," he said, sitting down and staring at us with deadly seriousness. "Or simply a lucky twist of fate. As it is, you are among the few people with whom I can truly share my fears. My people's war with the humans is at best foolish and at worst utterly suicidal, and I must speak of it." I sipped at the wine and once more marveled at the elves' skills. "Who is Lord Feanor? I heard a crewman mention him." Nae'mitz shook his head and looked disgusted. "Our Lady's chief marshal," he said. "An old man who wishes to recapture the glories of a youth long past. It is he who urged us to war against the humans, some say at the insistence of his mistress, Lady Vaenetha." Daedora sat up straight at the name. It sounded familiar to me, as well. "My Lord Admiral," she said urgently, "that woman is nothing more than a tool of the woman who slew my family, and who unleashed the Stormking. Lady Thae’Lynn N'Quy holds Vaenetha's strings, and those of many other elven traitors." Swiftly, she explained the situation, mercifully leaving out the more salacious portions, such as Thae’Lynn's well-trained hardware. Nae'mitz listened to this impassively, his wine sitting untasted before him. When she finished, he picked up his glass and drained it in a single draught. "Thae’Lynn," he muttered, angrily. "Our nemesis. She sends her little toys to task us, to seduce us and to convince us that we can once more rule the world. We exhaust ourselves battling an enemy who is not truly an enemy, and whose numbers are as limitless as grains of sand on a beach. We win, but are so reduced in numbers and strength that Thae’Lynn and her mercenaries can easily step in and displace the Silver Lady, and so rule the Isles once more. Or we lose, and the dark ones' greatest foes are vanquished and exterminated. Foul devil of a woman, this Thae’Lynn." "She has the Silver Chalice," I pointed out. "It's probably made her an even more skillful schemer than she was before." "The Chalice." Nae'mitz's eyes were blank and leaden. "It makes the good wicked, but what does it do to those who are wicked to begin with?" "I should think that would be obvious," said Daedora. "And Thae’Lynn is possibly the blackest hearted bitch in all of Thystra." "Wait 'til they get a load of me," Narisha muttered under her breath. "Where's the Silver Lady in all this?" Livia asked. "Is she supporting this idiocy?" "She is not opposing it, and that is all Feanor and his allies need." Nae'mitz looked saddened. "She has not recovered from the war with the Stormking, nor from her daughter's disappearance. She sits alone and passively accepts what her advisors tell her. When Feanor called for this war, she counseled caution, but lifted not a finger to stop him." "We must see the Lady," Daedora insisted. "Help us reach her. Tell her the truth. She will believe me." "Perhaps, perhaps not," Nae'mitz said. "In any event, you would never be allowed near her. Not without conclusive proof beyond mere allegation. Besides, I cannot help you -- my orders are explicit, and I cannot abandon my post. All I can do is work to learn as much as I can. If I am reassigned or are otherwise able to assist, I will find you. For now, the best I can offer is freedom, supplies, and my best wishes." We talked for a while longer, until at last Nae'mitz summoned his guards, told them that we were noncombatants and not representatives of a hostile power, and ordered us set free. Some of the sailors looked at us with open disgust and a few looked defiant, but the admiral's authority was strong, and by the next morning we were once more sailing north, now further determined to flee the line of elvish advance as quickly and efficiently as possible. There was little conversation while we sailed north beyond that strictly necessary to operate the "Skate." The sooner we put the elves -- whatever their flavor -- behind us, the better. Even the bustling ports of Murvane didn’t seem safe, with tales of elven atrocities and conquest streaming in. Ta’vallen was choked with refugees and merchants exploiting the panic, charging the maximum price for the minimum goods and taking home the difference. It was appalling, especially when I was forced to lay out a dozen Imperial Suns just to put us up at an inn for a few days, but I counted myself lucky that we’d found anything at all. When we sat huddled around a table, eating overpriced food and drinking overpriced, watered-down wine, it was obvious to all what was going on. "The admiral was right," Daedora said, sadly. "I see Thae’Lynn’s hand in all of this, no question. I suspect that her captive High Ones have been the catalyst, enough to goad our stupid pale cousins into war with the rest of the world." "It’s a war they can’t win," I said. "Nae’mitz knew that too. The ear-boys have got magic and dragons, and the finest ships in the world, and an elven archer can put out a humming