The Last Male Elf: The Complete Omnibus

Virgil Knightley, Alphonse Fisk

Copyright © 2022-2024 by Virgil Knightley

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Dedicated to Alphonse Fisk. I look forward to working with you more in the future! I probably wouldn't have had time to finish book 2 so soon if you didn't help me.

Contents

1. Chapter 1

2. Chapter 2

3. Chapter 3

4. Chapter 4

5. Chapter 5

6. Chapter 6

7. Chapter 7

8. Chapter 8

9. Chapter 9

10. Chapter 10

11. Chapter 11

12. Chapter 12

13. Chapter 13

14. Chapter 14

15. Chapter 15

16. Epilogue

17. Book 2

18. Chapter 1

19. Chapter 2

20. Chapter 3

21. Chapter 4

22. Chapter 5

23. Chapter 6

24. Chapter 7

25. Chapter 8

26. Chapter 9

27. Chapter 10

28. Chapter 11

29. Chapter 12

30. Chapter 13

31. Chapter 14

32. Chapter 15

33. Chapter 16

34. Chapter 17

35. Chapter 18

36. Chapter 19

37. Chapter 20

38. Chapter 21

39. Chapter 22

40. Chapter 23

41. Chapter 24

42. Chapter 25

43. Links to Follow

Chapter 1

Illemitar frowned at his half-full stein of devilberry ale, flicking his wrist to watch it slosh and whirlpool in its container. His eyes crossed lazily as the aromatic beverage frothed like a storm-tossed sea upon a rocky shore. The therapeutic smell of barley ale wafted into his nostrils with each waggle of the container.

“Lemmy, you okay?” That was the resonant voice of Tomund, the proprietor of the Dripping Dragon. His heavy hand landed on the young elf’s shoulder, stirring him out of his distracted haze.

Illemitar blinked and wiped the spittle from the corner of his lips, regaining his composure. “Sorry about that,” he grinned up at the burly beast of a man. “Guess my mind got carried off by the fairies.”

To his surprise, the tavernkeep plopped down beside him, making the table shake as his elbows landed perpendicularly to Lemmy’s.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, laddy,” he grunted. “It’s just us in here for now. I’ve got the time.”

Lemmy tossed his head dismissively. “It’s nothing,” he insisted—something of a fib.

“Where’s your party?” the big man with the sun-bronzed scalp asked, his black handlebar mustache bouncing subtly as he spoke. Producing a clean, white rag from his apron, the man buffed a smudge out of the table’s surface absently.

Lemmy let out a doleful sigh.

“Ah, so that’s it then,” the larger man chuckled. “They abandoned you?”

Lemmy grunted a guttural confirmation without taking his eyes off his drink.

“You fucked the half-orc girl, and Brandith expelled you from the party, right?” His chuckle was verging on proper laughter now.

Lemmy looked up meekly at the tavernkeep. “How did you guess?”

Tomund shrugged his large, broad shoulders in a slow, exaggerated way. “That’s how you lost your last four parties. You know, you could give up on the adventuring thing,” Tomund suggested, patting Illemitar on the shoulder. “Hell, I’m in need of a cook and cleaner here at the Dripping Dragon. What do you say?”

Lemmy turned in his chair slightly to look around the tavern. It was large enough to hold a decent-sized crowd, but he couldn’t remember a time when it had. The taproom had several open tables with four or five stools clustered around each one, yet Lemmy didn’t personally know of a day when it had ever held more than a few people. Still, the hearth was warm, the food was decent, and the ale cheap. He’d called the place home between several of his adventures in the past, so the offer wasn’t entirely without merit.

Even so, Lemmy laughed and made a sour face. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Thank you, I really do appreciate the offer, but my destiny’s out there somewhere.” He gestured romantically to the oaken door on the other side of the tavern.

“Suit yourself,” Tomund said, patting the tabletop as he rose from his stool and pushed it back under the table. “The offer stands. I’ve got your drink today.”

Lemmy smiled. “Thanks for that, Tom.”

“Thank me by taking a bath and changing your clothes before the night crowd comes in,” Tomund scoffed. “Your elven stink is ruining the atmosphere. It’s like a honeyed ass.”

Without a word, Lemmy stood like he’d been given an order. He threw back the stein and slammed the rest of his ale with well-practiced fluidity. Wiping his eyes and mouth with the sleeve of his white tunic, he pushed in the stool like a good patron and made his way toward the door to his room, just up the stairs and immediately on the right.

The wooden door opened for him with a gentle turn of the handle—he was always too lazy to lock up after himself—and he took a great whiff as he sauntered toward the bed. The room smelled fantastic. He’d left the candle burning along with some phoenix ivy-scented incense, dispelling some of the scent of stale booze that had filled the room prior to his stay. It wasn’t a fancy room, but it was more than enough for his purposes. The single straw bed took up a large portion of the area, while a non-descript end table, dresser, and trunk filled out the rest of the space.

After crumpling backward onto the bed, he reached out and grabbed hold of his adventurer’s pack stowed just beside it on the floor, rifling through its contents and taking stock of it in his mind.

He had three gold pieces, twenty-seven silver coins, and three coppers. He also had about a week’s worth of trail rations, a ten-foot rope, a hunting knife, a bad drawing of a naked dwarf lass, an empty flagon that still stank of hard cider, a few throwing knives, and that was about it. He took the empty flagon out, turning it over in one hand a few times, wondering why he was still carrying it. Three years of adventuring, and that’s all he had to show for his efforts.

Well, and of course, there was his pride and joy—Gorbag the Orcblade. He kept that one hidden under the bed. Just thinking about it caused him to compulsively spring up and reach beneath the bedframe to find it. Lemmy exhaled a hot breath of satisfaction and relief to find the savage-looking sword exactly where he’d left it. There you are, sweetheart, he thought, practically drooling over it as he took hold of the hilt. Standing up in the middle of the room, he gave it a few practice swings, the blade swishing effortlessly through the air. It had a decent heft and incredible balance that made it satisfying just to whip around.

Whenever he held it in his hand, the grisly thing glowed a cool green. He’d been told that the weapon was magic by the orc he’d slain to claim it, as if the glow itself wasn’t a dead giveaway. Unfortunately, the brute had died before Lemmy was able to figure out exactly what it did.

He stroked the edge of the curved blade affectionately. Lemmy had every intention of getting the thing appraised by a proper wizard and figuring out exactly what its powers were, but so far, he hadn’t had the opportunity. He’d been bouncing from adventuring party to adventuring party, and he’d never been the one to set the agenda. If the party he was with didn’t happen across a wizard’s tower in the wilderness or make time to stop at a mage’s guild, then he simply had to put it off.

He smiled softly as he gazed lovingly at his pride and joy—the pinnacle of a long adventure and a fierce battle. Maybe getting fired from the Iron Saviors was a blessing in disguise. Now that he was bound for town to find a new adventuring party, he’d have the opportunity to get the brutal scimitar appraised.

A knock from a delicate hand sounded at the door. Lemmy tucked the sword underneath the two pillows at the fore of the bed, edged against the headboard. “One minute, please,” he called out, adjusting his tunic and putting everything back in his bag. “Who is it?”

A giggle answered him, muffled by the wood of the door. Lemmy grinned—this was just the distraction he needed. He strolled to the door, already feeling like the glimmering contents of a dragon’s hoard. He reached out and turned the lever, pulling the door open to see a curly-tressed white-haired half-drow dressed in a priestess’s gown.

Yenni was the only half-elf he currently knew on a first-name basis, and that made her special to him. Her skin was tinted purple, her ears sharply pointed—but not as sharply as his own. She was an acolyte of the One True Church of Tellithri Illthuni, the god of all men, dwarves, and elves.

“Thank Tellithri you’re here,” she moaned, falling into his arms. He caught her and immediately hoisted her up, kicking the door closed behind him, then tossed her on the bed.

“It stinks like incense and you in here,” she chortled as she peppered his hand with soft kisses and licks.

“What a coincidence,” Lemmy grinned, “I’ve got both incense and me in this room.”

“Two of my favorite smells,” she cooed, loosening up her hair with her sylphlike hand. She let her ponytail down, long white tresses running wild as they spilled across her shoulders like a waterfall over the face of a violet cliff. “Show me your ears, you hot pile of fuck.”

Lemmy rolled his eyes and obliged, pulling his golden-brown hair back to expose his long, pointed elven ears that proved his full-blooded status.

“By the Everlight of Tellithri,” she moaned, grabbing both her tits over the soft, silky robe she wore. “You’re one of a kind, baby. The most beautiful man in the world, I swear.”

“Elves are weirdly rare for all the half-bloods you see running around the cities,” Illemitar chuckled as he pulled open her robe. Predictably, she was nude underneath, her petite figure already dewy with sweat as he reveled in the sight of her flawless body. “Fuck yeah,” he growled, drinking up that holy sight.

She bit her lip hard. “Most of the half-elves are just the children of other half-elves. I’ve never seen another full-blooded elf besides you.”

“Well, I don’t know anything about Elfland,” Lemmy shrugged as he ran his fingertips along her stomach, making her flex and clench at his touch. “I assume there are plenty of elves there. I was raised by human parents, though.”

“Two humans? I never knew that!” she moaned. “But it makes sense. Fuck, elves are so hot. I wonder why no one’s seen them out here for decades.”

Lemmy leaned forward and kissed her lips. They were well-moistened, as the girl couldn’t go more than a few seconds looking at him without licking them compulsively. The sweetness of her spit and the pillow-softness of her kiss greeted him, sending a surge of delight through his body.

“You know,” he growled in her ear, “you have great timing. I was feeling pretty down.”

The half-elf girl nibbled his neck. “You shouldn’t be down, Lemmy. Let me go down,” she snickered with a mischievous giggle, pulling the full-blooded elf down onto the bed with her. Yenni pulled her open robe all the way off of her body, exposing her diminutive frame to him, making his lips smack in delight. “Tell me you like my body, baby,” she seethed through a clenched jaw as she started slithering her sex down Lemmy’s thigh. Her dragging cunt left a trail of her lust along his leg until she got herself into position, bending over, her lips hovering just over Lemmy’s cock.

“Oh, I like it.” He stroked her lustrous hair, nodding at her, and she grinned back, her eyes wild and savage. Her lips parted into an ‘o’ as they collided with his thick elven shaft, much longer and girthier than the stereotypes would have you believe.

He grabbed hold of a clench of her ivory-white tresses, letting his thumb tease the pointed tip of her ear. “That’s a good little priestess,” he said. “Suck that dick.”

She happily complied, slowly and slimily sliding down the slick length of his shaft, groaning on his cock like a desperate slattern. Her eyes rolled back in bliss to taste him again. She was obsessed with him, and her every action showed it.

Up and down, up and down, her head bobbed with a skill that she’d attained exclusively in his service. Yennisa Kindheart was a virgin when they first met, but within hours of their acquaintance she was literally begging him to plug all her holes with his elven cum.

He still remembered that desperation, retreating to it often in his private moments. It was fine fuel for a session of self-love. Truth be told, once his party had broken up with him, he had his choice of two equidistant villages to head to for licking his wounds, with loyal lovers in each. Yenni won that competition hands-down. As such, he headed to Salmon Brook without a second thought, despite the fact that it meant he’d be eating nothing but fish and grains for the next few days.

A worthy price to pay for premium half-elven pussy, he thought. Not that he was picky. But Yenni’s erotic devotion was enough to get drunk off of.

Her bobbing head made her silky white hair bounce alluringly, and he focused on that hypnotically repetitive movement so as not to get too overwhelmed by the pleasures of her doting lips and tongue as they sought his pleasure like it was the Bell of Imithriel itself.

“Fuck, Yenni,” he groaned, bucking his hips upward to stab the back of her throat. She gagged, and tears formed in the corners of her eyes, but she kept on moaning and grunting like a shameless whore as she swallowed his dick like an Elturi Sword-Eater. Her wanton sounds and wet gags were music to his ears.

Illemitar bent forward, freeing one of his hands from her locks to instead seek her supple tits. It found them quickly enough, swirling a fingertip tortuously along her tiny purple areola, making her euphoric sounds all the more extreme.

“Good girl,” he grunted. “Suck that cock for me, Yenni.”

She didn’t need the encouragement, but it certainly didn’t hurt her motivation. She picked up the pace, her mouth somehow getting even thicker and fuller with saliva, keeping Lemmy’s manhood well lubricated so that each slide along his shaft was blissfully erotic, full of pleasurable friction that made his senses tingle not just along his cock and balls but all the way up his arms and legs, surging into his spine—giving him pinprick goosebumps as the acolyte continued her holy work of worshiping his shaft.

He was getting close. Both of his hands grabbed the side of her head and started using her mouth like it was her pussy, humping and pulling and fucking her willing hole as she groaned and let go of him. She started finger-fucking herself with abandon as he used her like the sex toy she clearly wanted to be for him.

“Get ready to swallow,” Lemmy growled. His balls started twitching and burning as his climax climbed to the surface. With a cry, he blasted the back of her eager throat with many thick wads of his pure elven seed.

She came, too, mewling on his dick, whining and squealing like an animal as she fingered herself and endeavored to drink up every last drop of the gift he was blessing her gullet with. She squirted all over the bedroom floor; the sound of her splashing girl-juice filled the room just as pervasively as the noisiness of her cock-muffled whines.

“I needed that,” Illemitar said, patting the half-elf on the head.

“More…” she groaned with half a load of seed leaking from the corner of her lips. “I want more, Lemmy. Please!”

Lemmy sighed. This was the problem with her. The girl was insatiable. “Later,” he promised. “You’ve got to give me some recovery time. Besides, we’ve got catching up to do, don’t we?”

“I don’t have time for that. I have service at the shrine in twenty minutes. Daddy will kill me if I’m late,” she pouted.

“So you don’t have time to chat, but you have time for sex?” he questioned her pointedly. “Can you remember the last time we fucked and it took less than twenty minutes?”

She shrugged. “We’ve got our whole lives to chat, baby,” She giggled, wiping a bit of Lemmy’s cum from her lips on the sleeve of his tunic. “Once I marry you, that is.”

“I thought you said you don’t love me,” Lemmy chuckled, scraping at the new stain. “Even though you so clearly are obsessed with me.”

Yenni was an odd girl. When she was young, the priest who raised her ran afoul of a visiting hag who claimed to have cursed Yenni with the inability to ever fall in love. Or so the story went. Yenni took the tale to heart, but most witnesses agreed that the hag in question was no witch but a raving lunatic.

“I wish I could love you,” she sighed, already pumping his dick in one of her dainty hands, trying to get him hard again. “Every time I look at you, my heart goes pitter-patter at a thousand beats per second.” She moaned and touched her glowing cheek with her free hand. “When I think about you, my face feels like it’s on fire, and I spend hours every day dreaming about marrying you and starting a family.”

“But you don’t love me, of course,” Lemmy humored her, fighting back the urge to laugh. Hearing her talk like this, no one would ever think her incapable of something like love. There was just too much truth and passion in her words.

“Unfortunately, it’s impossible,” she frowned, shaking her head glumly. “But… if you make me your wife, I just know I’ll be happy anyway.”

The full-blooded elf snorted, unable to contain his amusement. “Yenni, you do realize that sounds a lot like love, don’t you?”

Yenni ignored him and continued to rant. “I could see your handsome face and feel your cock inside me every day. We could raise children together and be at peace—just the two of us for the rest of our days. It would make me the happiest girl in the world.”

Now, it was just getting absurd. “Yenni—that’s amazingly flattering, but—”

“Now, Illemitar, I know what you’re going to say, but I only have two loves in this world,” she said crossly, “Tellithri, the Creator of Middenheim, and sloppy ball-slapping fuck-sex with you.”

Lemmy considered the statement thoughtfully before offering her a shrug of acquiescence. “I guess I can deal with that.”

“I worship both loves with equal devotion,” she said, winking coyly. “So, before you run off to kill a bunch of goblins or rescue another lucky damsel, please, please, please, give me a quickie, okay?”

Lemmy smirked. “It’s eighteen minutes now.”

Chapter 2

Illemitar tremulously tossed and turned in his sheets that night. By all reason, he should have slept like a babe. Still, after Yennisa had departed to perform her duties in the temple, leaving Lemmy ragged and haggard from his erotic exertions, the elf found that sleep didn’t come easily.

And when it did…

His dreamscape was a thick white haze of foreboding. He found himself gazing into a silvery cloud that hung low to the ground, so low that it touched the earthy floor of what must have been a forest. And an old forest, by the looks of it.

Illemitar looked around, but he was engulfed on all sides by snow-white mist, thick as dragon smoke, though far less odious.

He swished with his hands at the vapors, parting them, forming a path forward. As he took his first step, the fog gave way unto him, opening before him regally like a procession of castle guards greeting their king.

Bewildered, Illemitar continued his journey forward, carefully placing one foot after the other as the path became plain and clear. Faerie lights lit the way across twisted roots, dense undergrowth, and a verdant wood where bioluminescent fungi and flowers lent an eerie atmosphere that seemed strangely otherworldly, entirely unlike any forest he’d ever set foot in before.

“Where in Targosh am I?” he muttered quietly to himself.

“You are home, Illemitar Hilfuriel Liminelda, last son of the elves.” The voice that unexpectedly offered its answer was husky, wise, and decidedly feminine. Her ethereal tone was like a sweet song in his ears, giving him goosebumps along his arms and spine.

He almost leaped out of his skin. “Who said that?” he grunted his surprise. No one was in sight as he spun around and sought the source of the sonorous voice that coaxed him ever onward. The mist swirled around him, winding through the trees as the fairy lights danced within it. The small lights were like multicolored magical explosions.

The voice came back, a warm smile audible in its tone. “I am the Lady Golariel Golafrinor, your distant kinfolk, surviving Queen of the High Elves. Seek me in Elfland, Illemitar. Seek me now before all is lost.” Her voice was almost ghostly as it started to fade away with those last words.

The mist swallowed Lemmy back up, but not before he caught a glimpse of a woman of impossible grace standing in front of a pedestal upon which a cauldron bubbled with steam. The fairy lights illuminating her from multiple directions lent her a particularly ethereal presence. He reached out a hand, grasping for her.

“No, wait, tell me more!” he shouted, but his voice was constrained by the white vapors that overcame him, entombing him in their thickness, silencing him completely.

He awoke, then, dripping with fresh perspiration and looking all around for signs that it wasn’t just a crazy, meaningless dream. There were no answers for him in the dark room, only silence and a slight chill from the open window. His ears strained against the silence, reaching past the confines of the four walls and beyond. The distant drone of the taproom came into focus, but still, he could discern nothing. He stood in a hurry, wiping his face off on the bedsheets and getting dressed. Lemmy then gathered everything he had and immediately set out the door.

He poured down the stairs quickly, brushing past a startled Tomund, who was busy taking orders from a couple of customers. The big mustached man cast a look of concern at Illemitar as the elf tossed the rest of his inn fees onto the front desk, exiting without another word.

Once he’d walked out the door and was met with the cool open air, he realized that it was the middle of the night. He decided he didn’t care; his journey would begin at that moment.

Under the light of the temple torches, he pulled out his map and studied it carefully—he was lucky to be here, of all places, one of the last little towns before the Wilds. He was only two weeks away from Elfland on foot—where no human was allowed. But then again, Lemmy was no human. He pored over the map obsessively, swiftly plotting the best route to take like a man possessed.

He had received a vision. He was sure of it. With nothing else to live for at the moment but the summons of adventure, how could he resist the literal call of his homeland, a place where he’d never been and always wondered about? Now he was alone, without the company of humans or half-orcs or dwarves, for the first time. Now was the only time that he could make passage unharassed into the Sylvan Woods beyond the Teeming Wilds.

The path shown on the map was clear but cut off just where Elfland began—that territory was widely unmarked. A part of him nagged about getting the orcblade appraised. For now, it could wait. He could certainly ask Golariel to tell him all about it, using her elven magic to learn its secrets.

The thought gave him pause. Was he being rash? Was this all a bit too fast? He closed his eyes and, with trembling hands, folded his map and sat himself at the base of the torch to meditate on the question for a moment. Then, he drew his consciousness inward with a deep breath and examined his strange, uncharacteristic desperation and quickness of action. What had come over him?

Since Illemitar was a baby, he’d lived in the company of humans. His mother and father—the ones who raised him, anyway—were both human. Former adventurers, they claimed to have found him abandoned in a basket floating down the Ilmateria River on the western cusp of the Sylvan Woods. Since the adventuring couple were already advancing in age and had grown weary of the injuries they’d endured in their travels, they decided to settle down and raise the baby, unable to conceive for themselves. They saw it as a sign from Tellithri. The baby was a gift.

Illemitar developed and matured rapidly, ripening to something physically resembling an adult by the age of ten but still simple in mind. His whole life, his father, Beskel, had trained him in the ways of combat, while his mother, Zelda, had instructed him in the basics of spellcasting and magical theory. He was not gifted with magic, but his knowledge of it had saved his life on more than one occasion.

When Illemitar had turned eighteen years old, he decided to become an adventurer himself. In truth, he’d planned on it ever since learning it was what his parents had done when they were young. He listened to their tales of daring and heroism, and it lit a fire in his heart, a yearning and wanderlust that could not be quelled.

Illemitar often wrote letters home, but he hadn’t visited his parents in over a year. Now, he was sure that the expanse of time would grow ever longer as his quest was about to take him into new, unfamiliar territories.

But he was absolutely certain—Elfland was calling to him. The Sylvan Woods—his true home—was beckoning. The Queen of the High Elves—his people… she knew his name, his full name. It was the name that his parents found scrawled on parchment, written in seven scripts and tied to a cord around his neck.

Illemitar stood back up, calmed though just as steadfast in his resolve to leave as soon as possible, but he decided to head back into the inn for one more drink and one more request. It wouldn’t be right to leave without some sort of goodbye.

As he opened the door, the burly innkeeper grinned at him. “You sure left in a hurry,” he laughed. “Just couldn’t stay away, eh?”

Lemmy laughed and sat at the bar in front of Tomund. “I’m leaving, Tom, and I don’t imagine I’ll ever be coming back.”

The big man’s mouth turned down into a frown. “What’s this talk, now?”

Illemitar leaned in, taking a stein of ale from the brawny man. “I’ve received a vision.”

Tomund’s eyebrow twitched at that. “A vision? Of what?”

“Of home.”

“What’s home to you?” the man asked.

“It was the Sylvan Woods. Elfland,” Illemitar explained. “The Queen of the High Elves called to me. She bid me leave at once, so I’m on my way. Could you do me a favor, Tom?”

The man looked skeptical but recognized the look on the young elf’s face—he’d likely seen that look on many adventurers in his day. Lemmy was dead set on this. Tomund sighed and nodded. “Aye, lad, what can I do for you?”

“Two things,” Lemmy huffed back at him. “Help me send a letter home. Just a word to my folks back in Connor’s Grove. Tell them where I went so they have closure. I don’t know if I’ll come back, but they deserve to know why I’m going to stop writing.”

The innkeeper nodded. “And what was the second one?”

Lemmy sighed, a wistful smile on his face. “Tell Yennisa for me that—”

Lemmy was interrupted by the force of the innkeeper’s grin and found himself blushing.

“Tell her I, uh, have enjoyed the good times and… although I know she doesn’t feel the same way,” he winked, “she’s the apple of my eye. And I’ll miss her.”

“I reckon she’ll be sad to hear you left,” Tomund grunted.

“She claims she’s just into me for the sex,” the young elf sighed. “Though she keeps trying to marry me.”

“I’m friends with her father,” Tomund replied awkwardly. “I’ve known her since she was a baby. Please don’t go into any more detail.”

Illemitar laughed with his mouth closed. “Fair enough,” he said. “The shit I could tell you would curl your toes for days.”

The burly innkeeper shivered at that and got back to polishing a glass. “I’ll deliver those messages for you, lad. I take it you’ll be heading out immediately?”

Lemmy nodded. “I believe it’s what I’m meant to do, yes.”

Tomund reached out his heavy hand, and Lemmy gripped it in a manly handshake. “Your elven hands feel like a woman’s.”

“My elven dick could put yours to shame, though,” Lemmy grunted back.

Tomund laughed. “Crass bastard. Alright, off with you. Good luck, boy. I’ll miss your visits.”

“Thank you, Tom,” Lemmy said, pushing in his stool. He took one final swig of ale from the Dripping Dragon and headed out the door. He didn’t look back.

Illemitar had no steed to call his own. It was just as well—the journey would be long and perilous, and it was likely that any horse or riding goat he might have procured for the journey wouldn’t make the trip. There were caves to navigate, narrow rope bridges to cross, and steep cliffs to scale. For now, though, the road east was well-trod and unthreatening. There were still a few more villages along this path, but he knew few of them by name. All he knew was that they were the last gasps of civilization before it crumbled into the gaping maw of the land known as the Teeming Wilds.

The Wilds was a magically warped wasteland that spontaneously and dramatically shifted its landscape at seemingly random intervals. The only creatures that could survive there were strange elementals and the giant bug-like creatures known as Terropods. Lemmy had never seen one up close, but he’d seen desperate scrawlings of them scratched into tavern tables and old journals by those who’d lived to tell the tale.

There were also rumors of a particularly tough strain of Ologs making their home there. Ologs were the wizard-crafted hybrids of goblins and ogres—wily like a goblin, but big and brawny like an ogre. People whispered that elven sorcerers themselves scorched the Wilds hundreds of years ago after humans and orcs worked together to try to invade Elfland after nearly a millennium of peace. Many died, and the wastes were transformed into a hazardous geographic buffer to deter invading armies or confused travelers from pressing into the forbidden elven lands.

Lemmy immersed himself in the verdant bloom of spring as he took to the road. As an elf, his body was particularly attuned to nature in a way that made being outdoors feel more like home than he often admitted. As much as he liked his tavern crawls, there was something refreshing and clean about the outdoors that he couldn’t quite place. He didn’t have the physical brawn of a human or an orc but when traveling, he was capable of walking for at least twelve hours before his endurance began to waver.

For the first day, that’s precisely what he did. He passed by two hamlets too small to be named, little more than an assemblage of four to six cottages bunched together for the sake of community. It was charming how people sought the comfort of each other, Lemmy reflected. He wondered if it was his elven nature that made him more willing to strike out on his own—it could just as easily have been his upbringing in the care of two seasoned adventurers.

That evening, when the moon hung high in the sky like a ghostly pearl, Lemmy made camp. In truth, he did nothing so extravagant as setting up a tent—he didn’t have the luxury of such supplies. What he did do was merely what he could do, and that was to start up a respectable campfire that he was able to light with the Spark spell his adoptive mother had taught him. It was pretty much the only spell he could perform reliably, so he made good use of it whenever he could. Setting his bedroll out a few feet away and using his pack as a pillow, his campsite was complete.

He had no choice but to leave himself vulnerable when he slept, being utterly alone on this journey, but he was not without his precautions. His elven senses, especially the keen hearing he owed to his long, pointed ears, made it easy for him to perk up in time to react to dangers such as a pack of stalking wolves or a band of ill-meaning brigands. As far as he could tell, it would take the feather-light steps of another elf trying to get the drop on him for something approaching to go unnoticed.

But it was not brigands or wolves that came for Illemitar that night. The crackle of the campfire was all he heard for the longest time as he stared up at the twinkling heavens, lulling him slowly to sleep. Just as slumber was set to take him, though, he caught the sound of a distant snapping twig.

Illemitar made no sudden moves, instead shifting slowly onto his side as though he were merely adjusting his sleeping position. He opened one eye, peeking out at the night, and caught sight of a robed figure in the distance, decked out in white but for a black cloak that obscured the head and face of the individual.

Lemmy slowly, cautiously reached for his hip. He grabbed one of his throwing knives and gripped it between his knuckles.

The figure grew larger with each step. The young elf felt his heart thumping in anticipation. He feared it would be a fight to the death, but it could just as easily have been a fellow traveler in search of a fire and some company. He couldn’t allow himself to act rashly.

In both scenarios, he reasoned that he should move slowly and signal that he noticed the visitor’s approach. He sat up deliberately but as sluggishly as a turtle, and the figure went motionless.

“Who goes there?” Illemitar called out, dagger at the ready. “I’m armed.”

“With a fat dick!” the voice, high and girly, shouted back at him.

His eyes shot open, and he scrambled to his feet. “Yenni?! What in Targosh are you doing out here on your own!?”

Yennisa sprinted to him with near-silent footfalls, and Lemmy just waited and watched her approach as she got closer and closer. Her beautiful visage was alight with irritation as she stood before him. She paused for a moment to catch her breath and then greeted his face with a flick on the nose that caught him off guard and made him sneeze.

“Ow! What in the six pits was that for?!”

“I got Tomund’s message, you goon,” she leered at him disdainfully. “Leaving and never coming back?! As if I’d let you!”

He shook his head. “It’s true,” he said. “I received a vision from an elf named Golariel. She called to me and told me to go to Elfland as fast as I—”

“I don’t give two rump shakes about your destiny. What about MY destiny?!” Yennisa snapped indignantly.

The young elf raised one eyebrow. “I’ll take the bait. What destiny are you referring to?”

“The destiny where I avail myself of your fat dick every day of my life as your blushing bride!” she said frankly, as though she were entitled to it. She crossed her arms, her facial expression deadly.

Lemmy grimaced. “How serious are you really being right now?”

She sighed, and her face softened. “Look, Lemmy. Baby. What do you expect me to do? It’s only natural that I follow you.”

Lemmy grinned. “If you loved me, maybe, that would make sense.” A distant howl sounded in the night.

“Well—maybe we can be soulmates without being in love. In fact, I’m sure of it! You’re my soulmate, Lemmy. So what if some dumb witch cursed me and I can’t fall in love? I’m still going to try to find happiness, right? In the end, it’s all the same. Balanced, like the scales of Hinterieth. “

“I have no idea how to respond to you,” Lemmy squinted at her, fighting back the impulse to scoff. “You put way too much stock in that so-called witch.”

“I don’t care about how any of it works,” she argued, shaking her head fervently. “We can workshop it later.”

She shook her hands out from her robes and hastily traced the symbol of her faith in the air before her. “Anyway, I’m an anointed acolyte of Tellithri’s, and I hereby declare us officially married. So there. You can’t leave me again.”

“You can’t do that,” Lemmy stated plainly, burying his face in his palm at the ridiculousness of her one-sided proclamation. “You need my consent.”

She blew a lock of white hair out of her face and furrowed her pretty brow at the full-blooded elf before her. “That’s just a detail—it’s not totally necessary. In any case, hubby, I’m going with you.”

“You have to declare love to your husband,” Lemmy astutely pointed out, admittedly goading her. “And no, you’re not. Go home, Yenni.”

She glared at him with plain irritation. “I can’t bear living in a world where that dick—and the man attached—was never coming back home to me,” she said, eyeing his bulge. “Do you want me to die? I’d probably just die.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“You’re being needlessly selfish. I have a destiny, too!”

Lemmy balked at that. “Of course you do, but your destiny is not just sex with me.”

She grunted a sound of agreement. “You’re right. It also includes sucking your cock, and having you lick my titties, and railing me in the asshole, and making out—”

“Please, stop,” Illemitar said, feigning irritation even as his pants grew tighter from the swell of his crotch.

She grinned. “Never. You’re stuck with me. And I don’t know why you’re resisting, anyway. You said I’m the apple of your eye. You told Tomund to let me know.”

Lemmy felt his cheeks burning at that. “It’s going to be dangerous,” he warned her.

She smiled, knowing she had him by the bollocks now. “I can heal you when you’re hurt. You need me.”

Lemmy looked at the beautiful half-elven priestess in front of him. Her skin, tinted purple like a Drimui plum, and her gossamer-white hair were dead giveaways of her dark-elf heritage. From what he understood, both Dark Elves and High Elves lived in Elfland, but then again, there were rumored to be as many as six or seven types of elves there. He wondered how many he’d meet. He knew Yenni would want to meet them, too.

“Alright,” he said, succumbing. “You can join me.”

She squealed triumphantly. “I knew you couldn’t live without me, hubby,” she winked.

“Don’t call me that. And no sex tonight,” he warned. “I need rest.”

She nodded solemnly. “Understood, I’ll suck you off in your sleep, instead.”

Lemmy blinked at her, flinching at the insanity of the suggestion. “Pretty sure that would wake me up.”

“It didn’t last time.”

He let that one go for the time being and escorted her to his campfire. Together, they sat down beside it, and she nuzzled against him, pressing her nose upon his neck and inhaling a deep, depraved whiff. “Fucking hell,” she moaned, body shuddering in bliss. “I love your smell. I love everything about you.”

He chuckled. “But not me, of course.”

“Curse that witch,” Yenni hissed, shaking her little fist.

The elven male rolled his eyes but put his arm around her anyway. “You’re one weird little lady,” he said.

“It’s your fault,” she answered, whimpering softly. “Only you do this to me.” She gestured at her robes where the fabric met her crotch—it was already damp like she’d soaked it in a glass of warm water.

His eyes widened, but he decided to change the subject lest he fall into her seductive trap. “What do you know about the elves?” he asked her.

She whined a bit but then fell into quiet thought. After a minute, she gave her answer. “Not much more than you, I’m sure. They used to venture out into the human world. Hundreds of years ago, now. They were common until the big war.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s about all I know.”

“They retreated back into their own territories and scorched the Wilds to make them hard to follow. The High Elves, your people, were the most common, and most half-elves have High Elf in their bloodline.”

“Not you, though,” he noted.

She shook her head. “No. I’m part Drow. I met a girl who was part Dusk Elf in Queen’s Valley City a few years back—those are rare.”

“What other kinds are there?”

She bit her lip as she started counting on her fingers. “According to my books, there are High Elves, Wood Elves, Dusk Elves, Sun Elves, Dark Elves, and Beast Elves. A long time ago, they all descended from the First Children of Tellithri.” She paused. “Or at least that’s what the books in the temple say.”

Lemmy stretched and yawned and lay back on the grass. He kept a hand on Yennisa’s thigh, though—he couldn’t help himself. Now that she was with him, there wasn’t one part of him that wanted to let her go.

“Get some rest, hubby,” she said, winking at him. “I’ll wait until after you start snoring before I choke on your—”

“Just… just don’t,” he interjected. “Save it for when I’m awake.”

She shook her head and tugged his slacks down to the knees, freeing his cock. “Shhhhh,” she said, making him sigh with both arousal and irritation. “Just let it happen.”

Chapter 3

The following day, Lemmy awoke with the young half-elven priestess sleeping naked beside him and covered with his dried spunk. She sighed contentedly, a sweet little smile on her face like she was the only ghoul in a graveyard.

Lemmy couldn’t bring himself to be mad at her. He pulled his pants back up and covered her with her robe, giving her a bit of the dignity she apparently wouldn’t bother to preserve for herself. She stirred, her eyes opening dimly.

“Good morning, Lemmy,” she said sweetly.

“Morning,” he grinned back.

She pouted as she noticed his pants back on. “So stingy.”

Lemmy laughed and helped her to her feet, turning his head as she got dressed. Breaking camp only took a matter of minutes, as basic as it was. He took extra care to drown and smother the fire before they continued on. The weather was good for most of the day, and eventually, they stopped at a roadside tavern just off the beaten path.

“We could still travel a bit longer,” Lemmy mused, briefly glancing at the sky. “Then again, this might be the last bed we’re likely to come across in a very, very long time.”

Yenni didn’t need convincing. The inside of the tavern was darkly lit by yellow magically-glowing torches sconced on the walls and a raging fireplace that took up the majority of the eastern section. A snarling, stuffed manticore sat as a trophy atop the pedestal that loomed over the hearth.

The tavern looked relatively new—or at least well-maintained. It was built of warm, dark wood with polished countertops and a dozen or so round tables and well-furnished chairs made of the same material. It was oddly comfortable, like visiting someone’s home. Brassy candelabras hung from the ceiling, and their placement was so bizarre that it would have been too cumbersome a task to light candles that high up—and replace them—every night. They had to be magically lit as well.

That conclusion led his eyes to curiously seek the proprietor of the establishment. He made eye contact with a scaleborn—a lizardfolk, in more common terms. He’d never seen one up close.

“Welcome sssson,” the reptilian innkeeper said as he polished a glass. “You’ve just ssset foot in the Inn at World’sss End.”

Lemmy and Yennisa exchanged awed looks. “Is that your magic lighting the candles?” Lemmy asked with growing interest.

“No,” said the scaleborn. His scales were green and red patterned, with elaborate stripes running down his back. “That would be my daughter, Nethissss. She’sss a young sssorceresss in the making.”

“It’s very impressive,” Yenni added politely, bowing to the man. “My name is Yennisa Kindheart. This is my companion, Illemitar. We are on our way into the Wilds on an important personal quest.”

“Into the Wildssss, eh?” said the strange man as a forked tongue flicked at them. “Ssssounds dangerousss.”

“It will be,” Lemmy agreed. “And we think this might be our last chance at a good night’s sleep in a bed in a long while. How much for a room?”

“One bed or two?” asked the lizardfolk man.

Lemmy smirked as Yenni’s cheeks went incandescent. Was she shy to ask for one? He decided to let her handle it. He leaned on the counter and watched her squirm.

“Ohh… well, you see,” she started, “we’re actually newlyweds. So one bed will be perfect.”

Lemmy’s jaw dropped as his soul filled with woe.

“Congratulationssss. That’ll be two sssilver coinssss, then. That includesss a meal and one drink for the evening, too.”

The young elf felt his own cheeks blushing. He paid the fee quietly and shot a flaming hot look of indignation at Yenni as she beamed back at him.

“Now they all know you’re mine,” she said greedily.

Lemmy looked around and saw what she meant. There was an adventuring group composed entirely of women sitting at a nearby table, eyeing him like a juicy steak. It couldn’t have been more obvious if they had actually been drooling.

“We are not married,” he seethed at her quietly.

“Yes, we are,” she huffed, looking offended. “Did our holy matrimony mean nothing to you?”

He made a sour face at her. “You uttered some bullshit in a field ten paces from a pile of ox dung.”

She sighed, noticing him stealing looks at the other table of adventuring women. “Well, if it’s freedom you’re after, I suppose I can share you from time to time… But your heart better remain true to me.”

It was a selfish thing for her to ask for. He did care about her—and for all her delusional denials, she clearly loved him, too. But would his heart remain true to her? He looked at her and knew, for better or worse, it would. There was just something about her that he couldn’t escape. The passion, the sex, the hunger, and her sweet, doting nature, not to mention her astounding beauty. Lemmy said nothing back, though.

The half-orc woman with the party, who stood half a head taller than him, rose up from the table and walked over to where he and Yenni were bickering. He watched her approach with trepidation, his pulse quickening. Something about half-orc ladies always got him going and they were always wild in bed.

“Hey there,” the woman said. She was strong, thick, and with well-defined muscles showing all over her body. She wore a skimpy fur loincloth with steel greaves, gauntlets, and a breastplate that literally only covered her gargantuan breasts—and not very well. Each tit was easily as big as his skull.

“Hey back,” Lemmy grunted, brushing back his long golden-brown locks. He leaned on the counter and twirled two throwing daggers idly between his fingers as he made eye contact with the half-orc. They loved to see how nimble his fingers were. Yenni rolled her pink eyes.

“You’re welcome to join us if you’re in the mood for some extra company,” the half-orc said. Her voice was hot and husky. Her long, braided ponytail flowed down to the middle of her back, and her skin was green, but it was the tusks and beady yellow eyes that really gave her orcish heritage away.

“I’m definitely in the mood.”

“Are you?” she said, looking at Yenni, raising a thick brow. It wasn’t just him the orcish woman was looking to get wild with later.

“I’m not into girls,” she sighed with a little shrug. “But I know how to help out and wait my turn.”

The half-orc’s lips curled into a wry smile. “Well, alright! Are you a priestess or a whore, girl? You’re quite forward.”

“I’m just his wife—but I’m okay with sharing him—” she snickered, flashing a look at Lemmy, “—as long as he never thinks about sharing me.”

The half-orc grinned at the pair of them. “This is just what I need. I’m Guldra. And it seems to me we’re all about to have a great night.”

Before he could concur, the inn door swung open violently, and the three of them all jerked their heads to face the new arrival.

Lemmy felt a cold shiver run down his spine as he saw a cloaked man slump to the floor, blood pooling out from his body. Everyone rushed over to him, including the scaleborn innkeeper.

The traveler looked up at the elven male, his eyes gaping wide in horror. “It’s… it’s you!” he shouted, his voice hoarse and pained. “The one they’re after! I found you!”

“Who’s after me?” Illemitar asked, shaking him lightly. “Yenni, heal him!”

“On it!” she said, touching the man’s back, light pouring out of her fingers and illuminating his body. “The wounds were inflicted by something magical,” she uttered with an icy grimace. “I can only do so much.”

“Damn!” Lemmy shouted. “Who did this?! Who’s looking for me? Are you sure it’s me?”

“Two girls—Wood Elves,” he said. “Green skin, red hair. They interrogated me—they seemed to think all people in the human world knew each other... Said they were on a mission. They—they said they were looking for Illemitar—and gave your description exactly. They said they were looking for… the last male elf.”

llemitar’s eyes glazed over for a moment before refocusing, on the man still pointing at him in horror right at the moment that he tumbled into unconsciousness.

“Help me place him on a table,” Yennisa barked at the half-orc woman.

With a grunt, the warrior obeyed. Lemmy took a step back and watched them as Yenni did what she did best—or second best, he thought, smirking despite himself.

“Guldra, right?” the half-elf’s high voice rang out. “Give me some hard liquor right now.”

“It hardly seems the time—”

Yenni rolled her eyes at the half-orc. “For the wound. Hurry!”

Guldra ran back to her table and grabbed a bottle of something hard enough to strip paint as Lemmy watched impotently from the entrance of the tavern.

Yenni turned her head toward him in a flash of irritation. “Lemmy, in Tellithri’s name, please get away from the door, baby!”

“Wha—”

“If someone is looking for you, stay away from doors and windows!” she shouted. Yenni pointed at the innkeeper. “Can he hide behind the bar?”

“I don’t want any trouble,” the scaleborn innkeeper started to say, but his resolve crumbled at the acolyte’s adamant expression. “Umm, alright, but be quiet. Over here!”

Lemmy stood wordlessly, struggling to process everything. He didn’t move an inch.

“Lemmy, what is wrong with you?!” Yenni shrieked at him as she wrapped the man’s wounds, and glowing energy spread forth from her palm, flowing into his body. It didn’t look like it was doing much, but it was probably better than nothing. The man seemed to stir slightly at her touch.

“I’m not hiding,” Lemmy said defiantly. “If they come for me, then they come for me. I’m not going to cower.”

“Well, I’m not going to lose you,” she said, flaring her nostrils as holy energy poured out of her hands. “So be careful, for the sake of the Saints!”

He smiled at that, a dumb expression on his face. He spared a moment to wonder how the girl could be so dense about her own feelings. But he shook it off—it wasn’t the time to get romantic and daydreamy.

Lemmy charged toward Yenni and crouched between her and Guldra. The rest of Guldra’s party was standing guard by the door at that point.

The man suddenly coughed, sitting back up with a jolt. “Oh, thank you, Tellithri,” Yenni said, glittering tears dripping from her eyes. “You’re okay!”

“Bless you, half-elf!” the man coughed. “Bless you for your healing hands!”

“Enough,” Lemmy grunted. “What more can you tell us? Where did this happen?”

“A few fields back,” the man said, his voice dry. Guldra handed him some of the paint-thinner they used to treat his wounds, and the man took an impressive swig, making a foul face for only the briefest of moments until it gave way to one of bliss. “That hit the spot.”

“Did they follow you here?” Yenni asked—it was Lemmy’s next question, too.

The man shook his head. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so. They beat me up, stabbed me with a glowing dagger, asked me questions, and when I didn’t know the answers, they ultimately let me go—probably expecting me to die in a hole like a dog. That’s all I know.”

Lemmy chewed on his lip nervously, his eyes darting back to the door. “We have to assume they’ll find me if they’ve gotten this close. We may be on a collision course damn soon.”

“Let’s go back, Lemmy,” Yenni pleaded suddenly, grabbing his hand. “Please, I don’t know what I’d do if they took you.”

“You’re a lucky man,” the wounded geezer said as he stood up, Guldra aiding him to his feet.

Lemmy sighed. “It’s not exactly what you think.”

Yenni scowled at the full-blooded elf—the last male elf, he remembered. “And what exactly is it to you?”

“This is hardly the time or place for that,” Lemmy grunted, scratching his neck. His other hand stayed fixed on the orcblade on his hip.

“Are we having a marital spat?” Guldra asked, clearly enjoying herself from the tone. “That’s delicious. Listen, I don’t think those elves are going to venture indoors. You’re safe here for the night.”

“How do you reason that?” Lemmy asked, genuinely curious at the conclusion, but he already started to reach it himself.

“If it’s two little wood elven girls, then they’re not going to barge in and try to hold a tavern full of adventurers at knifepoint,” she replied with a disinterested shrug. “You sound like an important fellow. What do you say we make a night of it?”

“That does sound interesting. But we must decline,” he sighed.

“Are you sure, baby? Strength in numbers, after all,” Yenni argued.

Illemitar cast a look over at his so-called ‘wife.’ “I’m sure we’d lose track of things pretty quickly if we took Guldra here up on her generous offer—as much as it pains me to refuse.”

Yennisa nodded. “Alright then. We’re hunkering down in our own room. On our guard. But tomorrow morning, can we please call off this stupid quest and go back home? Let’s get a nice little cottage somewhere—just the two of us.”

“They’ll find me there, too,” he pointed out.

“I’ll ward it—I can ward domiciles on holy ground. Please, Lemmy, trust me!”

He sighed aggrievedly at her. “We’re not going to see eye-to-eye on this, Yenni. If you can’t agree to let me call the shots on my own quest, then I’ll take you back home and leave on my own.”

She snorted angrily with a sour face, blowing up a stray wisp of her white hair. “I won’t leave you.”

“You’re lucky to have such a devoted wife,” Guldra noted without any irony.

“She isn’t really my wife,” Lemmy protested.

“Oh, yes, I am,” Yennisa insisted. “Stop saying such hurtful things.”

At that, Lemmy couldn’t help himself. He pivoted so that he was facing her directly, looking right into her gorgeous, incredible pink eyes. God above, she was so beautiful. He shook off her spellbinding effect on him and asked what he had to ask. “You don’t even love me, according to you. Are you really ready to give up everything to follow me on a quest that has nothing to do with you?”

She went wide-eyed at him and placed a hand on his chest. “Of course,” she said, “you’re my husband!”

“Ugh, I don’t have the tools with which to process this,” Lemmy groaned, leaning against a nearby stool.

“It is what it is,” Yenni shrugged. “Like you said, this isn’t the time or place for this conversation.”

Lemmy shrugged. “To the bedroom, then.”

The injured man was getting a room for himself. Guldra frowned at the pair of pointy-eared travelers. “Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night with us?”

“Maybe another time, Guldra,” Yenni smiled politely. “Right now, his safety is my number one priority.”

“I can help keep watch,” Guldra suggested. Lemmy looked back at Yennisa, and he considered it. The half-elf looked back at him for his decision. It was a solid suggestion.

For a moment, he almost said yes—but with everything that had just happened, noticing the man’s blood still on Yenni’s hands and his own boots, it didn’t feel right. The mood was sapped. “Maybe next time.”

Lemmy was also feeling rather distracted by the fact that Yennisa might have possibly been within her rights as an ordained acolyte to marry him if she wanted to. Although she hadn’t exactly cockblocked him with Guldra, and he did feel a profound affection for her in his heart, he found a little seed of irritation growing at the fact that she had declared their marriage without his consent.

…But part of him loved that possessiveness, too.

“I’m very upset with you,” he grunted at her as they retired to their room.

“Oh, are you now?” she smirked back, batting her eyelashes. “Just how long do you think you can stay upset with me?”

“At least five minutes,” he said frankly. “You’re going to hate those five minutes.”

Yenni sighed as she opened the door to their room with the key. “Illemitar, baby, I need you to listen to me.”

They stepped into the room together, and the candelabra on the ceiling lit itself—a nice feature, but Lemmy wondered how they’d get it to darken when it was time for sleep. It was also a strange contrast to the musty wood smell and cobwebs in the corners. Perhaps they hadn’t had a chance to redo this particular room. It did seem much older than the taproom, anyway.

The large double bed had green sheets that harbored a faint scent of mildew wafting off of them—nothing overly disgusting, but it was there and undeniable. At least this place seemed empty of vermin, save for a few spiders scurrying for cover.

Illemitar ignored Yenni’s words—or at least gave no indication that he’d heard them.

After a pause, Yenni continued. “Lemmy, I’ll be honest—I don’t love you romantically. As you know, a witch has cursed me.”

Lemmy nodded, looking her in the eyes but trying not to appear bored or exasperated. He’d heard this part before, many times, and it was nonsense. Yenni believed it, though, so he could at least reward her attempt to grapple with her feelings by paying attention.

“But there is no denying I’m physically attracted to you—and I consider you to be my best friend. I’d trust you with my life, and I believe you feel that way, too,” she explained.

Lemmy staved off the urge to reach out for her. “It’s probably better if you go home,” he said, offering the suggestion again. “I have a feeling things are going to get complicated on this quest.”

Yenni sat down on the bed but cast her eyes on the window. “You should draw the curtains,” she said, quietly ignoring his suggestion.

Illemitar nodded, closing the curtains to their room, making it impossible for them to be seen by anyone looking in on them from outside. “Done.”

“Lemmy…” Yenni tried to say something, but her voice fizzled into nothingness before she made any headway into her sentiment.

“What is it?” he asked.

The half-elf shook her head, biting her lip. “There are a thousand words I want to say to you, but I can’t make sense of my own heart and head. You drive me crazy—just looking at you, thinking about you…” she grabbed his hand and smiled, “touching you. And I can’t figure out why—but I do know this. I need to be close to you, or I’ll go insane.”

Lemmy laughed. “I appreciate that about you.”

She looked right into his eyes. “Please, baby, let me come with you. I promise I won’t get in the way. I’ll help! I’ll heal you! I’ll protect you!”

“What’ll your parents say when they know you’re gone?”

She laughed raucously, her voice as sweet as Tepari sugar-cane, but only for a moment. “I told them I was going after you. I showed them your love letter and they encouraged me to find you!”

Lemmy blinked in shock. “Seriously?”

“They never wanted me to be stuck in the shrine,” she said. “They always hoped I’d marry a nice man—and they loved you ever since you saved me way back then!”

That was how they’d met. Lemmy had rescued Yenni from a pack of gnolls preparing a raid on her village. Single-handedly, he slayed their leader and warned the people in town of their planned assault. Because of that, the whole town saw him as something of a hero and always welcomed him back like he was one of theirs.

“They’ll be happy to know we’re already married,” Lemmy sneered back at her.

Yenni’s eyes went triumphant and huge. “Ha! You just admitted it! No take-backs!

Lemmy gawked with horror at his own words, his mouth quivering as it fell open. “That doesn’t count, it was a joke!”

“It absolutely counts!” She argued, jabbing a finger at him.

“You’re basing this on a childish rule of no take-backs?” Lemmy buried his face in his palm and sat on the bed beside her, chuckling to himself.

“Do you want to fuck my ass?” Yenni asked him in a syrupy-sweet voice as she started rubbing his shoulders. Her fingers felt so good on his skin that he wondered if she was using a little bit of her healing magic to enhance the sensation. “It could use a deep dicking.”

He looked at her with surprised suspicion. “Didn’t we more or less agree we shouldn’t fuck tonight?”

“An orgy would be too noisy and risky. With just the two of us, we could keep the noise down and—”

“Let me stop you right there,” Lemmy said, putting a finger over her lips. “We’ve had sex maybe two dozen times, and never once have you been able to ‘keep the noise down.’ Especially when it’s in the ass.”

“Just go slowly, then. Or let me suck you off?” She suggested.

“Alright, enough of this,” he said, brushing his hands off on his slacks. “We need to rest and come up with a plan.”

Yenni nodded sadly. The curtains blew inward in the corner as a gust of cold evening wind found its way into their room, making the candlelight dance and flicker, but they didn’t go out. The dewy smells of night blew in to say hello. “You’re right. Okay. What’s the plan, big guy?”

“We should sleep in shifts, one of us keeping watch at all times. When it’s morning, we continue the journey but go off the trail, trying our best to clear our tracks every field or so.”

Yennisa nodded. “Okay,” she agreed. “But Lemmy, please be careful. I’ll die if you get hurt.”

“Don’t say that,” he said wincing. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke. I couldn’t live in a world without your dick and your smile.” She wailed at the notion. “And you’re literally the last male elf.”

Oh, yeah. That was another revelation that he’d almost entirely forgotten in all the excitement. “Wait a minute…”

“Are you just now realizing the reason those elf girls are probably looking for you?”

Lemmy blinked, looking over at the curtains. “Maybe going with them wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” he mused. But then again, what kind of people just tortured random travelers for answers like that?

“I mentioned I’m okay with sharing you, but having to split our alone time with all elves in existence might be more than I’m able to endure.” Yennisa said.

Lemmy placed a solemn hand on her shoulder. “We must bear it for elvenkind.”

“You’re such a pervert,” Yenni sighed.

Illemitar couldn’t believe the nerve on her. His lips parted in awe of her brazenly self-contradictory words. “You literally left your family for buttsex.”

“Since we’re married you can call it ‘making love,’” she winked at him, mashing her cheeks in her palms. “Or backdoor love, in this case.”

He groaned at that. “I’ll take the first shift. You get some rest.”

“Okay,” she agreed and removed her robe and was suddenly entirely naked. Lemmy cringed.

“That’s going to make it really hard for me to focus,” he pointed out.

“I think you’ll figure something out,” she teased.

Chapter 4

That night went by slowly, each of them taking shifts across the next twelve hours. When they finally got up, they were utterly famished and headed downstairs to see what was available for breakfast.

“Morning,” said the scaleborn innkeeper. “Need anything?”

“Some breakfast would be great,” Lemmy said, rubbing his abdomen as it gurgled with longing.

The reptilian man just nodded and disappeared into the kitchen to bark an order to whoever was in there. When he came back out, he motioned to the table where Yenni and Lemmy sat, waiting for their food.

“Do we head out right after this?” Yenni asked, gazing at Lemmy almost unblinkingly.

“That’s the plan,” he concurred with a jerky nod. “We’ve already burned enough daylight.”

Breakfast was serviceable—for a final proper meal before a long quest, it’d have to last them. They’d be eating trail rations for the next couple of days and forced to hunt and gather to sustain themselves thereafter. The thought frightened them both—Lemmy had always made a habit of packing enough rations to last his journeys, but this time, with no end to his quest in sight, things were different. It added to the experience of getting back to his elven roots, at least.

The innkeeper kindly offered a loaf of bread to take along with them, which Yenni instantly accepted without a single thought for propriety. The immediacy and urgency with which she snatched it made Lemmy and the innkeeper—Stamos, his name turned out to be—laugh. It was as though she was afraid the scaleborn innkeeper was about to rescind the offer if it wasn’t accepted right away.

They headed into a westerly wind, following the trail as it narrowed and died a slow death as towns and structures appeared with increasing rarity. Then there were no more hamlets, no more houses, and no more hunting cabins.

At nightfall, they set up camp. Knowing what they knew, being where they were, neither Yennisa nor Illemitar had ever felt so vulnerable in their entire lives. And for good reason.

Howls echoed in the distance. Though one of them should already have been asleep, they both snuggled by the fire, looking around anxiously as the sounds of the night grew louder and more aggressive as time thrust on. The smell of burning wood pervaded their nostrils, its crackle popping in their ears. But the other sounds were still out there.

“The noises are getting closer,” Yenni rightly observed, squeezing Illemitar’s arm.

He didn’t say a word, electing to focus with his superior elven hearing. As a kid, it made it really easy for him to win hide and seek, as he could always hear the sound of his friends’ breathing wherever they were. As an adult, it had been useful on adventures in similar ways. Finding what was hard to find and being difficult to find, in turn, were sometimes more useful than his skill with the blade.

But now it was torturous. The awareness that something was coming was agonizing. He stood up and brought Yennisa to her feet with him. She outstretched one hand, summoning a ball of light that shone out into the darkness, illuminating several gloomy shadows and shapes that twisted just beyond the reach of her light spell.

“Be ready,” Lemmy grunted. The half-elf nodded.

The ensuing events that unfolded were absolute chaos. Just as the beasts lunged for them, an arrow whistled past Lemmy’s head through the night and punctured the head of the monster that was about to pounce. The second creature found itself entangled and strangled by twisting thorny vines that erupted from the earth at its feet. The sound of a third beast’s cry of pain in the darkness was cut short, fading into a wet gurgle.

Through the veil of night beyond their camp stepped two feminine figures—youthful beauties, just a finger shorter than Yennisa, dressed only in golden leaves that were patterned and arranged to cover their breasts and nether regions. Even in the dark, Lemmy could make out pale green skin, nubile grace, and flaming red hair on each of them. One of the women held a bow and arrow, while the other had her hands up in a similar fashion to Yenni when wielding her magic.

Their wide eyes glowed golden in the night as they stared intently at Illemitar, examining, he was sure, his ears. He’d drawn his weapon in the confusion, but it didn’t seem to concern them in the least. They lowered their hands and weapons and exhaled a breath of relief, jumping and hugging each other tightly.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Lemmy asked.

The two elves looked at him, stopping mid-celebration to cast a look of disgust his way. The one with shoulder-length hair said something in elvish that he couldn’t understand, but Yennisa could—she’d studied Elvish in the temple.

“What did she say?” Lemmy asked her without taking his eyes off the other two.

“She said that you disgrace your lineage by speaking the tongue of the Norns,” Yenni answered.

Lemmy shrugged dismissively. “I’m sorry, I never learned Elvish. Can you speak Nornish?”

The other Wood Elf hissed indecipherable words at him. They released each other from their embrace and eyed him with a look that seemed between anger and disappointment.

“She says she won’t debase herself to use that language,” Yenni translated, then she offered her own sentence in elvish.

The two women responded, and soon they were conversing freely, though Lemmy could sense that the half-elf was struggling to keep up. Still, she seemed excited and eager to be speaking with two real, live elves.

“What are they saying?” Illemitar asked. “What’s going on?!”

Yenni shrugged. “They claim they were sent by and elven queen to find you, and that I have to give you up to them. I told them that we’re a package deal.”

“Let Yenni go, please,” Lemmy said.

Yenni elbowed him in the ribs, making him swear. The two gorgeous green elves giggled at the sight.

“Fucking hell,” he grunted.

“I can’t believe you’re still trying to lose me!” Yenni huffed.

Lemmy kept his attention on the Wood Elves that were, he realized, inching closer and closer to him minute by minute. He instinctively took a step backward toward the firepit, and they only compensated by taking an additional two steps forward.

“Did you hurt that man?” Lemmy asked, thinking of the wounded fellow in the inn. He felt conflicted—they were willing to torture a poor fool for information, but they did just rescue him and his dear companion. By the looks on their faces, he could at least tell they weren’t planning on hurting him, too.

The elves, if they understood his question, chose not to dignify it with a response. Yenni pressed again, though, this time in Elvish.

The two girls—twins, Lemmy decided—looked at each other and spoke, finally seeming like they were giving up on something. They sighed with resignation, and one actually spoke in Nornish, though with a thick accent and broken grammar. “Yes. We hurt ugly man. We too excite. Know last male, Illemitar, was close. You come with us—you and wife, take you to Woodland Queen. You help us.” She spoke with passion but also caution. The other twin, with her hair up in buns, remained silent, just staring at Lemmy like a piece of juicy steak.

Lemmy cast an unbelieving look at Yenni. “You introduced yourself as my wife?”

Yennisa shrugged and batted her eyes at him innocently. “It came up naturally.”

They traveled together through valleys and overgrown plains—a party of four, then, trekking ever to the east toward the Teeming Wilds. The terrain grew rougher as time went on, the vegetation becoming wilder and more unchecked without the influence of civilization and agriculture to rein it in.

“Tell me about yourselves,” Lemmy said, sparing little of his attention for the scenery. Instead, he watched the graceful barefooted steps of his new companions as they gamboled like deer ahead of him. “Who are you? You’re sisters, I take it? Did Golariel send you?”

The Wood Elves were beautiful to observe, veritable sugar for the eyes. Their figures were like those of petite, nubile dancers. They were considerably shorter than him, a little shorter than Yenni, too, and they looked young—as he’d heard all elves do—but there was a maturity and fierceness to them that could only come with age… even if they seemed no older than Yenni.

The Wood Elves carried themselves with grace and confidence but seemed woefully underdressed for the adventure they had embarked upon. He wondered how they’d gotten so far wearing only leaves for clothes. Lemmy, as an elf, was resistant to the elements, but the Teeming Wilds were supposed to be unforgiving, even for his kind, and that said nothing of the other dangers they must have faced or evaded.

Yenni had cast a Communication Link spell on the four of them so that they could speak in their own tongues, unfettered by the nuances of second-language grammar or limited vocabularies. The spell focused on the intention of the speaker, conveying it to the listener according to his or her intelligence and aptitude to receive meaning. In essence, Lemmy heard them speak Nornish like native speakers, even though the Wood Elves weren’t actually speaking it.

“I am Amali,” one of them said. She was the one who had a dagger on her hip and no bow. She had clearly been the more active magic user between the two of them, Lemmy construed, due to the spellcasting stances she’d taken when he’d first laid eyes on her. “This is my sister, Amarieth. We are servants of the Woodland Queen. Though we call ourselves twins, our sisterly bond is not by blood—we were merely raised together and look alike as so many in our caste do.”

Amarieth snarled. “We call ourselves twins, though, do we not?”

Amali smirked at her so-called sister. “We do.”

“You mentioned the High Queen, too,” Lemmy noted, breaking his gaze on them to glance over at Yenni. She seemed tense. “What’s the difference between the two queens?”

“The High Queen is Lady Golariel. You know her name, don’t you?” Amarieth asked, looking into Lemmy’s eyes.

He grunted a coarse confirmation. “Yeah,” he admitted. “She came to me in a vision. That’s why I was headed to the Teeming Wilds.”

Amali looked back at the elven male and smiled, but the smile wasn’t for him. “She is wise,” she said, her expression glowing with open admiration for the High Elf matriarch. “She called to you so that we would find you without needing to venture too deep into human lands.”

“We are lucky you heeded her call,” noted the other. “If you didn’t—”

“Of course he heeded it, sister,” Amali bickered to her twin, “Golariel’s powers of persuasion are legendary.”

Lemmy realized that he still knew very little about the situation, and he wanted answers. They hadn’t yet set foot inside the Teeming Wilds—if things were about to get bad for him once he crossed into the Sylvan Woods, this moment would be the time to make a final decision to bail out.

“So—what exactly is the purpose of summoning me?” he asked. “Why are you bringing me into Elfland?”

Yenni, too, perked up with interest to hear their response.

Amarieth’s eyes narrowed to irritated little crescents as she drove her disgust into him with a sharp stare. “Firstly, Illemitar Liminelda, we owe you no answers. Secondly—only High Elves still toy with the human name for our ancestral home. We call it Gilfindor.”

“At the very least say we’re headed to the Sylvan Woods,” bemoaned Amali, not taking her eyes off the path ahead of them.

Illemitar stopped in his tracks. “Sorry—but you do owe me answers. As far as I know, I’m doing you a favor, coming at your invitation. You want me there more than I feel a need to go, so unless you plan on restraining me and dragging me through the Teeming Wilds, I suggest you get me on board with the mission.”

The twins stared at him resentfully, but after a pause, their looks melted into flushed bashfulness. Amali and Amarieth’s eyes found one another, both looking to the other to explain.

“It’s alright,” Yenni said, putting a hand on Lemmy’s shoulder. “He is the bravest man I know. He can take it.”

Amarieth actually laughed—as her sister shrank with a cringing frown. “It’s not his courage at stake in this explanation. It’s—well—”

“It’s a matter of modesty,” Amali interrupted, staring intently at Yennisa—very obviously trying to avoid tossing so much as a passing glance at Lemmy, he thought. “Our people haven’t seen a male in a very long time—we are in a very sensitive, vulnerable position. If he is even half as clever as a toad, he should be able to piece together our plight.”

Yenni frowned. “I see,” she groaned, the discontent in her throat obvious to anyone. “So it’s about breeding, then?”

Amali twirled her red shoulder-length hair as she stared at a fixed spot in the ground between her feet. Amarieth’s eyes flashed wide open, and her body language closed off suddenly, crossing her arms in front of her chest and turning to the side, as though she suddenly felt very naked in front of her new companions.

Lemmy didn’t feel any less shy about this news than the twins apparently did. “Well, I—uhh—”

“You must come,” Amali said at last. “It’s a good deal for you, yes? I have never known a man, but I know from the history tomes and the legendarium that such an arrangement must be very appealing to you.”

Yennisa turned to face Illemitar, feeling something uncomfortable stinging inside, like a dozen burning dragonflies set loose in her gut. She couldn’t quite figure out what the feeling was, but she didn’t enjoy it.

Not wanting to sound too eager, Lemmy tried instead to feign resistance. “Well, I certainly had more planned for my legacy than ‘elven breeding stud,’” he chuckled. “I don’t know.”

“You must!” Amali said, bounding toward him all of a sudden. He took a step back instinctively, the pad of his heel landing awkwardly on a rock, causing him to fall backward.

Amali immediately pounced on him in the tall thick grass. “Sister, help me restrain him!” she shrieked. She grabbed Lemmy’s wrists, trying to pin them behind him, but even with the leverage she had, he was too strong for her to hold down. She started chanting something—a spell, that would help her accomplish what she physically couldn’t.

Yenni growled at all this and acted fast as she let out a screech of anger and shoved Amali off of Lemmy with all her weight, sending her tumbling back through the grass. The half-elf felt a surge of indignance set her blood aflame, but rather than press the attack, she formed a shield around Lemmy and herself—an opalescent, translucent globe that kept the would-be kidnappers at bay. Amali sat up on her elbows, glaring at the barrier, her mind working quickly on a means to dispel it.

“Half-elven sister, listen!” Amarieth said, pounding her tiny fists against the magic barrier. “Elvenkind needs him—soon! If we cannot find a breeding male to rejuvenate our numbers fast, then women, too, may be affected by the Necropox! We’ll all die out forever!”

“Then die!” Yenni shrieked, burgeoning the shield, causing it to expand in volume so suddenly and forcefully that it sent the two Wood Elves tumbling backward, a circle of flattened grass left in its wake. Amali got away with minor scrapes from the dried grass and gravel but Amarieth’s head clunked against a rock.

Lemmy was a bit more sympathetic to their plight than Yenni, though, and it wasn’t entirely for horny, selfish reasons. “Wait, Yenni,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s hear them out.”

Yenni shot a look of betrayal over her shoulder back at Illemitar. “What?!” she gasped. “But—they’ll make you a slave! You just saw how willing they were to take you by force.” Her eyes grew softer and glistened. As shimmering tears began to streak down her cheeks, she looked more like a scared child than a wrathful woman. “They’ll take you from me! I’ll die.”

“You won’t die,” he said, squeezing her arm. “And I don’t really have much of a choice, do I? They’re my people, yes, but even if they weren’t, what kind of person would I be if I wasn’t even willing to lend a helping dick to save an entire civilization on the brink of extinction?”

Yennisa Kindheart trembled from head to toe. She lowered her hands to her side, and with it, she lowered the force field that protected them. He could tell that he was making sense to her on some level, but that she couldn’t stop herself from fearing the worst possible outcome.

The Wood Elves rose back to their feet, pawing at their injuries and scowling at the half-Drow, but uttering no insult. “We need you,” Amali said, her voice plain, concealing nothing. “And—we were embarrassed because it is our duty to receive your seed first.”

“We have been tasked not only to take you back to Gilfindor, but to return with full wombs,” Amarieth said, her voice soft, but her brow furrowed as though she were still angry.

“Full wombs?!” Yenni shouted in shock. Something caught in her throat as she screamed it, and she began coughing, entering a proper fit. Lemmy patted her on the back as he, too, reacted to the news.

“Full with… babies?” he clarified.

Both twins rolled their eyes, even as their cheeks flushed a rosier shade of green. “Of course,” Amali said. “If it works—if we receive the mark—”

“What mark? What are you talking about?” Lemmy asked curiously.

Yennisa finally stopped coughing and shot up straight. “The Womb Brand!” she gasped. “Elves—and half-elves—get a unique glowing mark, like a tattoo, below their navel as soon as they’ve conceived.”

“I’ve never heard about that,” Lemmy said, scratching his hair in wonderment. But then, he couldn’t recall having ever met a pregnant woman with even a drop of elven blood, which also struck him as strange.

Yenni tried to shake off her shock, but failed, still quaking. “It’s rarely seen by outsiders—I only know about it because I made it my business to read up on elf lore when I could, but living in a small town, lore books are few and far between.”

“Once we have the Womb Brand, we will be cured,” Amali said.

“Cured?” Lemmy pressed, his brow furrowing with concern. “Cured of what?”

“Show him, sister,” Amarieth urged. “Together.”

The two exchanged an anguished look and nodded in unison. With that, Lemmy watched as Amali’s leg seemed to shift and change until he was looking at a patch of rot about the size of his hand. A similar, smaller spot was visible on Amarieth’s arm.

“What happened?” Yenni asked, her pink eyes glazed over and wide as she stared at the hideously afflicted regions on their bodies. Her nurturing nature superseded her frustration for a moment as she examined both women.

“We’ve caught the Necropox,” Amali sobbed. “It will eat our bodies until only death remains, and then it’ll transform our corpses into undead agents of evil.”

Lemmy’s jaw dropped and then clenched as he tried to process the sheer darkness of that revelation. To think of something so ugly happening to a woman, any woman—it was an evil he couldn’t endure. It explained their zeal. When she had said in broken Nornish that they were excited, he was willing to bet the word she had been reaching for was desperate. Death wasn’t just coming from the lack of reproduction. It was an immediate and pressing threat.

“What is this Necropox?” he asked, his voice artificially calm and soft even as his shoulders trembled with fury at the wickedness of it.

“The Dark Lord of the Crater—he created the Necropox to annihilate the elves. He wiped out all our men, but for decades women seemed unaffected.” She let out a harsh sob, wiping her eyes with her forearm. “We were wrong.”

“We just harbor it longer before showing symptoms,” Amarieth added. “We all have it. We’re all cursed. But we’ve found a cure, wrapped up in a hope for our people’s survival.”

Lemmy pointed at his chest. “Me?” he asked, his voice squeaky and high at the epiphany.

“You were raised among humans—perhaps you weren’t exposed to the Necropox when it was contagious. And the Womb Brand has long been the surest way to cure a woman of any ailment, as it purifies her body and soul as Tellithri’s blessing surges through her.” Amali’s hand was on her heart at this point. “My sister and I have started showing symptoms—we are not the worst cases, by far, but among those beginning to exhibit the disease, we were the most likely to make this journey.”

“We need you, Illemitar Liminelda,” Amarieth pleaded. “We need you, or we will die.”

Yenni didn’t seem particularly satisfied by this explanation, Lemmy noted. She still looked upset—arguably even more so. It was possible she had realized she had no argument against such dire circumstances.

But he was swayed. “Of course, we’ll come with you,” he said, his voice an oath. “I’ll do whatever I can, I swear it.”

Both sisters flung themselves at him, wrapping their arms around the elven male with a serpent-tight embrace that caught him by surprise. He lost his breath with their tight squeeze, but when he inhaled, he received the sappy, evergreen scent of the Wood Elves.

Yenni quietly seethed for a moment, her balled fists percussing against her thighs, but then she finally grabbed both twins by the shoulders and tried to pull them away from her Illemitar. “Why should he trust you?!” she squealed with fury. “We don’t know you! This could all be some sick ruse. Get off of him!”

“We aren’t lying, half-elf!” protested Amali. “Every word is true! You’re anointed, are you not? Use a Truth Detection spell to verify it if you must.”

“It’s fine, Yennisa,” Lemmy said as the two Wood Elves allowed themselves to be pulled away. “I want to help them.”

Yennisa scowled, wrestling with the idea that maybe she just didn’t want him to help them. It was an uncomfortable thought for anyone to have, but especially her.

They made camp soon after that, and Yennisa Kindheart was face to face with an ugliness in herself that she hadn’t ever known before. She was a woman of compassion, selflessness, and truth, but she discarded all of those things at the sight of the gorgeous Wood Elves pressed against Lemmy’s body in gratitude. Her heart felt like it was exploding, and she couldn’t stop trembling even though she felt no discomfort from the weather.

Since meeting Illemitar, she had thought that she had a fetish for elves, that she was obsessed with their culture, and that she found them beautiful, regal, and fascinating. Now as she saw Lemmy side-by-side with the two newcomers to their party, laughing with him by the bonfire, she realized something for the very first time—she didn’t love elves. She loved—

“Yenni, you there?” Illemitar asked her, chucking a piece of the bread that Stamos, the scaleborn innkeeper, had given them.

“What is that you’re eating?” Amali asked, her eyes tracing the flight of the loaf as it passed from Lemmy to Yenni.

“It’s bread,” Lemmy chuckled. “You don’t have bread?”

“We have bread, too,” Amarieth said indignantly. She drew a shape in the air, and a tiny satchel appeared in her hand. From inside, she pulled out something that looked vaguely like bread but flatter. “Would you like to try?”

“Sure,” Lemmy said, more than curious enough to test the flavors of authentic elven cuisine. He took a bite out of the bread and was rather unimpressed. It was bland at first, but the longer he chewed it, the more a pleasant aftertaste began to settle in his mouth.

When he swallowed it, he found himself smiling. “Not bad,” he said, nodding, and then suddenly a fullness in his belly made itself known. He suddenly couldn’t bring himself to take another bite. “Whoa.”

“Whoa, what?” Yenni asked, shaking herself out of the tangents her mind had tried to lead her down. “Is it good?”

“It’s not bad,” Lemmy nodded. “But I wasn’t talking about the flavor. One bite and I feel like I ate a full meal.”

“We have enough Lambrosian Bread to last three of these journeys,” grinned Amali.

That was one problem Lemmy was glad not to have to worry about anymore. The threat of going hungry on this journey had haunted his thoughts since leaving the inn. Thanks to the Wood Elves, his escorts, he could rest easy and with a full belly knowing that he’d never be undernourished as they waded through the Teeming Wilds.

That night, Amali took the first watch. As the rest of the party slept peacefully by the fire, she eyed the starlit horizon in the direction of the Wilds beyond the marches that they would soon be journeying through. This was the edge of the frontier for Lemmy and Yenni, but for the elves it was the beginning of the journey home. She put her hand up to her ear, listening intently when she thought she made out an unwelcome sound. Then again.

She was certain. There was movement in the shadows beyond the flickering light of their fire. A faint shuffling, followed by a single, low, guttural hiss. No—two hisses, distinct.

“Amarieth, get up,” she whispered hoarsely, kicking her sister. “Get up!”

Her sister jerked awake, leaping to her feet without the faintest hint of sleep still in her eyes or posture. “What is it, sister?” she whispered, sidling up against her twin, her bow materializing in her hands, keen eyes searching the darkness beyond their camp.

“Terropods,” Amali answered, her voice showing no fear but plenty of urgency. “Wake the others—the girl, at least, should be good in a fight.”

Amarieth did as she was told, firing an arrow into the ground a finger’s length away from Yenni’s ear. The half-elf shot up, panting, rushing to her feet with balled fists as the ready. The panic in her eyes focused as she turned them on the two Wood Elves.

“What is wrong with you?! You scared the Targosh out of me!” she hissed. Her instincts told her to keep her voice down.

“Girl, you can see well in the dark, can you not?” asked Amarieth. “Look out into the night. What do your half-drow eyes see?”

Yenni squinted, and then she gasped. “Hideous monsters—dozens of bug-like feet, maybe a dozen eyes on their heads, bodies like giant centipedes but worse,” she rasped.

Amali placed her bare foot on Lemmy’s chest, shaking him awake. Lemmy did not hate that her long, slender leg was the first thing he saw as he woke up. “Nice,” he groaned. “Are we doing the, uh, branding thing?”

The Wood Elf blushed. “No—not now. Probably not for a while with conditions like this. Quiet. Terropods are closing in on us. At least two, maybe more.” She removed her foot from his chest.

Lemmy sat up, then stood, grabbing his orcblade and readying himself for a skirmish. He clenched his teeth, feeling an adrenaline surge in his chest. “How do I fight them?” he asked.

“Their bodies are carapaced and tough. Go for anything that looks soft,” Amarieth said. “half-elf, stick with me. Keep a barrier on us, and I’ll fire magic arrows from within our protective shield.”

Yenni grunted indifferently, not thrilled with being issued orders in such a way.

“Do you know how to use that thing?” Amali asked Lemmy skeptically, pointing at his sword.

“Yeah,” he replied, grinning. Did they think him soft because he was a male or because he’d grown up in a human-dominated society?

“Then use it. I’ll control magic vines to slow one of them down,” she instructed. “Attack the one I focus on.”

They all stared into the darkness, hearing the creeping of a hundred scampering buglike feet. They were coming closer and closer. One of the monsters was right outside the circle of firelight, hissing and clicking its mandibles together. A faint glimmer of firelight glistening on its carapace outlined its surprisingly large form. It clearly didn’t care for the fire, but it wasn’t going to hold it at bay for long. Its mandibles continued to rattle and click together rapidly in anticipation of a fresh kill.

Lemmy raised his blade overhead and let out an uninhibited battlecry. He leaped into the air, performing an aerial somersault directly above the creature as it lurched toward him. His sword plunged deep into the carapace of the monster, and it screeched in pain, twisting and turning to dislodge the weapon from its shell, only causing itself more damage in the process. He landed on the ground with panache, instantly jerking the blade free before pivoting to impale it once again.

The Wood Elves gasped at the display of competence and courage but didn’t delay in executing their own plans. Yenni raised a magic shield over herself and her wood elven partner, watching as Amarieth unloaded shot after magic shot from her bow into one of the hideous fiends. Each arrow gleamed like a ray of light through the darkness. The creature twitched and jerked back as each arrow hit home, but none of the shots sunk deep enough to prove fatal.

Meanwhile, Amali uttered something ancient, and vines ripped through the earth, holding down the Terropod that Illemitar was eviscerating. She watched with awe—and a great deal of arousal—as the elven male tore the creature apart with his sword, hacking off limbs and crushing its exoskeleton with every swipe of his blade. Such an unexpected display of swordsmanship took her completely off guard.

“That’s so hot,” she groaned to herself.

The wind around them picked up, howling as if cheering them on. It was going well, to say the least. Amarieth continued her onslaught of magic arrows, dealing death to the closing Terropod through a succession of wounds rather than a singularly decisive one. Soon, though, it managed to get right up against Yenni’s barrier, thrusting its clicking mandibles against the shield, so very close to Amarieth’s face. Ichor slathered bits of glistening innards smeared against the shield as the creature threw itself at them, heedless of its inevitable fate.

A shadow fell across the mind of Yennisa Kindheart at that moment. She could just release the magic shield—she could let it go and let the monster take care of the Wood Elf. It would be that easy to be rid of her. With one more unfortunate accident dispatching Amali later on, Lemmy would be all hers again—and she could find a way to get this foolish quest out of his mind.

“So easy,” she whispered, looking with wide eyes at the green girl in front of her. Her fingers twitched. “All mine.”

Chapter 5

“You fought bravely,” Amali gushed, tossing a feral and desirous look at Illemitar as he knelt. He was wiping his orcblade off on the bottom of his boot. Amarieth, also impressed, did not yet betray her lust for the male, however.

“That’s some nasty ichor,” he grunted, not noticing the compliment.

“The half-elf is a good ally as well,” remarked Amarieth, slapping Yenni on the shoulder, to which Yenni flinched. The half-elf offered nothing, instead keeping her vision fixed on the ground.

“We can’t stay here,” Illemitar pointed out, kicking the goop-leaking, mangled carcass of his foe. “I’m not sleeping the rest of the night next to dead monsters.”

Amali agreed. “Of course not. We shall find another campsite.”

“Actually, we might as well make our way into the Wilds now. We aren’t far.”

“What?” Yenni complained, her voice an airy, high protest. “When will we get the opportunity to sleep again?”

The two Wood Elves looked at each other with darkness in their eyes. It was Amarieth who answered. “When we’ve made it through.”

“How long will that take?” Lemmy asked.

Amali smiled softly at Lemmy, a gesture of contrition for what was to come, Yenni knew. “A few days. We know shortcuts. It will not be easy, but when we’ve gone past the point of danger, you can rest all you want—your life will soon be rest and pleasure, Illemitar!”

“And what about Yennisa’s life?” he asked.

The twins both tightened up at the question. “She is your wife, I suppose. You will want her near.”

“She’s not my wife, but I do want to see her safe and happy,” Lemmy corrected sternly, his expression unyielding. He felt his Adam’s apple throb as he swallowed, not willing to give any quarter. “Guarantee me her safety and happiness.”

Amali looked at Yenni. “I cannot guarantee your happiness—that is up to you. But you will be protected—as protected as Illemitar.” She looked back at Lemmy. “Does that satisfy you?”

Lemmy ignored the question, throwing his arm around Yenni. It was clear to him from the way she carried herself that she was growing more and more reticent and unnerved by the hour. “What would it take for me to guarantee your happiness, Yen?” he asked. “This is the last opportunity to bail out.”

Her eyes widened at the pet name. Yenni was what most people called her, but Yen was a term of endearment that few got away with. Yennisa’s cheek rested against Lemmy’s shoulder.

“Just keep me close,” she cooed.

“That’s a given,” he said. “What else? I’m not taking another step until I know you’re all in.”

“I’m all in because you are,” she answered.

“Her love runs deep,” Amarieth said in soft wonder. “I have never seen this sort of love between a man and a woman before.”

“She is fortunate,” Amali agreed, nodding solemnly. “We should all be so lucky.”

“It sounds like you all will be so lucky,” Yenni shot back bitterly. “He’s my husband, but I have to give him to every elf in existence. What’ll be left for me?”

Lemmy was waiting for this. “Yen, you were the one who said you don’t mind sharing me.”

“I don’t. But this is different. They’re taking you, baby! They’re not sharing! I’ll be lucky if I see you once a week,” she complained.

He studied her pink eyes, which looked like they were on the verge of tears. Lemmy raised his finger to her cheek—not in an attempt to romance her, but as a reflex born of his desire to stop her tears dead in their tracks. He caught himself, sensing his so-called spouse’s eyes glistening more at his touch.

Lemmy turned his head to the elves. “How many are left?”

The twins looked at each other. It was uncomfortable. The silence lingered.

“How many women do I need to… inseminate?” It sounded a little clinical when he put it that way.

“Seven hundred,” Amali said, anxiously running her fingers through her hair. “At least.”

The number was jarring—shockingly big, but also, he knew it could have—should have—been much bigger. A thousand years ago, the population of elves numbered in the thousands. Did this indeed mean there were only several hundred left? Could things really be that dire?

And yet, seven hundred was a lot for one fellow to manage. Lemmy almost cracked up at the image of his dick dry-heaving up dust after trying to rut twenty girls in a day.

Yenni outwardly remained calm, but her brow creased in worry. “You’re asking too much of him,” she said.

“It won’t be that bad,” Amarieth assured her, placing a hand on Yenni’s shoulder, but the half-elf jerked away from the overly familiar gesture. The Wood Elf let it pass without comment.

“She’s right, Yennisa Kindheart. For one thing, his top priority is the queens and their generals and advisors. All said and done, that’s less than a hundred—and that will be the first year,” Amali explained.

Lemmy’s knees went weak. “The first year? How many years will I be there?” he asked.

The twins exchanged mortified faces. “Do you not understand?”

Amali shuffled nervously. “You’ll never leave, Illemitar—you will be the King of Six Kingdoms. The queens will never let you go. Gilfindor needs a king—and there won’t be another grown, breeding man in twenty years!”

Yennisa felt like she could faint, but she scolded herself for her weakness. What was she so upset over? She was actually in a pretty good position for bargaining—Lemmy loved her. She knew he did. Even if she was cursed—that blasted witch, she thought—to never be able to fall in love, she knew that if she left, Lemmy would be unhappy. He might even leave Gilfindor with her. Once they’d met the elf queens, Yenni could ensure that Lemmy was allowed to make time for her. To hold her… to kiss her…

A smile graced her lips for the first time that night. Lemmy saw it, and though he wasn’t certain what brought it on, it put him at ease, too. It helped take the after-battle tension and that of the discussion away.

“Forever is a long time,” he said, his voice low and contemplative. His eyes looked up at the stars, the eidolons of forever, at least in his mind.

They cleaned up their camp and continued toward the wasteland that was the Teeming Wilds. The mage-blasted plains were filled with ruins, crystals, magic fog, and arcane monstrosities like the Terropods that skulked in shadows, waiting for careless explorers and adventurers to come along and feed them.

As they approached, Lemmy felt an unsettling sensation in the air. He sensed something—magic. Something broken, and potent, and mystical was bearing down upon him. He saw nothing, but the hair on the back of his neck stood up all the same, his every instinct insisting that powerful, hazardous magery was afoot. He wasn’t good with working magic himself, but he’d been around it long enough to recognize it and to recognize when it was tainted and foul. He was hard-pressed to think of a time he’d felt magic that vile before.

“We’re within the Wilds’ sphere of influence now,” Amarieth said, her voice gloomy and cold. “Stay close—don’t wander off. We need to be focused.”

The border between the Nornish Kingdom and the Teeming Wilds was almost a visible line in the earth. On one side, the soil was a vibrant, ale-rich brown, with patches of flowers and grasses scattered every few feet or so. The other side was dismal, the earth ash black, the vegetation sparse and gray. The temperature dropped significantly as well, the air unwilling to hold the warmth of the lands a mere twenty feet away. Lemmy and Yenni found themselves shivering—and it might not have been from the cold.

The intensity of the arcane nature of this place was palpable even without Lemmy’s prior experience. Magic felt tangible here—just the mere concept of it, as though it were as physical a thing as the orcblade in Lemmy’s grasp or the dagger Yenni had borrowed from the elves. Even someone not versed in the ways of magic might be able to reach out and wield it so long as they were willing to expose themselves to the rot within it.

The twins marched ahead, Amarieth with her bow and Amali with raised hands, ready to unload the fury of her spellcraft upon whatever approached. Lemmy felt somewhat safer with them at the fore, knowing they’d navigated this place on their way to find him. He noticed, though, that even they showed telltale signs of fear: namely, their eyes darted around wildly as though expecting something to jump out. Their bodies tensed like they were preparing for battle. Their breathing went through phases of held breaths and heavy, anxious panting, and they reacted just as viscerally as he did to any groan they heard from within the unnatural fog.

Whatever they feared that was making them feel this way, it wasn’t something he wanted to confront.

Lemmy looked around, taking in his surroundings. The fog was acrid to inhale. The sky seemed to disappear, hidden under that blanket of white mist. Around him, he could only see so far, but he did see dark, barren soil riddled with the proof of an ancient battle—rusted weapons in various states of disrepair, skeletons of ancient warriors dressed in tatters and broken armor, and ruined structures that were now just heaps of rubble and stone. Torn banners from kingdoms long past hung motionless on broken rods, moldering tatters strewn about in the lifeless dirt.

“This is where the battle happened,” he grunted.

“The Final Battle of Orc and Human Aggression,” Yennisa said, instinctively reaching for Lemmy’s hand. He took her in his grasp eagerly, even as his other hand kept his sword raised in readiness.

“The second darkest day in our history,” Amali said—not offering up the first.

The smell was foul, nauseating—a stench of death and decay, even so many centuries later. The very ground beneath their feet was saturated with arcane power; the vapors were thick and oppressive. Lemmy tried to look past the bane, beyond the mist, into the earth itself—but he could not penetrate it. It was a void there, an empty grave of endless silence that lingered just beyond the desiccated husk of earth that separated travelers from oblivion.

Amarieth stepped forward, searching the ground around her. She sniffed twice at the air, then clapped her hands together and waved them over the earth. In a flash, the mist directly ahead of them parted slightly. It would be brief with how oppressive the fog was, but it provided them with a temporary path.

“Neat trick,” Lemmy noted.

“Not effective enough,” she whimpered. The way forward was still shrouded, mist beginning to creep in already. “We need to find the cave. It should be nearby. It’s the easiest way out.”

“That’s risky, sister,” Amali hissed. “Ologs live in that cave.”

Amarieth insisted, though. “Terropods wander above ground. If you listen long enough, you’ll hear the clicking of their pseudopods and mandibles. We could be minutes away from an attack.”

“But a fight is just as certain in the cave,” Amali said.

Amarieth looked to Lemmy for support. “What do you say, Illemitar Liminelda? You are the precious cargo, and our future king. Which way do you prefer?”

“I don’t like this fog,” Lemmy grunted. It wasn’t just sight that the fog obscured, but sound as well. He hadn’t realized how much he relied on it in dangerous situations until he was forced to go without it. “I think we’re going to get into a fight either way—we might as well see what’s attacking us when we do. Let’s take the cave.”

Amali scowled but nodded as her sister grinned. “Very well. To the cave.”

With a sigh of resignation, the mage cast a light spell, tapping her finger on Illemitar’s sword, causing it to glow as well. The orange glow passed with taps between them, spreading to Yenni’s dagger and Amarieth’s bow.

“This will lose us the advantage of surprise,” Lemmy noted.

He expected a quip, but Amali just nodded. “Yes, it will. But it will rob anything used to seeing in the dark of theirs as well.”

They navigated to the cave competently enough. The deeper they went into it, the colder it became, but the mist eventually thinned until it was gone. They moved through the darkness, lit in amber hues by Amali’s magic. The sound of bats fluttering about echoed overhead, accompanied by the occasional growl of some beast or another—but they were distant, and those sounds didn’t bother Lemmy. Cave bears and bats he could handle.

At last, they came to a halt at the edge of a long, winding tunnel, where a door blocked their path. The door, roughshod though it was, seemed oddly out of place in the cavern wall. Amarieth raised a hand to silence her companions and placed her ear against the door. Her face twisted in irritation.

“What is it?” Lemmy asked, furrowing his brow at her unhappy expression. Examining the strange door. Iron fittings secured it to the cavern wall, bolted crudely to the stone through brute force. It looked like something that had been constructed from memory or a loose description of what a door should be.

“They’re in there,” she said. “Four by the sound of it. I was hoping there would be fewer. Ologs.”

Lemmy grinned. “I’ve never killed an Olog,” he admitted, relishing the challenge. They were said to be fierce combatants with a warrior culture.

“Is he always this bloodthirsty?” Amali asked, quirking a brow toward Yenni.

Yenni nodded, her face neutral.

“Good,” Amali smiled, licking her lips. “I like it. It’s hot.”

Yenni’s brow furrowed to hear that, but Illemitar ignored it, if it registered at all. “Alright, Yenni—here’s the plan,” he started to say, but he was cut off by Amarieth’s scoffing at them.

“The plan is to kill them. Ologs are unpredictable. Some clusters have magic, others don’t. Some are smart, and others are dumb. There is no use in planning. Just react, look for weaknesses, use your surroundings, and—”

Before she could finish, the door opened in front of her, and Lemmy’s party was staring face to face with a monstrous gray-skinned Olog that looked like it was fixing to relieve itself, dick in hand. Its mouth dropped at the sight of them, his gaze meeting with each of theirs. Before anyone could react, it stepped back inside and shut the door. A second later it locked with a click.

“That was the most awkward thing that’s ever happened to me,” Yenni groaned, her hands still raised uncertainly as though she were about to cast a spell.

“Agreed,” Amali said darkly. “And for that, he cannot be allowed to live. Are we ready?” she asked.

Lemmy nodded slowly, wondering if perhaps the spell that allowed them to communicate had faltered, then spared a look toward Yenni.

“Ready,” she said. Her hands lit up, and Lemmy felt a surge of strength and vitality flow through him. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to bother with such questions.

Amali was preparing her own magery, the light of her spell flaring to life around her fingertips. “Back away from the door, sister,” she grunted. “And now would be a good time for Yennisa to raise her shield spell.”

Yennisa obeyed, silently mouthing the incantation that formed a pearly dome of protection around them. With a few more magic words Amali thrust her hands forward, calling forth an immense battering ram of solid magical force. The spell collided with the roughshod door with immense impact, shaking the ground beneath Lemmy’s feet as it was torn from the cavern wall and scattered into the room beyond in splinters. The iron fittings that had secured it clinked along behind it.

Evidently familiar with her sister’s approach, Amarieth was already charging forward, her arrow nocked and ready. When the Olog they saw before turned to face them, it had just retrieved a club from a weapon rack nearby. Runes flashed brightly along the surface of the weapon as the Olog held it overhead, letting out a wordless, commanding howl. Succumbing to a primal frothing rage, three other Ologs did the same—and roared.

Chapter 6

The interior of the chamber in which the Ologs sluggishly prepared for the assault was as dim and dank as any Lemmy had ever seen. It offered no contrast to what lay at his back, beyond the door from whence he’d just entered. Or what had once been a door, anyway.

The only remarkable thing about the room was the Ologs themselves. There were four of them—a suitably intimidating number, given that one Olog was almost twice his height and maybe three times his body weight or more.

They were thick, gray, hard-bodied individuals, the lot of them, with rune-marks scarred like raised tattoos on their flesh. Their eyes varied wildly in color—one Olog even had two differently colored eyes, green and red. They all wore top-knots. Each of them carried a runic club, inlaid with magical symbols and arcane secrets.

Their muscled bodies huddled in one corner on the opposite end of the room. It was almost as though they were afraid of the elves. For all their shouting and bluster, they were hesitant to go on the offensive with them. Lemmy figured they had caught them at a bad time, or perhaps they encountered elves so seldom that they didn’t know what to make of them.

They shouted something Lemmy couldn’t understand. With that, they fanned out in a V-like formation that reminded Yenni of the geese that annually flew over her home. It was then that Lemmy noticed the door on the other side of the room. He hadn’t been able to see it before through the wall of muscle they had been just a moment before. This wasn’t some burrow or dwelling, it was a crude tollhouse of sorts.

Lemmy looked awkwardly to his companions, noticing that no one was rushing forward or leading the charge.

“Maybe we should turn back?” Yenni suggested. “They seem more interested in blocking us than attacking.”

“They’re trying to protect their claim to this tunnel!” Amali said. “It doesn’t belong to them, though. This tunnel is strictly in the domain of the Gloom Lord, and he only tolerates its use by the elves and fey.”

“I knew the Ologs would be here,” Amarieth seethed. “They have no right.”

Lemmy had been too quick to see four creatures that looked like they were defending their home. But it wasn’t their home, and their fixation on the door only grew with each passing second. On top of that, the area was held by some kind of Lord that had been an ally to the elves. So it was less confusion at seeing elves in the tunnel, and more panic that they had been caught so soon. After all, if they had been set up like this when the pair of Wood Elves had come through the first time, the women would have handled them then.

“What’s behind that door?” he asked, though he was fairly certain he already knew.

“The tunnel to the edge of the Wilds,” Amarieth said. “It’ll take us almost to the Sylvan Woods. Ologs venture in there to forage but can’t stay long or they’ll be hunted.”

Lemmy could see how that tunnel would be valuable. There didn’t seem to be much good food around the Wilds. And passage between there and somewhere with actual resources would be worth taking such risks for.

The Ologs began muttering some incantations, which came as a surprise to Lemmy despite the earlier warning.

“No time to talk! It’s now or never!” Amali said, and she dashed forward, keeping her back to the leftmost wall to prevent herself from being flanked. Sparks of lightning burst from her fingers as she howled out something primordial and angst-ridden.

The gray brutes on the other side of the improvised battlefield met the lightning head-on as the bolts licked across their hairy, muscular hides. Though it failed to stop them or even slow them down, the grimaces on their face told them that at least they had felt it.

“They’re resistant to magic!” Amarieth said. “Lemmy, let’s support her! Yennisa, maintain a blessing on us!”

The half-drow nodded as holy light glowed in her eyes. With the blessing of Tellithri, Amarieth set her back against the wall close to the door they entered from, firing arrows in rapid succession as Lemmy approached the Ologs at an arc to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

This is extremely inadvisable, Lemmy thought. He—the last male elf in all of Middenheim—was running straight for a throng of Ologs that were thrice his size and resistant to magic. Sparing a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw the realization of this plan’s stupidity dawning on everyone else’s faces as well. They hadn’t had the forethought to consider such a contingency and hadn’t been afforded the time to form a plan of attack.

Everyone adjusted accordingly.

Yennisa gritted her teeth, and her nose started bleeding as she focused an enchantment on Illemitar. He sensed every muscle in his body flex and swell—at least, that’s what it felt like. When he looked down, he noticed no clear physical change, but he vigor he felt surging through him was unmistakable.

Amali summoned an impressive growth of suppressing vines that tangled themselves around the Ologs—restraining two successfully, while the other two managed to evade or break free. Lemmy closed the gap that remained between him and the Ologs, surprised to see Amarieth abandon her bow to join him, brandishing a magic dagger that she conjured as easily as he had seen her do with her bow. It was an interesting style of magic, one that he told himself he would have to look into in the future. Even with his evident deficiency in spellcasting, it might be something he could pick up.

Lemmy, orcblade in hand, leaped into the air with finesse and style, planting his feet on the shoulders of the Olog they’d caught pissing, even as his blade arced in a sweeping strike that took off its head in a clean blow. Between the magical enhancement of his weapon and that which had been bestowed upon him by Yenni, he’d felt more resistance cutting tomatoes.

Before the body could hit the ground, a powerful blow struck him out of the air back to the ground where he skidded and tumbled along the rough stone. The blunt force of the strike and the scraping that followed ushered spots into his vision, which he had to blink several times to be rid of.

Yenni shrieked. Her squeal was like nothing he had heard from her before, drowning out his pained grunt in response to his injuries. Amarieth and Amali also reacted, hints of their voices squeaking into their surprised and worried gasps. He was the precious cargo they had been meant to escort home and he was already down in the first exchange with the Ologs.

Amarieth didn’t let Lemmy’s injury distract her, though. She sliced the belly of one Olog as she moved swiftly under a powerful blow meant for her skull. Pink and gray intestines, slathered in viscous bodily fluids, spilled forth from the abdomen of the creature, replacing the dingy mildew of the cavern with the smell of impending death. The Olog dropped its club in horror as it attempted to pull its own guts back into its body.

The other two Ologs, restrained by a mass of vines, tried and failed to free themselves, but they snapped several of the Wood Elf’s vines in the attempt. Amarieth withdrew to check on Lemmy and found Yenni doing the same, crouched beside him with crystal-clear tears streaming down her cheek. A look of anger took root in Yenni’s eyes as she noticed the Wood Elf’s approach.

Lemmy shot up, surprising them both, gasping for air as though he’d just realized he forgot to breathe for the last thirty seconds.

“Fucking ouch!” he said, rubbing the point of impact. He surveyed the scene, realizing just how little things had changed in his brief withdrawal from the fight. “That was unpleasant.”

Yenni hurriedly poured healing energy into his body—at the cost of her own strength. Though Lemmy was in no state to notice it, her skin went dry, her eyes lost their glow, and tiny drops of blood spilled from her ears as she gave everything she could to keep Lemmy in tip-top shape. If his ribs had been broken, he couldn’t tell anymore. If he’d been bleeding profusely from the scrapes, it had been successfully stanched.

Yenni clung to consciousness for as long as she could—enduring until she knew Lemmy’s back was to her, and then her lucidity faded, and her head hit the cavern floor.

Amali and Amarieth certainly noticed but said nothing, not wanting to compromise Illemitar’s renewed focus in the midst of the ongoing fight. Instead, they turned their efforts back toward aiding him while positioning themselves between the Ologs and the fallen half-drow.

Compromised by Amali’s vines, the remaining Ologs appeared completely defenseless, but as Lemmy approached to put an end to the battle, one of them broke free. Lemmy moved under a wild swing that had threatened to make him a head shorter and brought his blade up in an ascending arc that cleaved flesh and vines alike. It wasn’t deep enough to fell the Olog entirely, but it did fill its eyes with surprised horror and forced the grip on its weapon to go slack. With no intention of letting the Olog regain it, Lemmy brought the orcblade across the creatures shoulders at an angle, decapitating it.

The final Olog ripped its way from the vines in a rage, snarling as it tried to get its club free as well. Lemmy was on the hulking creature in a flash, moving on pure instinct as he brought his blade down and across, severing the Ologs arm a split second before taking its head.

Moments later, Amarieth planted an arrow in each of their hearts. “Mageborn creatures need worse than a beheading,” she explained. “See to that one.”

She pointed at the Olog on its knees, holding its intestines in its body. Lemmy felt pity as he looked upon it, maybe even a hint of regret. The creature was already dead, and just didn’t know it yet. At this point, beheading it was a mercy. He cut off its head and watched with a grimace as Amarieth placed an arrow in its heart.

“Did we have to kill them?” he asked, studying the bodies as they lay headless and bloody on the floor. They would have to climb over them to reach the door.

“Yes,” Amali said as she approached, but Amarieth withdrew from Lemmy’s sight to somewhere behind him as he stared ahead.

“Were they evil?” he asked.

“Evil?,” Amali sighed. “They were created by elves to guard these lands from humans—but centuries have passed. They multiplied somehow and became tribal. They’re scattered all over the Wilds in caves like this or have sheltered in ruins. I cannot say if they are truly evil the way you may understand it, but they’re uncompromisingly territorial and defend that territory to their last breath. It’s how they were made. Never turn your back on such creatures, no matter how wounded and pitiful you think they may be. They will not hesitate to strike you down should you give them the opening.”

“If it’s how they were made then did they really deserve this?” Lemmy asked, staring in particular at the one who’d lost his guts in the fight.

“It is not about deserving death—it comes for us all. Everyone in Middenheim will die—maybe to an Olog, or an orc, or an elf, or to the elements, but for many, it will be random and unfair. For others, it will be a result of their deeds or how they spent their lives. Remember your purpose, Lemmy. This mission may yet cost more lives.”

He nodded. It’s not that he hadn’t killed before. He had even killed people who arguably didn’t deserve it simply because they were on the wrong side of the fight. That’s the life of an adventurer—or a mercenary, which he had been once. This fight reminded him of those days. He wasn’t sure he cared for that feeling. Amali’s outlook on it was perhaps a little callous and cold, but it wasn’t entirely wrong in his experience.

He turned around. “Should we go—” His eyes bulged as they fixed on Yenni’s unconscious body, terrified at the sight of her lying there. “Yen!” he shouted, rushing to her.

His hand found the back of her neck, and he lifted her up so that her head was resting in his lap. “Yennisa!” he repeated. “What the hell happened?”

“You suffered a grievous injury,” Amarieth said, kneeling down and stroking the half-elf’s hair. “She took your pain into herself to accelerate your healing.”

“It’s a gift that some healers possess,” Amali added, crouching down beside them. She placed her hand on Lemmy’s back. “It’s quite rare. Her sacrifice was noble. You should be very proud of her.”

“S-sacrifice?” he grunted, his eyes leaking his sadness. “No. She’s alive, isn’t she?” Please, Tellithri, Lemmy thought, not my Yenni.

“For now,” Amarieth nodded, placing a hand over Yenni’s mouth, feeling Yenni’s faint breath. “But who can say if she’ll survive.”

Amali wrapped Lemmy in a tight hug. “I will soothe you, Lemmy. I swear, as soon as we are in the Sylvan Woods, I will give you pleasures you—”

“Fucking bitch!” Yenni shot up so fast and so full of fury that no one was prepared for it. Her little fist struck Amali’s cheek so hard that the Wood Elf went flying, forced to release her grasp of Lemmy, and skidded on the ground until she bumped into a stalagmite.

“Yen!” Lemmy shouted, pulling her in and cradling her in his arms. “You just scared the fuck out of me!”

Yennisa Kindheart looked and felt like the cat that ate the canary, grinning ear to ear as she luxuriated in Lemmy’s embrace.

“That hurt!” Amali said. “I was just trying to comfort him.”

Yenni was content to ignore the wood-elven schemer for the time being. Amarieth snickered at her sister’s misfortune. “You must love him profoundly to be able to pull off that kind of healing on the fly,” she noted. “And survive with such fire, no less!”

“No,” she shook her head. “Alas, the witch’s curse is too strong. I shall never know what love feels like. I’m just that good at healing, it turns out.”

Amali sidled back up next to Lemmy as though she hadn’t just taken a punch to the face. He continued to hold Yenni in his arms, peppering her with kisses.

“What’s this about a witch, again?” she inquired.

Lemmy laughed. “Some crazy old lady showed up in Salmon Brook, her village, and got pissed at the priest who raised her. She claimed to curse Yenni so that she would never know true love.”

“I see—but the curse clearly is imagined, yes?” Amarieth said, tapping her chin, watching with an inquisitive look in her eye as Yenni greedily smeared her cheek against Lemmy’s.

“Oh, absolutely,” Lemmy chuckled. “She’s totally in love with me.”

“Am not,” she said sadly. “Though I’d like to be. I love the idea of being in love with you. Imagine our babies! Imagine how happy I’d be giving you back rubs every night and hearing you talk about your acts of heroism.” She let out a happy little sigh. “Bliss.”