bird’s eye at a thousand paces, but there simply aren’t enough of them. And I’d hate to see what happens to an elven swan-ship when a Litharnan dreadnaught gives ‘em a broadside. Magic against science. It’s the conflict the Litharnans have been waiting for." "They don’t need to win," Livia said, more serious than I’d ever seen her. "All they need to do is weaken themselves enough so that when Thae’Lynn does unleash that army she’s building, the Isles will fall into her hand like a ripe apple. If the elves do manage to conquer us all, she steps in, displaces the Silver Lady, and ends up ruling the world. If they are defeated, she still steps in, and rules the Elven Isles. Again, not ruler of the world, but the most powerful ruler in the world. She can’t lose." "So do we do what Nae’mitz suggested?" I asked. "Find proof of Thae’Lynn’s complicity and take it to the Silver Lady?" "You have any better ideas, bright boy?" "Hell, yes. Like I said before -- keep our heads down and wait for this storm to subside. Maybe a nice little villa in the northern White Empire..." "Listen," Livia insisted. "If that bitch wins, no corner of Thystra will be safe." "How about Kaitia? I’ve got relatives there." "Very funny," muttered Narisha. "I don’t know about you, my little blonde plaything, but I have confidence that you humans will be able to band together and finish off the point-ears. Somewhat like ants overwhelming an elephant." "Apt," Livia agreed. "But what then? Thae’Lynn steps in, takes over the Elven Isles and has all the secrets of Elvish civilization at her command. The rest of the world is too exhausted to take her on, and they’ll probably figure good riddance. I’d hate to see Elvish naval and military technology wedded to Dark Elven cunning and resourcefulness." "Gods," I commented, "you’re in a mood, aren’t you? Since when did you care about who runs civilization?" Livia gave me a look of utter disgust. "Since I met you and Narisha, you knob. I thought I could live on my own, not depending on anyone. Now you’re in my life and, hell, I guess I was wrong. Unfortunately, along with my newfound humanity comes a newfound love for the rest of mankind, whether they’re humans or orcs or dwarves or what have you. A couple of years ago, I’d have said the world could go fuck itself. Now... Well, I don’t especially want to lose the world I’ve got." I felt flattered, along with a sudden rush of sympathy and affection for my freckle-faced sorceress. "So you think we should save the world. How?" "Search me. Perhaps if the truth were known, it might bring the Silver Lady out of her funk, and the High Elves could be persuaded to stop, or maybe the rest of the world will band together against the real enemy." Narisha waved a hand. "Nae’mitz said we won’t be able to get near the Silver Lady without real proof. We’d be thrown out on our asses the minute we started talking. Dark elf conspiracies. Gods, next you’ll be saying that we’re being visited by little green dwarves from another world." A man at an adjoining table cast lustful eyes at her lush red calves and thighs. She glared at him, bared her fangs, and he looked quickly away. "So we need proof, or at least a better idea of what Thae’Lynn is planning," Livia said. "One of us could infiltrate this army she’s raising, learn her plans, then get the hell out." "I could go," Daedora volunteered. "I could disguise myself..." "No," I said, with a vehemence that surprised me. "The bitch or that daemon who buggers her will see through you in an instant. No disguises. If one of us goes, it’ll have to be someone she’s never seen before." I gazed at Narisha, then at Livia. "Maybe..." I faltered. "I can’t let you go, either." Narisha met my gaze, grinning like a tiger. "Why not? All her officers are women, and she’d probably have no objection to a demon..." I shook my head. Doubt was, for some reason, banished from my mind. "I’ll go." Livia looked shocked. "What are you talking about, Wulf? Thae’Lynn knows you. She knows what you look like. Hell, she probably has your face tattooed on her ass. Any idea what she’d do if she got her hands on you?" "I’m not going," I said. "Chuma is." "Chuma? The lion-man." Livia went suddenly pale. "No. You can’t be serious. That was just a spell." "We’ve investigated it, Livia, remember? You said that that witch doctor was able to turn me in to a n’doro because I already had some of the essence of a lion man inside me. We’re all made up of multiple experiences, multiple souls. All we have to do is bring out the part of me that’s a lion man." Livia seemed horrified, and Narisha looked distinctly dubious. Daedora looked up at me, and our eyes met. "Wulf," she said. "You don’t have to do this." "I know," I replied. "I’ve got a lot of reasons. I know I was reluctant before, but now... Well, I want to help you. I want to give Thae’Lynn some payback. I