Amali cocked a crimson eyebrow at the half-elf. “You cannot be this dense.”

The smell of the dead Ologs was starting to catch up to them, so within a few more moments, Lemmy set Yennisa down and they all four climbed over the Ologs’ bodies and headed through the guarded door.

It led to another tunnel, much like the last, but as they pressed on, they knew that this was indeed the way out.

There were several winding passages, but Amareith and Amali knew which ones to take and which ones to avoid. They stayed the course without incident for another day or so—time had started to blur for Lemmy.

He had grown tired and sore from these travels. He was not built to stay awake for days and days at a time. Sure, his belly was full, and the view of mostly naked Wood Elves prancing around was enough to keep him conscious, but the journey had started to weigh him down to the point that all this was losing its novelty.

“How close are we now?” he asked.

“It’s hard to say,” Amarieth admitted. “I’ll know when we reach the next milestone, but at most, we should be out of these caves in a day.”

Another fucking day. Lemmy groaned loudly enough for it to echo.

“Be patient, Illemitar Liminelda,” Amali said, smiling back at him. “Soon, you can rest naked beneath the Eternal Tree. I swear it, the next century of my life will be given to you, ensuring your pleasure in every waking moment. I am unschooled in the ways of pleasing men, but I will make satisfying you my sole occupation from then on.”

“Sister, you are too forward,” Amarieth scoffed, sounding a bit shocked. “And far too eager.”

“Way too fucking eager,” Yenni growled.

“I thought you didn’t love him?” Amali teased.

“Just because I am not in love with him doesn’t mean I can’t worship, adore, and devote myself to him,” Yenni scoffed. “Right, Lemmy?”

“Please leave me out of this,” he said dryly. “The only thing keeping me awake is the sight of Wood Elf buttcheeks walking in front of me. I can’t afford to get wrapped up in another squabble.”

Yenni pinched his shoulder—hard.

“Ouch!” Lemmy complained. “Whyyyy?!”

“Did that wake you up, you fuck?” Yenni giggled, causing the other two elves to laugh along with her.

The journey continued through the dark of the cave. The walls were getting uncomfortably narrow, but on the plus side, they were able to abandon their light spells as bioluminescent mushrooms became plentiful enough to light the way for them.

“I’m honestly getting tired of this Lambrosian bread,” Lemmy noted.

“I once survived on it for a full year,” Amarieth shuddered. “But once you spend some time apart, you get nostalgic for it again.”

“Not me,” Amali noted, sticking her tongue out. “I don’t really eat for pleasure anyway, though.” She corrected herself, her eyes suddenly wide as she spun to look at Lemmy. “Except your cum! I will eat your cum for pleasure, of course!”

He cocked his head sideways at her, squinting in obvious confusion. “Not sure why you thought that needed mentioning, but alright.”

“It definitely didn’t need mentioning,” Yenni scowled. “And she has nothing on me. I would guzzle his cum by the bottle. I’d drink it out of the tap. I’d ferment and make fine mushroom wine out of his cum if—”

“Okay, that stopped being sexy right about there,” Lemmy grunted. “The word ferment should never be used in such a way.”

“There!” Amarieth said, pointing at a fairly nondescript rock. She crouched down and studied it, turning it over and finding a symbol etched upon it. “Yes. Just a few hours now and we’ll be out of the cave and only one more day from the Sylvan Woods.”

“Fuck yeah,” Lemmy sighed. “I’m so sore.”

Yenni moved behind Lemmy immediately. “I’ll massage you. Where are you sore?” Her hands landed upon his shoulders and started squeezing, kneading him like only a knowing lover could.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Lemmy growled. “But what about you? If I’m suffering, you must be even worse off. You’re half-elven, so your endurance isn’t the same as ours.”

“And she took on the brunt of your injuries herself,” Amali noted.

“I’m fine,” she said, but now it was all Lemmy could think about. She was lying. She must have been in excruciating discomfort.

“Get off me, Yenni,” he said, “I can’t have you exert yourself.”

She pouted at him. “But—”

“How about a compromise?” Amarieth asked. “If you’re worried about her, and she’s obsessed with you, Illemitar, just offer to carry her so she can rest. I doubt she’d refuse that.”

Lemmy looked at her, grinning. “What do you say?” he asked. “Shall I cradle you in my arms like the princess you are?”

Yenni’s cheeks puffed up excitedly, and she nodded, barely able to contain her glee. Soon she was in his arms, happily kicking her feet and nuzzling her face into his neck, singing giddy little songs.

“Is that a human song?” Amarieth asked.

“It’s actually rather pleasant,” Amali noted.

Lemmy beamed at Yenni. “Because she’s singing it. Her voice is the best in her village—maybe the best I know.”

“She could be a bard,” noted Amali, staring back at Yenni in begrudging respect. “Okay. Enough. My turn.”

“What?” Yenni asked dumbly, clueless as to what the Wood Elf was getting at.

“My turn to be held. I’m tired, too.”

“You are not tired in the least. We’ve traveled days longer than this without ever needing sleep,” Amarieth sighed. “Have some self-respect.”

Amali pouted, ignoring her sister. “I want to be held.”

“I’m horribly injured! Mangled! On the brink of death!” Yenni protested. “And I’m only a half-elf! How am I supposed to keep up with you if he puts me down?”

“You were doing just fine until he started carrying you,” Amali growled.

“Because I didn’t know how sweet it’d be. Now I’ve seen the other side of the mountain—there is no turning back.”

Lemmy laughed. “I’m going to keep carrying Yenni for a while. She needs it more.”

Amali furrowed her brow and made an indignant noise of complaint as she whipped her head back toward the direction they were headed.

Soon they saw signs of light shining into the cave and they knew they had reached its mouth.

“It’s actually more like we’ve reached its butthole,” Lemmy noted. “Since the entrance we came in through would be the mouth.”

“Very wise observation,” Amarieth nodded, her tone perhaps a bit sarcastic.

Exiting, Lemmy and his party were not relieved to see the conditions of the Wilds outside. They were not better—in fact, they were worse. It was snowing now, and the fog hadn’t cleared.

“This is fucking stressful,” Lemmy groaned as they stepped out into shrill, noxious air.

“Not long now,” Amarieth tried to soothe him. “You’ve done very well for an elf raised among humans.”

“And Yennisa the half-elf has done well, too,” Amali noted. “Even if she is a bit… violent.”

Amarieth looked at her sister as she cleared some of the fog with an enchanted arrow. “Will we have to alert the Dark Queen?”

“About Yennisa?” Amali clarified.

“Yes. She is half-Drow. In the past, we have been required to send any half-Drow to her.”

“But she is bound to the last male elf,” Amali said. She turned to Lemmy. “Surely you would find it uncouth to separate her from you, yes?”

“We are not being separated,” Lemmy grunted. “If she wants to meet Yenni, then she can come for a visit. I’m not going anywhere without Yen. And don’t call me Shirley.”

Yennisa rewarded him with a peck on the cheek and a giggle.

“Very well,” Amali said. “But we should certainly send word once we arrive—Yennisa is more of her domain than of the Woodland Queen or the High Queen.”

At that point they became aware of a tall, thin figure in the mist. Cloaked, with antlers on its head and hooves for feet, it was otherwise like an elf, with pointed ears and a regal yet wiry frame. Just a shadow, then, it straightened up, dwarfing them in stature, looking down as it addressed them through the fog.

“So,” it bellowed, “the new age is about to begin. Come with me—I will make the way clear for you.”

As the mist parted and Lemmy was face to face with the archfey standing before him, he wondered just how many layers to that promise there were.

Chapter 7

“So much has already gone wrong for me to have to meet you here,” the mysterious archfey said.

Illemitar had never encountered an archfey before but this being fit the loose and whimsical descriptions of such creatures that he’d heard from fairy tales and legends growing up. But even if he had no knowledge of the lore, the presence of the entity would have been enough to give the elf pause.

In the ineffable sixth sense he possessed for magic, the archfey felt like a dense accumulation of power that caused everything around it to bow slightly in its direction. He was an impossibly heavy weight treading on the fabric of magic itself, and yet Illemitar had the distinct sense that the strange creature was stepping lightly.

He was tall and gaunt with sallow skin, wrapped in a billowing black cloak that melded with the shadows around him. Indeed, it was difficult to tell where the fabric of the cloak ended and the flesh of the archfey began. The two appeared to transition seamlessly into one another where not obscured entirely by shadow. His height, made even more impressive by the rack of antlers erupting from his head, would have been more intimidating were it not for the strange hunch he had as he moved, cloven hooves propelling him at a surprisingly swift speed. Illemitar felt himself hustling to keep up. It was hard work with Yenni still in his arms.

“What is happening?” he asked, leaning in to make his surreptitious inquiry known to the Wood Elves.

“Don’t speak!” Amarieth scolded him in a whisper. “This is the Gloom Lord—the only power in these woods who rivals the authority of the elven queens.”

“The Gloom Lord?” he repeated it as a question. Looking down at Yenni, the expression she wore indicated clearly that the name meant nothing to her, too.

“You may speak the lore to him, elves,” the dark figure said without looking back, his voice like the rumble of thunder in a distant storm.

“The—uh—the Gloom Lord is the lord of the nearest portion of the Sylvan Woods, based just south of our Woodland Queen,” Amali said. “The Gloom Quarter, or the Court of Gloom.”

“Were you intending for us to be escorted out by him?” Yenni asked.

Amarieth shook her head furiously, but kept her eyes on the archfey. “No. We intended to take you into our territory—we were so close.”

“We still are,” Amali groaned softly.

“Yes, the Court of Gloom borders us very tightly,” Amarieth added.

“Too tightly,” whispered Amali. “His servants used to kill elves that ventured into his territory, even accidentally.”

Lemmy and Yenni exchanged confused looks. “So he’s an enemy?” Lemmy asked.

Amali watched the Gloom Lord carefully, making sure he didn’t seem to hear what they were saying. He was far enough ahead that she wanted to believe that he was ignorant of their exchange, but she was still careful. “Yes and no. Relations are tense but cordial between the elves and the fey.”

“Very tense. A little cordial,” Amarieth corrected. “He’s as powerful as any of the queens. It’s possible he’s even more powerful, but he tends not to venture out of his domain.”

“Which is why it’s quite odd that he risked exposure in the Wilds to come get you himself,” Amali noted.

“Tell us about the queens,” Yenni said, her arms still wrapped around Lemmy’s shoulders. Lemmy was getting a bit sore from carrying her for so long, even though he’d let her walk for a while before entering the woods.

“There are five queens, forming two de facto factions, though neither of them is official,” Amarieth said. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything,” Lemmy said. “Right now, I’m fucking clueless.”

Amali giggled. “Effrien the Woodland Queen is our mistress and adopted auntie,” she explained. “She is the wisest and most powerful of the elves and the greatest huntress ever to have lived.”

Already Lemmy sensed a hint of bias in her words, but he said nothing to betray his suspicion. “Sounds like I’ll be meeting her relatively soon, right?”

“If all goes well,” Amarieth agreed, nodding vaguely toward the Gloom Lord.

“Tell me about her personality,” Lemmy said. “What’s she like?”

Amarieth paused to think, then finally spoke. “She is patient, quiet. She suffers no fools.”

“You’re in trouble, baby,” Yenni giggled.

“She can be cold but not cruel,” Amali added. “Her wisdom is evident in every word she speaks.”

“And Golariel?” Lemmy asked as they continued to trudge through the forest. With a muted grunt of complaint, he finally resolved to set Yenni down. She uttered a protest and then a curse at what Amali attempted next.

“My turn,” she said, eyeing him with a furrowed brow. Amarieth sighed and pretended not to notice.

“No,” Lemmy said, causing Yenni to grin. “Yenni’s heavier than she looks. My arms are fucking done.” Her grin evaporated, revealing a scowl in its place.

“How dare you,” she said. “I’m the lightest girl in my village.”

“You’d better be,” Amarieth scoffed. “You’re the only half-elf, right? If you weren’t, it’d be an anomaly—especially at your height.”

“What’s wrong with my height?” Yenni asked defensively. “I’m taller than you!”

“Still short for a half-elf,” Amali agreed, nodding. Yenni’s eyes flared with anger as her jaw set.

Lemmy cleared his throat and sought to get the conversation back on track. “So, about Golariel.”

Amali giggled. “Right. She’s very beautiful. Regal. She has the gift of farseeing and dreamspeaking. Among all the elves, she probably is the one people look to for answers—”

“Besides Lady Effrien,” Amarieth added pointedly, elbowing her sister.

“Yes, of course, besides the Woodland Queen,” Amali agreed, correcting herself.

“And the others?” Lemmy asked, pressing on.

“Opheliel is the Blood Queen, Queen of the Dusk Elves. Isodre the Dark Queen leads the Drow,” Amali continued, counting each queen off on her fingers as she went.

“The Sun Elves are led by their most capable warrior—Queen Kaldaduniriel, and the Beast Elves have no leader,” Amarieth finished for her a little impatiently.

“That is only partially true,” the Gloom Lord said, his voice booming back at them from where he tread many paces in front. “The Beast Elves mostly follow me—many reside within my domain.”

Amali and Amarieth shared a fearful look, frantically recalling their words, worried they might have said something derogatory to the fey. If they had offended the Gloom Lord, he showed no sign of it.

Amali finally spoke up after a long, uncomfortable silence. “Anyway, that’s about all of them. At the moment, we are closest to the Woodland Queen’s domain, the Gloom Lord’s domain, and the Dusk Elves’ domain.”

“We’d best pray the Dusk Elves don’t know of your coming,” The Gloom Lord remarked as he turned his head to reveal a small portion of his face beneath the black void of his cloak’s hood.

“Why’s that?” Lemmy asked in a conversational manner that seemed to make the Wood Elves uncomfortable.

Amarieth’s face sank into a frown. “They are… aggressive. The Dusk Elves, along with the Dark Elves, are by far the more selfishly driven faction. They may very well attempt to monopolize your seed.”

“They will attempt it,” the Gloom Lord growled. “But that seed belongs to all elves and half-elves. We cannot let it fall into their hands, or we will see the old feuds made new.”

Lemmy and Yenni noticed there was a pause there as Amali and Amarieth shared a meaningful look, but they thought better than to broadcast their suspicions aloud.

They continued to follow behind him. The Gloom Lord’s movements left jagged black wisps and shadowy tendrils in his wake. They lagged behind, unable to catch up with him unless he went completely still.

His gaunt features would have been handsome if he didn’t seem so sickly in his appearance. His body seemed frail despite the ease with which he traversed the terrain. He didn’t seem winded in the slightest despite the swift pace he kept yet he always looked to be in some small measure of pain or discomfort.

After hours of travel in the ash-barren Wilds, the environment began to regain some of the lush greenery that had become like a distant memory to Lemmy and Yenni. It was just weeds and grass at first that regained their color amid twisted dead roots, but soon, even the trees exuded a verdant glow that everyone welcomed. “It is done. We have arrived—and into my section of Gilfindor.”

The twins exchanged anxious looks.

“Gloom Lord, O Wise and Powerful,” Amali started, but she shrank when he looked at her.

“Say your piece, elf,” the Gloom Lord coaxed before coughing briefly into his sleeve. “I’ve no patience for preamble today.”

“Our instructions are to take him to the court of the High Queen by way of the Woodland Queen’s domain,” Amarieth said, her voice quivering and tremulous.

“You will not,” he said. “Until I am satisfied that he will be safe, he will remain here. You may leave now if that is a problem. He will be fine with me, able to forge his own destiny in these woods. I will place him under the guard of my own daughter—”

“You don’t mean… her, my lord?” Amali asked, sounding shocked about something.

“Who is her?” Lemmy asked.

The Gloom Lord leaned so deep that he was at eye level with the Wood Elf. His immensity compacted into such a small space made him seem even more imposing by comparison, like a predator ready to pounce. Despite her best efforts, Amali trembled with fear as the strange weight of the archfey’s presence enveloped her.

“Do you mean to speak ill of my child?” The Gloom Lord queried in an overly measured tone.

“No, of course not, Gloom Lord,” she said quickly, averting her gaze respectfully. “It’s just—she has a reputation among the elves.”

“She is a half-elf like this one,” he said, gesturing to a stone-faced Yenni standing frozen as a statue at Lemmy’s side. She was just as intimidated by the Gloom Lord’s posture as Amali, despite standing several feet away.

“She is a Half-Goblin, too,” Amarieth said, “with the spells and training of a shadow fey lord. She has killed many Wood Elves–”

“Trespassers in my woods,” The Gloom Lord corrected coldly, tilting his head in Amarieth’s direction without taking his eyes off of her sister. “She will kill many more if she has to.”

“O-of course,” Amali stammered, unable to articulate her objections in a way that remained respectful. “But she is… is she not… unhinged? Is it really wise to leave Lemmy in her care?”

“And Golariel will not be pleased, my lord—” Amarieth interjected.

“Hold your tongue, elf,” The Gloom Lord warned, holding up a long finger. “Should another word against my daughter fall from it, I will rip it from your skull. Or better yet, turn it into a ravenous leech dwelling within your mouth.”

The elves obeyed, certainly not wanting to tempt that fate.

“Go, then,” he grunted. “He is free to choose his own destiny in these woods. I will not have the elven queens rip him apart before he’s even acclimated himself to the fate that lays before him.”

Lemmy was not quite sure what this Gloom Lord’s agenda was or why he seemed so interested in ensuring his safety. On the one hand, he supposed that he should be grateful—on the other, he didn’t like the way he spoke to Amali and Amarieth.

“Excuse me, Gloom Lord?” he said, deciding to chime in.

“Yes?” the archfey asked without turning to face him.

“I would prefer it if these two stayed with us. And I do want to help the elves—unless you know of a reason I shouldn’t?”

“Of course you should,” he groaned. “That is why I am taking you in. If you walk right into the Silver Court looking like a haunch of man-meat, the queens will discard any manner of civility and set upon you like a pack of wolves. By residing within my domain, we can force them to come to you. Their desire for you will be tempered by their fear of me. In the meantime, I will be able to provide you with the information you need to navigate the situation.” He sighed a deep, prolonged sigh that gave way to a brief coughing fit. “The elves are often like children—they know only appetite and seek to indulge. Even with their centuries of wisdom, they’ve grown feral and wild at the promise of a new man to renew their numbers for the first time in decades. Eventually, their sense will return to them, but caution is warranted.”

“Why do you care what happens to him?” Yenni asked suspiciously.

The archfey actually smiled at her. “Yennisa Kindheart—a half-elf, like my own little girl. And yet the last male treats you as though you were as pure as he. It gives me hope.”

Yenni just blinked and smiled awkwardly, hoping the Gloom Lord would remember to answer her question.

“As for why I’m helping—because the elves are at risk of self-terminating. Allowing them to die out would kill the Sylvan Woods, and one day bring orcs and humans into my domain—or tempt the Dark Lord down from his tower to enact whatever plan he was dreaming up all this time, I suppose. As much as I loathe most of the queens, they are an integral part of the ecosystem here.”

“That checks out,” Lemmy grunted with a nod. “Though, what’s this about a dark lord?”

“Nestori the Poxbringer, fallen archangel and former favored child of Tellithri, as old as creation itself,” the Lord said, cocking a caterpillar-like eyebrow at Lemmy. “Does that sound familiar?”

Lemmy looked at Yennisa. They both shrugged.

The Gloom Lord sighed. “The human world knows nothing.”

“Nestori is long gone, Gloom Lord,” Amali said uneasily. “His tower has been empty for ages.”

“Were it so easy,” The Gloom Lord shook intoned with a shake of his head. “He is responsible for the deaths of all the men and women to succumb to the plague—it was by his design. He still dwells in that tower, plotting. One day, he’ll come back for us to finish what he started.”

“Why hasn’t he, then?” Yenni asked nervously. “It seems like now is a good time—your numbers are lower than they’ve ever been, right?”

“Yes,” he acknowledged, gesturing gently for them to follow along with him as he walked on. “I can’t claim to know the answers—but Golariel knows. She knows, and yet she says nothing. This is why I cannot trust her.”

Amali offered a meek protest. “If Golariel knew, surely she would—”

“She knows,” the Gloom Lord said, cutting her off. He spared her a pointed glare that caused her to freeze momentarily before following along after them.

They walked in his shadow for a few more hours, the archfey remarking on local flora and fauna they encountered along the way. The creatures there were unlike the ones Lemmy had encountered in his adventures, and knowing which might be dangerous or aggressive was useful. More than that, though, this was the archfey’s home, and he was effectively providing them with a tour the way any good host would. As they walked, Lemmy was relieved to have glimpses of the sun again as it peeked through the lush canopy overhead in thin slivers of white and gold.

Compared to home, the air practically buzzed with the activity of life. Coming from the desolation of the Wilds, it was almost overwhelming. The forest was denser than those back home, cluttered with old-growth trees and colonies of glowing mushrooms, hanging moss, and rampant fungi. Several plants beckoned to him with the promise of ripe, juicy fruit, but he refused to answer the call without knowing what was safe to eat. Lemmy also recalled an old tale about the perils of eating fey food and wondered if that applied to anything edible found in an archfey’s domain.

“This forest is beautiful,” Yenni said in wonder. “Would you believe I’d only ever seen one in my whole life?”

“You mean Salmon Wood, near your home?” Lemmy asked.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “It wasn’t as pretty or as magical as this one. I can sense magic under every stone here.”

“This is indeed a special place,” the Gloom Lord agreed, “Would you believe that I’ve never seen a forest other than this one? We aren’t unalike in that way.”

“You can’t leave?” Lemmy asked, but then he scolded himself for the dumb question. “I mean, of course, you can leave. You found us in the Wilds.”

“I did,” he agreed, his voice low and soft. “But the further I go from my home, the weaker I become. If I ever wandered into the realm of men, I’d be little more than a large human with antlers and hooves.”

Lemmy laughed at the joke, causing the Wood Elves to stare at him wide-eyed, paralyzed with fear at how the Gloom Lord would respond to such audacity. They relaxed visibly when no retribution was forthcoming. The male elf seemed to be more cognizant of the archfey’s levity than they were.

“We’re almost there now,” the archfey said, and within a few minutes, they entered a bright clearing, surrounded by a ring of mossy standing stones. The trees, grass, and flowers here were all moody shades of blue and pink. Glowing butterflies sprinkled shimmering dust from their wings as they fluttered around a gnarled wooden throne that seemed to have taken its shape after untold years of careful cultivation.

“Sit,” the Gloom Lord said.

They did, sitting on the ground as he seated himself on the chair, looking down at them. Amali and Amarieth glanced around anxiously.

“Calm your hearts, elves,” he said. “You are in no danger here. If the last male elf wishes for you to remain at his side, then you are my guests as well. The protocol is clear on the matter.”

They nodded, though Amali swallowed audibly, the little gulp making Lemmy chuckle even as he, too, felt a degree of unease.

“Do you have a name?” Lemmy asked. “Or do we just keep calling you Gloom Lord?”

Yenni and the Wood Elves gasped. “Lemmy, never ask a fey his or her name!” Yennisa said.

“Names have power—a fey’s name has untold potential.” The Gloom Lord explained. “If I were to give my name to you, you could then use it against me. We don’t do that here. All fey creatures have titles, not names, that they give out.”

“Apologies for my ignorance,” Lemmy replied. “I’m a fairly experienced adventurer, but I never had a run-in with the fey.”

“What did your run-ins involve?” The Gloom Lord asked with genuine interest.

“Lots of gnolls, ogres, orcs, witches. Standard adventuring stuff,” he shrugged, unprepared for the question. “A lot of dungeons, actually. Too many dungeons.”

His eyes took on a faraway look for a moment. “So many dungeons.”

The Gloom Lord nodded. “I apologize that you may find my domain inhospitable compared to the others in Gilfindor—not that we lack hospitality. But, unlike the other domains, we do not have houses or structures as you know them. You will be without the shelter to which you are accustomed.”

Lemmy laughed as he took in the whimsical beauty of his surroundings. “I’ve made do with far worse.”

“How did you make do in the Wilds?” the Gloom Lord asked him.

Lemmy shrugged. “We basically didn’t. We haven’t slept in days.”

The archfey squinted, looking carefully into Lemmy’s eyes. “My goodness, it’s true. You look utterly ragged. I suppose there’s nothing else to do than allow you a full night’s rest and look in on you come morning.”

Lemmy looked at his companions and nodded. “That would be fine with me,” he said.

“It’s fine—but we must have a way to send word to the Woodland Queen so at least she knows what happened to us. She will worry if we delay much longer,” Amali said.

The Gloom Lord frowned as he narrowed his eyes, exasperated. “Very well—you two, come with me. I will take you to my Moon Well.”

“What about us?” Yenni asked.

“Sleep,” the Gloom Lord replied. “That would be the best use of your time. We will speak more in the morning.”

Yenni nodded, looking to Lemmy for his approval. “We’ll rest, uhh, here on the ground?”

“I will have what comforts I can offer brought to you in short order—blankets and pillows, I suppose?” he asked, as if only peripherally aware of what sleeping was like for them.

“That would be lovely,” Yenni agreed, smiling brightly.

The two Wood Elves looked like lambs being led knowingly to the slaughter as they followed the Gloom Lord out of the court. Soon it was just Yenni and Lemmy alone in the circle of stones in front of the Gloom Throne.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Yenni asked, tugging open her white robes. Her naked breasts spilled out in a hurry. Lemmy let out an exhausted groan.

“Honestly, no,” he said. “I’m so fucking tired, and it blows my mind that you can even joke about that right now.”

She shrugged. “Who’s joking? I slept in your arms for a few hours while you were carrying me, so I’m good.”

“So pity me, then,” Lemmy sighed. “Let’s get some rest and let me recharge. Sounds like I’m going to need to take breaks whenever I get them to let my semen potency regenerate.”

She nodded, visibly aroused by the phrase ‘semen potency’. “A lot of breeding to be done.”

“How do you feel about that?” he asked her, earnestly wondering.

Yenni shook her head. “Honestly? A bit scared—I’m worried that you’ll forget about me, and I’ll have come all the way here only to lose you.”

“That won’t happen,” he said, taking her hand. “I’ll always take care of you. You chose to follow me. You gave up your old life to join me on this insane adventure.” Lemmy paused, just taking in the sight of her beauty. “I’ll never forget that, so don’t worry. You won’t lose me.”

She smiled weakly back at him. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Together, they lay down, embracing sweetly in the circle of stones. A few moments later, a few dozen pixies flew in some soft blankets. They offered not a word as they delicately placed the blankets on Yenni and Lemmy’s bodies. They made scarcely a sound as they lifted up the pair’s heads a few minutes later to position pillows beneath them as the elf and half-elf canoodled.

Yenni sighed as she melted into Lemmy’s arms. She hadn’t even had sex with him in the last few days, and she still felt like this as he held her—a mess of warm emotions and calm. As she dozed off to sleep, the last thought she had was that if she could fall in love, this might be what it felt like. “Curse that witch,” she said, brandishing her little fist just before it hit the ground and she fell asleep.

Chapter 8

Lemmy awoke fully refreshed several hours later to find that, at some point, the Wood Elves had joined him. Amali slept a couple of paces away from everyone else, but Amarieth, who was naked, was sitting on his chest, looking down at him with a decidedly wild look.

His eyes flashed wide, shedding their grogginess immediately. Before he could speak, her hand covered his mouth. “Shhh, shut the fuck up!” she whispered, her voice fast and frantic. “My sister—she can’t find out about this!”

Lemmy made no show of resistance. He just watched her, shocked, as she looked down at him, biting her lip. He tried to turn his head to see where Yenni was—but Amarieth didn’t let him move.

“Look at me,” she pleaded, her voice needy and whiny. “Fucking look only at me!”

Lemmy obeyed, his eyes traveling the delightful length of her body from head to toe. Her fiery red hair was in buns at the top, but most of her hair poured down her back. She was small—smaller than Yenni, coming up to his chest at most, and she was nimble, but her body was mature. The slope of her elegant breasts was round and wonderfully soft, like two rounded cakes fresh out of the oven.

Amarieth’s abdomen was petite, bonier than it was muscled. Her ribcage was visible when she arched her back. As his eyes kept going further down, they landed on her slit—he realized then that her pussy lips were split open, cradling the bulge in his pants.

Then she started moving. “Fuck, I’m so sorry—” she moaned, still covering his mouth—clearly not the least bit sorry. Her hips started gyrating as her pussy caressed the cock-shaped lump in his pants. “I can’t help myself—you flirted with my sister so much when she was throwing herself at you. You cradled Yennisa in your arms for hours and hours, and I—” She moaned. “I fucking need you to look at me like that. Hold me like that. I’m gonna punish you for not treating me like you treat them, Illemitar Liminelda.”

“Mmmmf,” he groaned into her hand as it cupped his mouth shut with surprising strength—it was not a complaint. In fact, he found the situation incredibly hot, if more than a little confusing. Up until this point, Amarieth had shown very little desire toward him. Amali was the forward one, and even she had only come around to liking him once she saw him fight the Terropod. As far as he could tell, this was out of fucking nowhere. The Gloom Lord’s words about the elves knowing only appetite echoed faintly in his head.

He could feel her wetness soaking through the fabric of his pants. He was at a loss, but it felt good. The friction of her pussy rubbing up and down the length of his cock, even over his clothes, was intense, probably more than it should have been. How long had it been since he’d had an old-fashioned dry humping? He supposed dry wasn’t the right word to use, though.

“I’m going to punish you,” she snarled at him quietly. “I’m going to cum all over your pants. I want Yennisa and Amali to smell it on you—but not be able to prove anything. I’m going to mark you, so later, when they’re going down on you, they’ll have to lick through my juice to get to you.”

Fuck. Lemmy was harder than a diamond in the Frozen Wastes. His muffled protest went into her hand, begging her to free his cock from his pants so he wouldn’t cream them. Walking around with cum-crusted pants would be a very questionable way to begin his quest. It was just a bad look.

She didn’t let him talk, just tightening her hold over his mouth. “Shhhh!” she rasped. “Shut up! Shut the fuck up, or I’ll shut you up!”

The constant stroking of his bulge with her naked womanhood made his eyes cross in bliss. She moaned loudly, then gasped, catching herself. She looked around—probably to verify that no one heard her, and kept right on going, now covering her own mouth with her other hand as her eyes rolled back into her head. She did not slow her rolling hips.

Lemmy realized that at some point, his hands had come to rest on her ass, and they were there still. With her so distracted with bliss, he decided to take action himself. He reached down and unbuttoned the top of his slacks, the knuckle of a finger bumping into Amarieth’s pussy.

She gasped, looked down at him, and nodded frantically as she made eye contact. Evidently, the plan of just grinding on him until her climax had been abandoned. She raised her hips off of his body long enough for him to whip out his cock, and she let out a hot sultry gasp.

“It’s so pretty!” she rasped excitedly. “And huge!”

He tried to respond, momentarily forgetting he was being censored by Amarieth’s hand. A muffle came out—the sound of his voice making her furrow her brow in irritation at him.

“You really want to be punished, don’t you?” she growled. “I said shut up.” She lowered herself back onto his crotch, this time letting the length of his unclothed shaft part her lower lips, slick and dewy with arousal. She ground up and down the entirety of his cock, not letting it penetrate her, just sliding across it horizontally: a pussyjob.

“I can’t get the brand yet,” she moaned, “Not before Amali… Anyway, I’m just going to have to cum all over your cock like this... Will it be too loud?”

Lemmy squinted as his brows arched, unsure of how he was supposed to answer that when she didn’t want him talking. They would find out together soon enough.

He, too, was feeling pleasure mount inside him. Fuck, he really wanted to take control and just thrust his dick inside her—but this was nice, too. And he couldn’t beat the view of a Wood Elf grinding his cock with her lady-lips, he thought.

She groaned. “I’m gonna soak your dick—I forbid you to wash it, Lemmy!” she whispered harshly. “You can’t fucking wash it until someone licks my cream off of it! Promise me!”

He grunted something into her palm, which could have been anything. She lifted her hand up for a second, so he repeated himself. “Sure thing, I promise,” he whispered, nodding vigorously.

“Too loud!” she squeaked. Then, she moaned way louder as she picked up the pace. “I’ll riddle you with arrows if you ever tell my sister about this,” she whined. “You’re my toy. Say it.”

“I prefer to think I’m a communal toy,” he countered with a playful wink.

Scowling, she took hold of his face with one hand, squeezing his cheeks together so he couldn’t speak. “If you don’t say what I want to hear, then you don’t get to speak. You had better start giving me the attention I deserve, Understand?”

Lemmy’s eyes darted from side to side as her hand adjusted to cover his mouth again. “You’d better do it, Illemitar Liminelda, or you will taste my fury. That means looking at me the way you do them, touching me, holding me—all of it. And when you do it,” she leaned close and whispered in his ear, “I’ll pretend I don’t notice it, or maybe even don’t like it. But I do like it, Illemitar. I need it, and you’re going to give it to me. Say you’re my toy.” She lifted her hand.

“You’re my toy,” he grunted, fighting the urge to chuckle. Fuck, she was… something else.

She growled at him. “Good enough. I’m gonna cum, Illemitar!” She bit down on his shoulder hard to shield her screams of pleasure, her muffled cries reverberating into his flesh. Her warm, sinewy body trembled atop him, quaking with the force of a powerful orgasm that tore through every fiber of her being.

Lemmy wasn’t far behind. That pain mixed with pleasure sent him over the edge, and he blasted out several warm, thick ropes of gooey jizz onto his own abdomen.

“You need to clean it up,” he said, pointing at the mess on his belly.

She relented her bite, still shivering from pleasure as her gaze met his hesitantly. After a moment of consideration, she descended hungrily on his abdomen, licking and eating his cum like it was the best meal she’d had in years, a delicacy.

“Good toy,” he whispered as he stroked her hair.

She gave him an irritated look that tried and failed to hide how much she loved him calling her that.

A few hours later, after the unusual sexual encounter with the Wood Elf, Lemmy woke again with Yenni’s head on his chest. He looked around—Amali was on the opposite arm, and Amarieth a few paces away, tangled in her own blankets. For a moment, he wondered if his encounter with her had been a dream, but when he reached down and touched the crotch of his pants, he felt lingering moisture there from where she bestowed the over-the-clothes portion of her pussyjob.

It definitely happened.

Now, with post-climax clarity, he wondered what the consequences of that tryst would be, if any.

He stirred, gently shrugging Amali and Yenni off of him as he stood.

“It’s too early,” Yenni groaned, refusing to open her eyes.

Amali yawned, stretching like a bobcat. “Five more minutes,” she said.

Soon enough, though, word had apparently spread that he had awoken, and an entourage of fairies flew in with a simple breakfast of fruits, smoked meats, and mushrooms. Just about everything up for offer was brand new to Lemmy and Yenni.

Lemmy watched Amarieth carefully as they ate—her acting was good. Yes, she did look his way and blush a few more times more than normal this morning, but she hid her feelings very well from the others. It was practically diabolical.

As they finished up their breakfast, Yenni looked at the twins expectantly. “Now what?” she asked. “Can we begin our journey?”

Amali and Amarieth shared a very uncomfortable glance. “I think he’ll be here soon,” Amali said.

With a puff of shadowy, billowy black smoke, the Gloom Lord appeared out of nowhere, sitting on his throne. “Who will be here?” he asked.

“Gloom Lord,” Amarieth said, bowing deferentially. Her sister followed the gesture. “I think Lemmy is ready to begin his quest. I think he knows enough.”

“He knows nothing—I’ve hardly spoken to him,” the archfey argued before waving a hand dismissively. “No matter, he may begin his journey with my blessing—not that he would have required it.”

Lemmy’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Really?”

“You may leave at any time, but I’d like to offer a little bit of insurance to you in your travels—a guarantee of your safety and independence,” the Gloom Lord continued.

Amarieth and Amali both swallowed in unison. “You mentioned this to us last night. I am sure we’ll be fine on our own—”

“Calm yourselves,” the Gloom Lord said, “She’s already with us.”

With that, a hint of black mist wafted in front of the archfey, and a newcomer emerged from the ether.

She was beautiful, but to say so was probably a waste of words, Lemmy thought. In the Sylvan Woods, he knew he would be hard-pressed to find someone who wasn’t beautiful. But she was unique, too. Her skin was green, similar to that of the Wood Elves, but the hue was distinct—decidedly less leaf green, more lime green, a tinge of yellow to it.

She had black hair kept in pigtails that spilled over her shoulders and a set of leather armor that covered most of her chest but left some midriff open. On the bottom, a matching set of leather armor was there, but it seemed more sexualized and less practical than what was on top, like leather panties and straps connecting to leather thigh boots like a garter belt. The boots were noteworthy to him, considering the Wood Elves went barefoot. Her irises were yellow, her ears long and pointed, but they were broader and flared out to the side a bit more than other elves and half-elves he’d known.

She was indeed not wholly elf but still distinctly of elven blood. The most interesting thing about her, aside from her twin daggers, was how short she was. She was taller than a goblin, but not by all that much. If Lemmy was standing, he supposed this woman would come up to his stomach.

“Grinda,” the Gloom Lord purred, reaching out and patting her on the head. “He is here.”

“This him?” she asked with a curt nod toward Lemmy.

“Yes, my pet. This is Illemitar, the last male elf in all of Middenheim,” the Gloom Lord confirmed, taking a singularly gentle tone with her.

Her nose twitched. “He smell good. Grinda like.”

“I’m happy to hear that, sweetheart. Your job is to keep him safe and make certain none of the elf queens kidnap and enslave him,” the archfey instructed.

“No worry, papa. Grinda keep male safe,” she assured him.

The Gloom Lord grunted. “You’ll have to forgive her Nornish; she’s far from native—being of goblin heredity; whatever spell you have activated to understand the elves around you won’t work on her.”

“I think it’s cute,” Lemmy chuckled, and the Wood Elves gasped at that. Amarieth seemed especially put off. Yenny, for her part, reached over and twisted his nipple, finding it in his tunic with impressive ease. “Aiieee—fuck!”

Grinda smiled. “Keep Illemitar safe. Illemitar keep Grinda warm. All happy. Yes?”

“Keep you… warm?” He asked as he rubbed the painful nipple.

The Gloom Lord met the elven man’s gaze. “It would mean so much to me if you could impregnate my daughter.”

Oh, here we fucking go, Lemmy almost groaned. The true motive comes out. He could tell from the gasps that Yenni made the same connection. The Wood Elves seemed to already know what was going on. “Is this why you’ve had a change of heart?”

“In part,” The archfey acknowledged, his fingers drumming impatiently on the arm of the throne. “It was among the items negotiated via the moon well last night. The details are unimportant.”

“I wouldn’t call that an unimportant detail,” Lemmy scoffed slightly. “Knocking her up is—”

“You can do it now,” the Gloom Lord suggested, standing. “You may make use of my throne, if you wish. I will excuse myself so you needn’t mind me. Upon my return, I’ll be sure to make a great deal of noise as I approach so as not to take you by surprise. A few hours should do.”

“Well, excuse me, sir,” Lemmy dared, holding up one hand. “This is happening a little too quickly for me. We’re just coming off of an arduous weeks-long journey and are about to set out on another one with just a single meal and night of sleep under our belts. I need time to process all of this.”

The Gloom Lord scowled, staring at him in complete silence for what felt like an eternity. “I see,” he replied calmly. “Very well. I suppose there is no need to rush. You may begin your mission, but once you are ready, seed my baby girl’s womb. I would prefer it if she were the first to conceive.”

“This is fucking bullshit,” Yenni whispered, both of her hands balled into fists.

Amali gripped Yenni’s shoulder as if to send a silent message. “This is for the best, Yennisa. The terms of the negotiation come out in our favor because of this.”

“What?!” Yenni shrieked, “He’s in love with me! I’m his best girl, for sure!”

Grinda stared at Illemitar like a steak and a tall mug of ale. The Gloom Lord eyed the bickering elf and half-elf, wondering if it would become a problem for his daughter. Lemmy had tested what he could get away with, holding the hand that he was, but he didn’t want to press it any further if he didn’t have to.

Amarieth nudged her sister. “I will fucking knock you out if you keep arguing in front of the Gloom Lord.”

“It’s not my fault!” Amali protested irately. “I’m just trying to explain to her that—.”

“Is everything alright?” the archfey asked cooly.

“Super,” Lemmy nodded, offering a quick thumbs up. “How important is it to you that Grinda is the first one to, uh, get the ol’ Womb Brand?”

“It would mean that I owe you a favor,” he said, bowing solemnly. “A favor from the Gloom Lord cannot be taken lightly.”

“No offense,” Yenni said, chiming in, “But in human lore, it’s often warned not to make a deal with a fey, as they always trick you.”

“No tricks,” the Gloom Lord insisted, holding his hands up to demonstrate his forthrightness. “No charades or wily machinations. I’ve exhausted all my political maneuvering with the negotiations. The queens would never forgive me after we’ve come to an agreement. I just… want to be a grandpa.”

“But why first?” Lemmy asked, noting how strange the word grandpa sounded coming from the archfey.

“Because a firstborn child has special significance to the fey,” Amali answered.

“The Wood Elf is correct—it would be a suitable honor,” the archfey said, bowing. He coughed, then turned his back suddenly. “Will you at least take her with you? You can think on the offer—you are under no duress or obligation. The remainder of the agreed upon terms will be unaffected regardless of your decision. I was adamant that it ultimately rest with you.”

“This is a lot to take in all at once,” Lemmy repeated, even as he felt the heat of arousal throbbing in his pants. Grinda was definitely attractive, and he did love banging shorter girls. He fucked a halfling once—the portability and toss-her-around potential could not be overstated. Grinda would offer a similarly fun experience but with the hotness of an elf and the wackiness of a goblin.

“How old are you?” he asked her. He always checked with shorter girls, just to make sure.

“How old Grinda? Seventy-two years,” she said, twirling a dagger.

“Well,” he grunted, blinking. “You look great. Not a day over twenty.” Apparently even Half-Goblins had ridiculously slowed aging.

Yenni whined noisily in his ear. “You can’t seriously be considering this?”

“What am I going to do? Run away?” Lemmy scoffed. “Besides, she’s part elf too.”

“No run,” Grinda said sternly, waving a dagger at them. “No run. Grinda find. Grinda bring back. Annoying, but easy. No run.”

“Now, Grinda, sweetheart,” the Gloom Lord said, “If he wishes to leave, then he may. Do not be greedy.”

The goblin-elf scowled, mentally struggling with the apparent departure from her normal approach.

The elves looked at Lemmy, helpless. “What do we do, sister?” Amali asked.

“Let him breed the mongrel,” Amarieth whispered. “It’s the smart play. None of us need the first brand, but allowing the archfey’s daughter to have it for a favor would be an incredible boon for Lemmy.”

“We don’t serve Lemmy,” Amali noted. “We serve the Woodland Queen.”

Amarieth blushed. “I—I know that, of course. But having the Gloom Lord’s favor will help ensure Lemmy’s safety. He’s right about the Dark Elves and the Dusk Elves.”

“Fine. And after that, he can seed our wombs, too,” Amali sighed in agreement.

“Right,” Yenni said. “Yes, seed our wombs. Good idea.”

Lemmy looked at Yenni. “You, too?”

Yenni actually rolled her eyes at him. “Hi, Yennisa Kindheart, nice to meet you. I’m obsessed with your dick and want your babies—those are two facts everyone should know about me.”

Lemmy laughed, tussling her gossamer-white hair. He set his sights on the goblin-elf and grinned a feral grin. “You know what? Fuck it. This is a hell of a way to start my quest, but I am struggling to see downsides.”

Grinda grinned. “They watch?”

Amarieth blushed yet again. “I mean, we can’t let him out of our sight.”

“I just wanna see his cock,” Amali breathed heavily.

Yennisa tapped Amali’s shoulder. “Oh, sweety, get ready. Lucky we’re in a fucking forest cuz’ your leaves are gonna be soaked when you see that work of art.”

Lemmy cast a fake look of offense at Yenni. “Don’t objectify me.”

“Welp, I’ll leave you all alone to get to know each other. Grinda, you know how to call me if you need anything,” the Gloom Lord said before vanishing into an umbral mist.

Then Lemmy turned back to Grinda. “Now that he’s gone, how about you let me see what I’m working with? I still maintain that I need a bit of rest, but—”

His voice trailed off when the goblin-elf dropped her leather top. Delicious, pert breasts with tiny nipples sat atop a torso that screamed of feminine perfection. Just a hint of ribcage was visible, making her ever-so-slightly thicker than the Wood Elves, and her abdomen was well-defined, with a cute belly button that swam in a six-pack sea.

Then she sauntered out of the lower half of her ensemble. A flawless bare mound of flesh ended in a perfect pair of pussy lips. He didn’t notice much of a glisten of arousal on her thighs, but she sure was eager.

“What think you?” Grinda asked, pinching a nipple to make it hard.

Lemmy nodded firmly. “I think we can make do.” Then he cleared his throat. “But get dressed—that can wait. Let’s get to the Silver Court and set down some roots before I get to breeding. Does that sound fair?”

Grinda blinked. “I already naked.”

Lemmy nodded. “Yes, I was too hasty. Uhh. Sorry about that,” he grunted, scratching his head.

“Show me elf cock. Never see before. Let see, I forgive,” Grinda argued smugly.

Lemmy looked awkwardly to see wide, eager eyes from all the elven girls around him—doing a double take on Amarieth, who had just gotten intimately acquainted with his dick the night before. Even Yenni, for that matter, who knew his cock like the back of her hand, was panting with anticipation. Honestly, only Amali and Grinda deserved to look excited, he thought. At least this is new to her.

He awkwardly dropped his pants, and his cock flopped free. It hung down just a bit above the knee—bigger than it had any right to be.

“So pretty,” Grinda said, her eyes glistening. “Like rainbowfall mushroom, but bigger.”

“It’s a hell of a pussy-puncher,” Yenni agreed, licking her lips. “You’re in for a treat if you come with us, Grinda.”

Lemmy looked over at Amali and noticed her crying. “What in the Targosh is wrong?!” he asked.

“It’s just so beautiful!” she said. “There it is—my whole future.”

Amarieth said nothing, even trying to look away.

“Now I’m feeling shy,” Lemmy mumbled, and he hastily pulled up his pants. All four of the girls groaned in unison, some of them swearing or uttering unspeakable curses.

“How am I supposed to go questing with wet leaves,” Amali groaned, looking down at the dripping foliage she wore over her womanly bits.

“Same way I do with a wet priestess robe,” Yenni said. “But here, I’ll cast Purify on the girls’ clothes really quickly, if you want. That’ll turn your girl goop to water, and it’ll dry on its own without being too sticky.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Yenni,” Amali said, wiping a tear.

“Do you need it, Amarieth?” Yenni asked.

Amarieth didn’t answer.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Yenni said, nodding.

“...You can use it on me if you want,” Amarieth muttered, looking away. “It’s fine.”

Grinda got dressed again, and soon they were ready to depart. “So, what’s the plan?” Lemmy asked.

“The plan is simple,” said Amali. “Head north by northwest until we end up in the realm of the Woodland Queen. We’ll check in with her, and then we’ll go to the Silver Court and deliver you to Golariel.”

“I don’t like the way you said ‘deliver him,’” Yenni commented. “He’s not a letter. He’s my husband.”

“I am two hundred percent not your husband,” Lemmy groaned.

“Are too, and my point stands either way,” Yenni said. She faced the elves again. “If we’re doing this your way, we need to know that Lemmy has final authority over his own fate—or is the Gloom Lord right about you?”

The twins looked at each other anxiously. “We’ll need to talk to the Woodland Queen. But of course, I agree,” Amarieth said.

“I do, too,” Amali noted. “But… the queens are skeptical. They do not think an elf raised amongst humans can be worth much—as such they might not respect his own will. But we’ll vouch for him.”

“If push comes to shove, will you help him escape?”

Amarieth gasped. “That sounds like treason!”

“Answer the question,” Yenni commanded firmly. Lemmy just listened and watched all their faces with keen interest.

“...Yes. We will help him escape. Grinda can extract him, and we can pretend to pursue but make it easier,” Amarieth said.

Amali gasped this time. “Amarieth! I’m surprised at you!”

Amarieth shrugged. “Do you disagree?

“I do not,” Amali admitted. “But we must be careful. Hopefully it doesn’t come to this.”

“Agreed,” Amarieth said. “I don’t think it will. Perhaps we can propose that they test him on his wit and skill? Once he proves the value of his own autonomy, they are sure to give him some agency.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Yenni said. “We can smooth out the details on the move.”

Grinda grunted. “Too much talk.”

Lemmy chuckled. “I tend to agree with Grinda. We’ve been standing here long enough. Let’s get a move on.”

With that, the party left the court of the Gloom Lord, heading into the thickets of the Sylvan Woods to test themselves against the perils and mysteries that lay ahead. Lemmy had only one thought as they departed. “Man,” he grunted, “We’re gonna need one big-ass bed.”

Chapter 9

Illemitar and his companions traveled the Sylvan Wood on foot. The young elf found himself luxuriating in the competitive attentions of his beautiful party members as they proceeded along the path. Amali and Yenni, in particular, remained a fixture to each of his arms for much of the way into the Woodland Queen’s realm.

Amarieth and Grinda were at least a degree more dutiful and aware of the surroundings at all times than the other two women, and that was certainly a good thing. If Lemmy had to contend with four at once, it would likely be more than he could bear. Furthermore, they would be a disastrously easy target for ambush, he mused.

As such, though, they were well guarded. As amorous as Amali was, she kept one eye fixed on the forest most of the time, scanning for surprises. Amarieth, at the forefront of the party, trailblazed and scouted, and Grinda was watching their back.

Yenni, admittedly, was less worried about the threat of being ambushed or taken by surprise than the others, though she had little context for any need to worry. No one shushed her, and no one corrected her noisy flirting with Lemmy.

Lemmy himself tried his best to remain focused and even wanted to go ahead and scout for himself. That idea was shot down by Amarieth at once, however.

“You must be joking! You’re our precious cargo. Do you think we’d let you go ahead on your own? What if a Dusk Elf huntress or Dark Elf warrior maiden swooped in when our guard was down and took you?” she said.

Lemmy was skeptical of that. “I’m sure I’m big enough that it won’t be too easy for them,” he pointed out.

“Size doesn’t matter,” she said, shaking her head. Her mouth dropped open as her eyes went to his groin, and she clearly wanted to qualify her statement further, but she thought better of it.

Amali, however, picked up the slack for her. “It doesn’t hurt, though,” she said with a giggle and wink. “Well—at least, I think so. I guess I don’t know for sure.”

Lemmy looked at the two of them, his eyes darting from one twin to the other as they strode through the forest. “How old are you two? You’re virgins?”

“We were children when the pox came. I suppose we are forty-seven years old by human reckoning,” Amarieth said. “So yes, we’re… inexperienced.”

“Damn,” he said. “Yenni and I are so much younger than all of you.”

Amarieth’s eyes drifted back to the path. “Yes and no—we’re all practically children to the queens. The youngest of them is well over one thousand years old—”

“Except the Sun Queen,” Amali added. “She’s quite young, too.”

“Yes, she’s strong, though,” Amarieth noted.

“Not too wise, to be honest,” her sister argued playfully.

The two of them chuckled, clearly in on their own little joke.

Grinda spoke up with a grunt. “Shouldn’t speak bad of queens. Careful.”

Amali threw a sideways look at the goblin-elf. “What does it matter to you? You’re not even an elf.”

Grinda’s sharp eyes looked at Amali with an expression that seemed to be trying hard not to react, but Lemmy pegged the hidden emotion instantly. Amali’s statement stung her.

“She’s a half-elf, which is also great. And she’s the only Half-Goblin I’ve ever met, which makes her special,” he said softly. “And it’s good advice, regardless.”

“You like half-elf?” Grinda asked him.

“Some of my very favorite people are half-elves,” he chuckled, ruffling Yenni’s hair. “I’d give my life for Yenni. Her being mixed doesn’t bother me in the least, just as your mixed race doesn’t bother me.”

Yenni cooed and squeezed his arm. “You always know what to say.”

Amali looked unimpressed. “Only a pure elf can give you happiness as a pureblood yourself,” she said. “You belong with us, not her.”

Lemmy frowned at her. “That’s a backward way of thinking, and it frankly annoys me.”

Amarieth didn’t react. She kept her eye on the path ahead, but Amali winced. “You can’t be serious,” she said. “Yennisa is a strong priestess, but—”

“Hey, if she’s good enough for Tellithri to bless her with divine magic, she should be good enough for you,” Lemmy said sternly.

Amali’s mouth flopped open and closed a few times as she tried to think of a retort, but she couldn’t.

Grinda smiled. “Illemitar wise. Grinda like Lemmy way of think.”

Lemmy grinned at her, but the longer he looked at her, the more his face turned to one of worry. “You’ve been badly treated by the elves, haven’t you?” he said.

She looked away, her grin faded. “Grinda treat elves bad, too.”

“She hunted and killed Wood Elves and Dusk Elves in the name of the Gloom Lord,” Amali reminded him. “She’s a murderer.”

“Thieves. Trespassers. Spies,” Grinda spat defiantly. “Always scheming!”

“Liar!” Amali shouted at her, pulling herself off of Lemmy’s arm. “You’re an elf killer.”

Grinda let out a little growl, but Lemmy inserted himself between the two of them. “Hey. We’re on the same side now, or are we not?”

“You can’t trust her. We shouldn’t have brought her along,” Amali said, her lips curling in a snarl.

Amarieth looked back at them. “Sister, calm down.”

Yenni, though, perked up. She raised her hand, and a translucent-white dome exploded out of her, enveloping all of them. The space contained within it felt strangely ethereal with how it washed out all color and banished shadows.

“What is this?” Lemmy asked.

“Dome of Truth,” she said. “In this dome, no one can lie to anyone else inside of it.”

Lemmy’s eyes widened, impressed. “That really is a powerful spell,” he said. “Will it drain you?”

“If I hold it for too long, yes,” Yenni admitted with a wave of her hand. “So, if you have things to sort out, people, do it now. Make it snappy.”

Everyone shuffled awkwardly in silence, but Lemmy didn’t want to waste the opportunity.

“Amali, why did you get so clingy with me so quickly?” he asked. That was one thing that—well, it didn’t bother him, per se, but it made him question her. It made him wonder. “Ever since the Terropods, it more or less came out of nowhere.”

She shrugged, but her mouth told a different story. “You’re strong—stronger than I imagined, and handsome. You look like the old paintings of the ancient elven heroes, and you fight like an elf ten times your age—or more. When I saw you in battle, it made me realize—if I didn’t fix myself to you now, I’d lose you. I would likely never find a mate, not in a century at least.”

“The same is true of all elven women of this generation,” Amarieth added. “As irritating as it is to see her so needy, I certainly understand it. If we aren’t endeared to you soon, you’ll most assuredly be taken from us completely by more powerful elves.”

Lemmy didn’t want to out Amarieth for her hidden feelings, so he didn’t ask her anything for the time being. He puzzled over what to say or inquire next, but Grinda interrupted, appearing in a black mist in front of Amali for another question.

“Why you hate me?” she snorted.

“You killed my friend,” Amali scowled at her, “Ten years ago, Denariel.”

Grinda nodded, frowning. “Denariel… I did. I remember her. She stole from Golden Brook.”

Amali gasped. “It can’t be true!” she said.

“What’s the Golden Brook?” Lemmy asked, clueless as to what they were talking about.

“The Golden Brook is a narrow stream that runs through the Gloom Lord’s lands—its waters are blessed, but if non-fey get too close to it, they can pollute it, killing its magic for a century,” Amali explained.

“Denariel kill Golden Brook magic,” Grinda said. “I warn her. She shoot me.” Grinda pointed to a scar under her shoulder. “I fight back.”

Amarieth had stopped focusing on the path ahead. By this time, they had all stopped moving completely. The two Wood Elves looked at the Half-Goblin in confusion.

“Why would Denariel do such a thing?” Amarieth asked. “It’s so unlike her!”

Grinda shrugged. “No time to ask.”

That sentence hung over them like a dark cloud because they knew what it implied.

Yenni chimed in with her own question. “Do you think the queens will respect my marriage to Lemmy?” she asked, looking at the Wood Elves.

In unison, they replied, “No,” which made the half-elf gasp.

“I’m sorry, Yennisa—I think the odds of your marriage remaining intact once we get to the Silver Court are very low,” Amarieth said gloomily. “They will likely want you out of the picture, though we will try to advocate for you if that helps.”

“It is possible the Dark Queen will claim authority over you, given your heritage,” Amali added. “There is a strong chance you will be separated, and there won’t be much we can do. We will try our best,” she insisted, “as we promised. I know Lemmy will become difficult for them to control once they attempt this, and we can make that case loudly.”

“A few things to correct,” Lemmy interrupted, “We are married, and—” his voice trailed off as he realized what he’d just said. He tried again. “Yenni and I are married. We are not not married. Yenni and I, Illemitar, are not officially… unmarried.” He paused, realizing the magic was preventing him from telling a lie. “Fuck.”

“You said you wanted to correct a few things, but that was just one thing, repeated many times,” Amali observed with a musical giggle.

“And there was no correction,” Amarieth noted with a laugh.

Yenni was beside herself with joy. She danced around the forest floor, twirling her robes like a ballroom skirt and singing. Amarieth grinned in spite of herself, and even Grinda, not privy to the greater context of what had just happened, had found some amusement in the half-elf’s gloating.

Lemmy sighed. “Well, fuck,” he said. “The only other thing I was going to say was just that if they try to separate me from Yenni, I’m going home.”

The Wood Elves nodded silently, and Yenni made a flying leap into Lemmy’s arms. He groaned as he caught her.

“Yen, you’re not as light as you think you are,” he grunted.

Yennisa gasped. “I am sooo fucking light! I’m like a feather!”

“A really heavy fucking feather, then, Yen,” he muttered as he delicately set her down.

“I just want to point out that none of that exchange read as a lie,” Amali giggled, the white dome still around them.

Yenni doubled down her offense, her pink eyes flickering angrily at her handsome hubby. “Illemitar, how dare you bully your own wife!”

Amarieth cleared her throat, and everyone looked at her. “This may be a bit out of nowhere, but I have to know: Grinda, why does the Gloom Lord call you his daughter? You are clearly of no actual relation to him.”

Grinda’s face went dark. “Grinda not know.”

They all stared and blinked at her, waiting for more of an explanation than that, but she just shook her head.

“Grinda really not know. When Grinda small, Grinda already remember call Gloom Lord papa. Grinda no remember time before.”

“You never asked?” Lemmy wondered.

“Of course Grinda ask,” she said, rolling her eyes. She twirled her daggers between her fingers as she spoke. “Grinda ask many times. Grinda not know mother or blood father.”

Lemmy grinned at her, an idea flashing in his mind. “I have a favor coming with your dad once I knock you up—would you like me to spend it on asking about your ancestry?”

Grinda’s eyes went huge at the generous suggestion. “You do for Grinda?”

“Lemmy, I think that’s a bad idea,” Amali said, wrapping herself around his arm again. “Don’t promise that.”

He shrugged. “Assuming things work out and we’re all safe, why not? If I don’t need to use the favor on protecting you all, then I really don’t have much of a personal use for it.”

Amarieth looked at him with a cocked head and inquisitive eyes full of hidden yearning. “What is it that you want, then, Lemmy?”

He grinned. “Ohh. that’s a good question. I’ll answer, and then everyone else has to. Agreed?”

Everyone grunted their agreement to those simple terms but kept their eyes fixed on the full-blooded male elf in front of them. A cold breeze wafted through the air, which made them shiver.

“I guess, more than anything else, I just want an adventure,” he said, thinking of Tomund back in Salmon Brook and the life in the human world he left behind. “But I also want to be a responsible friend and lover to those people I prize the most. Easy.”

They nodded, smiling. The girls all seemed satisfied with the response.

“What do you want, Yenni?” Lemmy asked, turning to the purple-skinned half-elf. She blushed.

“I want to be with you until I die, and then in the next life, too. I want to remove the curse so I can love you properly as a wife should.”

Amarieth laughed. “The fact that you can say this as your greatest, unguarded desire means you already love him, Yennisa.”

But Yenni shook her head sadly. “Alas, the witch’s curse is too strong.”

The rest of the party, Grinda included, shared confused and defeated looks.

Yenni turned to Amali, grinning. “Okay, your turn. What do you want?”

Amali shrugged. “I want Lemmy to love me.” She gasped, her cheeks flushing. “Wow, I tried to speak less plainly than that—Yenni, your magic is strong!”

“Surely you want more than that?” Amarieth added, prodding her.

Amali nodded. “Of course, yes. I want to help lead the Wood Elves into a new age and be respected as an elder one day. I want the Woodland Queen to acknowledge me as… useful, I guess. Respected.”

Amarieth cleared her throat, thinking very carefully about how to word hers. “I want to use—I want to be with—” Each time, she seemed to catch herself about to say something that was too much of a confession. She stopped and started several more times, her gaze fixed on Lemmy. “I want… to be happy.” She settled on that.

“That was as dodgy as anything I’ve ever seen,” Yenni pointed out, crossing her arms. “More details, Amarieth.”

Amarieth looked away. “I don’t fully know what I want. But I have new feelings I need to come to understand. Feelings that make me feel unlike myself sometimes. I want to master those feelings, I guess.” She sighed, perhaps relieved that she hadn’t said what she almost said.

Finally everyone turned to look at Grinda, ready to let poor Amarieth off the hook. The Half-Goblin stared at her feet, then up at Yenni. “Grinda want friends.”

“Awww,” Lemmy grunted, reaching out and playfully pinching her cheek. Grinda suddenly grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back in a single motion. “Okay, we’re not there yet,” Lemmy observed. “Noted.”

“Grinda sorry,” the Half-Goblin muttered as she hurriedly released Lemmy from her grasp. “Grinda not know nice touch.”

“What about your dad?” Amali asked—some sympathy toward Grinda showing on her face for the first time. “Doesn’t he hug you?”

“Sometimes he pat Grinda head,” she shrugged. “Sometimes he squeeze hand—but not much.”

“Well, I’m the king of hugs,” Lemmy declared, cracking his knuckles. “If you ever need a hug, I’ve got you covered.”

“Really?” Grinda asked, her eyes going wide. “Just like that?”

Lemmy laughed. “Of course. It doesn’t cost me anything to dole out hugs. Free hugs, I say. By Targosh, I’ll give you a hug right now if you want.”

Grinda appeared to be thinking about it as though it were a very important matter worthy of deep reflection. “Okay,” she grunted, pumping her fist in determination as her cheeks went a richer shade of green. “Grinda try hug.”

“No breaking my arm this time,” Lemmy jokingly scolded her. He threw his arms open and took a step forward. Yenni and the twins watched on in silence.

“Grinda not know how to begin,” the goblin-elf muttered.

“Just, like, take a step toward me and reach around my back. Pull me against you, and let me do the same, until our bodies are pressed together,” Lemmy said, thinking carefully about how to explain the delicate mechanics of a hug to the uninitiated girl.

Grinda followed his instructions like they were gospel, performing every step one at a time. She shivered as her head pressed against his stomach—the height difference between them was rather amusing, Lemmy thought with a chuckle.

“Can I pick you up?” he asked.

“Equal time!” Amali complained. “However long you pick her up, you have to pick me up for the same duration!”

Lemmy ignored her, and he didn’t acknowledge Yenni, either, as she called out a similar demand. Grinda didn’t say anything, but her head jerked in a nod, so he reached down and lifted her up so that her chin could rest on his neck. The sexy goblin-elf wrapped her legs around his abdomen and her arms around his shoulders. She shuddered and sighed with plain, unshielded contentment in her squeaky, feminine voice.

“Alright, there you go,” Lemmy said, trying to set her back down, but it was proving to be more difficult than he bargained for. Grinda was gripping him tightly and started growling when he moved to set her back on the ground. “Okay,” he grunted. “A few more seconds, I guess.”

“Grinda live here now,” said the goblin-elf, nuzzling his shoulder. “This Grinda new home.”

Yenni let out a scoff of indignation, and Lemmy knew he had to be firm before drama unfolded. “Grinda, we need to keep moving. It’s time to—”

His remark was interrupted as an arrow sped past them, landing in a tree trunk inches away from Grinda’s head.

The goblin-elf reflexively misted out of his arms, reappearing in a shadow in front of Lemmy in a battle-ready stance. Everyone else went frantic to see what was the matter and identify the source of the stray arrow that had almost been fatal, each preparing themselves for a fight.

A couple of dozen skeleton warriors walked out of the morning fog in the distance, emerging from the dense foliage of the forest. Their bones and ancient armor rattled and glittered dimly as they passed through a ray of sunlight that pierced the canopy of the forest, their heads bowed in the wake of the death that they meant to bring. Some had bows, others spears; some carried shields, while still others had no weapons or armor to speak of. They marched forward in a silent, grim formation, poised to attack.

“Why didn’t you warn me about skeleton warriors in the woods?” Lemmy complained as he swiftly freed the orcblade from his hip.

Getting no reply from Amali and Amarieth, he turned to look at their faces and saw nothing but stark horror. They’d been caught completely unaware, but there was more to it than just that.

“What is going on?” Yenni asked, who then began chanting something else, preparing to replace the Dome of Truth with her protective magic.

Grinda growled. “Wood Elf bones.”

Amali finally spoke up. “There hasn’t been necromancy in these woods since—”

“Since the Poxbringer disappeared!” Amarieth finished the thought.

“What does that mean?” Lemmy asked, swiping an arrow out of the sky that was meant for Yenni.

“It means that these are wood elven males that died in the plague,” Amarieth continued. “And it means the Necromancer is back.”

Chapter 10

Without so much as a second glance backward, Illemitar hurled himself at the skeletons bearing down upon them. Within an instant, he felt Amali at his right and witnessed Grinda hazing into the throng of skeletons in a black wisp of ethereal fog, separating a bony skull from the spine that held it in place.

He’d fought undead creatures before, and knowing the others were there alongside him was comforting. Bladed weapons weren’t nearly as effective against skeletal enemies as blunt weapons, but the heft of the orcblade allowed him to make up the difference in efficacy quickly. As the weapon struck his first target, he felt a strange numbness run through his hand. The split second of distraction allowed one of the skeletons to advance on him, recklessly bringing its rusted blade down on him. Undead lacked a sense of self-preservation, caring little about the bodily harm they risked with such reckless attacks. It was a blessing and a curse. It often presented openings, but it allowed them to commit their full strength to every strike the way the living often wouldn’t.

The blade intended for his shoulder hissed through the air a mere half-inch from his body as his footwork, honed over many years of adventuring, took over without him giving it a second thought. He brought a knee up into the monster’s midsection in reply. He delivered it with enough force to knock the wind out of a flesh-and-blood person, but against a skeleton, the intent was entirely different. Forced to double over from the impact in order to stay on its feet, the skeleton presented its neck to him just long enough for him to bring the heavy blade up, through it and down into the unprotected skull of another. With a twist and a flick, he jerked the orcblade from the ruined skull into the breastplate of a third.

Amali and Amarieth shrieked at the sight, and Illemitar immediately understood why—these were wood elven bones. They could have known these men themselves, though he doubted they recognized them in this state. He felt awful at the sudden epiphany but could see no other recourse as he brought his foot up and shoved the skeleton off his blade where it had become wedged in its armor. Grinda took advantage of the monster’s imbalance, throwing her body behind its legs, where it went tumbling backward over her. She finished it off with a savage combination of swings.

His guilt was somewhat assuaged when Amarieth herself shot a magical arrow into the eye socket of another skeleton attempting to flank him, causing it to explode into dust and debris. A chunk of bone hit Lemmy on the cheek, but there was little he could complain about. A bit of friendly fire in this situation was the least of his concerns. He glanced down at his hand holding the weapon, furrowing his brow in confusion as the numbness persisted.

He heard a girly growl behind him and stole a glance over his shoulder to see Yenni gnashing her teeth as she thrust her hands forward violently. A white wave of divine energy surged out from her, toppling a row of skeletons to the ground even as portions of bony limbs crumbled into powder. Lemmy wasted no time in stomping the skulls of several under the heel of his boot, just to be sure. Chances were, though, that the divine energy she’d channeled had been more than enough to put them down for good.

As he was doing this, though, one wily bone warrior stabbed him in the leg, causing him to accidentally bite his tongue in surprise. With a brief flourish, he parted the skeleton’s hand from its wrist, shuffling away from it with the thin blade of the sword in his calf. The numbness in his hand traveled up his arm slowly, causing the grip he had on his weapon to slacken a little. Without hesitation, Lemmy pulled the ancient elven blade from his leg with his other hand and thrust it down into the monster’s skull. It wasn’t enough to finish the thing off, but it was enough to pin it in place as he stomped down on it with his good leg.

Two more skeletons descended on him as he backpedaled, holding both weapons at the ready. This was beginning to feel personal. Through his peripheral vision, he could see more of the things disengaging from battle with the others, ignoring them entirely to make their way toward him. It left some of them open to attacks from behind, but not enough to stop them rushing him.

Dual-wielding the orcblade and thinblade, Lemmy was able to parry enough of the skeletons’ attacks to corral them in a way that provided the Wood Elves and the Half-Goblin additional opportunities to pick them off. The undead’s attacks grew more savage with each passing second, using skeletal fingers as claws and clacking mandibles to bite. They were practically swarming him now; within moments, he was going to be overwhelmed. Suddenly, he went tumbling backward, catching a glimpse of Yenni scrambling to heal the wound in his leg.

“Y-yen!” He exclaimed a split second before falling atop her in an awkward sprawl. She offered him only a panicked, wordless yell in response.

The throng of skeletons grinned down at them with their ivory-white countenances, two of them impaling him in opposite shoulders with spears. He fought the urge to evade, worried that his movement would expose Yenni to their assault instead, so he opted to take it fully, gritting his teeth through the pain. The weapons jerked violently from side to side, maneuvering Lemmy into position for a killing blow. Yenni stared up at him, face frozen in horror.

Amali let out a shriek of fury as a surge of magic rose around like a storm. A second later, a deafening blast of thunder slammed into the group of skeletons, pulverizing the old bones within the ancient armor and scattering them along the forest floor. Lemmy slipped back to the ground without the skeletons holding the spears to support his weight. His ears throbbed from the blast of sound, but with the group providing him cover before being destroyed, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been.

Lemmy looked up, the smell of loam from the forest floor filling his nose. Seeing no more skeletons, he moved off of Yenni slowly and checked his three grisly wounds. One spearhead was still lodged in his right shoulder, and the pain of the wound from the other screamed through his head. Not to be outdone, the wound in his calf joined the chorus of agony.

Wordlessly, with panicked eyes, Yennisa scrambled to her knees and started chanting a prayer.

“Illemitar!” Amali gasped as she, too, crouched down beside him. Soon, all four of the women were there, looking on with worry furrowing their brows.

Yenni interrupted her healing magic to scold the other girls. “Do you mind!? Can I get some room to work here? I’m still the healer, aren’t I? Go…watch the perimeter or something!”

“Perimeter? We’re worried, too,” Amarieth said solemnly.

“Be vigilant, not worried,” Yenni grunted as she got back to her task, gently holding her hands about an inch above Lemmy’s calf to bathe it in healing light.

It turned out that Yenni was right. Several more skeletons skulked out from the trees a few minutes later, moving silent as death. Lemmy knew that if their guard hadn’t been up, they may have been caught unawares.

“You have good instincts for combat,” he muttered to her, reaching slowly for his sword.

Yenni ignored him, her eyes singularly focused on his wounds. She bit her lip as she removed the spearhead from his shoulder. It hurt like a bitch, and Lemmy wasn’t too proud to show it. He swore, and Yenni uttered an apology but kept on working.

“He’s losing too much blood!” Yenni cried in frustration, even as she healed him. “He’s going to be weak!”

“I feel fine,” Lemmy said. “Relax.”

“Try standing up,” Amali suggested over her shoulder as she swept her hand in front of her, coaxing the thick root of a tree to swipe a few of the skeletons aside, hurling them through the air in pieces.

“After I get this wound healed,” Yenni said, shuddering as she looked at her hands—entirely painted with the blood of her lover. “I will kill you if you bleed to death,” she growled.

“Coming from anyone else, that threat would mean nothing,” Lemmy said, “but coming from you, it’s oddly intimidating.”

“That’s right, baby,” she said as holy energy sealed another gash, “I’ll follow you to the Celestial Palace to punish you if I must.” She didn’t grin through her joke, though, her face remaining stolid. “There,” she said, “all done. Wounds all closed.”

“Try standing,” Amali repeated, her sister peppering a nearby skeleton with magic arrows. “Can you do it?”

Illemitar stood, wobbling obviously. A wave of vertigo hit him hard, poised to topple over if so much as a gentle breeze arrived. “Easy peasy.”

“You’re lying,” Yenni pouted, her lip quivering. “You’re weak.”

“Not too weak to mop up a few more skeletons,” Lemmy responded roguishly.

Suddenly, their attention was attracted to strange shuffling sounds behind them. As they turned around to face the direction that the skeletons had come from, they each readied their weapons and spells for another battle, but no battle came.

Instead, Lemmy noticed the Wood Elves relax as trees bent, grass pressed flat to the ground, and vines crept to clear a path. The forest bent and warped before opening like the double doors of a big city tavern, making room for something—for someone.

“We’re saved,” Amarieth sighed with relief, lowering her weapon.

“She’s here,” Amali said.

“Who’s here?” Lemmy asked though he had a hunch. “It’s the Woodland Queen, isn’t it?”

And there she was, her skin a deep green that was richer and more vibrant than even those of the beautiful twins at his side. Her hair was as red as blood and curled down to her thighs. She wore a bodice of golden leaves that spilled out into a gown. Barefoot, beautiful, and as tall as Lemmy himself, she glided like a ghost toward them completely unarmed, like she had not a care in the world.

Her face had hints of her age—not in the form of wrinkles, but in her eyes, mainly—they told stories of trauma, pain, love, and loss. They had seen a thousand songs sung, witnessed the deaths of thousands of friends and enemies, and bore the weight of the world with strength and unyielding determination. Her other features, such as her full lips and her distinct thin-ridged nose, only complemented the regality of her stature and the way she carried herself.

He couldn’t distract himself from those eyes, though—even from so far away, Lemmy could feel them stabbing him with the same visceral sensation that the knife in his calf had left him with. The force of her scrutiny was palpable but not oppressive. He felt oddly comforted to be the center of this creature’s attention for any stretch of time.

“Amali, Amarieth, my beloved nieces. You have failed in your task, I see.” The Queen’s voice had a strange weight to it that enveloped the bodies of all who heard it despite the fact that she was speaking in a conversational tone.

“Wh-what?!” Amali gasped. “He’s here! We brought him, Aunt Effy!”

“Where is the mark on your belly? How have you not yet received the Brand?” she asked, standing on an embankment surrounded by a pile of wood elven bones that she made no time for. “My instructions for you were clear.”

“We had no opportunity!” Amariel objected. “How could we conceive when we were in constant danger? We fought off Terropods, Ologs, and now skeletons. Aunty, we were abducted by the Gloom Lord himself!”

The Queen turned her attention to Grinda, narrowing her eyes at the goblin-elf. “You,” she said, “You are not welcome in these lands without your father by your side. Begone.”

Grinda said nothing as she stared back at the queen placidly, without a hint of fear.

“She’s with me, or I’m with her,” Lemmy said. “Everyone in my party is as responsible for me as I am for them. They’re non-negotiable.”

“And the half-elf?” the queen asked.

“Hi,” Yenni said, bowing deep. “My name is Yennisa Kindheart—”

“I know your name, half-elf,” she said, cutting the priestess off. “Why is she here?” she asked Lemmy again.

“She’s with me,” he reiterated. “Challenge that at your own peril.”

The Woodland Queen smirked faintly, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “You are adorable.”

Her eyes went up and down the length of him, from head to toe, several times. “You are comely, too. Good. It will make the women more agreeable to the task.”

“Aunt Effrien, can you please help us get to the Silver Court?” Amali asked.

“Your job is done, my nieces. I will take him from here. You may return to your posts along the northern border.” The queen dismissed them with a graceful wave of her hand.

They looked at each other awkwardly and then to Lemmy. “Umm, Aunty, we were thinking we’d like to stay with Lemmy. We know him well by now, so we can facilitate his transition and introduction to the other queens.”

The Woodland Queen grinned. “My nieces have caught feelings, is that it?” she said. “It’s hardly surprising—he’s the first male you’ve seen in most of your life, after all.”

“He’s not just that,” Amali said, shaking her head and pressing her fist into her thighs. “He’s special, really. He’s strong, kind, and brave.”

Amarieth just nodded in silent agreement.

“He is to be shared among all elvenkind. I cannot have you attempting to stake a claim or win his heart.” She looked over at Yenni, frowning. “I can tell we already have one problem on that front.”

“Aunty, please,” Amarieth begged. “Please don’t make us—”

“—defy you,” Amali said, her gaze hardening.

The queen tilted her head slightly to one side. “That would be unwise,” she warned darkly, adjusting her regal posture for the first time. She seemed to ponder their words, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips as if in deep thought. “Well—I suppose you do still have yet to receive the Brand. You can stay with him until Golariel has taken him in and declared how he shall be divided amongst the queendoms.”

Lemmy cleared his throat, “About that,” he said, and the queen looked at him, her face telling him that she absolutely expected to be annoyed by whatever he was about to say. “I’ll be deciding my own, umm, itinerary. And the company I keep.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Of course, we anticipated you would say something like this, and on the surface, you might think it’s a reasonable request. Tell me, do you know whose bones these are?” She gestured toward the ground, crouching down and lifting up a skull.

“Wood Elves,” he grunted with a nod.

“Just Wood Elves? Wrong. This one was my cousin, Finror. I’ll tell you an interesting fact about Finror, Illemitar.” She said, locking his gaze with her own. Assured that she had his full attention, she continued. “He’s dead. He’s been dead for half a century. He should not have been walking around this morning, Illemitar. Do you understand?”

He nodded, but cautiously, not entirely certain he knew the point she was trying to make. She sighed, but she didn’t glare rudely at him or roll her eyes. She just stood up and explained with all the patience a queen must have. “The Necromancer is back. Which means we have even less time than we thought. If we don’t begin impregnating all the elves we can to cure the pox and strengthen us all, casting emotions and love aside for the time being, then we’re likely to go extinct as the Necromancer preys on our weakness.”

“Wouldn’t it be wiser to wait until after the Necromancer is defeated to get an entire society pregnant?” Lemmy asked.

The queen smiled at him, her expression soft and amused. “You know nothing about elves, though, you are one, so let me explain. The Womb Brand is a magical thing—it increases the power of an elven woman while she is with child. It’s a means of defending our unborn. As a matter of fact, we will become an undeniable force once we’ve been seeded.”

He nodded cautiously, his thoughts beginning to make the connection. “I see,” he said, and he did. “So, once we have an army of empowered elves—”

“—We can fight back against the Necromancer. And there’s one more thing you should know, Illemitar Liminelda.” It was poetic, in a way, to have a force burgeoning with the essence of life to fight back against a master of undeath.

“You get stronger with every elven woman you’ve impregnated, too,” the queen explained. “It used to be an elven law that a man could not mate with more than two women throughout his life for this reason, which greatly slowed the rate of our expansion. Now we are in an awkward position. You will have to impregnate seven hundred women. We have no idea what you will become when it’s over. So, you see. We need to have some control over you early in the process—for our good, and for yours.”

Lemmy sighed. “Understandable, but it doesn’t change my mind. I can try to keep the pace, but I don’t want to be bossed around, and I won’t be separated from Amali and Amarieth, or Grinda for that matter, and if you try to take Yennisa away from me, expect retribution.”

The queen sighed, but she didn’t frown. “Frankly, I’m happy that these matters are out in the open so soon. They’ve clearly been on your mind. Very well. I will return to the Moon Well on my own to deliver this message to Golariel, to let her know your terms and ask her to respect them.”

“Thank you,” he said, bowing low, a little surprised with her acquiescence.

“But in return for such accommodation, we need your bravery and your focus,” the queen pressed. “You see now why the Necromancer was after you today. He failed his first attack, but there will be more—we need to begin as soon as possible. I suggest you rest in my court, brand my nieces, and resume your journey a few hours later. Then you must begin in earnest if we are to have any hope of survival.”

“Do you think Golariel will agree to his terms?” Amarieth asked.

The Woodland Queen considered her answer before answering. “Golariel will listen to my recommendation—the other queens are a different matter. I suspect they will try something eventually. Be careful, all of you.”

Everyone nodded or grunted their understanding, and within a few hours they found themselves in a Wood Elf village. It was beautiful, Illemitar thought, full of charming treehouses and rope bridges that connected them. It bustled with dozens of gorgeous wood elven women wandering the premises on their daily business. Some of them stopped to gasp and gawk at him as he walked into view.

“Take the lift and rest here,” the Woodland Queen instructed, motioning to a wooden platform attached to a complex array of rope and pulleys. “I don’t wish for you to be bothered as you perform your crucial task, so I will instruct the other women in Highleaf Village to leave this house alone.”

Illemitar nodded, feeling his blood boil as he realized exactly what ‘important task’ she was referring to. He looked over at Amarieth and Amali and noticed them awkwardly stealing looks back at him, shifting their weight from one leg to the other.

And then there was Grinda. He hadn’t exactly promised the Gloom Lord he’d brand her, but he knew it’d be stupid not to. So, doing the math, Lemmy realized that he was going to need to fire three potent loads into three separate wombs within the hour—and then almost immediately have to hit the road and head to the Silver Court. It was as equally exciting a prospect as it was daunting.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, nodding his head with the sort of defeated determination that someone takes on when they become fully resolved to their fate.

“Well,” he said, looking at the lovely ladies in his company, “Let’s make you mommies.”

Chapter 11

Lemmy had a hell of a task ahead of him. There was no denying that any straight man in his right mind would envy him for this duty, but at the moment, he felt more intimidated than anything else.

“Are you sure about this, baby?” Yenni asked. “Say the word, and I’ll run away with you.”

Lemmy smiled at her but shook his head. “Nice try,” he said, “but no. I’m doing this. At the very least, I owe this much to Grinda and the twins.”

“Grinda first,” the Half-Goblin said, tugging the cuffs of his tunic.

He nodded, looking at Amali and Amarieth, who offered no protest by this point. It was a foregone conclusion. “Let’s talk more about order,” he said, nodding, watching carefully the expressions on the others’ faces.

Amarieth seemed the most anxious, fraught with worry or some close cousin of that emotion. Lemmy could guess why—she really seemed to cut loose in a freakish way when things got intimate, and she probably was worrying about what her sister would think if she witnessed it.

Amali looked by far the most eager. She pouted and ground her thighs together, impatiently scratching her shoulder as her gaze stayed fixed on Lemmy. The poor woman was practically crawling out of her skin with desire. “Hurry up, then,” she said. “Sis and I are next.”

“How about we do one at a time,” Lemmy suggested, sparing a thought for Amarieth’s feelings on the matter. Keeping everything separated for now would give her time to warm up to the idea of people being aware of her particular tastes. If not, it would at least give him time to come up with a solution of his own while allowing him to pace himself.

Amarieth started to nod, but was cut off by Amali. “No way, Amarieth would be lost without me. We lose our virginity together.”

“That’s really weird,” Yenni said, cringing slightly.

The more shameless of the two Wood Elves blinked. “Is it?”

“It really is, sister,” Amarieth groaned, rolling her eyes. “Actually, I would prefer to go it alone if that’s alright.”

“Well, order is going to determine some stuff,” Lemmy continued. All eyes were on him now, their heads cocked to the side like puppies in suspense. “I just mean—three girls in a row is a lot. I’m not sure the third one will get pregnant. My dick might be coughing up dust by that point.”

“So I’ll need to go along with the final girl,” Yenni stated authoritatively.

“Why’s that?” Lemmy asked, suddenly surprised by that out-of-nowhere declaration.

“Acolyte of Tellithri, strongest young divine caster from our region? Helloooo? I can cast fertility spells to make your final cumshot filled with baby-juice. The last one will be just as virile as the first.”

Illemitar’s eyes widened dramatically, pleasantly surprised by the sudden revelation. “You just turned out to be way more important to my mission here than I even expected,” Lemmy laughed, placing a hand on her arm. “I never even considered that, but you’re right!”

“Normally, I wouldn’t have to attend with you to use such a spell, but because I haven’t been preparing for any long-duration magic of this sort, I’ll have to cast a weaker, instantaneous version of it at the moment you, uh, blow,” she grinned. Lemmy grinned back.

“Nice. So, this is the way it’ll go—Grinda first, to secure the Gloom Lord’s favor, followed by Amarieth, then Amali. Yenni will be there with Amali and me,” Lemmy explained, gesturing with one hand to each of the women in turn.

Amali’s face scrunched up in disgust at the idea. “I don’t want to share Illemitar with her,” she said. “She bullies me.”

“I bully you? Hardly. You’ll like me soon, you’ll see,” Yenni winked cheerfully. It seemed a little suspicious to Lemmy, considering her earlier attitude toward the others, but perhaps she was finally getting on board with things now that she was going to play a more active role in them. “I can use other spells to enhance the experience, for instance.”

Grinda tapped Yenni on the arm, and the half-elf looked down at her with a cocked eyebrow.

“Can Yenni make Grinda hole… bigger?” Grinda asked, no doubt fretting over the sheer girth of the elven male’s massive rod compared to her tiny Half-Goblin-sized opening.

Yenni frowned sympathetically. “No, but I can numb some of the pain—but that will also numb the pleasure. I could add a little elasticity, or I can try to temporarily shrink his penis—”

“I forbid you!” Lemmy shouted, shaking his fist suddenly. “It stays exactly the way it is!”

Yenni shrugged, “— but that’s all I’ve got.”

Grinda nodded, eyes darting between the two of them. “Grinda a little… worried.”

“You should be. He’s got a fat buddy,” Yenni chuckled almost threateningly.

“It’s like a hill orc’s cudgel but smoother,” Amarieth mumbled with a far-off look shimmering dewily in her eye like she was lost in a happy memory. “You don’t stand a chance. He’ll destroy you.”

“Grinda have second thoughts,” said the Half-Goblin beauty as she looked at her feet in defeat. “Maybe this bad idea.”

Yenni sighed, smiling weakly at the nervous woman. “Well, I don’t mean to put any pressure on you, but if you want to make your dad happy, then it’s now or never, right? If you put it off, you won’t be the first. If you say no entirely, then that’s that.”

Grinda paused for a few thoughtful seconds and then nodded, curling her thin hand into a fist. She looked up at Lemmy. “Grinda bear it. Yenni, numb it,” she said, looking at the acolyte with renewed determination.

“Okay, hun,” Yenni smiled at her, tugging on one of her black pigtails playfully. “Maybe I should get twintails too. They look super cute on you.”

“My look,” Grinda grunted defensively. “You have tight ponytail. Grinda have twintails. Don’t steal Grinda thing.”

Lemmy chuckled. “She has a point, Yen.”

Yenni frowned, her eyes narrowing into thin slits. Then her groan became a grin. “I love when you call me Yen.”

“Yen, Yen, Yen, Yen,” Lemmy said, winking playfully.

“Now I hate it.” She paused, looking up at a tree as if lost in thought. She sighed amorously. “No, wait, I still love it.”

“But you don’t love him, right?” Amarieth asked sarcastically, her arms crossed as she cocked an eyebrow. She’d learned to be just as skeptical of the idea as Lemmy was.

“Curse that witch!” Yenni shrieked, punching a tree dramatically.

“The plan is settled then,” Amali said, deciding to move on immediately from Yenni’s outburst without acknowledging it. “First Grinda and her tiny hole, may Tellithri bless her soul, then Amarieth, so she can be alone, then me.”

“That sounds about right,” Lemmy said, beginning some elaborate stretches to limber up. “You ready to give it a try, Grinda?”

Grinda watched his odd ritual with dark fascination. “Sex with Illemitar….acrobatic?”

Lemmy laughed mid-stretch, his arm posed awkwardly behind his head. “It’s a habit I picked up because of Yenni,” he explained. “She never lets me go after only one shot, so if I don’t stretch beforehand, my odds of pulling a muscle seem to double with each round we go.”

Grinda nodded. “Illemitar very wise.”

They wasted no time crossing the nearest rope bridge to their assigned treehouse, Yenni leading the way. Lemmy only had a moment to admire the craftsmanship of the structure. Every piece of wood looked like it had been magically shaped or alchemically treated to maintain an organic look, even as the house wrapped around the trunk of the staggeringly large tree. Many of the windows were set with stained glass that twinkled in the sun, casting prismatic colors across the interior. The front door was rounded, keeping in line with the organic look of the building, and let into a large semi-circular room filled with comfortable-looking furniture and draped in thriving plant life.

There was a small kitchen area to the left, a lavatory to the right, and a single elegantly carved door on the far side of the room. Without a word, Lemmy led the group in crossing the smooth wooden floor with its mossy rugs and pushed the door open. The little room they entered had nothing to it except a large soft bed at the center, draped in bear fur and big enough to accommodate the three of them with ease. Even the green leaves hanging in thick curtains around the rest of the house were understated here, allowing for plenty of sunlight to come into the room from a solitary window.

“This will do,” Lemmy nodded. “Well, then—” but before he could finish the statement, Grinda was already stripping out of her leathers. Lemmy’s eyes bulged as he watched her, and he only remembered to strip himself because Yenni started taking off his shirt for him.

“Pretty body,” Grinda remarked, eyeing his chest. “Thin, but muscled. Grinda like.”

Lemmy muttered something about ‘pretty’ not really being the right word as Yenni stripped off his pants, freeing his mammoth meat from its trouser prison. Lemmy felt as though it had been an eternity since the last time he got properly laid, though his bout with Amarieth came close—frustratingly close.

As this began, Lemmy was barely conscious of the twins leaving to go outside and let Grinda have her turn. Some of Lemmy’s frustration bubbled to the surface just then, and his eyes narrowed and fierce as he prepared to avail himself of the shortstack Half-Goblin’s deliciously erotic physique.

She was lying on her back, her arms and legs all pointing outward at the same angle—it seemed like someone had perhaps coached her briefly on what sex looked like, with the standard marital position as the default she was taught. Lemmy almost chuckled at the sight, but he didn’t because it was still sublimely submissive and sexy in a way, and he didn’t want to make the poor thing feel even more anxious than she already was.

“I’m going to crawl onto the bed now,” he told her. “I’m gonna get between your legs.” He turned his head. “Yenni, are you working on the spell?”

She nodded. “I’ll need to keep one hand on her at all times, or it’ll end.” She reached out and grabbed Grinda’s shoulder, squeezing it. A little white glow emanated from the crease her hand made on the goblin-elf’s skin.

Lemmy crept into position. Grinda’s eyes went huge and round as his tip neared her entrance—it was already clear that it would not be an easy fit by any stretch of the imagination.

To start, he rubbed his cockhead up and down her slit for a minute or two until the warmth and moisture smeared across the head got him nice and lubricated. He got down on his elbows and kissed it, letting his tongue prod its way inside her before withdrawing and focusing on the nub of her clit.

Yenni took her hand off Grinda’s shoulder, deciding that during the foreplay, at least, Grinda could experience all the pleasure that Lemmy could give her. Especially if it would lubricate her further.

That decision turned out to be a big success. Grinda immediately started squealing, and she bucked upward with her hips so fast and suddenly as full sensation returned to her that Lemmy thought she might have knocked a tooth loose for a moment. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d suffered a dental injury while giving oral sex, and it likely wouldn’t have been the last. Yenny had once described his technique as pure artistry.

Within moments, she was squirting surprisingly thick, fragrant streams of girlcum onto his face. Yenni watched with a grin, rewarding Grinda with a playful rub of one of her nipples.

Lemmy happily took the shower of lady fluid on the lips and chin, considering it something of a badge of honor that it’d happened so soon and so suddenly.

“You’re probably wet enough now,” he said, looking at her for permission to continue. She offered it with a nod, and he was back on top of her, positioning his cock up against her womanhood again. This time, though, he pressed against her entrance, and Yenni gripped Grinda’s shoulder. The goblin-elf relaxed instantly.

From there, it was a slow, careful process, just getting Illemitar inside of her. He had to take a few short breaks and use his fingers to stretch her out, inserting one, then two, then three, and finally almost managing to sink four inside her, but he couldn’t make it down to the knuckle.

Grinda’s face showed pain and discomfort, but not that much. Just hang in there, he thought. It’ll get better eventually.

He tried again with his cock, managing to ease his cockhead inside her with relative ease. Grinda let out a happy yelp of triumph as she felt it sink inside her wet folds.

“Lemmy inside Grinda!” she exclaimed.

Lemmy sighed contentedly as he felt the warmth of Grinda’s wet, hot sex enveloping the first third of his shaft. He wouldn’t be able to get much deeper than that today, but this would do.

He began a series of long, slow, careful strokes, letting her adjust to his imposing girth. Thanks to Yenn’s numbing spell, she seemed to be coping with aplomb but didn’t exactly look like she was having the time of her life. Seeing her look so vacant as she started to plow her did a number on his ego, even if he knew he had no reason to feel that way.

He took it as a personal challenge. He would not be emasculated by a simple spell. He would make the goblin-elf cum, even with her lowered levels of sensitivity.

Yenni seemed to sense what he was plotting. “Lemmy, take it slow, hubby,” she cautioned him, but he bit his lower lip and stared with intense, burning eyes into Grinda’s face, hoping the heat of his gaze would also do its part to light that fire inside of her loins.

Slowly, he worked himself deeper and deeper until he entered her as fully as he could, given the limited depth of her love canal contrasted against the length of his dick. He kept this up for longer than he thought he could manage—she may have been numbed, but he wasn’t, and fuck, she was so wet and tight that she was seconds away from pinching his orgasm out of him at this rate. Thankfully, at about that moment, he was gifted with the gratifying sight of Grinda starting to sweat with excitement and strain, gasping and muttering incoherently under her breath as she tried in vain to hold the position underneath him.

“Grinda stretched out,” she grunted. “Can release spell now.”

Yenni’s eyes went wide. “I can’t do it gradually. Are you sure you know what you’re asking for?”

The goblin-elf nodded, and Yenni removed her hand, letting the spell fizzle and wrapping her fingers around the base of Lemmy’s cock, the part that couldn’t sink all the way down inside of his partner. She pumped it eagerly as only she knew how to, with just the right level of squeeze and twist.

But by the time that happened, Grinda was howling like a beast in heat, vibrating and shaking and writhing and twisting with the shock of Lemmy’s gifts.

Lemmy took more pleasure in the sight of Grinda losing her mind with pleasure than he actually did from her heavenly tight cunt, and with that, he expelled fat wads of cum outward from his shaft. He filled her up so completely that globs of milky white spunk streamed out of her pussy lips like a waterfall of jizz—a jizzfall.

Her eyes rolled back into her head, and her body shook as a pink glow on her flesh appeared in the shape of a strange yet familiar symbol. It was an outline of a heart with sparrow wings, and at the center was a sword that didn’t look dissimilar to his own. Now that he saw it, he recognized it immediately—the symbol that was written with his name on the card where his parents found him.

“There it is!” Yenni gasped, seemingly excited at first by what she beheld. “Your first Womb Brand!” She paused for a long moment as Lemmy gaped at the sight. “Okay, now I want one,” she announced with a stormy, jealous frown.

A horn sounded in the distance, cutting off any response Lemmy would have provided and disrupting his thoughts.

“What was that?” Lemmy grunted, pulling out of Grinda’s mega-tight pussy with more than a little sadness. His head turned in the direction of the sound, his ears ringing slightly from the intensity of it.

Grinda sat up, still breathing heavily, panting as ragged as a dog on the beach. “Some emergency,” she grunted. “Grinda know this horn.”

With that, the two Wood Elves practically broke down the door to the room in a hurried huff, panting almost as severely as Grinda. “Lemmy!” Amali shouted, “We have to go now!”

Amarieth’s eyes fell on Grinda. “Good—at least we have her to show the queens. The Womb Brand—it’s just like I imagined.”

Amali’s eyes refocused, staring at the mark on Grinda’s naked belly. “It’s beautiful,” she gasped. Then she stomped her foot. “Awww fuck! When will we get ours?!”

“No time for that now,” Amarieth said, shaking her head furiously. “We have to go.”

“Go where?” Lemmy asked, tossing Grinda’s clothes to her, sliding his own pants on one leg at a time.

Amali was the one to explain. “To the Silver Court—now! The Eternal Tree is burning!”

Lemmy had no idea what that meant, but it sounded bad, and apparently, it had something to do with him if they were dragging him off to deal with it. He strapped his orcblade to his hip, buttoned up his tunic, and struck a heroically confident pose.

“Alright then. To the Eternal Tree. Catch me up on the way. And girls?”

“Yes, Illemitar?” Amarieth asked breathlessly.

He smiled a dragon’s hoard of a grin at her. “With me, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Yenni grinned. “We know that, baby. But… your cock is hanging out of your fly.”

Without so much as a downward glance, Lemmy fixed the aforementioned problem, and the five of them ran off, descending the treehouse and heading into the woods in the same direction as several other Wood Elves.

Lemmy didn’t know what the Eternal Tree was. He didn’t know what the meaning of the symbol on Grinda’s Womb Brand was. He didn’t even know which cardinal direction they were headed in at that particular moment in time, but for some reason, after what had just happened with the shortstack hottie, he knew one thing:

He was stronger.

Chapter 12

Lemmy felt like ten thousand silver coins. Of course, to some degree, he always felt like that after a good romp with a slammin’ hottie, but this was different. This wasn’t just a morale boost or a rush of hormones, it was something else entirely.

He found that as he sprinted through the forest with the Wood Elves, Yenni, and Grinda, he was keeping up with the natives way easier than he had before. In fact, he was outpacing them.

“Slow down, Lemmy!” Yenni shrieked at him, panting breathlessly. “Do you even have any idea where we’re going?”

Lemmy stopped in his tracks, looked over his shoulder at his lovely half-Drow companion, and slapped the backs of his thighs. She got the message, grinning as she hopped onto his back for a ride.

“I have no clue where we’re going,” he admitted, “but I bet they do.” He nodded in the direction of a mob of concerned and panic-stricken Wood Elves that were also sprinting in the same direction. It seemed like an ‘all hands on deck’ situation. “Anyone want to catch us up?” he asked.

Breathing hard, Amali answered. “The Eternal Tree is the source from which elves get their magic and immortality!”

“And it’s burning?!” Lemmy asked, trying not to sound too alarmed.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Amarieth added, and he relaxed somewhat, his buttcheeks unclenching. “The tree can’t die—not really, anyway. But if it’s damaged, our magic is weakened while it recovers.”

“Why would someone damage the tree?!” Yenni wondered.

“To make a move later,” Lemmy grunted, “to take advantage while the elves are reeling.”

Yenni gasped into his ear as she clung to his back. “Then we’re rushing to the Silver Court not to defend the tree—”

“—but possibly to defend the queens,” Amali said, confirming her suspicions.

“The Necromancer?” Lemmy suggested.

“Maybe,” Amarieth answered apprehensively. “Very likely, given everything that’s happened recently—but it could be the Pact Maidens, too.”

Lemmy sighed. He’d just gotten here and already he was losing track of all the people and political factions involved. It was hard to keep up with. “Pact Maidens?”

“A clan of about a dozen renegade elves that believe that the only way to preserve the Sylvan Wood is to exterminate all elves,” Amali explained, huffing and puffing as she ran by Lemmy’s side.

“Fuck,” Lemmy grunted. “Elven eco-terrorists?”

Little was said after that as the party hit their stride. Alongside the other elves bounding through the forest, they flew past exotic giant mushrooms, glowing fungi, thick curtains of vines, and tree trunks thrice as thick as an ogre’s torso. But as impressive as the flora was, it was nothing compared to the Eternal Tree itself. The ethereal glow of the tree illuminated the forest long before they saw it. The plant life within the vicinity grew wilder and more dangerous looking, providing a natural deterrent against a mass of infantry marching on the tree. A small group, like their own, would have far less trouble, however. Many of the plants shed their own ethereal light as well, adding to the already eerie atmosphere.

“This must be it,” he grunted. “Right?”

“Right, almost there now!” Amarieth said.

As they got closer, Lemmy was able to make it out more clearly. The trunk of the tree was blazing white, whiter than the purest snowfall. The size of it was gargantuan, and as he approached, he realized that the tree pierced the canopy, standing taller than a castle tower, the most immense and breathtaking tree he had ever seen in his life. Golden fruits hung from its branches, shining like tiny suns. From the trunk itself, blue tongues of mana-flame licked forth, shooting in a hundred directions.

And then there was the fire—difficult to make out against the brilliance of the tree’s shining white features, but it was there, orange and yellow and ugly by comparison. Pale gray smoke seemed almost black against the contrast of the tree’s blazing glory. Arcs of pressurized water sparkled and glistened by the light of the tree, projected magically from the hands of numerous elves whose job it was to handle such emergencies.

“What do we do?” Lemmy asked, but it was a pointless question. As he looked around, he realized that they weren’t really expected to do much of anything. The scramble to reach the tree wasn’t to assist in extinguishing it, but to be on guard during the period of vulnerability it presented. Dozens of elves—High Elves and Wood Elves mostly—stood vigilant, weapons drawn in some cases, but otherwise idle.

Still more elves ran past the group, moving swiftly to a point beyond the tree itself. “There,” Amali said, pointing them out. “The Silver Court is near. We should check on the queens.”

Lemmy nodded absently, suddenly very aware of just how hard his pulse was racing. After running so hard for so long, he felt the badump-badump of his thudding heart threatening to rip through his chest. He panted, his throat dry, but found himself coming down from his elevated state relatively quickly. It was a remarkable recovery time, even for him.

They walked from there—everyone obviously more than eager to do so from the ragged looks on their faces. The rush was over—the damage suffered by the tree seemed fairly tame, or so the muttering nearby elves had Lemmy believe, and there had not been any attack as of yet. Guards were up and scouts had been sent out, but there didn’t seem to be any cause for alarm.

Lemmy glanced around at the majesty of the Silver Court’s greenery on all sides. This part of the forest was teeming with life so lush and verdant as to be entirely alien to the world itself. The space didn’t make sense to him either, warped and winding with a depth and vastness housed within an illogically confined area. Staring into the trees, he almost felt like he could fall through the abyss between them, despite how dense and close everything was.

There was a path that they followed with ghost-white bricks laden with mossy green life. It led them straight toward a great stone archway set with ancient entangled vines and a bas relief of a moon and stars. At the center of the archway, a single massive door opened wide, a great shaft of saffron light pouring out of it.

Inside, the trees were so dense and close together they resembled organically curving walls that made up the grand chamber beyond. At the center of the chamber was a pedestal upon which sat a bowl filled to the brim with crystalline water. Easily fifty elven women were there, talking amongst themselves with worry and wonder, until Lemmy and his companions walked through the door. Then, everything went deathly quiet.

Lemmy could almost hear the sound of jaws hitting the ground as everyone in the room noticed the last male elf casually wandering in.

Yenni was still on his back, and Illemitar felt her shiver at all the stares. No one spoke for what seemed like an eternity, but what was probably more like a few seconds. Finally, the twins exchanged looks, each silently daring the other to be the one to speak.

“Behold!” Amali shouted dramatically.”The last male elf—and he’s a breeder!”

She shoved Grinda forward, who had been dead silent since they entered the High Elf Queen’s domain. She grunted with terror as a room full of High Elves and Wood Elves gasped at the sight of her Womb Brand.

Out from the crowd stepped the most beautiful of all the elves present—the one that Lemmy recognized instantly as Golariel. A soft serene smile graced her delicate lips. With her hands clasped gently in front of her, she let out a soft sigh. “Welcome, Illemitar,” she said, her voice like a sweet summer song. “We have been waiting so long for your return.”

“I feel very crowded right now,” he remarked, eyes darting quickly around the chamber.

Golariel’s smile faded like morning fog. “Of course, my deepest, sincerest apologies.”

Turning her attention to the rest of those in the room, she raised both hands in the air and spoke with a deep, booming voice. “All but Illemitar the Last Male and the Queens of the Sylvan Woods must leave now. Stand watch, sisters, for darkness is afoot.”

The only audible response was the shuffling of feet as the female elves rushed to fulfill the High Queen’s orders. After they filed out of the large archway, the room felt far more manageable. He wondered if the claustrophobic foreboding had something to do with the magical auras emanating from each of them. Perhaps his keen sense for magic had been overwhelmed.

Golariel noticed that Yenni still remained fixed to Lemmy’s back, and that the twins and Grinda did not excuse themselves, either. She smiled at them and spoke again. “I’m afraid what we must say to Illemitar is for his ears only. You may wait for him outside.”

Yenni frowned. “I’m his wife—where he goes, I go.”

Lemmy decided to let that one go and not argue the point.

“I see—but I’m afraid I must insist. There are security concerns, and frankly I do not know you and cannot vouch for you to the other queens.” She gestured behind her. A few other figures loomed in shadows, watching, silently judging.

“Lady Golariel,” Amali said, stepping forward and bowing low, “I only wish to beg that we be allowed to continue defending Illemitar. My sister and I would like the permission of the queens—”

“We shall discuss his accommodations and security with him and the other queens later. I’m afraid time is of the essence, as you know.”