want to try and stop the foolishness that’s going on around us. I want to spare all three of you the danger. I guess I’m also thinking about your people, Daedora. The ones Thae’Lynn killed. If we get rid of her, you’ve got a chance to take back your territory, honor their memory. Hell, you need a lion man to go spy on that tongue-pierced cunt, then I’m your man." I thought she might burst into tears. "Thank you," she said, softly. "Thank you. If there’s anything I can do..." "See, Wulf?" Narisha said. "She’s offering you her body." Daedora glared at her. "I’m offering nothing of the sort. You’re all my friends and my lovers, and my body is not a bargaining chip. I’m just telling Wulf that I’m grateful." Narisha smirked. "Of course you are." Bitch. Daedora was a kind and considerate woman, I realized. In short, for a dark elf, she was the worst kind of pervert. In the end we agreed. The chance to do dirt to Thae’Lynn was too much to pass up, whatever the danger. A strange determination for a lifelong coward like me, wouldn’t you agree? The fact was that neither Livia nor Narisha had ever come into contact with Thae’Lynn before. They were both capable -- probably more capable than me, and both had major grudges against the Duchess. Why couldn’t I simply let them go, and stay out of danger myself? The only reason I could come up with was that I loved them both, and didn’t want to risk either. It wasn’t the first time I’d known someone whose skin I valued above my own, and probably wouldn’t be the last. I’m kind of sentimental that way. We decided that Livia would transform me back into Chuma, then I would make my way south and join up with Thae’Lynn’s growing mercenary army. My companions, meanwhile, would gather whatever intelligence they could in the Inner Sea, and possibly rally support for their cause elsewhere. I had a brilliant idea, myself. "Theanna," I said. "If she were with us, we’d be guaranteed an audience with the Silver Lady. Theanna and Li are probably still with Captain Skrall. Have you heard anything from them lately?" "If we had, you’d have been the first to know," Livia said. "I doubt you’d forgive me for keeping word of Li and Theanna from you." "True," I replied. My beloved Kaitian babe and her elven companion were among my dearest people, up there with the three women at the table, and my long-lost Ushandra. "You can find them, though?" Narisha smiled. "We’ll find the little minx, don’t you worry." "Yeah," I said, "but what are you planning to do with her once you find her?" Narisha grinned, once more baring her fangs. "That’s my little secret." And so it was. I went to bed alone that night, steeling myself for the return of Chuma the lion-man. Again, I was unsure whether I’d ever be human again. Livia prepared the spell the next day at sunset. We transferred back to the "Skate," where she had prepared a casting room, with a summoning circle and various candles and censers. I undressed and stood in the center, noting with discomfort that Livia held a small black stone with the image of a lion scribed into its surface. "You remember, Wulf," she said. "Swallow it." "Can I wash it down with something?" "Not yet," she said. "Just do it, and let’s see what happens." Narisha and Daedora stood back a ways, watching with interest. I swallowed the stone, feeling it go down the hard way, and stood still as Livia chanted and waved various wands and rattles at me. I felt an old and familiar sensation. My limbs tingled. I felt a surge of great energy, and a moment later I stood in the middle of a whirl of fading motes of light, looking at the room from nearly a foot higher. My body was now covered in a tawny pelt, and I peered down a short furred muzzle at Livia. I looked down. Yes, it was all there. I was a heavy-boned, muscular humanoid lion, with retractable claws, a pale-furred belly, powerful legs, a swishing tail and... "Gods! He’s hung like a plow horse!" That was Narisha, bless her pointy little head. Yes, I’d retained all of my features as a lion man, including an organ the size of a small merchant vessel. I cast Narisha a withering gaze, feeling my last shred of dignity slipping away. "Wulf, dearest! You can’t possibly keep that to yourself, can you?" I growled, and it filled the room. "Just watch me, demon." Narisha looked at me and pouted prettily. "Oh come on, lover. You’re leaving us tomorrow. We may never see you again. Don’t you want to use that thing on me, and give me something to remember you by?" Livia and Daedora looked interested, as well, and my human-sized libido seemed to grow to fill my new lion-sized body. The alien organ between my legs stirred slightly. Gods, I thought. Here we go again. "I’ll see you in your cabin," I said. "I expect written thank you notes from all three of you before I leave." [end of part 4] -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----