Amali and Amarieth both whimpered in unison. “Of course, Lady Golariel,” Amali said, sniffling and stepping back.

“Now go. The fey girl, too,” Golariel said, waving off Grinda. Grinda made a confused look to be called such a flattering title, but before she could ask any more questions, the twins took one of each of her arms and started dragging her to the door. Yenni followed with a pout and a wave back at her so-called husband.

“We’ll wait for you, Illemitar!” Amali said.

He just grunted at them, too nervous even to smile or wave goodbye.

With them gone, three more shapes stepped out of the shadows. Lemmy had a good guess as to who they were from reputation alone.

On the left, behind Golariel, stood the grinning, fanged visage of the Dusk Elf queen, Lady Opheliel. Her pale ash-gray skin looked eerie under the moonlight but not nearly as unnerving as her solid black eyes with red irises. She wore a curve-hugging dress the color of blood and that matched her wavy red hair. In her hand sloshed a golden goblet that dripped red liquid down one side of its lip. She was slender, looking deceptively youthful, her skin so smooth and perfect it was almost hard to look at. When she smiled at him, he made out two vampire fangs in her mouth. Her nails were long, sharp, and painted crimson.

Next to her, almost elbow to elbow, was the black leather-clad Dark Elf queen, Isodre. Her white hair was braided down to her waist and looked like spider-silk under the moonlight—her skin was somewhere between slate gray and blue. Her purple eyes shone mischievously as she shot him a devious grin. She was the only elf wearing boots, a stark contrast to the bare feet of the others.

Then there was an elf that was even slightly taller than Illemitar, her skin rippling with muscle and glistening with sweat like she’d just finished a grueling workout. Her flesh was a luxuriantly rich and earthy brown, and her hair jet black with thick curls that spilled out in all directions except the front where it was held in check by a golden tiara. She wore leather elven battle armor, dyed red, with shining bangles on her wrists and neck. A massive sword rested on her hip.

Queen Effrien was apparently not there yet, as she was the only one of the queens not revealing herself at the moment. Lemmy also recalled that the Beast Elves had no queen to speak of—so aside from the Woodland Queen, this was everyone.

“Illemitar Liminelda,” Golariel began, “there is too much to say and so little time for it to be said, but first we must offer our thanks.”

Lemmy nodded cautiously, watching the plotting Dark Elf and Dusk Elf queens with suspicion out of the corner of his eye.

“The oracles who speak to me in my dreams have spoken to me about you,” Golariel continued.

“I hope they say nice things,” he grunted. The Dark Queen giggled, her voice rich and husky. Fuck. He already liked her. That was going to be a problem.

“Oh, honestly, Goli, darling,” the Blood Queen said, rolling her eyes. “The fucking gravitas gets old very fast—and I’m two thousand thirty-two.”

“You look amazing for your age,” Lemmy murmured, honestly surprised at the number.

Again, the Dark Queen laughed. “He is already funnier than any other High Elf I’ve ever met.”

Golariel shot a pointed look back at her. “Actually, that’s why we’re here.”

“Because of my sense of humor?” Lemmy asked, addled.

“No—because you aren’t a High Elf,” Golariel said, eliciting a gasp from the Blood Queen and literally no one else.

There was a pause as Lemmy looked down at his pale, decidedly high elven-looking hands.

“Golariel, you cannot mean to suggest—”

“—Yes,” she said, “He is a primordial—directly descended from Tellithri.”

“How is that possible? And how can you be sure?”

“We wondered for so long how any males could survive, and for years we thought they all died—well, they did. Lemmy—how old are you?”

“A little over twenty years old,” he shrugged. “Why?”

“The last recorded birth of an elf in the Sylvan Woods happened over four decades ago,” Golariel said, looking at the other queens and not at Lemmy. “He was sent to us by Tellithri himself.”

Lemmy was shocked by the news—floored, really, so he stayed silent.

It was the Queen of the Sun who spoke. “What bearing does that have on anything?” she inquired.

“I’m not quite sure,” Golariel admitted, “but having him so directly linked to God himself is indeed significant.” She turned back to Lemmy, eyeing him from head to toe. “His comeliness is indeed divine, is it not? I wouldn’t be surprised if he has many gifts.”

“I’m pretty good at fighting,” he remarked faintly.

The Dark Queen scoffed. “To think we could let such a treasure be wasted on the battlefield.”

Lemmy frowned. He wasn’t sure why, but the idea of never adventuring or fighting again seemed wrong to him, even considering the alternative lifestyle he was being expected to fulfill.

“Actually,” Golariel said, “I’m afraid that’s exactly what must be done.”

The other queens looked at her incredulously. “You must be joking—he is our last chance at salvation. According to Effrien, skeletal assassins have already been dispatched to kill him, and you mean to send him into the enemy’s open, waiting arms?” the Sun Queen scoffed, fuming with indignation.

“I’m afraid I must insist,” Golariel argued. “Do not misunderstand me—he will be required to seed us all first, but do not forget that with each Womb Brand he creates, he, too, will grow stronger. We have always needed to limit how powerful a single male is allowed to get, but now we are in the opposite situation. Empowering him could turn him into the god of war and sex that we need him to be—if we are to prevail against Nestori once and for all.”

Illemitar looked around, feeling the swelling might of each of the women in front of him. The strength of their mystical auras seemed as though they could knock him backward at any moment. He was out of his depth, and they were saying things he only barely grasped. Nestori, Womb Brands—these were all very new concepts to him, and here they were coalescing into his destiny before his eyes. It was all so much to come to grips with at once.

“I—” he fumbled his words a few times. “I don’t want to be separated from them,” he said. He cleared his throat, quickly adding, “Any of those I came here with. They’re all important to me.”

Golariel smiled and looked back at the other queens. “Illemitar, your adoration for your friends is enchanting, but, that is the least of our concerns—”

“And once you lay with me, you’ll forget them all,” Opheliel promised.

“Ohhh, lay with us,” corrected the Dark Queen. “It’s been centuries since you and I have broken a man together.”

“Do not break our one male,” Golariel scolded them, tutting and digging into them with a scorching look of irritation. “I swear—”

“But we must wait our turns,” the Sun Queen affirmed. Lemmy cocked an eyebrow at that. It didn’t sound very queenly.

Golariel nodded. “Yes—we must make sure there are no issues with the other pregnancies. Illemitar, please rush to seed the wombs of the Wood Elves—the fey girl isn’t enough of a test to be certain.”

“A test?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

“You are the first primordial any of the queens have met, save for me. We don’t know what will happen to a pure elven woman when you impregnate her,” Golariel explained carefully. “Eager as I am, we are in murky territory.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously to slits. “So you want me to… test it on other girls first?”

Golariel caught his rising tone. “Relax—they won’t die, but there may be complications in the first week or so as the brand fully sets in—watching and observing will help us to prepare the masses. The last thing we can handle now is having the queens and warriors all out of commission at once with pregnancy related debilitations that could have been prevented or adjusted for. Your Wood Elves gladly accept this honor, and would not complain even if they knew the risks.”

“Then why not tell them?” Lemmy asked.

“Because your lineage must remain a secret—you’re already a big enough target. The Necromancer’s desperation may yet grow if he knew the truth, assuming he doesn’t,” she explained further, “and he might make use of ancient magic to draw you out—magic that you alone are susceptible to.”

Illemitar took a step forward, scanning the queens carefully, trying to read treachery on their faces but found only desperate, powerful women. “What else do I need to know?”

“So much,” Golariel admitted, “but for now we’re just glad you’re here. The next step is to seed the Wood Elves as Lady Effrien has dictated and wait. If that goes without issue, then the wholesale breeding may begin.”

Wholesale elf breeding certainly had a ring to it, Illemitar thought. But there was one more thing. “I have this,” he said, lifting the orcblade off his hip. Finally a chance to have the thing assessed.

Golariel raised an eyebrow curiously, taking the blade in both of her hands. She studied it for several long moments as the other queens looked on impassively.

“This is Gorbag,” she said, her face somewhat twisted with recognition, “I remember this blade from the Great War. It is a powerful sword that slayed many elves—but in your hands, perhaps, it can do some good.”

“Does it have any power?” Lemmy asked. “Special attributes I should know about?”

“One of particular note,” she answered. “As an adventurer, you are familiar with the lifestealing property, I presume?”

Lemmy nodded. It was a bit darker of a power than he’d hoped for, but it did explain a few things. Namely, it explained the strange numbness he’d experienced while fighting the skeletons. Lifestealing weapons struggled with the profane energies of the undead.

“And what about the half-Drow in your company?” the Dark Queen interrupted.

“What do you mean?” Lemmy asked anxiously. Was she about to attempt to claim Yenni for herself, just as he’d been warned?

“She has been hexed—a powerful curse that shrouds her heart. Do you not know?” she asked, blinking at Lemmy in surprise. “It seems fairly potent—she must be aware of it.”

Lemmy felt those words like a sackful of ogre dicks to the side of the head. It couldn’t be. “She’s what?”

“She’s cursed—quite horribly, too. I can’t be sure of the details but it seems as though—”

“She can’t fall in love,” Lemmy blurted out, absent-mindedly taking the sword back from Golariel as she studied the shock on his face.

“So, you do know,” the Drow matron noted crisply.

“I didn’t believe it,” he said. “I thought it was imagined—I thought the story was bullshit.”

“It’s certainly real. If you’d like, I know of a hag in my caverns that may be able to help remove the curse for you.” The queen’s lips split into a wicked grin. Lemmy supposed she would require something in return, but for Yenni he would consider it worth it.

“Of course, please,” he pleaded “Absolutely, I’d be so grateful.”

“Good—then I’ll be the first queen to claim your brand,” she countered smugly.

The Queen of the Sun scoffed. “It’s no joke, nor is it a competition.”

“Who’s joking?” Isodre said, turning back to Lemmy, “I’ll cure your friend’s curse, and you brand Opheliel and me before this old witch.” She was pointing at Golariel.

“You do not determine the order. I shall—”

“Hold on a moment, Golariel. Still your fucking tongue—didn’t you just say to us before he arrived that the Woodland Queen recommended he be allowed to determine the branding order for himself?”

Golariel looked flustered for a moment, an expression that looked distinctly out of place on her face. “Well—I led him here, didn’t I? Not that I necessarily want to be chosen first—”

“Good, then it’s settled,” Isodre laughed, cutting her off. The Dark Queen turned her attention back on Lemmy. “Listen, Illemitar—impregnate those friends of yours, and hurry. As soon as a week has passed, I want you in my realm. Don’t worry about finding me once you cross the border—I’ll find you.”

“And I’ll be there, too,” Opheliel giggled. “Ohh, I can hardly wait to taste you. I haven’t bitten a man in ages.”

“Bitten?” Lemmy whimpered, but he pushed on to the important question. “When do I get the hag’s location?”

“The second my womb is branded,” she said. “I swear it. Golariel can even do one of her quaint little oath-binding spells if it would set your mind at ease.”

“I think I can trust the word of a queen, whose promise has been heard by so many other queens, can’t I?” Lemmy asked, genuinely wanting to hear the answer.

“You can,” Opheliel said soberly.

“It’s a bit like a cursed wish, though,” Golariel muttered. She tossed a suspicious look at the Drow Queen. “If you attempt to monopolize or subdue him—”

“—Golariel!” Isodre said, hand over her heart in mock offense. “Such a shameless insinuation!”

“I mean it, Dark Queen. Don’t test me,” Golariel warned. For a moment, the power of her aura felt just as dark and threatening as the Blood and Dusk Queens.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Goli,” Isodre cooed with a wicked grin, uncowed by the unsubtle threat. Her eyes settled back on Lemmy, narrowed like a predator’s. “I’m afraid Opheliel and I must be going soon, Illemitar. Don’t let this old witch boss you around or poison your mind against me, alright?”

Lemmy just squirmed awkwardly where he stood.

“She’s older than the moon, you know,” Opheliel leaned in and whispered as they walked by him. “It’s true. She actually watched part of the world being created.”

Before he could respond, the Blood Queen turned into a swarm of bats and flew off into the sky, and the Dark Queen, to Lemmy’s horror, became a dark cluster of spiders.

And they were gone.

“Showy bitches,” the Sun Queen said, smirking at the escaping spiders. “I will stay for the evening, Golariel, if you will have me. I would like to speak more with you and Lady Effrien when she arrives. I would like to make sure that the Sun Elves have a presence around the male as well.”

“Of course,” Golariel said, nodding gracefully. “I’m happy to have you,” she turned her head back, “and happier to lose them.”

Lemmy suddenly felt awkward and out of place. “Should I leave?” he asked.

“Yes,” Golariel said. “You know what comes next. Take those steps and update me in the morning.”

“And what about the tree? Is there any danger?” he asked.

“There is always danger,” the Sun Queen said. “Deny it at your own peril. We must be vigilant at all times. It is very likely mere harassment—but one day it won’t be.”

Lemmy nodded. “Got it,” he said. “Always danger. Be vigilant.” He spun on his heel and headed back toward the door under the arch. Looking back at them he sighed. “I hope I don’t fuck this up.”

Chapter 13

As Illemitar exited the arches, he found the forest emptier than he’d left it—most elves had apparently returned to whatever duties they belonged, and he felt a pang of worry in his heart as he didn’t see any of his companions standing around.

“Last Male Illemitar,” a husky female voice grunted at him from his right. He turned his head to find the voice and saw that it belonged to a dark green Wood Elf with bright orange hair braided to her scalp until it fell down her back in ringlets.

“That’s me,” he said, waving at her, feeling a bit like a child who’d lost his mother in the marketplace.

“Your wife has been taken to your lodging—come with me.”

Perhaps out of habit, Lemmy thought about explaining that Yenni wasn’t really his wife, so to speak, but even he knew better by that point and, frankly, it was wasted breath. This woman seemed far less interested in him than most, for one thing, and he didn’t want to make her job any harder or more troublesome than it already was. He’d helped out at a tavern before, and nothing was more irksome than customers that didn’t know when to shut up.

He followed her up an emerald hill to a peak where the forest thinned a little. From that vantage point he could see down into the wooded valley, his breath robbed by the beauty of twinkling silver spires that jutted past the treetops, their shining edifices seeming to grasp toward the heavens for the hand of Tellithri.

“What are those?” he asked. He couldn’t help himself. There must have been hundreds of them.

“Those are the homes of the High Elves—most of them are abandoned now, after the calamity which claimed the lives of our men,” she said, eyeing him like she almost blamed him for that misfortune.

“I see,” he said, refusing to acknowledge her bitter tone. “It’s an incredible view here. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I imagine you haven’t,” she said, turning to look at him. “But surely you’ve seen interesting sights, yes? I’ve never seen a human city in my hundreds of years. What is it like?”

“Violent, busy, noisy,” he said. It was the first word that came to mind. “And it stinks. But there’s a lot to live for in a human city—family that you have to fight for just to keep them alive, a short life that urges you on to dizzying heights in record time—in a way, humans are amazing. They achieve so much in such a short lifespan.”

She listened, hanging onto every word of the distant land. “I’m Zeldrieth,” she said, offering her name, bowing politely.

“I’m Illemitar,” he responded reflexively.

“I—I know,” she said, smiling dimly. “Of course, we all know exactly who you are.”

“Right,” he chuckled. There was an awkward, but not uncomfortable, pause. “So—where is Yenni?”

“Yenni and your bodyguards are waiting for you in Tem-hirienth Alabat,” she said, pointing at one of the taller spires in the distance. “They must be just settling in by now.”

He grunted at that. “I suppose I wasn’t long with the queens.”

“I have never seen the queens together like that—were they majestic?” she asked curiously.

He laughed. “Golariel and the Queen of the Sun certainly had a royal dignity to them. So did the Woodland Queen when I met her. The Dark Queen and the Blood Queen struck me as being… horny.”

“You can hardly blame them,” Zeldrieth remarked. “They haven’t been bedded in decades.”

“No?” Lemmy asked with suspicion. “I got the feeling that the Dark Queen and Blood Queen might be… pretty familiar with one another, if you know what I mean.”

She frowned. “Possible. Many of us have found sexual partners among the other women while waiting for a man to return. We do have needs, and for a very long time no one was tending to them.”

Lemmy nodded. “That makes perfect sense,” he said. “I suppose even with me around, I can’t exactly provide regular, erm, support to most of you, so that’s not likely to change.”

“No, it isn’t,” Zeldrieth admitted. “I myself have a pleasure partner. She’s quite proficient at servicing me. But you will likely develop a group of wives or concubines that you will favor with most of your love and attention, so the situation amongst the rest of us isn’t likely to change much.”

He smiled awkwardly at her—she’d certainly pegged his situation quickly. “I look forward to meeting your partner sometime, in any case.”

“When you meet her, it will likely be to plant your seed in her womb,” she said with a slight blush.

Lemmy felt his mouth open and close a few times as he looked for something sensitive and appropriate to say, but he just said, “Fuck.”

“It’s alright,” the woman replied, waving a hand dismissively. “You needn’t feel awkward about it. It’s the reality we will all contend with sooner or later, yes?”

Lemmy tilted his head to the side curiously. “I’ve been meaning to ask. About what happens after that?”

Zeldrieth raised a brow, seeming to understand his meaning. “Well, we have always wanted children. Most here have. We will raise them according to our traditions as closely as circumstances allow. Some improvisation will be required, I suppose.”

They continued to chat as they made their way down the hill toward the community of spires that poked through the trees. The silver structures were more impressive up close, even though one couldn’t easily determine how tall they were because of the surrounding canopy hiding their height from the ground.

“This one shall be yours while you’re in the Silver Court,” Zeldrieth said, gesturing to Lemmy’s new home.

“Thank you,” he replied. “Is there a key or something?”

“It opens by magic. Just say your family name—Liminelda—and it will open for you, as the owner of the home.”

He turned his gaze upon the door and spoke into its sleek, smooth surface. “Liminelda,” he said, and the doors swung open smoothly.

“There you have it, Last Male Illemitar,” she said.

“You can just call me Lemmy,” he said, winking at her.

She smiled back. “Alright, then—Lemmy.” They bid a polite farewell.

He walked into the room, and the door closed behind him on its own. The first room was large and simple, with an unlit hearth in one corner and musical instruments of many kinds hanging from the walls. Luxurious settees and divans decorated the room, mostly hugging the fireplace in a half-ring formation. Stairs wound upward from the sides of the room leading to a second and third floor, where the bedrooms were.

He didn’t have to go exploring to find his girls, though. Yenni came running down the stairs scant seconds after hearing the front door open and close. The twins weren’t far behind.

“Hello again,” he said to the girls, and they offered their greetings back. He exchanged information with them, letting them know what the queens had said about their designs for him, and expressing optimism that he might be able to maintain some degree of independence. They let him know everything he needed to understand about their little home, such as how the magic fireplace worked and how to relieve himself in the washroom without making a mess.

“And—” he said, “the good news is they all agreed to let Amali and Amarieth stay with us, and no one complained about Grinda either,” he said.

“Grinda happy. Grinda still worried,” the goblin-elf answered.

Lemmy nodded. “You must feel like a trout in the desert.”

“Grinda not care. Grinda protect Illemitar.”

He smiled at her. “Well, now you’re pregnant, so I’ll be protecting you.”

“No, Illemitar,” Amali said, suddenly serious. “That’s not your job. We’re expendable—you’re not.”

He frowned at her, his face darkening. “I’m not going to let you all just protect me and not contribute anything myself,” he protested. “We’re fighting together.”

Amarieth shook her head. “Don’t be stubborn. Things have to change now. You have to stay out of danger while you do the breeding. If one of us dies, then elfkind still has a chance, but if you die, we’re all lost.”

Lemmy understood the logic, but it still didn’t sit right with him. “I can have it both ways,” he grunted. “You’ll see. The queens want me to fight when the time comes.”

“Then fight—when the time comes,” Yenni said. “But for now, let’s rest.”

“No time for that,” Amali said, shaking her head. “Our shame is already too great. You need to impregnate us now.”

Lemmy let out a heady sigh—not that it didn’t sound like fun. “You’re right,” he said. He looked around at all the girls. “Well, I suppose we can’t delay this any longer.”

Amarieth’s lips snarled back as she glared at Lemmy. “Oh, and it’s such a chore for you?”

“No, no,” he said, waving his hands. “It’s just that—once we do this, it’s really begun, you know? Once you’re branded, then the clock is ticking, and the other girls will need to be bred sooner or later, too—probably sooner.”

“Clock already ticking,” Grinda grunted. “Lemmy no hear it?”

“You’re right,” he chuckled, and then he smiled. “You’re right, of course. Okay. Let’s get the fun started.”

“I still want to be alone with Lemmy,” Amarieth said quietly.

“Well, I don’t,” Amali said. “And I’m first. Yenni, let’s go. Get me ready with some magic and blessings and lube me up nice and good. Illemitar, do your fucking stretches or whatever and come up in five minutes—”

“—make it ten,” Yenni said. “If you want to be assured of impregnation, I’ll need at least ten minutes to prep you,” she explained to Amali.

“Fine,” Amali sighed as though she’d just made some enormous concession. “Ten minutes and no longer.”

When Illemitar arrived in the bedroom, he saw her there on silken sheets, her green hue exaggerated by the pure white of the bedding that conformed to her body. Amali looked as beautiful as any woman he’d ever seen, and Yenni just as sexy. They were naked, Yenni too—for some fucking reason—but only the Wood Elf was lying on her back, her hair resting against the headboard.

Amali’s chest rose and fell dramatically as Illemitar crossed the room to get to her. Yenni, kneeling beside the Wood Elf, caressed her hair with one hand, then reached down with two fingers and parted Amali’s freshly groomed slit, opening it up for Lemmy’s eyes to devour.

“No frills, no foreplay, Lemmy,” Yenni said, beaming at him adoringly. “She’s ready for you now, and she wants nothing more than your cock in her cunt.”

He could see that she was not fibbing. Sticky strands of the Wood Elf’s love-nectar dripped from the delicate petals of her pussy lips, a couple ropes of it clinging to Yenni’s purple fingers as she held Amali’s cunt open for Lemmy.

He dropped his pants and took off his shirt, feeling anything but sexy as he stripped down way too fast like some over-eager teenager, but if either of the girls was unimpressed with what they saw, they certainly didn’t let on about it.

Amali’s eyes widened and her hands gripped tightly at the sheets as she beheld his beefy cock once more. “I can’t believe that thing has to go inside of me,” she said. The words were grim, but her voice was anything but. “Stuff me like a Hunt’s Day roast beast, Lemmy!”

Lemmy grabbed the backs of her knees and lifted her legs up so that her calves were both resting on his shoulders. He leaned forward, letting his cock find her pussy lips on its own, pressing her legs down, down, down until her knees both touched the ground behind her head, and his lips rejoiced in pressing against hers.

They kissed, and as they kissed, he pressed the tip of his manhood into her wet, weepy folds. The flower of her virginity broke, and she bleated out a cry of pain, but it faded back into lust instantly as Lemmy started rolling his hips against her in a slow dance of pleasure.

“Thank you, Lemmy,” she sighed into his ear in between kisses. He reached up and grabbed her by the ankles as he continued to make love to her, his movements slow and caring, doting and affectionate.

But with time, the lovemaking blurred into fucking, and he took it as permission to quicken his pace when she started lifting her ass up in faster and faster intervals as if to unconsciously encourage his cock to bottom out in her sooner with each stroke.

He was only so happy to accommodate her desire, pounding into her in a fierce rhythm that left the Wood Elf crying out in a language Lemmy didn’t know existed.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked her.

“What was what?” she whined, irritated to be interrupted from her wails of bliss.

“What did you just say?” Even as he asked her, he was rocking his hips against hers, his balls slapping her flesh with each stroke.

“I said ‘Fuck my drippy whore-cunt’ in the language of the trees,” she explained, punctuating that sentence with a rough bite on his ear. “It’s prettier than saying it in Elvish.”

Lemmy didn’t quite understand how he wasn’t able to understand her when she spoke treespeak, but he could when she spoke Elvish. He figured Yenni would be the one to clarify how her language spell worked, but this was about as far from the time or place for such an inquiry that he almost laughed at the thought.

Lemmy felt his gut clench right at the moment when Amali’s pussy started gripping his cock and she came all over his balls. With that, he spent himself inside her, firing several potent loads of semen into her uterus.

And then it happened—the same pink Brand that had appeared on Grinda’s lower abdomen took shape on Amali’s.

She wept, reaching around her own legs, still in the plowing position, to try to hug him. “Thank you, Lemmy! I did it!”

“It was a team effort,” Yenni said, backing off. The half-Drow had shown a lot of restraint. Aside from guiding Lemmy’s cock inside of the Wood Elf and cooing soft words of encouragement, she did very little to insert herself into their moment. Knowing just how intense Yenni’s feelings were for him, he was impressed.

They shared about twenty minutes after snuggling and speaking softly with one another while Yenni purified the sheets with magic and dabbed each of them with a warm, wet cloth.

“You both did so well,” she said. “I’m proud of you. We’re off to such a good start.”

“Someone’s angling to get her own Womb Brand,” Amali joked as she delighted in Lemmy’s kisses on her neck.

“I won’t lie—I am looking forward to the day,” Yenni said, “but mostly I’m just happy to be here with Lemmy.”

Normally in a moment like that, Lemmy would make some snarky remark about Yenni’s so-called curse—except now he knew that it was real. He resolved silently to do what he had to do to make sure she was rid of it, once and for all. He kept the thought to himself for the moment, though, indulging himself in the fresh scent of Amali’s sweat as he held her hot body close.

Soon, though, Amali was up and out, back down the stairs, and Yenni was chanting in front of Lemmy as she prepared a spell. “For this round, I’ll need to focus the spell on you,” she said, “since you’ve already had one round.”

“Will Amarieth need some magic, too?” Lemmy wondered.

“I don’t think so,” Yenni said, shaking her head, smiling at him. “I believe she is a more private woman than her sister anyway—she will not want me to be part of her moment in any capacity.”

Lemmy’s eyes glazed over as he remembered his only other sexual encounter with the shyer twin. “You’re right about that.”

They shared something intimate with just a look, staring into one another’s eyes, and Lemmy suddenly realized that it was the first time in many days that he had been alone with her.

“Thank you, Yen,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“Thanks for what?” she asked, smiling at him as she dabbed his forehead with one hand while she poured magic into his core with the other.

“Everything,” he replied, shrugging. “You’re amazing—I’d probably be dead or have otherwise failed every step of the way without you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know about that. You’re pretty amazing, too. The Wood Elves see it. Grinda sees it. By Targosh, I think even the queens saw it in you. I’m just lucky to have found you so early in my life, Lemmy, baby,” she cooed.

“I’m going to lift your curse,” he declared. She stared at him wide-eyed, completely stunned. “The Dark Queen told me she knew a hag that could do it. She said she’d help.”

Yenni opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Tears began streaming down her face at the news as she stared vacantly at Lemmy, unable to process what he’d just said.

“Say something, Yen,” he grunted.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I love you,” he answered her. Her eyes went wide. “I love you, Yen, and I’m not afraid to tell you even though I know that you don’t feel the same. And I don’t care if you ever feel the same, even when that curse is lifted. I love you and I always want you to be happy, no matter what. And I want you to know that’s unconditional—no matter what you decide once you’re freed from the curse, I’ll support you.”

She sobbed, ugly-crying as her eyes puffed up and tears practically flew off her face. “I want to love you so much!” she said. “I know it’ll make me happy! I just know it!”

“Are you not happy now?” he asked.

She paused. “No!” she shouted. “No, I’m not—it’s like I’m staring happiness in the face, it’s within reach, and yet I just can’t—I can’t take it!” she said. “I can’t take happiness; I just can’t hold it for myself. I know it’s there, but—” her words broke apart into more sobs, and he held her for a while after that.

“Everything is going to be perfect,” he said. “I’ll save the elves, and then we can all settle down together and get married—”

“We’re already married,” she interrupted him, her swollen eyes narrowed with annoyance.

“Right, but properly. Consensually. With a ceremony and everything.”

“And what about the others?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Them, too. I’ll be ‘King of Six Kingdoms’ or whatever, right? We’ll figure it out. I know it’s going to be complicated, but we’ll make it work. Do you want to make it work with me?” Lemmy asked.

“Yes,” she whispered happily before they kissed, their bodies wrapping themselves around each other like their insides were on fire and the only thing that could extinguish the flame was that embrace.

“Am I interrupting something?” Amarieth’s voice came coldly from the door. “Sorry, I thought you’d be ready by now.”

Yenni pulled herself away from Lemmy and wiped her eyes. “It’s alright. He’s ready.” She smiled at Amarieth. “Good luck.”

Yennisa walked out the door and headed softly down the stairs. Lemmy didn’t manage to say a single word as she left—and he kind of hated himself for it.

Amarieth closed the door and locked it. She pulled a chair from the corner up to the door and maneuvered it against the handle so that the door would be even more reinforced and harder to open.

She lifted her head up slowly and settled a predatory gaze on Illemitar. “This is my turn. You took a little break with your half-elf girlfriend just to—”

“—wife,” Lemmy corrected her.

“What?!”

“Technically, she’s my wife,” he shrugged.

“Your—your—” she fumed, stomping the floor and stripping her clothes off so fast that Lemmy didn’t even have time to enjoy it. His eyes smiled, though, as they beheld the sight of her nudity, but the delight was short-lived. “I’ll teach you not to neglect my time,” she growled at him as she leaped onto the bed, kneeing him in the chest and pinning his back against the mattress.

Amarieth reached down and grabbed a clutch of his hair as he struggled to catch his breath from being pressed to the bed by her forceful assault. She parted her legs so that her sex was resting wet against his chest, then lifted herself up on her knees and, with a few adjustments too quick to track, forced her cunt into his face.

“Lick it,” she shrieked as she tugged his hair. “Lick it like you probably licked hers!”

Lemmy realized at that moment that he probably had just as many issues as Amarieth because he was fucking loving this. Even as he struggled to breathe, he was only so happy to allow his entire world to become the sight, smell, and taste of her wood elven cunt. He moaned like an animal, buzzing his lips against her labia as he suckled the pearl of her clit and let his tongue slobberingly trace the outline of her opening.

“That’s it,” she moaned, tugging his hair even harder. “Fucking suck my cunt like you love me,” she said. “Do it like you love me as much as I love y—” she caught herself at the last moment, cutting off. There was a pause, but that pause was quickly broken by her cries as she groaned into her own hand.

She released his hair with the other hand and leaned back against her palms, which rested atop Lemmy’s thighs behind her. Amarieth forced her sloppy wet sex tighter against his mouth until he cried out. Lemmy pleadingly smacked her legs, begging for air.

“Choke on it,” Amarieth moaned. “Choke on my love! There, I said it!”

Lemmy had never had a love confession like this one. He rewarded it with his continued enthusiasm, realizing that this encounter would likely end in one of two ways—with her cumming and then dismounting, or him asphyxiating to death on her pussy. Either way, he was surprisingly zen about the whole ordeal.

The taste of her sappy, syrupy girlcum kept him going, his tongue becoming more and more familiar with every single bump and dip in her holiest of holies. He applied expert pressure and a precision-based strike on her clit after a series of doting licks along her entrance while one finger on his right hand dared to explore her asshole. She groaned and clawed at his thighs—he knew there’d be blood—but she offered no other protest.

It wasn’t long after that that Amarieth squirted her affections in his face, letting out a yowl like a sickly jungle cat. “Fffffuuuuck!” she shrieked.

Fuck was right. Lemmy tapped her thighs again, blue in the face, and finally she relented, lifting up her hips and dismounting at last. He scarcely managed a single desperate gulp of air before she started kissing him, though, her hand eagerly wrapping around his cock and stuffing it inside her pussy.

Holy fuck, she was efficient. She kissed him like it was the only thing she knew how to do as he felt his rock-hard dick fill out inside her silky depths. He started thrusting, and she moaned in reply, but then she lifted her head up and scowled at him, wrapping both hands around his throat. “I set the pace,” she said. “I’m making love to you, not the other way around.”

We’ll see about that, Lemmy thought, and in a single motion he turned her from her riding position onto her side, and they were entangled in a combative posture, their legs wrapped around the other as they wrestled for leverage. Both of them started thrusting against the other, Amarieth clawing at Lemmy, having lost her grip on his neck, and Lemmy pinching her nipples hard, which made Amarieth squirm and squeal like an untamed beast.

Lemmy fought for positioning and managed to eventually get the high ground, ending up on top of her in a position that reminded him of a branch being caught between shears at an entirely wrong angle for cutting. Her left leg was flung over his shoulder, and her right leg pinned under his ass.

“Do it,” she growled at him. “Fuck me, Lemmy. Fuck me till I’m dead to the world.”

Lemmy fucked her so hard that he was certain both of them would end up with unexplainable thigh bruises. The percussive slaps of their flesh were brutally loud, and Amarieth’s sounds of rapture were indescribably demonic. His back and side were ripped to ribbons—at least that’s what it felt like—as she scratched him and bit him.

“Pull my hair, Lemmy!” she squealed, and he did, tugging it back and making her moan. “I’m going to cum soon!”

“Me too,” he confessed, feeling the churning in his bollocks that heralded the release of his apocalyptically potent spunk. “I’m gonna do it, Amarieth!”

“I love you, Lemmy!” she screamed just as he unloaded a torrent of thick jism inside of her, so much that it leaked out. He kept on pumping until he was confident he’d expended every drop.

And just as before, the Brand appeared.

“Hold me, Lemmy,” she panted. “Hold me and tell me I’m pretty.”

He took a big breath and sidled up against her, taking a far more relaxed position with her than what they’d just shared. “You are very pretty, Amarieth. You’re gorgeous.”

“Tell me you want me around,” she cooed as he kissed her neck.

“You know I do,” he said.

“I want to be with you forever, Lemmy,” she said. “I promise it. I’ll be with you forever and ever. There’s no way you can get rid of me.” Her giggle was gleefully sweet. “I’ll gut anyone who tries.”

Lemmy felt some alarm bells sounding inside him at that, but he still trusted that, at her core, Amarieth was good, and sweet, and she wouldn’t be a liability of any kind.

“Sure thing,” he grunted.

“I love you,” she said. “Say you love me.”

“Too soon,” he said. “We have to earn it.”

Her head whipped back and she narrowed her eyes at him. “...I’ll earn it. You’ll see.”

“I’m sure you will,” he chuckled.

That night, Lemmy, feeling stronger than ever, slept with all four of the girls in that big silky bed with the knowledge that he had completed the first part of his mission. As he drifted off to sleep, he almost laughed at the thought that visited itself upon his exhausted mind.

Three down, seven hundred-ish to go.

Chapter 14

The next day at noon, Lemmy found himself once again in Golariel’s grove where the Moon Well waited, but it wasn’t the Queen of the High Elves who had summoned him.

Sitting in Golariel’s chair was Lady Effrien, the Woodland Queen, in all her majesty, cross legged and leaning back as she stared holes into Lemmy and his companions upon their approach.

“Finally,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It seems my nieces aren’t barren hags in the making after all.”

“That’s hardly called for,” Lemmy grunted, one hand curling into a fist reflexively at his side.

The air of the grove was fresh, and the breeze still somehow found its way in despite the trees being so tightly packed around them. The sweet, floral smell of flowers and sap hung heavily in the air but the most profound odor was that of whatever the Woodland Queen had placed into the Moon Well that was causing it to billow strange fog.

“You’ve been called for,” she said, “and I do with you as I wish.”

Lemmy furrowed his brow. “You missed the meeting yesterday. I thought you campaigned for me to be independent.”

“Independent from the others, yes,” she nodded, “but beholden to me, of course. The Wood Elves need you, Illemitar. Our numbers are the least of the elves, and our location puts us close to the Dusk Elves and the Gloom Lord’s domain. Furthermore, it was us that took the risk to escort you here.”

Grinda growled in anticipation of the Woodland Queen bad mouthing her father, but it didn’t happen.

“The situation is desperate. We’ve lost elves to both of those regions, though we can’t prove it when it comes to the Blood Queen,” Effrien continued. “We cannot, and should not, be made to wait at the back of the line.”

“So why am I here now?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on dragging me into your lands.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “This is the safest place for you, furthest from Nestori’s tower and protected by Golariel. We can trust her above all others.”

Lemmy stiffened his back, wanting subconsciously to tower over her, to gain some kind of authority. “What do you want, then?”

“To check on my nieces, first and foremost,” she said, shifting her attention to the sisters. “Are you happy with him? Would you like to return home now that your mission is done?”

Amarieth and Amali both instantly refused, so fiercely and with such immediacy that the queen couldn’t help but find it amusing.

“Very well,” she chuckled. “The other matter, Illemitar, is that I was hoping you may act as a mediator between the Gloom Lord and myself, as he appears to have a very high opinion of you. Peace between us would go far in relieving the pressure we are experiencing.”

“Why?” Lemmy asked, caught by surprise with that news. He looked around at his companions for the answer, but they all showed similar looks of befuddlement, Grinda included.

“It seems he knows of the fey girl’s pregnancy, and is over the moon about it,” the queen responded. “With good cause, I suppose.”

“Why do you call her fey?” Amarieth asked.

The Woodland Queen just smirked.

A familiar voice thrummed from the well, leading with a cough. “Why have I been called to the Silver Court?”

Lemmy’s eyes went wide. “Is that him? The Gloom Lord?”

“Illemitar, I have heard rumors that you have successfully fulfilled your end of the bargain. You have my gratitude and favor,” he said, his low voice wheezing between sentences.

“How the actual Targosh do you know?” he asked. He suddenly noticed just how quiet all of his companions were. He looked at them and saw their eyes wide like saucers, taking in the sights of the Silver Court’s most guarded sanctuary. Part of him wanted to do the same.

“I have eyes and ears everywhere,” he said.

“Much to the irritation of the queens,” Lady Effrien added. “Gloom Lord, it is I who have summoned you.”

“Queen Effrien, well met,” the archfey said politely.

“I wish I could say the same. You have slain several Wood Elves in your lands over the last decade, and I need to know that this will stop. Even worse, you held my nieces in your domain against their will, albeit for a short time. That is why I have sought this audience with you.”

The Gloom Lord answered very matter-of-factly. “Firstly, your nieces were my guests and were provided for as such. Second, many of those that were slain were corrupting my lands, stealing my resources.”

“Yes, and those Wood Elves would have been dealt with—you could have detained them, and I would have seen to it, as you know. This is far from the first time we have had this discussion,” the queen argued.

“And how do you feel things might be different this time?” he asked her.

Illemitar chimed in, already annoyed by what he was hearing. He decided to use some of his clout as leverage, entering the discussion with forceful words. “This is stupid. The boundaries are meaningless—this is all just one forest where elves and fey are meant to live together. Do you think Tellithri asked you to divide it up and wage war over imaginary borders?”

“Territorial integrity is hardly unique to elves and fey,” the Gloom Lord remarked.

“But you have no reason to be enemies or to do anything but work together. Sure, govern your people however you like, but why should there be such geographical divisions? You’re all elves, and all elves descend from fey,” he said, pointing at the Woodland Queen and then to the rippling image of the Gloom Lord in the Moon Well.

“Everything you’re saying is of course true,” the archfey said, “but trust is weak and has been for centuries. These are old wounds and we have no central figure with the authority or command to mend them. No one to whom we can unite around.”

“Yes, you do,” Yenni said, clearing her throat and boldly stepping forward. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Amarieth joined her. “Lemmy is meant to be the King of Six Kingdoms, ruler of all the tribes of elves—that’s the title proclaimed for him in Golariel’s visions. Don’t you believe in it, auntie?”

The Woodland Queen narrowed her eyes at Illemitar. “I have my doubts about Illemitar’s statecraft and his knack for ruling. The queens are at least a thousand years old, many much older, and the Gloom Lord older still. Illemitar, by comparison, is hardly even an infant.”

“Did Golariel foresee him as king or not?” Amali asked, pressing the issue. “Auntie, do you doubt the High Queen’s wisdom?”

Illemitar just listened, squinting as he took it all in. He had heard that term before, the King of Six Kingdoms, but never was clear on what it entailed. At the time he’d taken it for an honorific and nothing more. Now, though, it seemed his destiny was even more complex than he’d imagined.

“I cannot back such a claim,” the Gloom Lord said.

“Yes, Gloom Lord can,” Grinda grunted, stepping forward and standing on her tippy toes to see her father’s face in the well. “Papa owe favor.”

He coughed a few times, before passing into a silent pause, thinking for a long time. “If that’s the favor he asks for—”

“Just like that?” the Woodland Queen asked, dumbfounded. “You’d support him so quickly?”

The Gloom Lord coughed violently, and everyone blinked at the sound of his horrific wheezes. Finally, he answered. “The world is too big to live alone forever. Either we unite against Nestori, or we die apart. Perhaps Illemitar is indeed this central figure we need—maybe just a figurehead at first. Maybe we lean on the wisdom of the Queens and myself, but we can all agree that the Last Male’s importance to us all is far beyond ceremonial. And there is the matter of my owing him a boon, to which I am bound to uphold.”

“Indeed,” the Woodland Queen said, nodding. She seemed to be satisfied with this answer.

“My land is open to the Wood Elves, then, but I ask that no foraging or hunting be done in my domain without first seeking my permission,” The Gloom Lord announced. “The balance is delicate here.”

Lady Effrien’s eyes widened as she made eye contact with Lemmy and responded. “Thank you,” she said, “the Beast Elves are welcome in my domain, too.”

“What about the fey?” Lemmy asked.

“Few fey ever desire to leave my court,” the Gloom Lord said. “I do not think she meant any slight.”

The Woodland Queen nodded, smiling with visible relief etched into her features. “This is a good day,” she said. “The girls I raised from childhood are among the first to be impregnated, and the wise and mighty Gloom Lord has brought peace to both our lands.”

“Thank the Last Male,” he grunted. “I am placing my trust in you, Illemitar Liminelda. Do not let me down.”

Lemmy nodded. “I won’t.”

“Grinda, you may come home now. He will be safe under Lady Effrien and Lady Golariel’s watch.”

There was an awkward pause as everyone looked at Grinda.

“No,” she snorted.

“Excuse me?” the Gloom Lord asked.

“Grinda stay. Papa no need Grinda for security if there peace with Wood Elves. Grinda stay with Illemitar. Grinda like.”

Illemitar felt a surge of worry in his gut—would this act of defiance undo the peace they’d just fought for? And yet he couldn’t have it any other way.

The Gloom Lord laughed, setting him at ease. “Any doubts that I had over whether Illemitar is special have been assuaged. I never imagined my little girl so quickly smitten.”

“Nor my nieces,” Lady Effrien said, placing her hand upon her lips as she quietly giggled.

“Very well, then, Grinda—but do come see me soon. I wish to see the Brand for myself,” the Gloom Lord said.

“Yes, papa,” she agreed, smiling, exhaling a hot sigh of relief. Apparently, even she hadn’t known just how the Gloom Lord would respond to her request. Lemmy smirked at the realization.

A crack of thunder flashed and a burst of light forced everyone in the grove to cover their eyes. When they opened them again, Golariel was standing there, looking somewhat unamused.

“Gloom Lord, Effrien,” she said, nodding toward each in turn. “Illemitar Liminelda, Last Male,” she bowed. “I apologize for your lukewarm reception yesterday. I was… more guarded.”

“Why?” Lemmy asked.

Golariel eyed his companions. “First they must go, I’m afraid.”

The Woodland Queen nodded at her nieces, and Yenni pouted as she turned around.

“We’ll see you back home, okay?” she said, kissing him on the shoulder.

“Sure thing,” he nodded.

“Grinda go now. Goodbye, papa.”

“Goodbye now, my dear,” he rasped.

They waited for Lemmy’s harem to excuse themselves, then Golariel turned to Lady Effrien and raised an accusatory brow. “Really, Effy, playing politics behind my back?”

“I didn’t think you’d mind,” she said. “I have to think of my own people, and Lemmy provided a unique opportunity for the Gloom Lord and I to see eye to eye.”

“It is not the effort that I mind, it’s your methods,” Golariel said. “What I do mind is you doubting my prophecy. Lemmy shall be king—is already king, as far as Tellithri is concerned—and with the Dark Queen and the Dusk Queen departed, it is time for him to know.”

“It isn’t so much that I doubt,” Lady Effrien said. “It’s that I want him to earn it, not be handed it. He is very young and inexperienced. I can’t see how walking into such power without going through what it takes to claim it for oneself can end in anything but weakness.”

“A wise observation,” the Gloom Lord said, “but he shall have us as his teachers.”

“There is more to the story than this,” said Golariel, drawing in a breath. She looked at Illemitar, a frown on her regally beautiful face. “He is woefully underprepared for just what his destiny will entail.”

Lemmy took another step forward. “Prepare me then,” he said. “Don’t coddle me. Tell me what’s going on so we can get to work.”

“This is privileged information,” Golariel said. “I have no issue with Lady Effrien or the Gloom Lord being privy to it, but your companions and the other queens must not know what I’m about to tell you. Is that clear?”

Lemmy didn’t like that. He didn’t like the idea of keeping a secret from Amarieth, Amali, Yenni, or Grinda. Each of them was so precious to him that it felt like a betrayal to do so—but he knew that he must agree. “Alright,” he said, sighing. “Is it something they would want to know anyway?”

“Everyone would want to know this, because it changes everything. I have been guarding this secret since you were found over two decades ago,” she responded solemnly.

“You knew me when I was found?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said nodding, “I did. I saw my first vision of you.” Lady Golariel looked at the Woodland Queen and the Moon Well that held the image of the Gloom Lord. “I apologize for not telling you sooner. This secret has been tormenting me for far too long.”

“You kept a secret from me?” Lady Effrien asked, clearly wounded.

Golariel pouted slightly, her perfectly pink lips and rosy cheeks glowing as she offered an apologetic frown. “Illemitar is the last male elf, this much is true, and there is a reason why he is immune to the plague which annihilated all the other men and is afflicting us women now.”

They all stared at her dumbly, waiting for the answer. Golariel took in a deep breath and let it out through her teeth. “Illemitar’s surname is not Liminelda, the name given to those elves of unknown origin. His origin is known. His surname is Nestori. He is the son of the Necromancer himself, and directly descended from Tellithri.”

Illemitar didn’t hear what the other queen or Gloom Lord said next. Neither was pleased with this new information or the fact that it had been kept from them, but the words seemed too distant for him to make any of them out. The son of the Necromancer? How was that even possible? The timeline didn’t make any sense to him, even as Golariel was attempting to explain it to everyone present. The sound of their voices, muffled as they were, was steadily overtaken by a faint ringing in his ears. It grew and grew, like he’d been standing too close to a thunderburst spell. Before it became too much to bear, he suddenly snapped back to the present conversation to rejoin it.

“It doesn’t change anything,” he said firmly.

“It changes a great deal,” the Wood Queen argued in a distressed voice.

Illemitar shook his head. “Not for me it doesn’t. I had a father and it wasn’t the Necromancer. He’s the man that taught me much of what got me here today. He was a good, honorable man. I will do what I came here to do, no matter the blood ties between me and Nestori. After what he’s done to an entire species, how could I not?”

“Mmm,” the Gloom Lord acknowledged with a distinct tone of approval. “Well said. Wisely said. I have no reason to doubt you on this matter.”

The queens exchanged glances before offering Lemmy reassuring nods. They were willing to accept his explanation for now if the Gloom Lord was satisfied. It was understandable why this would not need to be widely known for a time but, in the pit of his stomach, Lemmy felt like it was going to come out one way or another.

Chapter 15

Lemmy had come far in a short time. Reflecting back on his own journey since he ran out of the Dripping Dragon just a couple weeks before, he had already changed so much, his life completely flipped and rearranged, that he no longer recognized anything about himself.

He was stronger. He was on a quest to save his species—but he was also darker than he thought, sharing blood with the Necromancer responsible for the downfall of the elves to begin with. Part of him wanted to deny it, and yet he knew he couldn’t.

The next morning after hearing that fateful news from Golariel, a Sun Elf knocked on Lemmy’s door. She had smooth skin the color of willow bark and hair a deep red that was nearly black. Her irises were emerald pools, and her body rippled with muscle in all the right places. She carried a spear and golden armor inlaid with decorative astral patterns.

“Can I help you?” Lemmy said, wiping the sleep from his eyes. His own long hair was slick with sweat from a restless night. There were troubles on his mind, not the least of which was Golariel’s dark revelation about his parentage. But there was more, too: tempestuous dreams, dark epiphanies he’d hardly had time to reflect on.

The Sun Elf bowed low and spoke in a husky voice and a thick accent. “Greetings Illemitar. The Sun Queen offers her salutations.”

“Greetings,” he returned, brushing back his hair. His eyes walked the contours of her body once, not in a sexual way, but just to commit her to memory. “And who do I have the pleasure of being approached by this fine early morning?”

She offered no apology, and her face did not change from the businesslike expression she seemed to permanently wear. “I am Princess Kulderani, one of the most esteemed warriors among the elves.”

“Well, well, a princess,” he chuckled. “It’s a very different image than that word conjures up in my head in most situations.”

“I am no damsel,” she cautioned, apparently unoffended, but also unimpressed by his attempt at wit. “I am here to train you.”

“Train me?” he scoffed incredulously.

“The Sun Elves have laws about mating with a man. The chief law is that he must prove himself a worthy warrior. You must mate with all the Sun Elves and marry my mother and me—you are not ready.” She grunted that last bit as though she were somewhat disappointed with what she saw.

Lemmy laughed. “I’m not nearly as weak as you might think I am.”

“I doubt that,” she said, her face never erring from its straight expression, “but it would be a happy circumstance to be proved wrong.”

“Well, princess,” Lemmy said, “how long will you be staying?” He gestured to the interior of his abode, and she strode through the door with confidence.

“The better question is ‘Will I ever leave?’” she said, her voice sounding irritated. I detest the concept of arranged marriages, but I am a woman of duty and honor. My duty, and my honor, or so they say, is to be the first Sun Elf to be bred by you. Which means I must make you worthy of me.”

“And after that?” He asked, amused.

“And then, when you are worthy, why would I leave?” she asked, the first hint of a smile on her face.

“Fair enough,” he nodded. “The others are upstairs. Would you like to meet them?”

“I would prefer never to, but I suppose it can’t be avoided,” Kulderani sniffed. “For now, let’s stick to business.”

Lemmy cocked an eyebrow. “Already?” he asked. “I’m game for it if you want to test my mettle in battle, but what’s the hurry?” Even as he said it, he realized how dumb a question it was.

“You surely know the hurry,” Kulderani said. “Let us fight today with wooden swords.”

Lemmy grunted a complaint. “I haven’t even had breakfast.”

Kulderani tossed him something from her hip, and he caught it without thinking. Looking at his hand, he frowned.

“This fucking bread,” he whined, but he took a bite.

“Fetch your wooden swords and I’ll meet you outside,” she instructed.

He looked at her puzzled. “I don’t have any wooden swords.”

“Your home has been outfitted. Third floor, in the closet at the top of the stairs you will find simple armor and training weapons. These are staples of any high elven domicile.”

Lemmy nodded. “I hardly know you and we’re jumping right to the romance of swordplay? We’ve only just been introduced.”

To Lemmy’s surprise, her dark cheeks seemed to glow slightly at his joke. “Combat is the best introduction. I can learn more about you from the way that you fight than I can from the words that you speak.”

“How’s that?” he said, intrigued by her premise.

“You can lie with your tongue—you can’t lie with a sword,” she answered, her emerald eyes glinting with confidence. “Go. I’ll be waiting outside.”

Before Lemmy could say much more, the charming Sun Elf warrior princess had already shut the smooth white doors behind her. He found the training weapons soon enough, right where she had said they would be. He gathered them as quickly and quietly as he could. He didn’t bother to explain himself to the others—they were still asleep. But he did scrawl a hasty note for them.

Outside he found the Sun Elf making a diamond with the rocks that had decoratively lined his home, picking them up and dropping them to create an improvised arena.

“How does this work?” he asked the Sun Elf, curious about the ruleset they would be following for this little sparring match.

“The rules are simple,” she explained, “the loser is the one who steps outside of the boundary or the first to fall down.”

“And if I win, I’m worthy: is that it?” he asked, tossing her a wooden sword.

She nodded as she caught it. “Indeed—if you can defeat me, then you are ready to train with the queen, and to inseminate me, according to our laws.”

“And how do you feel about that?” Lemmy asked, resisting a roguish smirk that continued to tug at the corner of his lips.

“I have no feeling about it either way. It is what must be done, nothing more,” she replied firmly. “It is our way.”

“I can respect that. All the same, I have every intention of winning you over before we get to that point,” he said, the smirk finally breaking through. “Which means I’m going to have to ingratiate myself to you pretty damn quickly, because I plan to win this fight.”

“The fact you were not planning to lose is a good sign, at least.” Princess Kulderani pointed her sword at him from the center of the diamond. “Once you touch the tip of my weapon with yours, we may begin.”

“Just the tip, right?” Lemmy smirked and winked.

The princess frowned through flushed cheeks. “Lewd.”

Lemmy’s sword tapped hers, and with that, they both jumped backward. Kulderani’s eyes were on his feet, studying his movements. Only a few seconds had passed, but Lemmy thought he detected a change in her expression as she sized him up. Was she… relieved?

It was the amateur thing to do, but Lemmy decided to take the first move—or feint. He lurched toward the warrior princess and attempted a stab, but as she moved to deflect his attack, he pulled back, leaving her momentarily open. He brought his sword down again, and for a fraction of a second he thought he had her, but she was too fast—she dodged out of the way, leaning back just enough to avoid the blow completely.

“You are no amateur,” she admitted with a grunt. “I thought growing up among the humans and orcs would make you an inelegant fighter. Sloppy.”

They traded attacks, each dodging or parrying without a single hit getting through. “I was trained by seasoned fighters good enough to survive to old age and became an adventurer when I was very young.”

“You are still young, though,” she noted as she watched his wooden blade just barely whizz by her nose. “Your knack for combat is impressive—you are not normal.”

Lemmy withdrew when she said that—he didn’t mean to, but given what he’d learned recently, the words caught him off-guard.

Noticing his distraction, the Sun Elf mercilessly took advantage, planting her heel in his chest and knocking him backward. He didn’t fall, but his foot did land outside the diamond. He had lost.

“Fuck,” he groaned when he realized it where his foot was planted.

“What happened?” she asked. “Something disturbed you. I saw it in your eyes, like you saw a demon.”

Lemmy shook his head, holding the sore spot where her foot had impacted his ribs. “I can’t say,” he said, recalling his promise to Golariel. “I’ve learned a lot about myself these last few days. It’s been a lot to process and too little time to do it in.”

“I am pleased,” she said, but her face was still expressionless. “I do not think I will need to train you for as long as I thought.”

“Well, that’s good news at least,” Lemmy said, shaking off the loss with a roll of his shoulders.

“You do need to understand how to set aside trauma and distractions in combat. You must learn to quiet your mind, allow your instincts to take over. In a battle, the only thing that matters is victory—whatever victory means in that situation,” she explained.

“It means winning, I guess,” he shrugged.

“Often yes, but in a real war, it could mean losing a fight while holding a more powerful foe off just long enough for reinforcements to arrive. In a dangerous encounter, it could mean escaping with your life, or humiliating an enemy that you are not meant to kill. Victory can take many shapes in the real world, in ways that an adventurer may have no use for,” she continued.

“But here it only means making you fall or kicking you out of the diamond,” he said. “Both things I failed to do.”

“You were never going to succeed at that—but you did achieve victory over me on some level,” she said, smirking for the first time, albeit slightly. “You defied my expectations and have given me hope.”

“Hope,” he repeated as he nodded his approval. “Always a good place to start. Want to go again?”

He didn’t think that he had much of a chance of beating her the second time around, but practice was practice and it would take his mind off unsettling nightmares of the night before.

Illemitar was not always an early riser—that was a habit he reserved for when he was on a quest, on the road, or in active peril if he left himself vulnerable for too long. So it was almost anomalous that he was awake when Kulderani came to his door. But he had awoken early, ripped from his slumber, because of a nightmare.

In that nightmare, he saw a falling star hit the earth and make a crater along the far edges of the Sylvan Wood, killing all life for a great distance in every direction. The ground became nothing but a dried husk, and over time all the lingering greenery faded rather than reclaiming the land, leaving it a gaping wound unto the world.

A black stone the size of a house sat at the center of the crater. It remained there for an age, undisturbed, untouched. It corrupted the earth around it, leaving the brown dirt a gray husk, until one day it cracked, and a brilliant white light leaked through its seams.

The light shone so brightly in his mind that he felt blinded by it, even though it was just a dream. It was as though he were there, watching from a bird’s eye view, from a fixed position, witnessing as age led unto age, and a man emerged from the black sphere.

The man looked like an elf, but he was taller, more brilliant, somehow even more beautiful. He was naked as he emerged: naked and perfect. His divinity was evident from even a glance.

He built a tower. He unpacked the dense black material from his sphere and used magic to shape it into a sleek, alien structure with geometry and architectural logic that was profoundly unlike any elf, orc, or human structure Illemitar had ever laid eyes on. It looked… evil. And yet it was beautiful.

He watched as the man met a woman—a fey of some sort, larger than a pixie but very similar in appearance, with glowing pink hair and wings that kept her elevated above the ground at all times. She was gorgeous.

They fell in love. They built a life together. They… had children. Two of them, to start. Two boys, looking very much like elves. Two babies. Then more, over time.

One of the first two babies grew up—one baby didn’t. That baby was sick, so the beautiful man took a chunk out of his own tower’s magical black material to fashion a sphere for his son. He placed the sick child into a basket and placed the basket inside the sphere, promising that he would find a cure. He would master death, so that the child could grow up one day and live past his first century. As it was, he was doomed to die a few decades after reaching adulthood, or so the beautiful man said to his fey wife.

The baby remained in that sphere for thousands of years, and Illemitar watched as the man toiled endlessly to find a cure. He eventually gave up on herbs and turned to magic, trying to understand the nature of sickness, the nature of death.

His obsession only grew as, after ten thousand years, his wife and firstborn son died. Now he had to bring them back, too. He decided to try. One day, he cast a spell after more than a decade of mediation and preparation. He brought them back, but—only their bones. Their souls were gone. Long had they passed beyond the veil into whatever lay beyond.

The beautiful man cried. His tears watered the earth for another hundred years, and in his despair and loneliness he considered cracking open the sphere, allowing his son to live his short life—but he didn’t. Instead, he placed the sphere in a faraway river, letting it sink to the bottom. One day it would open on its own, thousands of years later, with a note that he had written inside with the child’s name written in magic words that would adapt to whatever languages were active in the world at the time he emerged. He would let fate choose when he would meet his son again and under what circumstances. Perhaps then, there would be a cure, even if it was not made by his hand.

But his soul was darkened by loneliness. The elves—his own progeny—had forsaken him ages before, calling his fascination with death evil and unnatural. They had forgotten his purpose and what drove him. They had forgotten all that he had given them. As the years rolled on and on, he could no longer recognize himself in his offspring, the elves. He grew bitter and spiteful with their disregard for the precious knowledge he had tried to hand down to them, giving more credence to the petty squabbles that had cropped up among them. He resolved to wipe the slate clean and try again. He would start anew. Then, perhaps with the collective power and wisdom of an enlightened people, he could finally conquer death itself.

But to do this, he needed the elves to be gone. He considered all-out war, fanning the flames of their pre-existing rivalries. He even considered forming an army himself and leading it against them but it was inelegant, ugly. Instead, he used his years of accumulated knowledge to craft a disease to take out the elves once and for all—but some of them were inexplicably resistant to it. A handful of females survived.

Frustrated, he withdrew without explanation and allowed the elves to think him dead, once more sinking into himself and the pain and melancholy that consumed him. He started planning again—until one day he felt the distant little black sphere opening, and Illemitar awakening, the baby’s buoyant basket barreling down the river.

His son was awake. His son, the last male elf, could reverse his annihilation of the elves, and he had to be slain. Still, as he reflected on the memory of his baby boy, Nestori the Necromancer was horrified to realize that the child’s reappearance somehow, at long last, made him… happy.

Epilogue

“Opheliel, I swear,” sighed Queen Isodre, “Golariel and the Woodland Cunt are going to monopolize him. He’s already got a permanent domicile in the Silver Court, and two Wood Elves in his little harem, no doubt poisoning him against us.”

The two queens had retired to the Blood Queen’s castle in the heart of her domain where the ash-white Dusk Elf bathed in a tub of blood, and Isodre sat in a plush cushioned chair adjacent to her. The chamber was enormous, with high ceilings and wide, expansive walls of slate-colored castle brick, but the only furnishings in the entire room were that tub and that chair at the center, and a golden stand upon which sat a dozen burning red candles.

“What would you have me do about it?” Opheliel asked. “They view us with distrust and plot against us as always—”

“—We do sometimes deserve it,” Isodre admitted with a casual shrug.

“Of course we do, but that’s not the point,” Opheliel argued. “We don’t openly give them reason to. We have our own peoples to consider—how do we know that they will even see fit to allocate him to our lands at all?”

Isodre frowned. “I heard my spies say that the queens are telling their generals and confidants that they suspect we are plotting to kidnap Illemitar. They are already taking a defensive posture with us.”

Opheliel narrowed her eyes and splashed the bathblood with a flailing fist. “My diviners heard that they had some sort of secret meeting involving the Gloom Lord.”

“And we weren’t invited?!” Isodre gasped, feigning offense.

“Exactly!” the Blood Queen hissed, sitting up straight, her pale naked breasts dripping crimson liquid into the basin. “Absolutely no tact. It happened just after we left!”

“They deserve what’s coming, then,” the Dark Queen remarked bitterly. “They have authored what comes next with their own hands.”

Opheliel leaned against the edge of the tub so that she was looking up at her closest friend. “And what’s coming, pray tell?”

“Word is that Princess Kulderani has been installed into his domicile. If the Sun Queen has the right to pull such a maneuver, then so do we,” Isodre reasoned. “We will petition to have representatives of each of our people present. In the interests of fairness, of course.”

“Of course. Who, though?” Opehliel asked. “Send our daughters?”

Isodre scoffed. “My daughter is a delinquent and a pervert—and has been for centuries—the only Dark Elf I’ve ever known to fantasize over being dominated by a male. Can you imagine offering yourself to so crude a thing?”

“The depravity,” gasped Opheliel. “It shocks me every time you bring it up.”

“But,” said the Dark Elf queen as she raised a goblet of wine to her lips, “she is perfect for this mission for precisely that reason. Her twisted fetish may be precisely what we need in this instance.”

“Illemitar will be used to submissive women—he’ll love her,” the other woman laughed. “How fortunate.”

“And she will be my eyes and ears—I’ll know what the other queens are plotting, and I’ll be able to use his soon-to-be-blossoming affection for Drukara to bring him into our hands—”

“—And when he’s here we can really sink our fangs into him.” A pair of literal fangs emerged in timely fashion from the gums of the Blood Queen. “The power running through his veins from every seed he’s sown will be like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”

“And the Silver Bitch will beg for a turn with him, even after we’ve ruined him for good,” Isodre giggled mirthfully.

The Blood Queen let out a high, howling sigh. “I can’t wait, my dear. Our conquest of that boy will be legendary.”

“And how about you?” Isodre asked. “Will you send one of your daughters?”

Opheliel hummed as she tapped her chin. “Ambriel would be a good ebony to Drukara’s ivory, but I think I’d best wait for a while—let Dru get her nails in him, first. They’ll trip even more alarms if our two most degenerate daughters show up on his doorstep at the same time.”

Isodre nodded as she sipped her beverage. “Wise. Agreed, then.”

“Would you like to join me in the tub tonight?” The Blood Queen said, leaning back from the edge of the tub to present her bloodstained nudity to her friend. It had been too long since the two had put together such a delicious plot and she’d forgotten how much it turned her on.

“I’m not big on bathing in blood, love, you know that,” Isodre said, though it was through a warm smile and lustful gaze of longing at her partner’s soft, delicious breasts.

“Fair enough. I’m going to call in a snack,” Opheliel sighed, barely masking her disappointment. “You want anything?”

“What are you having?” Isodre asked, crossing her legs and grinning at her co-conspirator.

Opheliel grinned. “I was thinking of some halfling.”

“Ohhh, I love it,” Isodre cooed, clapping. “Have the halflings cook me some nice stew before you drink them dry. Then perhaps after, we might retire together for the evening.”

“Consider it done, dear,” laughed the Blood Queen, “consider it done.”

Book 2

Chapter 1

Undead flesh squelched as Illemitar Liminelda wrenched his blade free of the zombie’s chest. With a swift following sweep of his blade, he parted the creature from its head to be on the safe side. The forest around him lit up as he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Amali, the Wood Elf, dispatch a cluster of the undead with a blast of intense flame. He took a moment to admire the power of the spell before glancing around the battlefield to ensure they hadn’t missed anything.

“I think that’s all of them,” Yennisa groaned exhaustedly, brushing a loose lock of pale white hair behind a dark pointed ear. Like Illemitar, the half-elf had grown weary of these attacks long ago. Unlike him though, she wasn’t working with the added benefits that either he or Amali possessed. The Wood Elf’s brand, emblazoned across her lower abdomen, signifying her pregnancy by the male elf, granted her a significant boost to her magical power. For each of these brands that Illemitar was responsible for, the more his power grew as well.

“You alright, Yenni?” Illemitar asked, taking a moment to catch his breath as he sat down on a small moss-covered boulder.

“I will be,” she replied, resting alongside him on the same boulder. She wiped a smear of dubious origin from her arm, sneering in disgust. “I could use a bath, though.”

Illemitar nodded in agreement, chuckling slightly. “Yeah, I think we all could. It’s been weeks of this, almost non-stop.”

“It’d be a little easier if we had Amarieth out here with us,” Yenni griped, reaching for her waterskin.

Amali shook her head as she approached them, ignoring the smoldering corpses behind her. “Queen Effrien won’t have it. I’ve heard the other queens aren’t pleased with us being out here either.”

“Not much of a choice,” Illemitar responded, taking a drink from Yenni’s waterskin after she’d taken a much-needed pull from it. “Everyone’s been stretched thin with these attacks, and I’m the strongest response we have. I also recover the fastest. And you, Amali, have seen a huge boost to your spells since receiving your brand.”

“Amarieth has one, too,” Yenni argued. “But not me. Nope. Little old me, without a brand, is out here slogging it with the zombies while she’s kicking back at home.”

“She’s not exactly kicking back,” Lemmy countered. “I’m sure she’s chomping at the bit to be out here with us. But the queens don’t want to add to the risk, so she and Grinda have to remain behind. Amali wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for her magic.”

Amali sat down on the other side of Illemitar, snuggling up to him as she shot Yenni a dirty look. Since she’d become pregnant, her competitive nature concerning the male had only gotten worse. “My sister would be here if she could.”

“Mm.” Yenni grunted irritably, tugging at the male’s other arm to pull him away from Amali and closer to her. “Whatever.”

Illemitar glanced back at the smoldering corpses and frowned. “We need to figure out a way to put a stop to this. Responding to individual attacks isn’t very efficient and we’re wearing ourselves out in the process.”

“Where do they keep coming from?” Amali whined. “They’re not even Wood Elves or skeletons anymore. I preferred the bones to the gooey things.”

“They’re coming from outside the Sylvan Wood,” Lemmy explained. “Dead adventurers, bodies from the war, you name it. They’re being raised and brought in from all over.”

“So we’re sure this is the Necromancer, then?” Yenni asked, already knowing the answer to the question.

Lemmy nodded, shrugging the women off gently as he got to his feet. “I don’t see how it could be anyone else. Necromancy isn’t unheard of elsewhere; I’ve run into it a couple of times while adventuring. But this is a lot more juice than the run-of-the-mill deadspeaker and the Sylvan Wood is pretty far out of anyone’s way, with little payoff.”

“What’s the point?” Amali grumbled, resting her chin on her fist in a way that made her look like a spoiled child. “Why doesn’t he just leave us alone? He’s done enough damage.”

“Keeping us off-balance, most likely,” Lemmy answered. “Preventing us from replenishing the population of elves.”

“True,” Yenni agreed. “The more time we waste putting dead bodies back in the ground, the less time I get with that fat hog of yours basting my insides with baby batter.”

“Yen!” Lemmy coughed, struggling to stifle a laugh. “Do you need to be so graphic?”

“Need? No,” Yenni laughed. “Want? Yes. But I do need that dick inside me stirring up my guts, so let’s get home and get cleaned up so I can get what I need.”

“Absolutely incorrigible,” Lemmy muttered, motioning for the two to follow him back to the trail they had taken to head off the zombies. Yennisa had always been cock-hungry for him, but since seeing the other women in their little party getting pregnant before her, she was getting worse. Most of the time it was a little charming, but only because he’d believed it to be her own quirky way of expressing her deep infatuation for him. Time and again she had told him of her curse by a witch that condemned her never to know real love. However, he had recently learned from the elven queens that it wasn’t just some silly idea she’d got into her head one day. The curse was real.

Knowing the curse was real put her reckless desire into a different light, and it was beginning to worry him. If what she was experiencing wasn’t love, what was it? What could it even be called? What sort of consequences might there be if it continued to go unchecked? Worse still, would the curse be handed down to a child if he were to impregnate her? The only thing holding her off from stealing his seed in the night was the fleeting concern she had for a prospective child inheriting her curse. He had a sense that it wouldn’t hold her off for long. The only solution would be to break the curse.

“Are either of you hurt?” Yenni asked as they walked the trail. “I still have enough energy for a healing spell or two.”

“Just a few bumps and bruises,” Lemmy said gratefully. “This augmentation to my abilities has been wild. I’m so much faster and stronger than I was, but it still takes it out of me, so I’m mostly just tired.”

“How about you?” Yenni begrudgingly asked Amali, not bothering to look directly at her.

“No, I’m good,” Amali said, wrapping her arms around Lemmy’s. “I got everything I need right here.”

It seemed that there was going to be no peace for Illemitar any time soon, and he only expected it to get worse. As the last full-blooded male elf known in existence, he had a solemn duty to repopulate his entire race with the women of Elfland. The females of the species had been left untouched by the plague that had claimed the lives of every male so long ago. At least up until recently. Now, the women were beginning to show the symptoms, and the only thing that would stave it off was the boost each would receive with the brand that manifested upon pregnancy. He didn’t understand the specifics, but whenever a female elf became pregnant, a unique magical brand manifested on their abdomen. It empowered them throughout the course of the pregnancy, theoretically providing them with a defensive edge during their extended incubation period.

The trail diverged ahead, with the right arm leading back to the town and the left arm circling back into the forest, where it met a patrol trail and a game trail. Without intel on any additional undead incursions, the trio veered to the right. They hadn’t been on it long before another elf who was tall, toned, and muscular met them on the trail. Her skin was like willow bark, and her hair was a dark red that bordered on black when she wasn’t standing in direct sunlight. She stood with her arms crossed in the middle of the trail, glaring daggers at Illemitar as they approached.

“Ah geez,” Lemmy muttered briefly before putting on a smile and waving to the Sun Elf. “Kulderani, hey!”

“Don’t give me that,” the Sun Elf spat, standing firm with her arms crossed over her ample breasts. If it weren’t for her long, pointed ears, Lemmy could have been forgiven for forgetting she was an elf. Many full-blooded elven women he had encountered outside of the queens were shorter than him, but not her. He supposed her being a princess may have had something to do with that. “You dare take such a casual tone with me after leaving me behind?”

“We didn’t abandon you,” Lemmy argued casually, downplaying the seriousness of the situation.

“No?” she growled, her head tilting to the side as she lifted a long red brow.

Lemmy shook his head, opening his arms a little in a peaceful gesture. “Of course not, we just didn’t need you.”

“Excuse me?” Kulderani’s eyes narrowed as furious green flames appeared to blaze behind them.

“Oh, no,” Amali muttered, purposely lagging behind him as the Sun Elf grew angry. Yenni, to her credit, stepped up to fill the gap.

“What he means is we had it under control,” Yenni interjected before Lemmy could say anything else to dig himself deeper into a hole. “Your strength and skill was of better use in town.”

Kulderani’s gaze fell upon the half-elf. “Flattery will not win me over, halfbreed.”

“What if I said your tits look great today?” Lemmy wondered, earning an immediate shift of color in the princess’s face. As much as he would have liked to think the reaction was born of a certain affection for him, it was more likely the nature of the statement itself. He was willing to bet if Amali had said it, it may have had a similar result.

“Excuse me?” She fumbled, uncrossing her arms indignantly before shifting her weight awkwardly.

Lemmy shrugged with a smirk. “And don’t call her halfbreed, it’s insulting.”

“No insult was intended,” the Sun Elf responded, clearly off balance being talked to in such a way. As a princess, she was more accustomed to a degree of decorum when being addressed. Decorum wasn’t the male’s strong suit.

“I know,” Lemmy acknowledged. “That’s why I’m being polite about it. Understand?”

The Sun Elf’s hand rested reflexively on the pommel of the sword on her hip. “Yes, I believe I do.”

“Excellent,” he said, letting her off the hook. Yennisa caught a lot of disrespect in Elfland for being a half-elf, and it was going to take some time to undo the kind of preconceptions that led to it. In the meantime, he knew he could appeal to elven pride and honor with certain individuals to bypass extended exchanges on elven history, policies, and prejudices. “Walk with us?”

“Of course,” the princess answered, a little flustered at the ease with which he had taken control of the conversation. She glanced briefly at the other two women before continuing along with them on the trail. “What did you encounter?”

“Zombies this time,” Lemmy answered casually. “Too slow to be a real threat, but in large enough numbers, they could overrun some of the less experienced patrols.”

“Zombies,” the princess repeated. Lemmy could see her coming to the conclusion that they could more than handle such a threat. But there was a hint of suspicion in her voice that got Lemmy’s attention. “Rather weak necromancy, all things considered.”

“What do you mean?” Amali asked, trying to nose her way back into the group.

Yennisa looked smugly at the Wood Elf. “She means that she expects more from a supposedly legendary Necromancer who created the necropox. Zombies and skeletons are low-tier conjurations within the necromancy discipline. Weren’t you educated on that during your arcane training?”

“Of course not!” Amali exclaimed indignantly. “Why would anyone want to learn necromancy like that?”

The response seemed to genuinely take Yenni off guard. She had just been teasing the woman while flaunting some of her own advanced education, but the truth of the matter was far more startling. “So you can better identify and counter it?”

“Bah,” Amali spat, waving a hand. “Waste of time and energy. Fire handles the problem just fine without having to delve into such unclean teachings. Besides, I’m a sorceress, not some irresponsibly curious wizard who needs to get her grubby mitts on every piece of magical knowledge. We identify our aptitudes early and teach to our strengths.”

“Ah,” Yenni said simply, clearly surprised with Amali’s detailed explanation of the matter.

“I always thought you were some kind of druid,” Lemmy interrupted, earning him a quizzical look from the Wood Elf. “With all the vines and nature stuff you usually favor.”

“Druidry is a rare art among our people since the plague,” Amali said. “My primal magic, my sorcery, resembles it on a surface level but beyond that it’s pretty different.”

“Hm.” Lemmy shrugged, thinking back to the magical training his mother had given him growing up. Despite her best efforts, he’d never been particularly good at weaving spells, but he’d always considered his academic grasp of magic to be fairly extensive. Primal magic appeared to be a blindspot for him, though. “I didn’t know that. How is it different?”

“Druids are more spiritual,” the Sun Elf warrior added plainly. “Commanding nature through magic is only one facet of their abilities. They can connect to the spirit world, with our ancestors, and the primal will of the world.”

Illemitar nodded his understanding despite having several more questions. Instead, he let it go as they drew nearer to Osserin. The town had been built within an ancient abandoned High Elf city. Numerous brilliant structures of elven construction shot up through the dense canopy of the forest, reaching skyward in breathtaking ethereal spires. Most were unoccupied, though more and more were finding residents with each passing day as word of the last male elf’s arrival spread throughout the population of the Sylvan Forest. No doubt they hoped that closer proximity to him would increase their chances of being bumped up the list, but from what Illemitar understood, the queens had a very different approach in mind. He just wished they would share it with him already. There had been such urgency with his retrieval, and now it felt like things were stalling.

It was a sight to behold even before people had started trickling back in, but now that they had, there was a sense of industriousness that rebuilding evoked in his mind. Judging by the relative silence that had fallen across the rest of the small group, it had a similar effect on them as well. Walking back into town along the main road earned them all a series of waves and greetings from women eager to earn not just his favor but those of his companions. It was no secret that the last male elf was protective of his companions and that he heard their counsel on various matters. The idea was that earning their favor could be an easier path to him than attempting to earn his favor directly. It was all a bit too political for him.

Yenni and Amali enjoyed the attention, though, returning the waves and greetings enthusiastically. It was one of the few attention-seeking behaviors that they shared and didn’t compete in. There was more than enough attention to go around for them for the time being, which took some of the focus off of him. He smiled at how cute they both were as they gobbled it all up.

“So,” Kulderani began a little quieter. “What do you think it means?”

Lemmy turned his attention to her, taking a moment to gather her meaning before answering. “The low-level necromancy? I don’t know. It’s still dangerous in large quantities but that doesn’t seem to be the goal. Perhaps he’s testing our defenses, poking here and there to see how how we respond.”

“A sound strategy,” the Sun Elf agreed. “There are old stories of the Necromancer’s patience as well as his tactical brilliance. I fear you may be correct.”

“Well if I am, then we need to get to work on aggressively training more people to join the ranks of the defense,” Illemitar concluded. “As useful as our personal training sessions have been, I think it might be of more use to those with less experience than me.”

Kulderani looked unconvinced but was willing to entertain the idea. He might not have been able to beat her soundly in a duel, but they had sparred enough times that she had come to at least respect his abilities and thoughts when it came to battle. “Alright, I will speak to my mother on the matter. She may be able to bring it before the other queens.”

“Excellent, thank you,” Lemmy said with a respectful nod. He considered earning her trust to be a tangible sign of progress in Elfland even if he didn’t feel like he was making much in other areas.

“You’re most welcome,” she replied, the faintest hint of a smile playing on her lips. “But don’t think that means I’ll be going easy on you.”

“Ha!” Lemmy laughed, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder and offering it a firm squeeze. “Of course not. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

The ghost of a smile threatened to become a fully realized one before Yenni took note of the physical contact and swiftly inserted herself between them. “When we get back home, would you like to take a bath with me?”

Lemmy raised a suspicious brow, knowing that it would turn into more than just a simple bath. She’d said as much at the battle site but seemed to think he had forgotten what she was up to. It didn’t bother him, he supposed. Most of his job in the elven lands was to keep the women sexually satisfied, and he had no intention of leaving Yenni out of that just because her circumstances were a little strange.

“Yeah,” he agreed, smiling at her warmly. “I think a little one-on-one time for us is just what I need to wind down for the rest of the day.”

“Really!?” Yenni squealed, practically vibrating out of her skin with unbridled excitement. “You mean it?”

Lemmy nodded, pulling her close and planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. She might have been cursed not to know true love, but the woman’s heart was so big it managed to find ways to skirt the curse as closely as possible. It just made him want to unshackle it all the more, to see what manner of person she could become without a petty curse holding her back. It would also put his mind at ease regarding any children she bore for him.

“Well then let’s hurry it the fuck up!” The priestess cheered, tugging fiercely on his arm away from the group to hurry him down the road toward their home. “We might be able to get a few hours in if we’re quick!”

“A few hours?” Lemmy stammered, half stumbling as he tried to keep up with her excited pace. “Who the hell takes a bath for a few hours?”

“When bath is code for raw-dogging a hungry cunt,” Yenni laughed impishly, “we do!”

Chapter 2

The water in the tub sloshed as Lemmy shifted his weight and propped Yenni’s leg up on the edge. The grip she held with both hands visibly tightened with the new angle and the added force to each stroke of his hips.

“That’s it, baby!” She cried happily. “Get in there nice and deep!”

Lemmy knew he shouldn’t humor her so much, but there was just something about the way her wet skin gleamed in the light that had driven him crazy. The swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, and the way she sounded when she coaxed him gently to have his way with her were just too much. But the quiet phase of things had passed. They were getting loud now, unapologetically loud, in fact. There was no doubt in his mind that the others in the next room could hear everything that was going on.

“Shh! You’re getting too noisy, Yenni!” He warned, though he did nothing to make it easier for her to quiet down. On the contrary, he found himself working her even harder, forcing her heavy tits to swing in the way he loved so much.

“I don’t care!” Yenni moaned whorishly. “Let them hear. I want them to hear how good you fuck me!”

Lemmy knew it could cause jealousy issues later, but there was no stopping him now. She had a vice grip on him, not just physically but also on his soul. It was a kind of reckless need that he couldn’t explain, even when not deep in the throes of bliss with her. The fact that she wanted it so badly was icing on the cake for him.

Leaning forward, Lemmy took hold of both of her delicious breasts, arresting their movement as he held her close to him. He bucked harder, pillaging the depths of the half-elf with as much vigor as his enhanced physique allowed. She grew louder as he tugged at the soft flesh, pinching the nipples with the practiced hands of a man who’d bedded more than his fair share of women during his long adventuring career.

“I’m close, baby!” She gasped as her body began to tighten up. “Cum inside me! I need that elven spunk, Lemmy!”

He almost fell for it. He was on the brink of release, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to finish inside her divine pussy. But the thought of the curse being passed down to a child offered him enough clarity to pull himself from the comfort of her cunt and blast thick, white ropes of his seed across her back.

“N-no!” She protested, but with her body quaking from orgasm as he ground his cock between the cleft of her ass cheeks, there was little else she could say or do. Shuddering in orgasmic delight, she hunched over and rode the wave to completion on her own, without him inside her.

The moment of bliss was short-lived. As soon as Yenni recovered, she turned on him, slapping him a few times in the arm frustratedly. “Damn it all, you were supposed to go inside!”

“We’ve talked about it before,” Lemmy protested, his breath far less ragged from the exertion than he expected. “What if you get pregnant?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she groaned, slouching back into the bathwater, causing it to nearly slosh over the side. “I told you already how unlikely it is that the curse would work like that. Curses are relatively specific, even when vaguely worded. The witch didn’t say anything about it being generational or descendants.”

“It’s still a risk, Yen,” he sighed, sinking back into the bathwater. “Even if every last elven child weren’t crucial to the future of our people, I would still consider our children worth the extra care and attention.”

Yenni’s expression softened as she averted her gaze. “That’s sweet, but that just means I’m the only one who won’t get pregnant. I’ve known you for so long, and women you’ve just met are carrying your children. I’m being left behind.”

“You’re not being left behind,” Lemmy argued, scooting a little closer to bring her into an embrace. “I won’t leave you behind. Your place is right here at my side.”

Yenni didn’t warm up to him the way she normally did, choosing to sulk instead. “Yeah, at your side with no children. No fancy mark to give me superpowered magic. Nothing.”

Lemmy let out a long sigh as he mentally shifted gears. “Alright, look at it this way. What was the curse the witch placed upon you?”

“To never fall in love,” the half-elf said, her ears twitching in irritation. “I’ve said it a million times. You never believed me, though.”

Lemmy ignored the latter part of her statement and pressed on. “Would you really want to risk missing out on that with a baby?”

Yenni raised her head, her eyes pink as a sunset reflected off a placid pond nearly as wet. What he was getting at suddenly registered with her. “You don’t think—?”

“I don’t know, but that’s my point. We can’t possibly know,” he explained gently. “Like you said, it’s vague enough. Would you really want to experience never falling in love with your own baby? And what if your baby somehow knew that?”

Yenni’s gaze faltered. Lemmy caught a glimpse of shame as she turned away. He offered her a gentle squeeze as he spoke gently into her wet, white hair. “Don’t beat yourself up. It hadn’t occurred to you before.”

“It should’ve,” she whispered, choking back some tears. “I’ve been living with it all my life, and it’s only just now coming up. What kind of priestess am I? What kind of mother would I be?”

“Incredible on both counts,” Lemmy answered without missing a beat. Yenni smiled despite herself. “Besides, it won’t be forever.”

“It won’t?” The half-elf asked curiously. “How do you know?”

“Because I’m going to make sure the curse is lifted as soon as possible,” he answered resolutely, bringing the tears back to her eyes. Thankfully, they were tears of joy this time.

“You mentioned it before…but you really mean it?” She asked hopefully, taking one of his hands and clasping it tightly within hers.

“Of course, Yen,” he assured her, his heart swelling with affection as he gazed into her eyes. “I won’t let you down.”

Yenni wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, not that it made much of a difference in the tub. “And then you’ll dick me down until I’m full of elf babies?”

“Uh…” Lemmy cleared his throat, resisting the urge to laugh. There was just no getting her mind off of fucking for too long, even when she was feeling down. “Yeah, of course.”

“We should go another round!” Yenni bit her lip, nodding energetically to coax him into it. “Just for practice, you know?”

Lemmy’s brows furrowed incredulously. “Even if it were the sort of thing people practiced for, I wouldn’t need it.”

“Ain’t that the fucking truth,” Yenni cackled, scooting back to the other side of the tub again to prop herself up. “Put it in my ass so you can still cum inside, okay?”

Lemmy shrugged in agreement. He didn’t need to be asked twice to plunder an ass as cute as hers. Before he could move into position behind the half-elf, spreading her soft, round ass-cheeks apart, the door flew open.

“Enough!” Grinda shouted angrily, glaring at the two of them in a way that betrayed her goblin heritage. “You two in here too long. Grinda turn!”

“You’re already pregnant, you little shit!” Yenni snapped back, grabbing the soap and hurling it in her direction. “You don’t need any more turns!”

“Not sex,” Grinda protested, slapping the soap out of the air with flailing arms. “Bath! It Grinda bath time! Besides you not get pregnant with butt sex!”

Lemmy snorted. “That was kinda the point, actually.”

“Grinda know,” the Half-Goblin argued. “Grinda hear everything. Grinda have ears like bat!”

“Stop cock-blocking me,” Yenni shouted back at her. “You can have your bath after I get my ass fucked!”

Amarieth stepped in behind the shorter female, wearing a similar scowl on her face. Though she and Amali were twins, the similarities between them were few. Amarieth was more fit and toned, favoring a much more physically taxing lifestyle and magic. Where her sister magically bent the elements to her will, Amarieth conjured weapons of magic or enhanced the ones she carried on her. Though she favored the use of a traditional elven longbow, she was capable of close combat when the situation called for it.

Grinda was similar in that she mixed magical talent with weapon training. The main difference was that she used the magic for stealth to get up close, where she would savagely tear her foes apart with daggers. He didn’t really understand how the magic worked, as its nature made it difficult to detect even for him, but he couldn’t argue with the results she got with it.

“And what do you want?” Yenni snarled at Amarieth. “Can’t you see there’s a line for riding this dick?”

“Please,” Amarieth scoffed, caressing the mark glowing gently on her abdomen. “I’ve no need for such things now. I’m here to inform you that the queens have requested your presence. So… finish whatever it is you’re doing and get dressed.”

Though the Wood Elf feigned disinterest, Lemmy knew she was perhaps the most possessive of all the women present, which was quite a statement considering how Yenni would get. Amarieth preferred to be more private, bottling up all of her most aggressive sexual urges until Lemmy and her could be alone. Once they were, her disinterest melted away, and she transformed into a dominating woman with an insatiable sexual appetite. Even now, he could see it simmering behind her eyes, waiting for a chance to be let loose upon him, but if he didn’t know to look for it, it would be easily missed. No one else knew. He’d promised to keep it between them.

“Well, I guess the fun’s over,” Lemmy sighed, stepping out of the tub and onto the bath mat. He could see the eyes of the women at the door widened as they beheld the mostly-erect cock swinging between his legs.

“What!?” Yennisa complained. “This is ridiculous. Every time they snap their fingers you’re just going to come running? Right while we’re in the middle of something?”

“They’re the queens!” Amarieth protested, taking a step forward to confront Yennisa. Lemmy halted her with a gesture of his hand, then pointed to the towel hanging just to her right. She stopped, grabbed the towel, and tossed it to him reluctantly.

“Which means that if they’re summoning me, it’s likely important,” Lemmy continued in a diplomatic tone. “If it isn’t, then I will simply explain that I would prefer to be summoned only for matters of the utmost importance.”

Yennisa calmed down, but only slightly. Rather than continue to bicker, the half-elf stepped out of the tub behind Lemmy as he went about drying himself off. Grinda grabbed her a towel and brought it to her, despite their little spat, the Half-Goblin was inclined to be helpful more often than not. Yenni took the towel, offering the shorter woman an apologetic look.

“Grinda go too,” the Half-Goblin remarked with a reassuring nod. “Protect.”

“I appreciate that,” Lemmy replied, toweling out his long golden-brown hair. “You want to come too Amarieth? I feel bad that you had to sit it out earlier.”

Surprised, Amarieth took a moment to compose herself before offering a nonchalant shrug. “Yeah, sure. I guess. Amali fell asleep in her room, so she won’t miss anything.”

Yennisa wrapped her towel around her chest, rolling the top down across her breasts to hold it firmly in place. “Let’s not keep them waiting, I guess.”

The small group moved from the bathroom and split up. Amarieth and Grinda went out into the sitting room to wait while Illemitar and Yennisa ascended the spiral staircase to the large master bedroom that awaited them there. The house was a strange one by Lemmy’s standards, but it had grown on him. High Elves favored vertical construction, saving as much space on the forest floor to lessen the impact it had on the environment. Many of the buildings were made to emulate trees decoratively, further enhanced magically to be breathtakingly beautiful when night fell. All of that boiled down to one thing for Lemmy: a lot of stairs. Thankfully, it didn’t tax him nearly as much as it would have before he’d bestowed a few brands. It was still a little inconvenient at times, though.

As he neared the top of the stairs, he caught a glimpse of Grinda staring up at them from under the stairs. “Grinda!”

“What?” She responded, sounding like she genuinely had no idea what he was yelling down at her about. “What want?”

“You just saw us both naked in the bathroom,” he laughed in disbelief. “Why would you need to sneak a peek at our junk from under the stairs.”

“More fun,” Grinda said shamelessly.

Yenni flared the bottom of the towel out with both hands to give her a better look. “Well, here you go, then!”

“Hrm, less fun,” Grinda grunted, turning away to busy herself with something else.

Lemmy and Yenni continued to the master bedroom, which they shared. The two existed in a strange semi-married state. Yennisa claimed that she had all the authority she needed to have married them, even when he had agreed to the declaration in jest. More confusing was that he’d referred to her as his wife while under the influence of a truth spell. He’d insisted she be regarded as his wife in order to keep her close by, preventing the queens from sending her back to her parents. None of the queens thought highly of Yennisa, though it had less to do with her half-blooded nature and more to do with the prospect of her throttling his baby output with the rest of the women in Elfland.

“Do you think they’ll do this a lot?” Yennisa asked, throwing the towel off as she approached the balcony on the far end of the room that let in the dappled sunlight. “Is it going to be for the rest of our lives?”

“Uh,” Lemmy hesitated, wondering the same thing. In his position, he was meant to become the King of the Six Kingdoms, but did that make him less beholden to their wishes or more? He was going to need to do some research. Perhaps the Gloom Lord would be able to give him a quick primer on it. “I don’t know.”

Looking over at her, he savored the figure that she cut in the light filtering down from the treetops. Her dark, flawless skin was absolutely captivating. There was something about the light and the seemingly infinite greenery behind her that felt so right. It felt like they belonged there. It felt right to him. Whatever the conditions of their stay were, he knew he would endure it if it meant she was there with him. “You going to go like that, or do you want to grab something to wear?”

“Ha. Ha,” Yenni replied flatly, suppressing a smirk. She didn’t make a move toward the wardrobe. “How many places do you know where we can bask naked on a balcony like this?”

Lemmy pursed his lips as his mind shot back across his various adventures. As worldly as he was, he hadn’t been to many places that were as permissive and sexually liberated as it was with the elves. “Not many. As much as I’d love to watch your nude sunbathing, we have to get going.”

“Fine, fine,” Yenni said, turning a little dramatically to add a little heft to the swing of her breasts, knowing how much it would kill Lemmy to walk away from such a thing. Biting his lip, he resumed dressing at an accelerated pace, putting the thought of a nude Yennisa out of his mind. She didn’t dress as swiftly, but with how much simpler her priestess’s robes were, they finished at about the same time. Once they were finished, they rejoined Grinda and Amarieth downstairs.

Outside, Lemmy motioned for Yenni to hop up on his back. He would be able to carry her for the long trek to meet with the queens.

“That won’t be necessary,” Amarieth commented as she breezed past them. “We’ve got a new mode of transportation we can use.”

Lemmy and Yenni exchanged glances before following, making sure to stay close to the Wood Elf as she crossed the deck in front of the house and stepped onto the rope bridge that connected it to the rest of the middle level. They passed through the junction on the other side, circling around an immense tree trunk before proceeding onto another rope bridge that sloped gently upward. There, wrapped around another massive tree, was a structure Lemmy hadn’t paid any attention to before. It looked old, woven from the branches and bark of the tree itself through magical means, but with a few parts that looked recently repaired.

The structure was open on the sides, with a long sloping awning covering an extended pair of platforms that jutted out over the forest floor. These platforms were supported by thick braids of vines—thicker than Lemmy’s torso and twisted branches from the tree. The most noteworthy aspect of the structure was the pair of giant reptilian creatures dangling upside down from some of the vines that stretched out into the forest beyond. Each of the creatures had oversized litters strapped to their backs, fitted with numerous seats for passengers.

“Whooooaaaa,” Lemmy marveled, his eyes going as wide as saucers. “Are those deroks?”

Amarieth looked back at him, impressed with how quickly he had identified the creatures. “Good eye. I didn’t think they had deroks where you were from.”

“They don’t,” he answered as they approached the platform where passengers were disembarking. None of them made any effort to conceal their staring and curious looks at him. “The forests aren’t big enough, but I’ve read about them.”

Yenni stared at the immense creatures apprehensively. Each was big enough to have swallowed her whole, with strange conical eyes that moved independently of each other in various directions. One made a trilling sound to the other, which was returned with a slightly higher trill.

“Is that…safe?” Yenni asked as they neared the end of the platform to begin boarding. “What if they let go?”

“They won’t,” Amarieth assured her, motioning toward the deroks hands and feet grasping tightly at the vines. “The muscles in their hands and feet lock into place when gripping something. Even if they were rendered completely unconscious, you would need a whole team of elves to pry each digit loose.”

“Impressive,” Lemmy remarked, glancing over at Grinda who stared up at the creatures with the same child-like wonder he was. “Do they not have deroks in the Gloom Court?”

“No,” Grinda replied, offering no further explanation before boarding the enclosed area hanging from the backs of the creatures. Lemmy shrugged, deciding he should have known better than to ask her for a detailed background on such things.

Yennisa still looked apprehensive, the vivid explanation offered by Amarieth offering her little comfort. “I don’t know. What about the harness? That doesn’t seem very safe.”

“What I want to know,” Lemmy interjected, gently pushing Yenni forward. “Is when they got here. I know for sure I would have noticed if they had been here this morning.”

“The final connections were made while you were out,” the Wood Elf explained, motioning for them to have a seat anywhere as they stepped into the car. “There have only been a couple of arrivals and departures since then.”

“How fast does it go?” Yennisa asked as the door closed behind them. They’d made it just in time for departure.

Amarieth sat down in one of the empty seats with a flash of mischief in her eyes. “Not too fast for me.”

Lemmy sat down next to Yenni, extending an arm around her. He had a feeling that it was going to be a little faster than the half-elf was comfortable with. Only a moment or two after they had settled, a command was given from the driver somewhere in the front and the car lurched into motion. At first, Lemmy thought he had misread Amarieth’s response, but as they left the town limits the creature rapidly gained speed.

“Oh..” Yenni grunted, her grip on the seat so tight her knuckles started going white. “Oh, no.”

“See?” Amarieth asked smugly, the wind around the car beginning to whistle as they continued to gain speed. “Not that fast at all.”

Chapter 3

“Huuurgk!” Yennisa gagged, clapping one hand over her mouth to prevent herself from hurling. Illemitar hadn’t thought the ride was too rough, but he’d spent a lot more time on the road than Yenni on the backs of rougher beasts. Of course, the car’s swaying from side to side had been relatively new to him.

Lemmy gently patted her on the back as she hunched over. “There, there, Yen. Deep breaths.”

Other passengers boarding the next derok out passed by them on both sides. Only a few paused to glance in her direction, which told Lemmy it was a relatively common reaction.

“You alright, Yennisa?” Amarieth asked smugly, sauntering easily past the half-elf. “Maybe you want to stay here while we meet with the queens?”

Yennisa shook her head emphatically, straightening herself up quickly. “Not a chance!”

The Wood Elf paused, staring back at Yenni in surprise. The priestess smirked, running a hand across her face as a faint glimmer of magic trailed behind it. The pale, sickly look she’d had just a moment before was gone as color returned to her face. “It’ll be a cold day in hell when a bumpy ride on a lizard bests a priestess of Tellithri.”

“You have a spell for motion sickness?” Lemmy laughed, stepping out of the way of a boarding passenger. “Do you get a lot of use out of it?”

Yennisa laughed into the back of her hand, managing to look even more smug than Amarieth had. “I’m a woman of many talents, dearest fuckmeat! Never underestimate me!”

Lemmy scoffed, exchanging glances with Amarieth. “Fuckmeat?”

“Dearest,” Yenni corrected him, holding up one finger as she took a moment to swallow something.

“Right,” Lemmy remarked before turning away from her to leave the platform. “Let’s go.”

Descending from the derok platform, Lemmy could see the whole of Ganlyn stretched out before him, as dazzling as it had been the first time he saw it. The Eternal Tree stood at the middle of the city, bathed in its incredible, ethereal light. Silver spires of High Elf construction, similar to the buildings in Osserin, stretched high above the treetops of the valley. Wild flora, growing rampantly under the magical influence of the Eternal Tree, clustered around the base of each structure. Not far from the tree, was the densely clustered copse of ancient greenery that served as the seat of the Silver Court.

“It’s so beautiful,” Yennisa remarked breathlessly. “Why didn’t we stay here again? They gave us a free house.”

“Eh, wasn’t quite big enough,” Lemmy fibbed, descending into the city along the main road. Ganlyn had considerably more foot traffic than Osserin, with considerably more women to take notice of his presence. Further down into the elven city, where there was more commerce, were even more elves coming and going to the other settlements of Elfland. Though Ganlyn was the capital, filled with a diverse population of all elvenkind, there was a substantial number of elves that remained with their own kind in settlements elsewhere. Being in the capital, where he was instantly recognized, caused word of his presence to spread like wildfire, causing even more elves to come to the city to get a look at him. Even then, it wasn’t the constant attention that bothered him. He’d made his peace with that.

“Not big enough!?” Yennisa protested, gesturing wildly toward one of the spires. “How are these things not big enough? Each one is practically an entire estate on its own.”

“Too bright,” Grinda grumbled, gesturing toward the Eternal Tree. “Too bright.”

Lemmy averted his gaze as Yennisa and Amariel both turned to stop him in his tracks. Both of them looked utterly scandalized as they realized what the true reason was. He didn’t think such a thing would have mattered to Amarieth, but he realized now that he had been wrong.

“Tell me that’s not the reason,” Yenni snapped, jabbing a finger in his chest. “Tell me we didn’t give up a lavish High Elf spire in the center of Elfland because it was too bright.”

Lemmy pursed his lips and sucked his teeth, glancing around for a moment before his eyes settled on Grinda who threw her hands up in surrender. She wanted no part of this despite being the one who had given him up. “It really is too bright.”

“You can’t be serious,” Amarieth groaned dejectedly.

“It’s too bright!” Lemmy repeated, throwing his arms up toward the Eternal Tree. “No matter where I go, it’s all I see. I close my eyes, and I can still see the damn thing. All the elves here might be used to a ginormous glowing tree, but we don’t have anything like this back home. We sleep in dark rooms without magical miniature suns humming, droning on and on, keeping us up to all hours of the night.”

“Humming?” Grinda asked. “Grinda no hear humming.”

“It hums,” Lemmy countered, motioning with both arms for everyone to resume walking. “Let’s go, we’re wasting time.”

No one said anything for the remainder of the walk. When they arrived at the Silver Court, two guards as beautiful as they were intimidating awaited them out front. Each looked like a Sun Elf, judging by their burnished sun-kissed skin and dark brown or black shades of curly hair. The pair was more physically toned than most elves, armed with partisans and round golden shields. As they approached, the Sun Elves bowed respectfully to Illemitar and stepped back to grant them access to a path of ghost-white bricks beyond, covered with lush green moss along either side.

The further into the heart of the Silver Court they walked, the less sense the space made. From the outside, the dense cluster of trees didn’t look large enough to contain more than a single throne room, if that. On the inside, the space seemed to go on and on, with the small gaps between trees appearing to extend into an infinite abyss.

A second pair of guards, these ones High Elves in more ornate uniforms, met them at a great stone archway. Above it was a bas relief of the moon and stars, the symbols of the Silver Court. Without a word, the guards granted them access. With a thud of their partisans on the stone bricks, the huge double doors opened magically of their own accord, granting them access to the inner chamber where the queens held court.

The first time Lemmy had been there, the court was in session, and a multitude of elven women he’d never seen before stared at him in complete shock. This time was different; only the queens were present, gathered around the pedestal at the center, atop which was an intricately carved crystal cauldron filled with pristine water.

“Greetings, Illemitar,” Golariel, the High Queen, intoned as he entered, her serene voice echoing off of the organic, curved walls. “Thank you for joining us on such short notice. I realize you must have been occupied with other matters.”

Yennisa shrugged a little, accepting the apology despite it not being directed at her. The queen’s beautiful aquamarine eyes briefly passed over the half-elf before returning to Lemmy. The other queens remained silent, though the Blood Queen and the Dark Queen looked to be on the verge of pouncing on him. He narrowed his eyes in their direction before looking back to Golariel. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve been discussing some matters,” Golariel continued, motioning gracefully to her companions. “Outlining the next steps for our people. It has been a few weeks since your arrival. So far, no ill-effects have been observed in the other pregnancies—few as they are.”

“You sound disappointed,” Lemmy remarked, stepping a little closer to get a better look at the other queens. They were situated in a semi-circle around the pedestal, with the Woodland Queen, Effrien, and the Sun Queen, Kaldaduniriel, standing on the queen’s right. The Dark Queen, Isodre, and the Blood Queen, Opheliel were on Golariel’s other side, but Lemmy noted a conspicuous gap that caused their spacing to be uneven.

“Some among us are. Others are more understanding,” Golariel responded, her eyes drifting toward the spot Lemmy’s eyes had lingered on for a moment. She grew quiet, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. “We leave a space open for the Wild Queen.”

Lemmy’s gaze darted around to the other queens, each of which averted their gaze when his eyes passed over them. “I haven’t heard anything about the Wild Queen.”

“She’s missing.” Effrien cut Golariel off. “She hasn’t been seen since—.”

“She’s not missing,” Isodre argued bitterly. “She’s dead. She was killed a long time ago.”

“We don’t know that,” Effrien snapped, her voice cracking slightly. “No one saw it happen. We never recovered her remains.”

Lemmy’s brow arched slightly as he glanced back at Amariel, who seemed equally confused by the Woodland Queen’s emotional state. More importantly, though, every one of the queens seemed to have strong feelings about the matter. She meant something to all of them. Somehow, they had all liked her. That seemed rather strange to him, considering how much they argued on everything else, even when ideologies were relatively aligned with one another’s.

“I can tell you’re uncomfortable with the topic,” Lemmy apologized. “I’m sorry.”

“Quite alright,” Golariel assured him. “It was a long time ago, but for ones such as us, the wounds can still feel fresh. It’s important not to dwell on the past—so that we may look to the future. Which is why we have called you here.”

“What do you have in mind?” Lemmy asked curiously. The mood of the queens began to shift away from the negativity the subject of the missing queen had brought upon them.

“A ball,” Opheliel answered, flashing him a toothy grin. “A grand affair to serve as your official introduction in the Silver Court to the rest of our people.”

“W-what?” Lemmy stammered, surprised that it hadn’t been a more urgent matter. “Like a party? Is that really such a good idea?”

“Of course it is,” Kaldaduniriel scoffed, finally speaking up. “With darkness encroaching on us once more, the morale boost would be invaluable. We will only make it through what lies ahead if we do so together.”

“Providing the people with something to rally behind is important,” Isodre continued grudgingly. “It’s easier for them to do when it’s something—or someone— they can see. It makes it more real for them.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Lemmy agreed hesitantly. “And it would get everyone’s minds off the undead for a little while.”

Kaldaduniriel’s weight shifted from one leg to the other. “You’ve encountered more?”

“Just today,” Lemmy confirmed. “Only zombies, so it just took a few of us to handle it.”

“They’re escalating,” the Sun Queen concluded, exchanging glances with the other queens. “We should double the guard.”

Golariel raised a hand to put a stop to any debate before it began. “We will attend to the matter later. For now, we must address the matter of seeding.”

“Seeding,” Yennisa scoffed bitterly, the discussion from earlier still fresh in her mind. “Interesting way of putting it.”

“We’ve been considering which methods may be least intrusive for everyone,” Effrien explained. “Regardless of the necessity and demand across all of Elfland, we want to make it a smooth process that ensures the highest yield with the lowest amount of emotional entanglements.”

“Emotional entanglements,” Lemmy repeated apprehensively. “Like women falling in love with me?”

Opheliel offered a sharp, pearly grin once again, leaning a little closer. “Or the ones already in love with you from getting jealous—in the way. Understand?”

“Excuse me?” Yennisa blurted out. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

The Blood Queen opened her arms and shrugged defensively. “I meant no offense, little one, especially regarding you. We know you couldn’t possibly provide such a complication with the curse that’s been placed upon you.”

Yenni looked as though she’d had the wind knocked out of her, staring back at the queen with glassy eyes. It wasn’t often that Lemmy saw her at a loss for words, but the Blood Queen seemed to have a way with them that even cut through the priestess’s defenses.

“That’s uncalled for, don’t you think?” Lemmy frowned, brows knitting together.

Golariel and the two queens on her right turned their heads slowly to look over at Opheliel. After an awkward moment of silence, Isodre slowly looked in her direction as well. The Blood Queen seemed unphased, blinking quickly several times before taking a step closer to the male elf. “What are you implying?”

“Allow me to be a little more clear,” Lemmy responded firmly, taking a step closer to the Blood Queen, gesturing back to Yenni. “This is Yennisa Kindheart, priestess of Tellithri, and my oldest companion besides. She means a great deal to me, the future King of the Six Kingdoms. It would be in your best interests to show her more respect.”

“Is that so?” The Blood Queen wondered, looking almost amused with Illemitar’s show of backbone. It wasn’t often that someone failed to balk at the use of his serious voice. “I am a queen. She is a—”

“A half-elf,” Lemmy finished for her, his glare becoming even sharper than before, drifting slightly to the left where it settled on Isodre. “Dark Elf, in fact. Which means you should be looking out for her, right?”

Opheliel’s eyes faltered once Isodre failed to respond immediately. Slowly, she turned to look back at the queen Lemmy always seemed to see at her side. The last male elf’s head canted to one side as he waited expectantly for the Dark Queen’s response. “No? Nothing? Or are you waiting on permission from Opheliel to speak?”

Isodre’s posture grew stiffer as she squared her shoulders. “I require no one’s permission to speak my mind, Illemitar. I speak when I wish to speak.”

“Good,” Lemmy said, taking a few steps back. “Let me be clear on something. I don’t have the patience for verbal sparring. Nor do I suffer sovereigns who lack a sense of noblesse oblige for those under their charge. Neither are particularly useful in rebuilding the elven race or defending against outside threats. So when the time comes for me to choose—and make no mistake, it will be me that makes the choice— which queen I will seed first, I will be keeping such things in mind.”

Isodre’s eyes darted between the Blood Queen and Illemitar, trying to silently communicate something. Once she saw it wasn’t coming across she took a step forward, “Forgive us, Illemitar. Old habits die hard for us. Of course, I would like to extend my aid and protection to young Yennisa. It would be an honor.”

Lemmy wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw the hint of a satisfied smirk on Golariel’s lips out of the corner of his eye. Opheliel stared at him impassively for a moment longer, taking the time to process the information and the shift in the room’s tone.

“Of course,” the Blood Queen finally said, bowing her head slightly. “How may we be of service?”

“The curse you mentioned,” Lemmy said, his heart pounding in his chest. “I’d like to see it broken.”

“Then we follow the matter up and keep you informed,” the Dark Queen replied, taking Opheliel by the arm and leading her away from the pedestal. Isodre wanted to cut her and the Blood Queen’s losses. Strangely enough, they didn’t leave through the archway and melted into the shadows at the edge of the chamber instead.

“Impressive, Illemitar,” Kaldaduniriel remarked. “You may not have the patience for verbal sparring, but you appear to have a talent for it nonetheless.”

“Yeah,” Lemmy croaked, his throat dry from the tension of the last few minutes. “Maybe.”

“Thank you,” Yennisa murmured gratefully at his side. She squeezed his arm gently, steadying his pulse and quieting the pounding of his heart in his ears.

“On the matter of the process,” Effrien began, clearing her throat to push past the awkwardness. “We were thinking, perhaps you would wish to plant your seed in a neutral location. Rather than bring them back to your home.”

The Woodland Queen glanced in Amarieth’s direction. Lemmy realized she was either attempting to show her nieces some consideration or keep them close to the future king. Either way, it was causing her to become more flexible in her approach, which Lemmy appreciated to some degree. “So you mean like a love nest?”

“More like brothel,” Grinda snickered. “One man brothel.”

Lemmy smirked a little at the Half-Goblin’s attempt at levity. She hadn’t said anything the whole time, but her timing couldn’t have been better. Looking back at the remaining queens Lemmy nodded. “I think that might be the best way to handle things. Somewhere that we meet, do our business, and then walk away. Minimizes any additional attachments that might make things difficult.”

It felt a little cold and callous to Lemmy, but he couldn’t deny that it would be needed. He didn’t want the women closest to him to feel slighted or pushed aside in their own home. He had to tell himself it was a job, a solemn duty, and that he would be carrying it out regularly—.

“We could set some space aside here in Ganlyn,” Golariel suggested.

“Oh, come on!” Lemmy groaned with exasperation. “With the tree?”

Effrien’s brows knit together. “You mean the Eternal Tree?”

Lemmy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he nodded. “That’s the one.”

“He says it’s too bright,” Amarieth sniffed indignantly. “It keeps him awake.”

Silence fell across the chamber so heavy he could have heard a pin drop from outside. Everyone’s attention was on him with various expressions of disbelief. For many, it was the central pillar of elven society, the source of all their magic, and a lifespring for the Sylvan Forest as a whole. He knew how it sounded to complain about the brightness of the thing, but the reality was that he wasn’t going to be any good to anyone without the right amount of sleep. If things were calmer and more relaxed, he could commit to getting used to it over time, but he didn’t have the luxury.

“Too bright,” Kaldaduniriel remarked incredulously, crossing her toned arms over her chest and shaking her head. The long mane of black hair cascading down her back swished from side to side. “Incredible.”

Golariel raised a hand to quiet any further commentary on the subject, glancing in the general direction of the Eternal Tree before slowly turning her attention back to Lemmy. He could see she was considering something carefully but decided not to speak on it at that moment. “We will find an alternate location, then. But if we’re to avoid accidental romantic entanglements, it would be prudent not to have it in Osserin.”

“Sounds like there will be a lot of traveling involved,” Lemmy remarked ambivalently. “I don’t suppose there will be more derok lines going in soon?”

“As a matter of fact,” Kaldaduniriel laughed, “there will be in a matter of days. The clutches we’ve been raising and training are finally of age to put to work. All of the elven kingdoms will be connected, but you need to be careful.”

“Whatever we settle on,” Effrien continued, “ it will likely shift the balance of power here, delicate as it is.”

“I understand,” Lemmy responded, glancing at Yenni as he got an idea. As he turned his attention back to the queens, he couldn’t help but grin. “Do you have a rough map of where the derok platforms will be?”

“We do,” Kaldaduniriel answered plainly.

“Great,” Lemmy clapped his hands together, looking back at Yennisa again. “What do you think of a quick tour of the Elven Kingdoms with me?”

Yennisa pursed her lips and threw her hands up at the prospect of more rides with the deroks. “Guess I’ll be getting a lot more use out of that spell than I thought.”

Chapter 4

The tour of the kingdoms was extensive, yet it hardly touched upon the beauty that each had to offer. It was immediately evident to Illemitar as they gazed upon each breathtaking vista that the kingdoms had withered into mere husks of what they had once been. Even so, he couldn’t help but admire their beauty and feel hopeful for the return to their full splendor.

Though the derok platforms had not been completed, the thick vines that connected them were more than enough for the creatures to get around. With their speed, they practically flew across the whole of Elfland, crisscrossing major parts of it within the span of a day. With each new locale, Amarieth provided them a little background and context to what they were seeing.

Leaving the Silver Court behind, she informed them that it had once been part of the larger kingdom of Greovaria, the kingdom of the High Elves. When the elves united against their own extinction, the Silver Court became the seat of power for each of the queens, superseding the authority of every elven court. In return, the territory where the Silver Court was situated was ceded by the High Elves to become a place for all elvenkind. Still, it held all the hallmarks of the High Elves associated with Greovaria.

Beyond was the kingdom of Wurith, the ancestral home of the Wood Elves. Spanning the majority of the forested region of Elfland, it was geographically the largest of the kingdoms, a point of pride with Amarieth, even if they had the fewest surviving elves.

“Before we were sent to retrieve you,” Amarieth explained, “Amali and I used to patrol the wilderness with our kin, protecting it against encroaching monsters.”

“While encroaching on father’s land,” Grinda grumbled. Lemmy shot her a quick glare so that it didn’t erupt into another dispute between her and the Wood Elf.

The Wood Elves of Wurith had gained their namesake by living among the trees, magically shaping their homes from them, and nurturing their continued growth. Amarieth told them how their family home had expanded over the years as the colossal tree it was set within continued to grow and offer them more space. The hope was that someday they would be able to fill it with the laughter of children.

Wurith had once been ruled by the Emerald Court, which had since become a place of learning and quiet contemplation by its caretakers. The role that it might have in the future after the restoration of the elven population was unclear.

“I hope that auntie gets to sit on her own throne again,” Amarieth sighed wistfully, the dreams for her people’s future sparkling in her eyes. “Golariel has done a wonderful job for all of us and ruled wisely. But it’s long past time that the Wood Elves become masters of their own destinies once again.”

“Where does Lemmy factor into that destiny?” Yennisa asked curiously. “If he’s to be king of the elves—of all elves— then doesn’t that change things?”

“Not at all,” Amarieth responded confidently. “Not only did we have a hand in bringing him back to us, but the queens would continue to rule over their respective people. Their only fealty would be to the king, and Lemmy doesn’t strike me as someone to abuse such authority.”

“Probably better to let the professionals handle things,” Lemmy remarked playfully. “I’d hate to get in anyone’s way.”

“What?” Grinda asked, astonished.

“You’d just hand everything back over to them?” Yennisa seemed equally surprised. “Wouldn’t that just lead to the same feuding and fighting as before?”

“I don’t think so,” Lemmy replied, shaking his head. “But if they did, that would be when I step in. I think the King’s role ought to be handling disputes and defending the people, not meddling in everyday affairs.”

Their next stop was Vrezatha, the kingdom of the Dusk Elves. Situated amid a vast wetland dotted by stone spires and crypts, the kingdom was covered in a perpetually dense fog that would have made it difficult to navigate by any other means. Lemmy had been in similar places before during his adventuring, and such terrain was always a nightmare to traverse. Whatever lived within such places always had the advantage, further heightening the danger. So when Amarieth told them it was the smallest of the elven kingdoms but had stood toe-to-toe with the High Elves in years past, it came as no surprise to him. Entire armies could have been bogged down in the wilderness, with those who knew it better picking them off from beyond the curtain of fog that permeated everything.

“I’ve been wondering,” Lemmy said, quirking a brow as he looked back over at Amarieth, “are all the Dusk Elves like their queen?”

“What do you mean?” the Wood Elf asked, curiously, her brow furrowed.

“The teeth,” Lemmy clarified. “I noticed she has fangs, like a vampire.”

“Ah,” Amarieth grunted, shifting her weight from one leg to the other uncomfortably. She glanced out the side of the car at the passing trees amid the fog. “Not all of them, but most.”

“Why?” Yennisa pressed. “What happened to them?”

“Foul ritual,” Grinda said. “Did it to themselves.”

Yenni and Lemmy exchanged glances, their eyes wide with horror.

“Why would they do such a thing?” Yennisa wondered, a look of revulsion settling in.

Amarieth shrugged slightly, spreading her hands. “No one really knows for sure. They don’t talk about it. But it’s said they tried stealing the power of vampires with their blood magic, and something went wrong with the ritual.”

“Not full vampire,” Grinda added. “But enough.”

“They don’t burn in the sun,” Amarieth continued. “But it blinds them and makes them weak. Their magic doesn’t work as well in daylight, either.”

Lemmy frowned as he glanced out at the fog, wondering if future generations of Dusk Elves would inherit the vampiric traits. The first generation of them would be of his seed. They would be his children. Could he doom them to such an existence? “Do they drink blood?”

“Not to survive,” Amarieth explained, looking even more uncomfortable. “But they do it anyway.”

Yennisa’s glower of disgust only deepened. “Why?”

“To increase their power,” Amarieth replied solemnly. “And for pleasure. It’s a rush for them.”

Not only had the blood elves inherited some of the perks and drawbacks of vampires, they had also inherited the darkness within the creatures. Lemmy had already known that the Dusk Elves would give him trouble, but he hadn’t thought it would be quite this bad. “What about the Dark Elves? Any strange and unusual rituals with them that I need to know about?”

“Not that I know of,” Amarieth admitted before gesturing to a particularly dark patch of the fog among the gray. “But they are close allies. Much of the kingdom of Nocelux protrudes up into Vrezatha and Wurith. Most of the entrances to the shadowlands are here or in the mountains, though.”

“What’s Nocelux like?” Lemmy asked, not knowing if they could travel underground to see it for themselves.

Yenni cut the Wood Elf off, jumping at the chance to share her knowledge. She’d spent so much time studying her heritage from the scraps of information she could get her hands on back home, but her focus had always been on the Dark Elves. “It’s beautiful! Vast caverns of glowing fungi and exotic plants that the Dark Elves study for medicine, alchemy, and magic.”

“Medicine?” Lemmy repeated, slightly impressed. “I didn’t think of them as apothecaries.”

“Most don’t,” Yenni agreed. Many of those who traveled to the outside world used their expertise to create poisons, which impacted the reputations of all the others.”

Lemmy nodded as the fog began to thin. “That makes sense, I guess.”

Next was Zapathia, the Kingdom of the Sun Elves, which was located on the southern coast. Leaving behind the fog for grassy hills and long sandy slopes into the ocean, Lemmy felt an immediate attraction to the place. While there were still plenty of trees to be had, they were decidedly more suited to the warmth that the sun provided. It felt good to have the sunlight on his skin. The body language of the others relaxed, telling him that it was the same for them, too.

“This is incredible,” Yennisa gasped, leaning closer to the window with Grinda who seemed equally impressed. In all of the time she had lived in Elfland, she had never made it so far south to see the beaches. Doing so would have meant traveling through the territory of the Dusk Elves, which would have been far too dangerous.

“It definitely looks like an ideal place to vacation,” Lemmy agreed as he gazed longingly at the sparkling ocean waves in the distance. It was strange to him that more of the elves hadn’t chosen to settle here, but perhaps that would just leave more space for him if he decided to set up the breeding establishment there.

The derok wasn’t able to travel far into Zapathia. There were far too few trees to support it, and the structures being built to take their place hadn’t yet been completed. From what they could see, though, the Sun Elves didn’t use the location on the coast to vacation and relax. It was a place where they went to train in ceremonial rings of stone and bare earth. Their practice ranges for archery were much the same, watched over by the Gold Court of the elves, which served as little more than an elaborate fortified residence for the Sun Queen and her family.

Veering away from the coast, they began their return to the interior via an indirect route. They skirted the massive great forest as they returned north, moving along what looked like expansive plains that led to the Teeming Wilds. Though the process looked slow, nature appeared to be reclaiming what had been lost to blight and war so long ago.

“Hura,” Grinda said flatly, gesturing toward the grasslands. When she didn’t see recognition or understanding in Lemmy and Yennisa’s eyes, she elaborated further. “Wild Elf kingdom. Long gone.”

“This was where it was?” Yenni exclaimed quietly. Knowing what it had once been, the expanse of grasslands was put into a totally different context. As they stared in awe, they were able to pick out a few stone ruins, broken and nearly lost to time. It was impossible to tell what they had once been for.

“Earlier, I got the feeling from the other queens that the Wild Queen was well respected,” Lemmy commented, glancing back at Grinda and Amarieth. “Is that true?”

“Yes, but she was also loved,” Amarieth responded. “I never met her. She was gone long before I was born, but all the stories say that everyone loved her.”

“Why is that?” Yennisa wondered. Lemmy could see why the reputation of the Wild Queen might be appealing to her. It was appealing to him as well. She was a peer among the queens that was loved by all of them, even the troublesome blood queen and dark queen. Considering how much they quarreled with one another even today, it had to have been a considerable feat.

“The wild elves were close to nature and the rest of the fae,” the Wood Elf explained. “They were very social, they had a way with others and embraced representatives from outside of Elfland.”

Grinda snorted, clearly amused with the explanation. “More like fucked everyone.”

Amarieth returned the Half-Goblin’s laugh with a shrug of concession. “That might have had something to do with it, sure. But you can’t win over the sidhe with sex alone.”

“True,” Grinda remarked, pursing her lips thoughtfully. Lemmy had yet to meet any of the sidhe, but he imagined there had to be plenty in the Gloom Lord’s court somewhere, especially if they had been consorting with wild elves.

Lemmy continued to gaze out over the grasslands as the hint of ruins tickled his sense of adventure. He wasn’t a historian by any stretch, but he’d always loved to go scavenging in ruins for more than just the treasure. The stories that came out of such delving had always managed to capture his imagination. “What about the wild elves now?”

“Under father’s protection,” Grinda answered with a glimmer of pride on her face. “Welcome among the fae.”

Lemmy nodded his understanding, gesturing in small circles with one hand. “Yes, but what are they like now? Do they still hold onto their traditions? Are they trying to resettle their lost kingdom?”

Grinda shrugged. Lemmy supposed he should have known better than to ask her for such a detailed history when it wasn’t her area of interest or expertise. He turned his gaze on Amarieth and was surprised to get a similar response from her as well.

“There’s not much known about the wild elves,” Amarieth admitted sheepishly, recognizing the disappointment in Lemmy’s eyes. He held a hand up to let her know it was alright before turning his attention back outside the derok car.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, Lemmy made up his mind. “We’ll put it here.”

“Here!?” Yennisa blurted incredulously. “In a field? What about the beaches? We like the beaches.”

Illemitar nodded, gesturing vaguely back the way they came. “I do, but I think it might be a better idea to lean into the specializations each region has embraced during unification. Everyone has something they use their space for and want to use when they begin to recover. But this is almost completely barren, devoid of anyone whose toes we might step on by setting up.”

“I suppose,” Yenni muttered, eyes looking south into the distance. Lemmy took her hands and offered them a reassuring squeeze.

“Besides,” Lemmy chuckled. “What could be more poetic than repopulating the elves in a place like this, clawing its way back from the brink of death?”

Yenni blushed a little, glancing down at his hands before meeting his gaze again. “I’m still afraid I’m going to lose you in all of this, as it is. Adding the restoration of Hura to it seems like it would just make things worse.”

“It’ll give everyone something to do when I’m not splitting them in half like firewood,” Lemmy argued, earning him a little punch on the arm from the priestess. The joke seemed to be enough to break through her concern for a time.

“As long as I’m the one you’re splitting open at home, hm?” Yenni resisted the urge to smirk, not wanting to humor his nonsense any more than she already had.

“Is good idea,” Grinda agreed, placing her hands on her hips. “Should ask wild elves.”

Amarieth nodded hesitantly, her eyes becoming thoughtful. “The wild elves are the least populous of all the elves now. They would be most enthusiastic to lend their aid, especially if it means reclaiming their home. I think they’ve earned it after all this time.”

“Do you think the other queens will object?” Lemmy asked the two. Grinda and Amarieth glanced at each other, realizing that there would be some challenges in that respect. Lemmy decided to wave the concerns off. “Nevermind. They need to take my lead sooner or later. I’ll put the idea forward after this ball of theirs they’re throwing for me.”

“Speaking of which,” Yenni remarked, nodding toward the setting sun, “we should be heading back before people start to worry. I’ll have to get you ready for the ball as well.”

Lemmy scoffed, faking a touch of offense. “It’s not as though it’s tomorrow. You think it’ll take that long?”

Yennisa tilted her head to the side, pointedly looking Lemmy over. “And what were you planning to wear, Illemitar? Did you bring any formal clothing with you? Do you think they have a lot of male clothing sitting around on a rack somewhere after all this time that is exactly your size, just waiting for you to discover it?”

Lemmy ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. “Ah, well, you got me there, I guess. We’ll have to get something tailored.”

“Yes, we will,” Yenni agreed, satisfied with his acquiescence to her point. “And because everything around here seems to be cause for another bitch-fit, we’ll have to make sure the style we get your clothes in doesn’t favor one group of elves over another.”

“I don’t think things are quite that bad around—.” Lemmy stopped mid-sentence as Amarieth and Grinda both waved behind Yennisa for him to shut his trap. It turned out Yenni was absolutely right. She was getting a handle on the politics and rivalries of Elfland much faster than he was, which was all the more reason to keep her at his side. She could see the smaller details that he was missing with his broad strokes. The approaches complemented one another beautifully.

Illemitar sat back on the bench and laced his fingers together behind his head as he relaxed. “Alright. We can work on it as soon as we get back.”

“Well,” Yenni faltered, glancing back at the other two. “Maybe not right when we get back. There might be some other things that need your attention.”

“Yeah?” Lemmy asked, arching a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Us,” Grinda said, motioning with one hand between the three elven women. “Seeing leadership make us horny.”

Lemmy sat upright, sputtering and coughing on a bit of spit that he’d swallowed wrong. “W-what? Are you fucking serious?”

Amarieth crossed her arms as she looked away, a bit of color appearing in her green cheeks. She was the only one of the three who wasn’t quick to admit they were looking to get laid the first chance they got, but he could tell it was on her mind every bit as much as it was with the other two.

“Something you’re going to learn very quickly,” Yennisa advised, leaning closer to him with a huskier tone to her voice. “A woman’s hormones go apeshit when she’s pregnant. Now that you’ve knocked them up, they’re going to be hornier than ever.”

“You can’t be serious,” Lemmy scoffed, but looking between Grinda and Amarieth, he could see that Yennisa was spot on once again. “I didn’t know that was a thing. That’s a thing?”

“Indeed it is,” Yenni teased, walking her fingers up the front of his chest slowly. “And I’ll be expecting you to keep up with your duties to me as well.”

Lemmy stared between them in shocked silence. How was he going to function as a king if he was always having his meat milked by horny women? How was he going to manage prioritizing the ones that still needed to be seeded when the ones that already had would just become more needy? More importantly, and this was the thing that vexed the future king the most, how was he possibly going to keep up with a pregnant Yennisa Kindheart who was even more insatiable than the one he presently had?

Chapter 5

“To think, you would make me wait even a second longer than I had to,” Amarieth growled, pressing Lemmy back into the pillows of the large bed. “You disgust me.”

“You don’t seem all that disgusted,” Lemmy remarked, noting the Wood Elf’s lack of clothes as she straddled his lap. Her nipples, a touch redder with her arousal, stood erect and ready to be serviced.

“Shut up!” Amarieth snapped, taking hold of his face to prevent him from speaking. “I’m tempted to ride that face of yours to show you how to use your mouth better, but I’ve something else in mind that needs to be satisfied first.”

Lemmy didn’t bother to ask. He knew exactly what it was she wanted. It was the same thing Grinda had wanted the moment they had returned home, just as Yennisa had predicted. Grinda, unlike Amarieth, was much more submissive when it came to sex. As tough as the Half-Goblin was, she had been more than happy to be manhandled by the elf who’d used her body like a cocksleeve, lifting her off the ground and working her up and down his throbbing hard meat.

Amarieth was completely different. Despite how aloof she was publicly, she liked being a little on the abusive side. He had no reason to think that she wouldn’t stop if he wanted her to, but the truth was he enjoyed the extra spice she brought to the table.

“That’s it,” the Wood Elf cooed, the grip on his face softening only slightly. “That’s a good boy.”

Lifting herself from his lap slowly, she grabbed a hold of his erection and propped it up to lower herself upon. The feeling of her was as exquisite as it had been the first time, her hot slick interior embracing and engulfing him eagerly. “Ooo,” she groaned, swiveling her hips in a small circle. She wasn’t nearly as experienced as he was, but she more than made up for it with enthusiasm. “Right there. Just like that.”

He pushed his hips up, reflexively attempting to bury himself deeper inside of her. Her eyes flashed with a primal viciousness as her grip tightened once again. “Don’t move! Don’t you ruin this for me. I’ve been thinking all day about riding this fat cock, but I’ve no use for the rest of you. Understand?”

Lemmy nodded enthusiastically, amazed at how much harder it made him when she talked like that.

“As a matter of fact,” Amarieth began as she stuffed her panties in his mouth and lashed him to the bedpost with magical vines. Though she seldom made use of magic similar to Amali’s, preferring instead to use it in tandem with weaponry, she still knew a few of her tricks when the situation called for it. “Let’s just make sure you can’t fuck this up.”

Every time the Wood Elf had her way with him like this, she got a little better at it and added a little more to her repertoire. If things kept up at this rate, the woman would be a full-blown dominatrix before she even had her baby. Her hips went into overdrive once she was confident he was restrained, the swollen nub of her clit grinding against his pelvis hungrily before she decided to change it up by impaling herself up and down on his cock.

He groaned into the strange leafy fabric of her panties, but she paid him no mind. She squeezed at her own breasts, providing him with an erotic show to feast his eyes upon. “That’s it,” she moaned. “Keep those eyes on me.”

It wasn’t enough that she dominated him, she wanted his undivided attention. She wanted to be the center of his attention, the center of his world. They both knew that it couldn’t be with Yennisa around, but when it was just the two of them alone, she could still pretend. He had to hand it to her, and she was very convincing, even to him.

“You like that, don’t you, filthy boy,” Amarieth teased, tugging at her nipples as the bed rattled vigorously with her efforts. “You like it when I fuck your brains out. You like being inside me.”

“Mmmf,” was all Lemmy could muster through the fabric of the underwear. She laughed— cackled almost— at how powerless he seemed to be underneath her. The truth was, with the boost in power he had received with each pregnancy, he could have probably snapped the vines that bound him.

Satisfied that he wasn’t going anywhere, Amarieth allowed herself to get lost in the erotic bliss that dominating him brought her. With each passing second that his eyes remained on her, she became more excited, rocking violently against him, her insides clenching and squeezing around him in a desperate bid to milk him of his seed. She didn’t need it. He’d already impregnated her, but she wanted it. Indeed, judging by the lewd expression on her face, she needed it. She needed him.

His eyes crossed as he felt himself rapidly approaching his climax. The Wood Elf pressed down on his chest with one hand. “Don’t do it. Not yet. I’m not done with you.”

Lemmy groaned, frantically attempting to keep himself from going prematurely. Normally, thinking of something else, even briefly, was a good way for him to bring himself down from orgasm. But the moment he forced his thoughts on something else, she knew and promptly jerked him back to reality with a shift in her pace. She didn’t want him to hold off, he realized. She wanted him to fail at holding off. Amarieth wanted to get off to him cumming against his will.

Before he could formulate a new strategy to play her game with, it was too late. He felt the rush of it as he went a little light-headed, his cock milked like some beast and his balls squeezed like overripe fruit. He groaned loudly through the fabric in his mouth, his back arching slightly, but she just kept going.

“Pathetic!” She half-laughed and half-moaned. “Some King of the Six Kingdoms you are. Utterly disg—!” She couldn’t hold it either, having got exactly what she wanted from him. Her climax hit her like a falling star, obliterating her senses as her body bent backward in abject euphoria. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she managed to wring even more jizz from his cock. She didn’t stop moving, her body rocking back and forth of its own accord, rolling her from one orgasm directly into the next.

He couldn’t be sure how many times she repeated this process with such fervor, but by the time she was done with him there was hardly anything left for him to offer Yennisa. At least, that was what he thought. As Amarieth stepped out of the room, wrapped in one of the sheets, Yenni stepped in. Already naked and wet for him, she grinned at the sight of him on the bed.

“He’s all yours,” Amarieth sighed blissfully. “Just hit him with a quick spell to refill the tank.”

“Thank you,” Yennisa replied, shutting the door behind her as her hand glowed brightly with a restorative spell. A grin spread wide across her face. “Just you and me now, baby. I’ve got you for the rest of the night.”

Lemmy stared back at her as she sauntered over to the bed, the delicious curve of her breasts moving as a subtle counterweight to the sway of her hips, his body covered in a sheet of sweat. Unable to muster any words, he simply nodded.

Relief didn’t come all night, nor did it come the following morning. Amali found him as he washed at the basin in the washroom, and before he knew it, he had her bent over the basin, taking him to the hilt. How he managed to muster a load as full and thick for her as he did, he couldn’t even begin to understand. But as her ecstatic cries beckoned for him to fill her up, he was sure not to disappoint.

Breakfast was the first chance he had to recover. Yennisa used the time he spent dicking Amali down to make them a breakfast with a distinct taste of home, providing more than enough for everyone in the house. He tried to remember if she’d ever made him breakfast before, but nothing came to mind. As the juicy sausages popped in his mouth with each bite, he knew that if she had, he certainly would have remembered it. Bacon followed the sausages, then a delicious ham steak and several scrambled eggs with a bit of onion and a side of toast.

He didn’t realize that everyone at the table was staring until he took a drink of the cold, fresh-squeezed juice. “Uh,” he cleared his throat as he set his glass down. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re eating an awful lot,” Amali noted, gesturing to the empty plates forming a half-circle in front of him. “Are you alright?”

“Just replenishing all the nutrients I lost to you ladies last night,” Lemmy answered, smirking in Amali’s direction. “And this morning.”

“Well, eat as much as you like then,” Yennisa interjected, popping a sausage into her mouth suggestively. “You need to keep your strength up.”

Lemmy laughed before taking a few gulps of his glass of juice. “Do you know where we’ll find a tailor for some formal wear?”

“This is for the ball?” Amali asked excitedly. She’d been informed of everything when they’d returned the night before. “We’re all going to need something to wear!”

Illemitar nodded slightly. “Yeah, you’re right. We’re all supposed to go and it’s not just me that needs to make a showing.”

“Grinda no need dancing,” the half goblin said grumpily. “Waste of time.”

“No, he’s right,” Yennisa argued, dropping her fork back onto her plate. “Parading Lemmy around won’t be enough to boost everyone’s morale. Every one of you has a brand that can bring people hope. We don’t want to send the message that the elves are going to survive. We want to send the message that they can live again.”

Lemmy motioned to Yennisa with his glass before finishing it off. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“Ugh,” Grinda snorted. “Fine. Will go dance, then.”

“Thank you,” Lemmy said gratefully, earning a blush from Grinda, who tried to hide it by looking away. Between her and Amarieth, he wondered which one of them would reveal herself to the others first. “Well, that still leaves the question of where we’ll have such attire made. Are there any suggestions?”

“I know of someone,” a deeper, gravelly voice offered. Nearly jumping out of his skin, Lemmy looked to his right to see the hunched form of the Gloom Lord in the sitting room, staring at them with an unsettling steadiness. Under one arm was a satchel that he placed gently on the floor.

“Fuck me!” Yennisa spat, nearly choking on her food as she fell out of her chair.

“Pardon the interruption,” the Gloom Lord said, suppressing one of his characteristic coughing fits. “I’ll be attending the ball, so I decided to come early with some of my daughter’s things.”

His eyes drifted over to Grinda, who looked embarrassed and glad to see him at the same time. “Papa.”

“Ah,” the Gloom Lord began, taking a few eerie steps forward. His hooves should have made more noise on the wood floor than they did, considering his hunching and hulking size, but by grace or magic, they did not. He held his hands up in front of the brand on Grinda’s abdomen. “There it is. Well done, well done!”

“You said you might know someone that could help us?” Lemmy interrupted, feeling more confident in doing so now that his pulse was settling back to a regular rhythm.

The Gloom Lord looked up at him, torn between fawning over his daughter and answering the question. Eventually, the urge for the latter won out. “Yes. I couldn’t help but overhear the dilemma you’re having. There is a seamstress to the Gloom Court who may be precisely what you’re looking for—a sidhe by the name of Onora.”

“A sidhe?” Lemmy murmured, his interest piqued. “That sounds interesting.”

“Be warned, however,” the Gloom Lord said, holding up a finger. Her services are not free of charge. She will see you on my recommendation, but payment will be your responsibility.”

Lemmy nodded his understanding with a smile. “Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I might still have some coin leftover from my adventuring—.”

“Not coin,” The Gloom Lord interjected, his gaze fixed unsettlingly on Lemmy. “She has no use for coin. Like her garments, her prices are tailored to the customer.”

Everyone at the table exchanged glances with one another. Surely, the price for clothing couldn’t be that steep, even if it was bespoke to each client. Lemmy shrugged. “Alright, we’ll see what she has to offer. Where do we find her?”

With a flick of his wrist and a little burst of smokey shadow from his palm, the Gloom Lord produced a rolled-up map. Taking another step closer to the table, he gestured for the Wood Elves to move their plates aside. They did so with haste, still quite intimidated by the presence of the archfey. Once he had the space, he unrolled the map on the table.

It was like no map Illemitar had ever seen. While it held a great deal of detail on its surface, something in the ink glimmered, causing an ethereal glamor to form from the map itself. It provided multi-leveled cartography of the entirety of Elfland. The places below ground and the subtle hidden realms within its borders were all laid bare before those gathered. The Gloom Lord took a moment to examine it, touching the illusory map to move certain unneeded details aside.

“Here,” he said, pointing to a space in the forest just inside his territory. She would find you here.”

“Find us?” Amali asked apprehensively.

The Gloom Lord’s gaze shifted subtly to look upon the Wood Elf. “Indeed. The sidhe wish their homes to remain hidden to all those whom they have not invited. It is a trust that can never be won back once betrayed. Thus, I have given you a location where she will be sure to notice your presence and approach you.”

As the Gloom Lord rolled the map back up, he produced a small trinket from somewhere within his cloak and handed it to Lemmy. Taking it, Lemmy could see that it was a jeweled brooch, intricately detailed with fae glyphs and markings. The symbol of the Gloom Lord, which he had seen in multiple places during their stay within his court, was featured prominently in the center.

“That will serve as my recommendation,” The Gloom Lord explained. “I would bring you myself, but matters of state take priority and I am to meet with the elven queens ahead of this ball.”

“Thank you,” Lemmy said, rising from his seat. The women at the table did the same. If they were to get the appropriate attire, every one of them would have to go with him. “One more thing I would like to ask you if you don’t mind.”

“Speak,” the Gloom Lord replied patiently.

“The queens and I have agreed that a separate place should be established for the purposes of breeding,” Lemmy began, grabbing his cloak from the rack nearby and slinging it over his shoulders. He fastened the brooch to it before he had a chance to forget. “We took a tour, to see where it might best be located. I haven’t given them my recommendation yet, but I thought I would ask your opinion.”

The Gloom Lord said nothing, remaining silent to allow the future king of the elves to continue. Lemmy glanced at the others as they prepared to venture forth. “I was thinking of putting it somewhere in Hura.”

The archfey looked thoughtful as he nodded his head slowly. “Fitting. Poetic. I approve.”

“Do you think the queens will have any objections when I bring it to them?” Lemmy wondered, fastening the clasps of his boots.

“Almost certainly,” the archfey answered conversationally. “But I would not let it deter you if that is what your heart tells you to do. They will come to see the wisdom of your decision with time.”

“Alright,” Lemmy acknowledged. “Thank you. I just needed to bounce it off you to be sure I wasn’t crazy.”

“Understandable,” the Gloom Lord agreed before motioning to the door. “Do not let me keep you. There are no derok lines where you are going, but the travel should not take long.”

“Alright, ladies,” Lemmy smirked at the gaggle of female elves that awaited him. “Let’s get going.”

Stepping outside, they were stopped halfway to the stairs by Princess Kulderani. “Where are you lot off to?”

“Shopping,” Lemmy joked. Seeing that the humor didn’t quite land for the Sun Elf, he decided to elaborate a little further. “The queens have decided a ball introducing me to the whole of Elfland is in order, and none of us have anything to wear for such an occasion, so we’re off to see a seamstress.”

Kulderani sighed, her hand resting on the sword at her side. “Such frivolity is a distraction from your training.”

“I agree,” Lemmy said with a tilt of his head, acknowledging her concern. “But it’s a small sacrifice if we can put the population at ease regarding their futures.”

The Sun Elf pursed her lips as she looked away, considering what he had said for a moment. “Very well. I shall accompany you.”

Yennisa stepped in front of Lemmy, waving at the Sun Elf dismissively. “That’s really not needed. Lemmy has all the protection he needs with us escorting him. No need to trouble yourself.”

“I am not going as protection,” Kulderani corrected. “I am coming to observe. I wish to know more about Illemitar’s leadership and methods. So far, I am intrigued but unconvinced.”

The Wood Elves cocked their heads to either side as they stepped forward, taking umbrage with her phrasing. Amarieth was the one to speak for them. “With respect, Princess, he doesn’t need to convince you. He’s destined to be king.”

“But perhaps I am not destined to follow,” Kulderani argued cooly. “My blade is promised to no one but those I deem worthy. It is a matter of honor.”

Illemitar raised both his hands defensively, hoping to diffuse the situation. He understood where the princess was coming from, even if the others didn’t. Whether he was going to be king or not meant nothing to her when it came to putting her life on the line. She’d not been one to sit around waiting for someone to come and sweep her off her feet, nor was she the type to rely on an unlikely miracle to make things right for her people again. She needed to know she could place her trust in Lemmy as a person. “It’s alright, ladies. I understand.”

It was enough to get the women to stand down, though they glanced at one another tensely as they seemed to be picking up another rival for Lemmy’s time. Grinda was the only one among them who seemed unconcerned, standing silently with her arms crossed as she waited for the conversation to end. Lemmy motioned toward the stairs with an encouraging smile. “Come on, we’re burning daylight.”

Chapter 6

The route they took back toward the Gloom Lord’s domain was a well-traveled one. The trail was marked clearly with plenty of angles to see a potential attack coming. Lemmy took the lead with Yennisa right behind him. Amali tried repeatedly to move up the marching order, only to be stuck behind Yenni for most of the trip. Amarieth came after her with her bow at the ready and Grinda brought up the rear, though they hardly saw her with how well she moved through the shadows of the trees.

Kulderani marched right beside him, much to the chagrin of the rest of Lemmy’s party. “A sidhe?”

“Yep,” Lemmy acknowledged, casually disregarding her incredulous tone.

“There are more accessible seamstresses,” Kulderani objected. “With far less cost associated with them.”

“We’re going for something that shows no preference to any of the elven kingdoms, so as not to provoke a reaction,” Lemmy explained as he stepped over a log that had fallen across the path.

“I promise you that arriving in raiment of fae design is sure to provoke a response,” Kulderani pointed out with amusement. “But I think I understand. You play this game well, so far.”

“I can’t take the credit for this one,” Lemmy said, jerking a thumb back to Yennisa who beamed with pride. “It’s her. She seems to be picking up on this stuff faster than me.”

The princess looked back at Yenni, regarding her silently for a moment before turning her attention back to Illemitar. “Then you are wise to listen. If she has a talent for this sort of thing, you should keep her close.”

“Oh, I was always going to keep her close,” Lemmy said, shoving some overgrowth to one side as he proceeded. “That was never in question.”

“Ah, so she is the one?” Kulderani said approvingly. “The spouse I’ve heard so much about?”

“That’s me!” Yenni interrupted excitedly. “The one and only.”

Amali coughed indignantly behind her, earning only a dismissive wave from the priestess.

Kulderani produced a hand to take Yenni’s. “Then I am honored to make your acquaintance.”

“Really?” Yenni doubted even as she took the Sun Elf’s hand. “You’re not jealous or threatened or anything?”

“No,” Kulderani answered with a faint smile. “Eventually, I must lay with your partner to produce a child for myself and my own partner. If anything, I am grateful to you for your understanding in the matter.

“Oh,” Yenni responded, shaking her hand a little more vigorously. “Yes, of course. I didn’t realize you had someone already.”

“Many of the elves do,” Kulderani said, turning her attention back to the path before them. “Some may yearn to feel the touch of a man, but there are many who will act out of a sense of duty and survival, returning to their loved ones once they have been seeded.”

Yennisa nodded as she went quiet, her face becoming more thoughtful as she considered an aspect of their endeavor that she hadn’t previously. The path curved sharply down a steep slope before coming to a long footbridge constructed over a ravine with a swiftly moving river far below. Lemmy tested his weight on the first few feet of the bridge before letting anyone else on. Once he was satisfied with the construction, he waved them on to cross behind him. There had been more than one instance in the past of bridges looking sturdier than they actually were. Ever since he’d watched a hapless cleric plunge to his death through the rotted wood of a bridge during one of his first adventures, he’d grown wary of anything that crossed a span more than a few feet up and a dozen feet across.

“Have you ever met this Onora?” Lemmy asked Grinda as they sat down for a trail snack sometime so later. They’d elected for something quick and easy from their packs, eating the same boring elven bread with a bit of berries they’d foraged nearby.

Grinda shook her head, frowning at the bread before begrudgingly taking a bite of it. “No. Reputation only. Never in person.”

“What can you tell me about her?” Lemmy pressed, wanting to know more before they walked into the fae’s domain.

“To sidhe, protocol is all,” Grinda advised, pointing at him with the bread. “Have good manners. Respect. Be okay.”

“Right,” Lemmy sighed, popping another berry into his mouth. “I was afraid you were going to say something like that.”

Lemmy thought of himself as generally respectful when the situation called for it, but he had a habit of speaking plainly that aristocratic types often didn’t take kindly to. He also had a habit of not backing down when the situation might have called for a bit more diplomacy than he was willing to give. It had served him well on numerous occasions, but it had also gotten him into trouble during several more.

Continuing on after lunch saw them resuming their marching order, much to Amali’s dismay. The forest became less dense, though no less dangerous. With the collective enhanced hearing of the group, there were several instances where they had to stop and wait for some large creature to pass before they could continue. Even the smallest sounds of twigs snapping or leaves rustling were enough for one or two of them to take notice, remaining wary until something moved on or proved to be non-threatening.

“Hold on,” Lemmy said, holding a fist up out of habit for everyone behind him to halt. He’d often been on point in his adventuring days and had become accustomed to letting people know when to stop or go. For the most part, the women seemed to understand what he meant, though Amali used the opportunity to move up to a spot closer to him.

“What is it?” the Sun Elf Princess asked, remaining as still as a statue. Lemmy knelt down on the path, which was little more than a game trail at this point, and examined some fresh tracks.

“These aren’t elven tracks,” he mused aloud, tilting his head to the side to view them at a slightly different angle. “The footing is all wrong. It’s too sloppy.”

“Undead?” Amarieth asked, readying her bow as her eyes darted around them to spot anything lurking among the trees.

“Yeah, but not like the ones we’ve fought before,” Lemmy muttered pensively. “I think these are ghouls.”

“Fuck,” Yennisa grumbled. “Just what we need.”

“Ghouls?” Amali asked warily. “What’s the difference?”

Lemmy motioned to the gait in the prints as he stood upright. “Ghouls are faster for one. They’re intelligent too. Their hunger can cause them to act rashly, but it doesn’t make them stupid. If they have a ghast with them, they’re even more dangerous.”

Yenni looked over at Amali to explain before the question about the ghast left her lips. “Basically super-ghouls.”

“You are familiar with these creatures?” The princess asked, drawing her weapon slowly.

“Yeah,” Yenni and Lemmy answered together. Lemmy had fought a few in the past, while Yennisa’s education as a priestess had provided her with what she knew. They smirked briefly at one another before Lemmy motioned for them to proceed, albeit more slowly and even quieter than they had before.

By Lemmy’s reckoning, they were close to the sidhe’s territory. He’d paid close attention to the distance they had to travel. His hope was that if they could reach her territory soon, they wouldn’t be alone in defending against a troupe of ghouls if it came down to it. He didn’t hold onto that hope for long.

A scream pierced the relative quiet of the forest up ahead, causing Lemmy to break into a sprint through sheer reflex. Leaping into the brush off the path, Lemmy emerged on the other side to a grisly scene of carnage. A small group of fae creatures had been set upon by the ghouls, many of which had already been slain while the others scrambled to defend themselves or run away. Most of the creatures were only half of Lemmy’s height, with the pixies only being about the size of his fist. The group had been traveling with an armed escort of two redcaps, but both had been caught completely by surprise by the undead due to a lack of experience with such creatures.

Before he’d made a conscious decision to get involved, Lemmy had his orcblade drawn as he dove into the fray. Narrowly managing to reach the first ghoul before it could take a bite out of the brownie in his clutches, Lemmy struck hard and true. The blade bit deep into the shoulder of the foul creature, causing it to emit a sound that sat between a hiss and a gurgle.

“Elven swine,” it spat, gripping the blade of his weapon tightly with one hand to hold it in place as it swung at him with a vicious set of claws in the other.

To his own surprise, Lemmy brought his free hand up to block the strike at the creature’s wrist, arresting its momentum entirely, even with the benefit of its undead strength. “I’ll have you know that the pig is a noble creature.”

“And delicious,” the ghoul snarled, lunging forward to sink sharpened teeth into tender flesh. Illemitar jerked his arm back quickly, narrowly avoiding the bite before jabbing his elbow into the ghoul’s skull with a surprisingly heavy impact.

“Lemmy!” Yennisa cried, bursting from the same spot he’d emerged from a moment before. Behind her, the rest of the party poured into the area with magic and weapons at the ready. Though surprised by the bloodstained forest floor and body parts strewn about, none of them hesitated to spring into action.

Grinda moved instantly from where she stood to leap from the shadows behind the ghoul Lemmy was locked up with, sinking twin daggers into its back like the fangs of a snake. Though the wounds were superficial for undead flesh, the added weight of the Half-Goblin hanging off the creature’s back caused it to lose its balance and give Lemmy an opening. He didn’t hesitate to jerk the orcblade free and open the ghoul’s abdomen nearly to its spine with a single deft stroke.

The ghoul howled with agony as its guts spilled heavily into the dirt. Knowing that such wounds could be ignored by certain undead, Grinda continued her assault, using her daggers to reposition herself farther up the undead creature’s back before sinking them both into opposite sides of its neck and twisting with a fierce jerking motion.

Ignoring the foul stench of the creature’s rotting innards, Lemmy felt a chill run down his spine and a sudden need to move to his left. His instincts, honed over years of battle and adventure, did not fail him. As he moved, a set of claws raked through the air in the place he had occupied just a moment before. He brought his elbow up into the ghoul’s nose, breaking it in several places before pivoting to the side and sweeping a leg out from under the creature with a swift swing of his blade. A cold, unsettling numbness began to creep up his wrist, reminding him that the power within the weapon was ineffective against the undead.

Hissing furiously, the creature managed to regain its balance and reposition itself for another strike, only to be struck in the side of the skull with the radiant energy of a sacred fire hurled by Yennisa. The spell wasn’t considered terribly powerful in most situations, but it excelled against the undead. Lemmy offered the priestess a nod of thanks before she turned away to knock another ghoul free of one of the brownies screaming in terror.

“Amarieth! Kulderani!” Lemmy shouted, readying his weapon as more of the ghouls abandoned their easy meals to contend with the new threat. “To me! Form a line!”

Though the princess had claimed she was accompanying them solely to observe, she was quick to comply with his orders, taking up position on his left opposite Amarieth. “Amali, behind us!”

The second Wood Elf moved swiftly to fall in behind them, where she was considerably more protected. There, she was able to work more powerful spells that she might not have been able to in the open. Her hands moved swiftly, and her words echoed in the air as she called upon the might of the forest itself. With a trembling beneath their feet, roots tore free of the forest floor and swung wildly through the ranks of the ghoul troupe, knocking several clear while folding others completely in half. Any that managed to evade the swinging roots were cut down by Lemmy and Kulderani as Amarieth feathered the more distant ones with magically conjured arrows.

Amali grinned triumphantly as she transitioned to another spell. “Let’s turn up the heat!”

Lemmy felt the surge of power within her completely eclipsed by a hostile spell just as the last word of her brief incantation left her lips. An explosion of eldritch cold struck the group, sending them sprawling in different directions, crusted in ice.

“F-fuck, that’s cold,” Lemmy stammered as he ripped thick pieces of rime free from his sword arm. Around him, the soil had frozen so quickly that it had cracked and formed into spikes in several places. His breath came in thick puffs as he struggled to get his bearings. Amarieth and Kulderani shivered violently as they got to their feet as well, but Lemmy’s blood itself ran cold when he noticed Amali lying motionless on the ground a few feet from him.

“She looks like she’ll make for an excellent meal,” the ghast’s cold, raspy voice intoned as it approached them slowly, one hand extended. It still glowed with the remnants of the powerful cold spell it had just struck them with. “I prefer my meat chilled.”

“Bastard!” Amarieth shrieked furiously, tears streaming down her face as she threw herself at the ghast. Unlike the ghouls, which were dressed in the same ragged rags they had likely died in, the ghast was more finely dressed and far calmer. He didn’t panic, nor did he rise to meet the reckless elf with a savage attack of his own. Instead, he moved casually to one side, avoiding the swing of the Wood Elf’s newly conjured magical blade, before grabbing her by the face and squeezing. Frost swiftly encrusted her skull, and her skin became discolored. The shock in temperature caused Amarieth’s body to become stiff and painful.

“There’s not as much meat on this one,” the ghast remarked coolly. “But she will suffice. Now, then, if you wish not to suffer further casualties, you’ll throw down your weapons.”

The creature’s sunken black eyes met with Illemitar’s as it held Amarieth casually off the ground with one hand. “I’m inclined to let you go if you leave us to our meal.”

“Not a fucking chance,” Lemmy snarled as he readied his weapon. He’d never seen a ghast magic user before, but with how intelligent the things were, he saw no reason why it should have surprised him to know they existed. “Put her down, and you might get to keep that arm.”

“Such bravado,” the ghast remarked. “It would be almost admirable were you not so outnumbered.”

Lemmy glanced around him and Kulderani as more ghouls emerged from the undergrowth. Their gaunt faces were twisted with hunger, and their eyes radiated pure malice. He couldn’t tell where Grinda had vanished to, but Yennisa was being quickly outflanked by the loathsome creatures.

“That’s a problem,” Lemmy grumbled.

“Indeed,” the Sun Elf Princess agreed, tightening her grip on her weapon. “The situation is less than optimal.”

“Lemmy!” Yennisa cried in a voice cracking with fear. The smaller fae creatures huddled in terror around her legs. “I can’t hold them!”

“Do not test my resolve,” the ghast warned, his grip on Amarieth tightening visibly. “I will not warn you again. Throw down your weapons.”

Glancing at the Sun Elf, Lemmy nodded and urged her to drop her weapon. Bewildered by the suggestion, she took a moment to comply before finally dropping the heavy blade into the dirt.

“That’s it,” the ghast commented. “Now you.”

His face twisted with revulsion. “What assurances do I have?”

“None,” the ghast answered. “Such is life.”

“Have your dogs ease up off of her,” Lemmy said, motioning toward Yennisa. “So long as she’s safe, you can do whatever you want with me.”

The ghast’s cold, dead eyes regarded the elven male impassively for a moment before finally agreeing. “Very well. Elven males, such as they are, are an exceedingly rare delicacy. One I thought I’d tasted the last of long ago.”

With a subtle nod from the ghast, the ghouls closing in around Yennisa halted their advance and backed off, though none of them seemed particularly pleased by it. Lemmy held the orcblade out in front of him, making a show of his surrender before dropping it.

The brief moment when the ghast believed he had won provided Lemmy with all the opening he needed. His foot snapped forward, kicking the pommel of the sword and launching it like a ballista bolt into the ghast’s chest. The weapon sank to the hilt, the blade protruding from the creature’s back as it stared back at him in shock. The ghast dropped the Wood Elf to pull the weapon free from its torso. As its hands clasped down around the weapon, Kulderani surged forward like a summer storm to slam a fist into the creature’s face with one hand and rip the weapon free with the other. In the blink of an eye, she parted the ghast’s head from its shoulders, causing its body to thud heavily into the dirt.

With all their attention on the horrifying sight of their leader being cut down, the ghouls didn’t notice Lemmy descending upon them with Kulderani’s blade until it was too late. The creatures scattered, but in their confusion, they were unable to defend themselves properly against blades or spells alike. Most were felled during their retreat, either cut down by the two armed elves, ambushed by the Half-Goblin whom they ran directly into the path of, or blasted with holy energy by the priestess.

Lemmy was tempted to chase the few survivors into the forest but decided it was better to prioritize the fae survivors and the pair of Wood Elves. By the time he returned to Amali, Yennisa was already at work healing her.

“How is she?” Lemmy asked, his breath ragged from the burst of exertion following the death of the ghast.

“It’s shock, mostly,” Yenni explained as she ran her glowing palms over the body of the sorceress. In another context, Lemmy might have found the gesture a little on the erotic side. “The temperature shift took her off guard mid-spell. She should be alright.”

Kulderani set Amarieth down on the ground beside Amali, getting the priestess’ immediate attention with how much worse off she was. Yenni’s glowing hands shifted to hover over Amarieth’s head, holding it in place as she worked to undo the damage. Kulderani gently placed a hand on the Wood Elf, and it began to glow as well. The spells were different, though Lemmy had to focus to tell precisely how. Whereas Yenni was focusing on healing and recovery, the Sun Elf was simply warming Amarieth back up.

Yenni looked up at the Sun Elf briefly, a soft smile gracing her lips. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome,” Kulderani replied as Amarieth’s eyelids fluttered.

“Will she be alright?” Lemmy wondered, craning his neck to get a better look at her. Yenni glanced at him briefly before offering him a nod, though he had a feeling that the Wood Elf wasn’t going to be terribly happy about her condition for some time yet.

“Got two more,” Grinda announced as she stepped from the shadow of an immense tree. “Rest got away.”

“Thank you, so much!” one of the brownies cried happily as she ran towards the group. “They would have devoured us all had you not come along! We owe you our lives.”

Illemitar resisted the urge to kneel or hunch when speaking with her. Most of the little folk detested how it made them feel inferior or like children. He didn’t know if the same was true with brownies, but he decided not to risk it until he was told otherwise. “It’s no problem. We couldn’t just leave you twisting in the wind like that.”

“I’ve never seen such terrible things,” the brownie continued as her companions moved to join her. The pixies fluttered around in anxious little circles while the other brownies stayed close. One of them looked like he was two seconds from becoming ill at the sight of the dead redcaps with their insides strewn everywhere. “Where did they come from? How did they get here?”

“A fair question,” a voice heavy with magic and mystical authority replied from behind the group. Illemitar turned to see the graceful form of a female sidhe approaching them from the far side of the small clearing. Though she had a passing resemblance to that of the High Elves, the differences were evident after just a brief examination.

She was taller than most elves he had encountered outside of the queens, and much willowier. Her eyes were large, lacking pupils, and dominated by a single amethyst color. Her hair, a pale lavender, moved as though caught in a perpetual updraft without a single strand of it making contact with her face. Her breasts, concealed only by a thin, translucent white sheet that clung tightly to her body unassisted, appeared perky and delicate, perfectly complimenting her nubile, ethereal form. Her movements were so graceful as to appear dreamlike, every step she took like the movement of an ice skater across a newly frozen pond.

Despite her beauty and grace, there was a magical weight to her similar to what he sensed in the presence of the elven queens. He felt like he was standing in the shadow of a much larger and more powerful creature than the one that stood before him. Her pointed ears, much longer and thinner than elven ears, twitched slightly in anticipation of an explanation from the stunned individuals gathered in the clearing. When none came, her eyes settled upon Illemitar.

“I am the Onorasidhe,” she announced authoritatively. “And I believe I am owed an explanation.”

Chapter 7

The sidhe’s stare bore holes through the back of Illemitar’s skull. Her voice had arrested not just the sounds of their voices, but that of the forest around them. Everything had gone quiet in reverence to the fae beauty. The forest held its breath to see if what the elves had to say to her would be satisfactory.

“My lady,” Lemmy began, deciding to err on the side of caution when it came to addressing her. “We came here to seek an audience with you. I am Illemitar Liminelda, the last male elf. This is—.”

“I know who you are, Illemitar,” the sidhe said cooly, moving closer to the group as she examined each of them. “As do I know you, Grinda Gloomdaughter. But I do not understand why you have brought such chaos and violence to my home.”

Lemmy shook his head slowly. “We haven’t. We were coming to see you about some clothes when we stumbled upon these fae being attacked.”

The sidhe’s gaze fell upon the brownies who, though reverent of her power and beauty, offered a few emphatic nods to confirm what he was telling her. Her brow arched as she circled around them, glancing down at the dead redcaps and the remains of the slain ghouls. “Then why are they here?”

“The Necromancer, My Lady,” Lemmy answered respectfully, bowing his head as he took a step back from her. The way she moved felt strange to him, evoking a fight or flight response somewhere in his brain that he was struggling to resist.

“The Necromancer is dead,” the Onorasidhe said definitively. “His like has not been seen in this part of the world for ages, nor has his magic. Unless he has surfaced elsewhere beyond my kenning, what conclusion am I to draw?”

“Biding his time, I suspect,” Lemmy said with relative confidence. “Perhaps to refine his approach or to expand it to people beyond the elves. I can’t say for certain. But the uptick in undead incursions in Elfland and the sincerely held belief by the queens that he has returned is telling.”

“It is, but not for the reason you would have me believe,” the Onorasidhe argued, leaning a little closer to Lemmy. He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed almost like she was… sniffing him? It added more weight to the predatory presence she already possessed. “Golariel needs a common threat to unite the elves. Otherwise, her tenuous hold on their union will slip through her fingers. She would invent any reason to keep it together in order to keep Opheliel in check. Her survival depends on it, in fact.”

Illemitar’s brow furrowed, sensing a degree of truth to her words, but there was more, too. She had a disdain for the queens that colored her vision and skewed her perception. He had no problem believing that Golariel needed something to keep the elves united to avoid their people being plunged into civil war. He was, after all, one such thing. With him eventually ascending as king, it would be he who would be expected to hold it all together.

“I think you’re misjudging the situation, a little,” Lemmy opined blithely, much to the shock of the elven women. Grinda was particularly taken aback by his comment.

“You must have become quite the expert in the short time you’ve been in Elfland to think so,” the sidhe said unfalteringly. Despite his lapse of decorum, she didn’t appear ready to sharpen her claws on him just yet.

Illemitar shook his head, holding his hands out at his sides. “Not at all. I just have a gut feeling. I have a good sense for people. I agree that Opehliel is likely to try something, she has that way about her. But I don’t think something like a phantom Necromancer would be enough to do it. It would have to be the real deal or—.”

“You?” the Onorasidhe remarked curiously. “You think you are able to keep her in check?”

“I think I can deal with her,” Lemmy answered flatly. “What form that resolution takes depends on how far she’s willing to push things. There’s too much at stake for fucking about.”

The Onorasidhe nodded slowly, her eyes falling to the brooch on his cloak. She reached out, rubbing it thoughtfully between her fingers. “The Gloom Lord sent you to me?”

“He said it would be enough for you to hear us out, nothing more,” Lemmy answered honestly. “There is a ball and I’m fresh out of formalwear.”

The beautiful sidhe let out an iridescent laugh that sent the hearts of all who heard it soaring. “You think that is why he sent you to me?”

Illemitar glanced at Grinda for any sign to the contrary but found nothing. If there was an ulterior motive, she was unaware of it. Lemmy shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s why we’ve come to you, though.”

“Well, then, Illemitar Liminelda,” the sidhe said amusedly. “Let us see what we might have in your size.”

As the sidhe turned to saunter off, she gestured delicately with one hand for them to follow. The elves and the fae they had rescued fell in line and did as the sidhe commanded. Beyond the small clearing, through several archways of twisting trees and down a mushroom-strewn path, Lemmy found himself in a pristine glade at twilight. Looking up at the sky, he could see stars coming into view through the parting canopy despite it being only a few hours past lunch. The distant coloration of the sun glowed faintly through the trees, casting part of the glade in shimmering orange and gold.

“Whoa,” Lemmy gasped, taking it all in. “Isn’t this beautiful Yen—?”

Turning to see her reaction, Lemmy realized that Yennisa wasn’t there. No one was. He was all alone. Furrowing his brows, he turned to face the Onorasidhe again, only to see her casually gliding across the glade to a small stream. “Tell me about yourself, Illemitar Liminelda.”

“Where is everyone else?” Lemmy demanded in a level tone. “What did you do with them?”

“They’re being measured,” the sidhe answered calmly, patting the moss-covered surface of a rock next to the one she sat upon. “Just like you. Come.”

The surreal experience tracked with the stories he’d heard over the years, but it didn’t make him feel better about it. Nodding, he joined the woman by the little stream. Sitting down next to her, he took note of strange glowing fish in the crystal clear water, creating an enhanced sense of twilight reflected within it. “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know who you are,” the sidhe answered, though it answered very little for him.

Lemmy blew out a small puff of air, his eyes widening a little at the scale of the question. “I’m the last male elf,” he said in a way that left them both unsatisfied.

“Is that all?” the Onorasidhe wondered, dipping her toes in the cool stream to let the fish swim in circles around them. “That’s what you are to them—to the elves— but what were you before that? What will you be when you’re no longer the only male among them?”

Illemitar hadn’t even thought about the last part. It was inevitable that he would sire sons and that they would sire sons in turn. Within a single generation, he would no longer be the last male, and thus, his status in the eyes of the elves would be diminished. “I should be the King of the Six Kingdoms by then.”

“What role does one king have among so many queens?” The Onorasidhe questioned, leaning back onto her hands as she moved her toes around in the water, her perky, youthful breasts straining against the sheet that clung inexplicably to her body. Her hair, perpetually caught in an impossibly slow wind, cascaded out behind her.

“Uh,” Lemmy faltered as his thoughts became a little hazier. He remembered speaking earlier on the matter, but it took a moment to seize the memory and bring it to the fore. “Unity. I don’t want to meddle in every little thing the elves do. I just want to protect them from the kinds of things people like the Necromancer might do to them—what they might do to each other if not reminded of what they have meant to each other for all this time.”

“Admirable,” the sidhe agreed with a slight nod, looking up at the stars amid the twilight overhead. “Do you think yourself up to such a task?”

“No,” Lemmy answered honestly. “I don’t.”

“Then what will you do?” She pressed without looking at him. The expression on her face told him she undoubtedly saw farther into the depths of stars than he ever could.

Lemmy’s lips flattened into a thin line, unable to think of a concrete plan of action. He lifted his hand in surrender before letting them fall back heavily into the grass. “Try anyway.”

“You would try for them?” The Onorasidhe’s gaze finally drifted back to him, boring holes through him in much the same way as they had earlier. “Would you die for them, Illemitar Liminelda?”

“Yes,” Lemmy replied without hesitation. “Even if I wasn’t the only guy left to do the job, I think I would still do it. They’ve been through enough. They’ve all had a hard go of things. Knowing what I know, I can’t turn my back on them.”

The Onorasidhe’s eyes tore deep into him, laying bare his soul for scrutiny. “What is it that you know, Illemitar Liminelda? What compels you to such a selfless act?”

“My name isn’t Liminelda,” he answered solemnly, shaking his head with shame. “Not really. It’s Nestori. Illemitar Nestori, son of the Necromancer who did these terrible things to them.”

The sidhe’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the revelation of his true name. Names had power with the fae, but among the sidhe they were said to grant power over an individual beyond reckoning. Some legends claimed that the power they had over nature was derived from knowing the true names of things given to them at the dawn of creation. Lemmy didn’t care about the power he’d handed to her, it hurt too much to keep it inside. It felt good to talk about it. He’d hardly said a word about it since finding out, telling himself it changed nothing for him.

“You seek atonement?” the sidhe speculated. “For the sins of the father?”

“Maybe,” Illemitar wavered. Atonement didn’t sound quite right, but he wasn’t sure what word fit the feeling better than that. “Justice? Redemption, maybe?”

“Do you believe you need redemption?” The Onorasidhe asked, gently taking his hand into one of hers. He hadn’t even noticed her movement; his hand was suddenly clasped within hers.

After a moment or two of silence, the sidhe squeezed his hand, urging him to answer the question. “I shouldn’t feel that way,” he acknowledged. “But I still do. And I’m not sure why.”

“Do you want to know something?” The Onorasidhe asked, the faintest hint of a smile on her perfect lips. In a way, she reminded him a little of Golariel. “Do you want to know why the Gloom Lord sent you here?”

Lemmy raised a curious brow as he turned to face her fully. She took his other hand with hers and offered it a squeeze as well. She had his interest, that was for sure. Her eyes faltered, looking down at the grass for a moment before returning to him through thick, luminous lashes. “He sent you for me. You are not the one in need of redemption, dear one. I am.”

“What do you mean?” Lemmy pressed, tilting his head to the side as he tried to understand.

“I turned my back on them,” Onorasidhe admitted. “I feuded bitterly with the queens, just as they feuded with one another. But for us—the sidhe— it was a game, an intriguing diversion amid an extended lifespan. When they came to me for help, I turned my back upon them. I told myself this was what they had sown with such frivolous infighting as if I was not party to the same. I told myself that placing their faith in the warring of their men had led them down a path of destruction, holding myself above them because I had turned away from the Gloom Lord as well. I pretended that it made me smarter than them—better than them. I was a fool. I have remained a fool. Because of this, I am more culpable for the fate of your people than you are, Illemitar.”

Lemmy stared at her for a time, unable to decide what to do with the information. It was quite the confession, and put some other things into perspective. Believing that the Necromancer was dead had allowed her to take some small measure of solace. He couldn’t hurt the elves anymore if he were dead, and her guilt would not continue to grow. But he was alive and he was gearing up for another attempt on the collective lives of elvenkind. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I tell you this because, as the future king of your people, you are in a unique position to pay the price I will ask of you in return for your garments,” she explained.

“Which is?” Lemmy asked, shaking his head slightly. He didn’t understand what she was getting at.

Her eyes rose to meet his, slightly glassier as she held back tears. “Forgiveness.”

A shocked silence settled upon Illemitar under the stars, with only the sound of the stream beside them to break it up in the slightest. He stared at her and realized that her measurements weren’t meant to assess his size, but the strength of his character. She had to know he was trustworthy enough to offer the truth, strong enough to offer his forgiveness, and compassionate enough to genuinely mean it.

“You have it,” Lemmy said quietly with a nod. “I swear.”

A genuine smile graced her lips for the first time, and the glassiness of her eyes sparkled as they became tears of joy. She didn’t ask if he truly meant what he said. She knew that he did. Torchflies rose from the tall grass of the glade around them, dancing in the cool evening air. Leaning closer, the sidhe placed her lips upon his in a way that felt like a whisper of a kiss but which set his senses aflame nonetheless.

Moving back slowly, the sheet fell from the woman’s body to reveal the fullness of her nudity for only a second before she turned away from him. Going down onto all fours, the sidhe’s delicate pink slit was presented to him, glistening with the nectar of arousal. Without so much as a word, Illemitar moved forward, his clothes suddenly absent from his body as he mounted her.

The Onorasidhe cooed her approval gently as he invaded the slick, sensitive depths of her insides. It felt familiar and strangely alien at the same time, as though it were his first time with a woman again but with all of the knowledge and skill he had acquired from years of experience. As he rocked forward, she pushed back into him, her hands gripping happily at the grass of the stream’s embankment. Time warped for him as they moved from one position to the other, the pleasure between them continuing to mount in a way that defied explanation. She allowed him to share with her all that he knew of sex and in turn, showed him things he’d not yet known. The time blurred together, flashes of her breasts bouncing gently as she rode him were followed by glimpses of the desperate need in her eyes as he rolled her onto her back and parted her legs.

He could see the stars in her eyes, taste the sweetness of her on his tongue, and feel the moonlight in her hair. The cool night air brushed sensually across his back as he grew fiercer with her like an animal. She didn’t speak a word, and yet he knew this was what she wanted. It was penance and forgiveness for her. Somehow, the act buried the sins of the past while looking to the future.

And then it was over as swiftly and as suddenly as it had begun. As his awareness returned to him, he was laying on his back, staring up at the stars as the sidhe worked quietly beside him. Furrowing his brow, he propped himself up on his arms to look around the glade for any indication as to how long he had been there but found none. He felt a sense of satisfaction and serenity that had either come from a mindblowing orgasm or an extended vacation, he wasn’t sure which. Perhaps it had been both. If he hadn’t still been naked, he might have doubted they’d had sex at all.

“Uhm,” Lemmy began, clearing his throat. “What are you doing?”

“Finishing your garments,” the Onorasidhe said as she reached up into the air and inexplicably plucked one of the small motes of starlight from the heavens. She placed it onto a sheet of dusky silk and weaved it in with a nearly imperceptible thread of moonlight. It defied all logic and explanation, even as Lemmy watched her do it with his own eyes. He didn’t know how he even understood what she was doing, yet somehow, he knew.

“What in the name of—?” Lemmy whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. “How?”

“How is less important than the why,” the sidhe remarked, checking the stitching around the cuffs briefly. “And we already handled that.”

“We did?” Lemmy asked, his brows knitting together. He could hardly remember a thing, much less the details of their conversation. He didn’t even remember how he’d got there or where the others were. His thoughts froze and seized upon that open question.

“Where is everyone else?” he asked. “How long have we been here?”

“They’re here,” the Onorasidhe replied. “In one way or another. I have also provided them with garments now that they, too, have satisfied me.”

“Satisfied?” Lemmy asked as he sat completely upright. “You had sex with all of them?”

The sidhe laughed in much the same way as she had before, but this time, it felt fuller and livelier. “No. That price was yours. Theirs was different, and they have each paid what was asked of them.”

“Oh,” Lemmy grunted shortly, rubbing the back of his head a little embarrassed at his conclusion. “Right.”

“The princess was tempting, though,” the sidhe admitted with a hint of humor in her eyes before offering the finished tunic up to him. “What do you think?”

It was beautiful in ways he didn’t think a man’s clothing ever could be. Each of the buttons was a star plucked from the heavens for him, the fabric that of dusk itself, with embroidery so detailed and intricate that he could easily lose himself in it for hours without it becoming dull. It shimmered as it moved, immaculate as a newborn babe but with all the refinement of a wizened aristocrat. “It’s stunning.”

“Mmm, good enough then,” the sidhe decided, handing him the tunic. “I have crafted a full set of these as well as a few more things to add to your wardrobe. Each member of your party has received similar treatment, though I confess I have favored you with my efforts.”

“What did they have to pay?” Lemmy wondered curiously.

The Onorasidhe shook her head, the cascade of gravity-defying hair swishing through the air behind her. “That is not for me to say, just as it is not for me to say to them what you have paid. Such matters are for them to share in their own time.”

“Well, that’s no fun, is it?” Lemmy joked, suppressing an impish grin.

The sidhe stood, her long legs completely free of grass stains or any indication that they had been rolling around like a couple of animals before. Again, he would have doubted it had happened at all were it not for the telltale signs on his own body. She offered him a hand to help him up, which he took with a smile. Her strength was surprising despite her lithe frame. He was certain she could have hurled him across the entire glade if she’d had a mind to do so.

“I have taken the liberty of complementing your ensemble with this,” she announced, producing a long, curved, elven sword from seemingly nothing. “Forged from the final ray of a setting summer sun, it will provide you with an edge that you have lacked while using your orcblade.”

Lemmy took the sword in one hand, turning it over slowly as he stared at it, completely awestruck. It was warm to the touch and seemed to exist without shadow amid the twilight, a fact his brain told him was impossible despite seeing it for himself. “My poor orcblade is going to be jealous.”

“It’s a serviceable weapon,” the sidhe admitted. “But against the undead, it is an improper tool.”

“Yeah,” Lemmy agreed, giving the heft of it a little test while his eyes remained affixed to the weapon. “I know what you mean. It was getting harder to wield it in some of those fights.”

“Among the fae, this is more of a ceremonial weapon,” the Onorasidhe continued. “But for your purposes, it will serve just as well. I expect you to wear it when you arrive for this ball you speak of.”

Lemmy’s smile broadened further as he thought of how incredible he would look with such a thing in front of so many elves who’d never laid eyes upon him before. Hell, he was pretty sure it was going to throw the queens themselves for a loop. He could practically hear the whispers of gossip and see the marveling gazes of everyone in his head.

Illemitar glanced at the serene sidhe at his side before holding the blade up in front of them, his head nodding with approval. “Bitchin’.”

Chapter 8

The melodic sound of birdsong brought Lemmy back to his senses, his vision slowly coming back into focus as he looked around. Beside him, Yenni, the Wood Elf sisters, Grinda, and Kulderani wore expressions similar to the one he himself had. A moment ago, he had been standing with the Onorasidhe in her twilight realm, and the next, he was standing in the forest amid a cluster of sunrays that had managed to penetrate the thick canopy overhead.

“We’re just a few minutes from Osserin,” Kulderani observed, gesturing to the path a few feet away. “I don’t remember how we got here.”

“Neither do I,” Yennisa remarked, adjusting the pack over her shoulder. The weight of it had changed, just as it had for the rest of them. “I was just talking to the Onorasidhe.”

“Grinda too,” Grinda admitted, looking down at her hands as she turned them over several times. “Fae magic.”

“I’ve heard of this,” Amali added. “Passing back into the world from the domains of the fae can mess with your head—or even time.”

Lemmy frowned, looking over at Amali before turning his attention skyward. Judging by the angle of the light filtering down to the forest floor, it hadn’t been that long since they’d left Osserin. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“How come that didn’t happen with the Gloom Court?” Yennisa wondered, recalling the brief stay they’d had in the Gloom Lord’s domain. All eyes fell upon Grinda for the answer, but true to form, she had none to offer them.

Lemmy’s eyes drifted down to his hip where the orcblade and the sword the Onorasidhe had gifted him both hung. Wearing them both on the same side wasn’t common, but he found that it felt just right for him. He’d be able to draw either weapon at a moment’s notice with equal speed.

“So all of that was real?” Amarieth asked as she noted the extra weapon at Lemmy’s side. Her voice had a faint hint of hope.

“It would seem so,” Lemmy answered quietly, his hand resting on the weapon’s hilt. He could feel the magic thrumming gently against his skin, offering him reassurance that his disorientation was merely a temporary inconvenience.

Yennisa cleared her throat abruptly, nodding in the direction of town. “We should be getting back then. We gained a few hours, so I intend to use them.”

“For what?” Lemmy wondered, arching a brow.

Yenni’s lips split into an impish smirk. “What do you think?”

“No, no,” Kulderani interjected, waving a hand between the two of them. “We should use the extra time for some training.”

“Excuse me?” the half-drow countered indignantly. “I don’t recall asking you a damn thing.”

The Sun Elf didn’t back down, nor did she grow angry. She met Yennisa’s gaze calmly and quietly, giving her a moment to regain her composure before speaking. “I would not insist were it not so important, Yennisa. Perhaps you would like to join us?”

Yennisa’s brows shot up in surprise at the suggestion. “Me?”

“All of you,” Lemmy said with a nod to the others. “Our teamwork isn’t bad, but I think it could be better.”

“I actually agree,” Amarieth chimed in unexpectedly. “Amali and I know what to expect from one another, but sometimes we forget that we have others we can rely on.”

Kulderani motioned to Amarieth in thanks. “Precisely so. We pair well with others, but we need to be able to account for the whole of our squad.”

“Squad?” Yenni snorted with amusement. “Is that what we are now?”

“I would say so,” the Sun Elf confirmed, placing a hand on the half-drow’s shoulder encouragingly. “It may not be one that we would have chosen under normal circumstances, but fate has seen fit to put us together for the reclamation of our people.”

Yennisa’s expression softened a little more as she looked up at the taller sun-elf. “You’re not really like the other elves we’ve met here, you know?”

“I know,” the princess acknowledged simply before gesturing to the path. “Let’s go.”

Returning so soon after their departure earned them a few confused looks from the guards and those who’d noticed them leave, but no one commented on it, having no reason to think it suspicious. The group dropped their things inside before getting to their training. Because they were including many more than usual, Lemmy and Kulderani retreaded much of the basics they had already gone through. Amarieth was visibly irritated by the slow pace of things, but she bit her tongue. Grinda, though an experienced combatant, had no problem hearing the ideas the two shared on how they fought.

“It’s not about learning to fight like us,” Lemmy told them. “It’s about knowing what to expect from us. It’s about all of us knowing what to expect from each other to complement how we move and act.”

Amarieth’s dissatisfaction with things evaporated once they got to proper sparring. Lemmy decided to pair her with Grinda first, as they appeared to be the closest in tactics among the four newcomers. Both he and Kulderani were surprised with how swiftly the match went. Amarieth and Grinda were light on their feet and acrobatic in their repositioning. Lemmy had expected Grinda to come out on top with her ability to move instantly amid puffs of black gloom, but Amarieth’s experience allowed her to anticipate attacks easily. The winning strike came as the Wood Elf flipped to one side, loosing an arrow while upside down that struck Grinda in the chest. Had it not been a blunted practice arrow, it would have easily been a kill shot.

“Again!” Grinda demanded frustratedly, just as surprised with the outcome as Lemmy had been. They two took up their starting positions in the makeshift practice ring, and again Amarieth was victorious.

Stomping her feet like a child, Grinda pointed at Amarieth with an angry snarl. “Again!”

“How many times do you need me to beat you?” the Wood Elf asked smugly, even as she retook her starting position.

“You have range,” Grinda objected, twirling her daggers around a few times in her frustration. “Is hard.”

Kulderani shook her head as she held a hand up, preventing them from starting just yet. “The advantage is in your head, Grinda. You carry two daggers, both of which could be thrown. You are able to move much faster than she is with your gloomstep. The only thing holding you back from pressuring her is you.”

“Fine,” Grinda grumbled, assuming the ready position once again. With Kulderani’s signal, they began the match. The Half-Goblin was more aggressive in the third match, pushing the limits of her gloomstep as much as she could to prevent Amarieth from getting a clean shot on her. Eventually, Grinda deflected one of the arrows midair, giving her the confidence to close the distance and keep it, but Amarieth had not come so far without knowing when to adjust her approach, revealing her skill in close combat.

Amarieth used the bow as a club, albeit one with less weight. The bow would never earn the Wood Elf a kill, but it did allow her to inflict pain and disorientation until she could line up a shot. Again, to Lemmy’s surprise, Amarieth was victorious by pulling a blunted arrow and jabbing it into Grinda’s neck rather than firing it from her bow.

“Argh!” Grinda screamed, throwing her daggers down in a fury. “Is bullshit!”

Lemmy forced himself not to laugh at how cute the little tantrum was. “Try not to worry so much about winning and more about learning. Surely she won’t be the last archer you ever face, and learning this shit in a controlled setting is better than learning it the hard way in a real fight.”

Grinda stomped out of the ring before dropping to the ground in a huff, crossing her arms as she readied herself to watch the next pair spar. Lemmy shrugged. It was going to take some time for her to get over the perceived humiliation of her loss to a Wood Elf before she could glean a lesson from it.

“Yenni and Amali,” Kulderani announced. “You’re up.”

Lemmy shifted his weight with anticipation as the two magic users took their positions in the ring. There wasn’t a perfectly safe way for the two to practice, but Yennisa had drawn a Circle of Mercy spell around the ring during the other matches, assuring them that the magic worked within it would be non-lethal when the time came. Still, it was hard for Lemmy to imagine an explosive spell being all that non-lethal.

No sooner did the Sun Elf signal to begin than the ring erupted into chaotic magic, with each combatant trying to overwhelm the other with powerful spells right out of the gate. The surge of magic in the air forced Lemmy to look away briefly as he acclimated his sixth sense to handle it all.

“That the best you have?” Yenni called, shrugging a cluster of vines to one side with a powerful protection spell. The vines collided with an invisible barrier at the perimeter of the ring before crumbling into nothing. Kulderani glanced at Lemmy, grateful that the magic would be contained to the ring.

“If you were half as good casting spells as you were talking shit, you’d have won already,” Amali snapped back, though the grin on her face showed that she wasn’t angry. On the contrary, the Wood Elf appeared to be having a great time as a wave of earth surged up in front of her, curling outward and threatening to bury Yennisa alive beneath its weight.

“Maybe this wasn’t a great idea,” Lemmy muttered as Yennisa split the wave of churning earth in two at the last minute, stepped through the narrow gap she’d created, and hurled a ball of radiant flame back at Amali. The Wood Elf batted the ball of flame to one side, causing it to explode brilliantly against the invisible barriers as she spun around and countered with a lance of ice.

“Not bad,” Yennisa laughed, avoiding the lance rather than meeting it head-on with a counter. Instead, she focused on conjuring a cluster of glowing daggers of light before hurling them in the Wood Elf’s direction. “But not great.”

“You wouldn’t know greatness if it bit you on the ass!” Amali laughed, swinging her arms closed to clap her hands together in a deafening explosion like thunder at the heart of a storm. The blades weren’t destroyed, but they were scattered in such a way as to be rendered harmless. The shockwave caused the intangible barrier to ripple under the stress while Yenni stumbled backward.

Amali seized the opportunity, stepping forward to sweep the half-drow’s feet out from under her with a thick, lashing vine while another dragged her closer for a finishing blow. Yennisa rolled in the dirt as she was dragged across the ring, adjusting her position as she flung a quick cantrip at Amali. A burst of light like miniature fireworks went off in the Wood Elf’s face, dazzling her just enough to prevent her from capitalizing on the opening she thought she’d had. Now, the opening was Yennisa’s, and she took it without hesitation, forming a thin blade of golden light around two fingers to sever the vine around her ankle.

Before Amali could take a step back to put some distance between them, Yenni had rolled forward and stood, placing the blade of golden light a hair from the Wood Elf’s throat. A tense moment came and went between the two before they both burst into fits of laughter.

Kulderani slowly shifted her gaze to Lemmy. “With how much these two argue, I thought this would have ended differently.”

“I guess mages of all stripes are nerds at their core,” Lemmy speculated. The priestess and the sorceress spoke quickly, comparing spells and recalling what they had been thinking from moment to moment during the duel. It was the friendliest he’d seen them since meeting the Wood Elves. “I just hope they’re taking it seriously.”

“If nothing else, it does seem to be strengthening their bond,” Kulderani observed with a shrug. “I think that’s important enough to consider this a success.”

With the others having their matches out of the way, it was Illemitar and Kulderani’s turn to take the practice ring. They picked up right where they left off, skipping past any basics and allowing the spectators to see the level they were operating at. Lemmy’s power had increased considerably by impregnating a few females, but Kulderani’s own experience outstripped his own by a considerable margin. Even with such an advantage, Lemmy had been closing the gap recently. By the time they were done, the pair were covered in sweat and bruises from the intensity of their battles as the sun had begun to sink low beyond the trees once more.

It was a good use of their time as far as Lemmy was concerned, but he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened between the Onorasidhe and the others. It felt somehow rude to ask them, but his curiosity continued to nag all the same. He decided that washing up might help him get his mind off of it.

It didn’t help quite like he thought it would, but by the time he got out of the bath, he felt considerably more relaxed. Everyone else followed his example of getting washed up and congregated on the front deck for a light evening meal.

The ambient glow of the forest was enhanced further by lights from the surrounding homes, more of which were becoming occupied with each passing day. Not only had many of the elves found an excuse to move closer to the last male, but many of the High Elves took his return as a sign that it was time to move back to ancestral homes. Some believed him to be an omen, while others took a more practical approach and reasoned that as his power grew, somewhere close to him became the safest place in all of Elfland.

Torchflies blinked in the night, bobbing and weaving as they signaled and danced with one another. Lemmy sat quietly in one of the many chairs on the deck and took a deep breath, savoring the cool breeze. Across from his home, a trio of female elves were relaxing on their own deck and offered him some enthusiastic waves as soon as they noticed him. He returned the wave half-heartedly, not wanting to give them the wrong idea. He was too wiped to feel very social.

“You’re going to be quite the celebrity after the ball,” Yennisa commented, handing him a small wooden plate of nuts and berries with a generous wedge of cheese. He would have liked to have a chunk of meat in there, too, but found the lightness of the meal went well with the relaxed evening atmosphere.

“Bad enough as it is,” Lemmy chuckled as he broke off a piece of the cheese to munch on. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stomach much of it after.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Yenni remarked, eating one of the fruits that resembled grapes. “Training today was a good idea. Nice team-building time, I think.”

Lemmy nodded in agreement, chewing on his chunk of cheese as he looked out into the night. “I don’t like the dire need for it, but I’m happy to see it work out alright.”

“So…” Yennisa mused after a long silence. “Did you fuck her?”

“What?” Lemmy asked, looking at her with a confused expression.

Yenni’s lips pressed into a thin, impatient line. “The sidhe. Did you fuck her?”

“Oh,” Lemmy grunted, shrugging a shoulder as he continued to eat. “Yeah.”

The priestess looked away, letting out an irritated sigh. Lemmy felt a pang of guilt but reminded himself that they had been over this several times. It didn’t seem to be getting much easier for her, though. “It was a strange situation—very complicated.”

“I know,” Yennisa acknowledged quietly, though her eyes still didn’t meet his. “It was complicated for me too.”

“What do you mean?” Lemmy asked, setting the plate aside as he scooted a little closer to her in the wooden chair. “What happened?”

“She told me things,” Yenni said, brushing a lock of her pale hair out of her face. “Showed me things.”

Lemmy didn’t press her, though he continued to watch her by the dim light of the forest for a time until she was ready to continue. “She told me what we already knew about the curse, but she also told me that it’s why I feel the way I do right now.”

“Uncomfortable? Jealous?” Lemmy speculated as he reached out and took her hand. “You know you don’t have to.”

“I do, actually. The curse has seen to that,” she corrected, her gaze finally settling upon him. “Love is not a singular thing. It’s the culmination of a lot of things, as it turns out. Things like trust and selflessness, to name a few, are all compositional elements. They sort of blend together and build on one another, achieving a potent endpoint in the form of love. Because I can never reach that, the process breaks down and falls apart.”

Lemmy’s brows furrowed, disconcerted with the additional information on her curse. She continued, motioning to the other women talking amongst themselves. “Even with them. My fondness for them can’t reach a certain point, no matter how kind or understanding they become with me. Kulderani has been wonderful by all accounts, showing me compassion more freely than others here have despite my half-blooded nature. It feels nice, but the moment she begins to act like a partner to you, I can’t hold onto that positivity.”

“So what does that mean? I thought the curse was just about falling in love—a romantic kind of love. Does it include other types of love as well?”

“No,” Yenni shook her head. “But without my ability to truly fall in love for you, all I have is the negative aspects of intense affection. It warps and becomes selfish and possessive. The trust I feel for you when we talk like this doesn’t carry over when it comes to sex and romance, the emotions fail to tie-in to one another because of the curse.”

“Fuck,” Lemmy remarked, shaking his head in disgust. The more he learned of the curse, the more tempted he was to drop everything and track down the witch who’d placed it on her. “That’s pretty fucked up.”

“The Onorasidhe explained it to me better than I’m explaining it to you, but that’s the general idea,” the half-drow lamented. “Even knowing how it affects me and why, all I could think about was you and her together. It doesn’t matter that I know what has to be done with other elves, even the ones across the way there, all I can think about is ways I can get in the way of it or slow it down. All so I can have more of you to myself.”

“That’s not entirely bad,” Lemmy assured her. “I’d say it’s pretty natural to want someone you care for all to yourself.”

“Normally, yes,” Yennisa agreed. “But these are not normal circumstances. I’m not a stupid woman. I studied long and hard on scripture, philosophy, and history. I know, on a theoretical level, that we’re here to save an entire people. But no matter how much I repeat it to myself, my heart will not—cannot— fall in line. The curse compels it in the most negative ways, knowing only the selfish nature of love rather than true love itself.”

Lemmy squeezed her hand, gently pulling her closer to him. “Hey. You can’t afford to let yourself go down that path now. We’re so much closer to having the curse lifted that this isn’t something you’re going to have to deal with for long.”

“You don’t know how right you are,” she murmured. Her words hung on the air for a moment with Lemmy staring expectantly at her before the silence became too much and she continued. “The Onorasidhe told me that if we do not lift the curse soon, it could be the death of me.”

“W-what?” Lemmy stammered. “That’s ridiculous. How could it kill you?”

“Not it, exactly,” Yennisa returned the hand squeezing as tears formed in her eyes. “Remember, the best I can experience is all of the most negative emotions one might tie to love. Eventually, seeing you with so many others is bound to break my heart for good, and I’ll see no other way to end that pain other than to take my own life.”

“No,” Lemmy objected, falling to one knee in front of her to look up into her face. “No. That can’t be right. You would never do that.”

Yenni offered him a sad smile. “I know. I believe you when you tell me that. But the fact is, I’m already in a pretty dark place. It’s getting harder for me not to feel excluded and left behind. A person can only take so much without a reprieve with those they love. And because all the women here are tied to you, my selfishness and despair will only push me further from them as time goes on. Eventually, I’ll be completely alone in my mind and in my heart.”

“We won’t let this happen,” Kulderani said abruptly from over Illemitar’s shoulder. The other elves stood there with her, each of them looking just as determined.

Amali rubbed her arms uneasily. “You’re one of us now. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Every elven life is precious,” Amarieth affirmed with a resolute look in her eyes. “Especially yours.”

“Halfbreeds,” Grinda said, placing a hand on Yennisa’s shoulders. “Look out for each other, too.”

Overwhelmed by the outpouring of support, Yenni began to cry freely, hot tears streaming down her face. It was difficult to tell if she was sad or happy. It was likely a bittersweet mix of the two, Lemmy thought. He squeezed her hand again as he offered the priestess a smile of support. “You’re not just my Yen anymore. You’re all of ours. And none of us is going to let anything bad happen to you. We will break this curse, and you will live happily with us thereafter.”

“Thank you,” Yennisa whispered, wiping some of the tears from her cheeks. “All of you. It means so much to me.”

Chapter 9

The day they had been waiting for had arrived as elves from all across Elfland converged on Ganlyn. Illemitar’s attire was just as surprising to the rest of the party as theirs was to him. Each of them had a custom ensemble from the Onorasidhe, suited to their individual tastes and talents.

The sisters had similar gowns, constructed of exotic leaves and vines. The difference was that Amarieth’s was fashioned to look and feel more like summer, while Amali’s leaned toward spring. Amali’s held several floral blooms that gave her a distinct splash of color all the way down the hem of the dress to the floor, forming a short train that remained inexplicably out of her way no matter which way she moved. A pleasant perfume wafted off of her everywhere she went, enchanting the senses while evoking the sense of a fresh, clean spring rain. Amarieth’s was less embellished with fewer blooms, a considerably shorter train, and a generally wilder look. The scent that Lemmy got from her reminded him of summer twilight, though he couldn’t begin to say how.

Grinda’s ensemble was just as captivating, especially considering the Half-Goblin often favored leather straps and armor over finery. The straps were still present but mingled seamlessly with the black bodice and skirts formed from the writhing gloom she commanded. The surface of the fabric had an eerie, dark mist that rolled off of it like sublimating midnight. Looking at it for too long felt like staring into an endless, starless night. Grinda’s hair was put up and adorned with several decorative, bejeweled hairpins that Lemmy could tell would double as weapons in a pinch. Everywhere the Half-Goblin went, she was perpetually cast in shadow.

Kulderani’s gown stood in stark contrast to Grinda’s, catching a supernatural and unseen noonday sun even in dimly lit areas. Her long red hair was a combination of ocean-tossed and careful styling; as if one had used an ocean breeze itself to manipulate every strand into its ravishing final result. The high-heeled shoes she wore were made of golden rays of sunshine and added to her already impressive height by elven standards. The center of the gown plunged low, giving Lemmy and all who dared to sneak a peak a tantalizing taste of golden brown flesh that was both supple and toned.

Finally was Yennisa, who was always a vision of beauty even in simple priestess robes, but was even more stunning in the fae garb provided to her by the sidhe. Her gown had a plunging neckline similar to Kulderani’s, though the slits up the side ran much higher. The material was that of gossamer moonlight that gave hints to her bare skin beneath, which Lemmy noted as her nipples perked up at the sight of him. Her hair was intricately braided with strands of mithril to hold it in place. Her heels were made of pure glass and caught the light from so many directions that she appeared to walk on starlight everywhere she moved.

“You look…” Illemitar began, unable to land on a word that would do the woman justice. Instead, he let out a sharp breath, his face splitting into a grin that reached from ear to ear. “There are no words.”

Yenni blushed as she shyly averted her gaze for a moment. The gesture of girlish modesty was at odds with the boldness of the clothing she wore, but it didn’t last for long. “We should go. I don’t want to be late.”

“Right. Of course,” Lemmy agreed with a nod, offering his arm to the woman as they ventured forth to the derok platform. There, numerous other elven women had gathered in their best formal wear, hoping to make an impression at the ball that all elves of Elfland were invited to attend. Their party drew looks of awe and admiration immediately, with women retreating into clusters of hushed whispers once they had passed.

In Ganlyn, where competition was stiffer, the reactions were a little more subdued, but it was clear to Lemmy that they had still made an impression even amongst the most fashionable of elven society. Being that he was the guest of honor, Lemmy was able to bypass the queue that had formed at the entrance of the Silver Court. Passing by the procession of beautiful elves, each one hoping to catch Lemmy’s eye at some point in the night, the party stepped into the chamber where the ball was to be held.

Either Illemitar had entered through a different area than he had intended, or the queens had gone about shifting the inner structure of the Silver Court as a whole. It would make sense if the place could be morphic to suit the needs of the queens, but it was just as likely that doors and archways could be magically altered to redirect foot traffic on a whim.

The walls of the ballroom were similar to the inner chamber of the queens, composed of dense tree trunks with very little spacing between them. It differed in that each trunk was crawling with long, wriggling glow worms while the spaces between were filled with dancing torch flies that created the illusion of a living night sky. Hanging from the vaulted ceiling high above, intricate clusters of bioluminescent plant life illuminated the ballroom with the customary dim light that the elves seemed to favor at most times when they weren’t being blinded by the Eternal Tree. Every individual was cast in a mixture of blue, purple, and orange hues while a band of elven minstrels played on a dais at the far end of the room. No matter where Lemmy stood, the music seemed to carry perfectly across the room at just the right volume.

“This is incredible,” Yenni marveled, her eyes wide as she took in the details of the ballroom. “I never thought I would be attending an event like this in the Silver Court.”

“Me neither,” Lemmy admitted, though he had to acknowledge the fact she had likely spent much more time thinking about it than he had. “It definitely makes an impression.”

“I’m pleased to hear you say so,” Golariel added as she approached from behind them. Even without the benefit of fae regalia, the High Queen was somehow the most graceful and elegant creature in the room, moving like a soft morning breeze through the crowd. Everywhere she went, she caught the attention of other elves who either wanted to be her or be with her in some capacity. “Would you care to dance, Illemitar?”

Despite the fact he was standing in a ballroom, the suggestion of him dancing came as a surprise. He’d expected to mostly stand around and look good, perhaps offering Yenni a dance or two, but already he could tell that he was about to have a full dance card with any and every elf that could get their hands on him in the hopes of making an impression.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Lemmy said before clearing his throat to adjust his tone. “I mean, it would be my honor, My Lady.”

Golariel extended an elegant hand to Lemmy, which he took and then led her to the expansive dance floor, where other elves were already enjoying dances with one another. It was a curious sight for Lemmy to see an entire venue filled with dancers who were entirely female. Had he not known the reasons behind it, he would have considered it an idyllic place for an adventurer like himself to retire.

“I should warn you,” Lemmy chuckled. “I’m not a terribly skilled dancer. I know some basic steps, not much more.”

“Well, then, you find yourself in good company, Illemitar,” Golariel replied serenely. “For it has been so long since I have had cause to dance, that I may have forgotten all but the most basic steps as well.”

“I’ll lead?” Lemmy asked as he took her hand in his and set his other on the narrow part of her waist, brushing the silken gown with his fingers. It might not have been sidhe-made, but the craftsmanship of the High Elves was not to be dismissed. Platinum-lined silk and stunning sapphires in both the gown and her jewelry caused the woman to twinkle like she was composed of pure magic.

“Of course,” she answered with a subtle nod, squeezing his hand reassuringly. Her skin was as soft and smooth as rose petals against his own. He took the first step and was surprised at how quickly his mother’s lessons came back to him as he swept the queen up into his arms. Augmented as he was, he was more graceful than he ever remembered being, but he still wouldn’t have expected his footing to be as sure as it was. Pleased with his performance, Golariel relaxed against him and followed his lead effortlessly.

“And you were worried,” Golariel whispered, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her pristine pink lips.

“I guess I remember more than I thought I would,” Lemmy responded, though he was growing keenly more aware of all the eyes on him and the queen. It must have been like a fairytale, and a prophecy rolled into one for so many of them. The last male elf had returned to save them, and he was dancing with perhaps the most respected queen among the elves. It had to have been a surreal experience for them.

“Who taught you how to dance?” Golariel inquired as they swept across the dance floor.

“My mother,” Lemmy replied fondly. “She was a woman of many talents, but she spent a lot of her time trying to make me more respectable and educated.”

“And your father?” Golariel asked, a glimmer of sincere interest in her eyes as he spoke. “What did he teach you?”

“Survival, fighting,” Lemmy shrugged casually. “Man-stuff, you know?”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Golariel remarked, on the edge of what might have been a giggle. “But if it’s him that we owe your skill with a blade; I should like to meet him someday.”

“I haven’t seen my folks in a while,” Lemmy added, his thoughts turning to the home he had grown up in with the human adventurers. “It’d be nice to send for them once everything has settled down.”

As the song drew to a close, a Dark Elf that Lemmy didn’t recognize approached the two of them. Her hair was shorter and white as spider silk. Her gown, which left almost as little to the imagination as Yenni’s, was adorned with glowing embroidery that stood out against her dark skin. Her eyes were like brilliant topazes with a focus to them that made Lemmy feel like he was meant to be her next meal.

“Ah, Princess Drukara,” Golariel said, gesturing elegantly to Lemmy. “Is this the first time meeting Illemitar Liminelda?”

“Indeed, it is,” the princess answered, making no effort to conceal how her eyes wandered hungrily over his body. “I am honored.”

“Princess?” Lemmy wondered, realizing just how many of those there would be around at a time like this. “That would make you… Queen Isodre’s daughter?”

Drukara’s dark lips curled into a satisfied smile. “Just so. Are you going to ask me to dance?”

Lemmy’s brows shot up as he glanced at Golariel. “Actually, we were just—.”

“It’s alright, Illemitar,” Golariel assured him. “The night is young. Feel free to mingle with the other guests. Get to know them. Come find me later, I have something I wish to discuss with you when you’re able.”

As the High Queen took her leave, the Dark Princess took her spot, sliding into position immediately. What caught Lemmy’s attention was how willingly she accepted him as the lead. He wouldn’t have thought a Dark Elf would be so inclined to do so. Taking her hand and slipping it onto the narrow part of her waist, they joined the rest of the elves dancing to the new song the minstrels had moved onto.

“You can grab my ass if you want,” Drukara muttered abruptly. “It would not offend me.”

“Excuse me?” Lemmy chuckled, glancing around the room to see if any other sensitive elven ears had picked up what she had said.

“It’s your way, isn’t it?” The princess asked, tilting her head to the side with furrowed brows. “The males of the human world, where you were raised, they take what they want from their females? It is not our way—the way of the Dark Elves— but out of respect for your traditions, I would happily submit.”

“O-oh,” Lemmy laughed a little uneasily, his footing almost faltering. “I appreciate that, but let’s just dance and talk for a bit. Then we can see about the ass-grabbing later.”

“Among other things,” Drukara half-joked. “You won’t have the luxury of getting to know every woman before seeding them, you know.”

“No, but I figure a princess might merit the extra effort,” Lemmy joked back, much to the Dark Elf’s delight. He nodded his head in understanding before gesturing vaguely. “We’ll have a facility for the more clinical approach, but for now, I’ll run with a personal touch.”

“Are you capable of courting so many women at once?” Drukara asked, her tone skeptical but amused.

Lemmy laughed mirthfully. “I’m certainly going to try. Besides, there are worse problems for a guy to have, hm?”

The Dark Princess examined him a little more closely as they swept across the dance floor and moved into a turn. “Are you always so cavalier?”

“Only when it’s important,” Lemmy responded levelly, though something in his eyes told her that he was still joking with her. Overall, she seemed to be pleased with his ability to casually deflect what could be seen as barbs and take everything in stride. It wasn’t a quality that many of the more serious elves of the forest possessed.

“So,” Lemmy began, changing the subject. “Your mother and the Blood Queen seem rather close.”

Drukara’s brow arched slightly. “I should hope so, they’ve been fucking for as long as I can remember.”

“Really?” Lemmy asked, feigning surprise. There was a way the two acted around one another that had given him that vibe, but he hadn’t been able to put his finger on it. “I’m getting the impression that’s more common here.”

“Even before the males died off,” Drukara explained. “They were very close. I suspect they were having an affair then and simply dispensed with the facade when the males were gone. There was no need to keep up appearances.”

Lemmy’s expression turned downward into a frown. “Was same-sex stuff like that frowned upon back then?”

“Only when the parties involved were already married,” Drukara answered wryly. “As a whole, elves are more sexually liberated than most, but a betrayal of trust and loyalty wounds just the same.”

Lemmy’s lips pursed together thoughtfully. “And now that there is just one male?”

“If there is an arrangement or understanding in place, no betrayal exists,” the Dark Elf answered easily. “Has this not been discussed with you?”

“It has,” Lemmy responded as the smile returned to his face. “But I just wanted to hear your thoughts on it, specifically. There’s so much I still don’t know about this place and its people, and the only way to find out is to get to know each of you—to learn.”

“So not just courting, after all,” Drukara observed with a keen, approving eye. “You would have made an excellent Dark Elf, Illemitar.”

Lemmy laughed again. “I’ll take that with the intention you meant.”

Drukara gripped his hand a little tighter and pulled him closer, her breasts pressing firmly against his chest. “I’ll not mince words with you then. I need you to impregnate me, Illemitar. It is a matter of the utmost urgency.”

“I know,” Lemmy acknowledged apprehensively. “That’s why I’m—.”

“No,” the Dark Princess interjected. “This is not simply a matter of breeding. I have been waiting too long for a male to dominate and mount me. To use me like a worthless whore and baste me with his fertile seed, both inside and out.”

“O-oh?” Lemmy mumbled, unable to conjure a more articulate response in light of the revelation. She certainly wasn’t holding back with him. “That sounds… nice.”

“It isn’t, I know,” Drukara said pointedly. “My mother loathes this desire within me. She views it as a cancerous tumor to be excised, for no drow woman should surrender her power to a male willingly. At least, that is the common belief among our people. But I know what I want.”

“Ohh,” Lemmy repeated, this time with more understanding. She wasn’t just looking for a quick fling, she saw an opportunity to be more of herself with someone and let a part of her out that she was typically forced to repress. “I think I understand.”

“I knew you would,” Drukara affirmed, glancing in the direction of Yenni. “Your spouse, Yennisa. She is half-drow. It is said she is assertive but is known to submit to your sexual prowess. I see how she glows, how she looks at you, how happy she is even while walking among strangers.”

Lemmy looked over at Yennisa who gave him a little cheerful wave. The fact that he was dancing with other women couldn’t even scratch the surface of her joy and wonder. Lemmy smiled, offering Drukara a nod of agreement. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right about that.”

“I want that, even if for a moment,” Drukara declared in a tone just above a whisper. “I am tired of pretending I don’t want what I want. Tired of being someone else to preserve some house of cards my mother is so intent upon. I don’t care about the supremacy of one sex over another when the males return, I just want to be happy.”

“Hold on,” Lemmy interrupted as the dance came to an end. On the dais, the minstrels announced they would be back after a short break. “What was that last part—about the males?”

Drukara furrowed her brow, glancing off in what Lemmy assumed must have been the direction of her mother. The Dark Princess’s voice lowered conspiratorially. “Mother and the Blood Queen believe that as males begin to return, their position of privilege will grant them power and authority among our peoples that they didn’t enjoy before. Everything the females in power have now could theoretically be in jeopardy.”

“Son of a bitch,” Lemmy grumbled. Before long, there would be power plays being made while he was occupied with repopulating the elves. Isodre and Opheliel were poised to tilt the balance of power in order to hold onto their own. What would become of the males born into their respective kingdoms? Would they be made second-class citizens, only valued for their sperm? “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want no part of it,” Drukara insisted. “And I believe if I make myself useful, you might be more inclined to ravage me sooner rather than later.”

It was still a very drow way of thinking, Lemmy thought, but at least the quid pro quo wouldn’t be in service to something nefarious. The terms seemed agreeable enough to him, but he reminded himself to be on his toes around someone who thought in such terms. “Alright, I guess that makes sense.”

“Good,” the Dark Elf chirped, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Then, we have an accord.”

Before he could seek any further elaboration on the subject, the princess turned and excused herself, leaving him to the mercy of a procession of other elves looking to get a dance in with him.

Illemitar danced with several women he’d never met, many of whom possessed elevated positions in elven society. He danced with generals, princesses, clerics, and sorceresses, most of whom were perfectly pleasant to be around. The queens didn’t pass on the opportunity to throw their weight around to secure dances for themselves, but he noticed the Dark Queen and the Blood Queen kept their distance for most of the evening. Lemmy seized the opportunity to treat the women he’d arrived with to dances of their own. He knew his feet would be sore in the morning, but as long as he was getting caught up on his dance steps, he saw no reason not to take them for a turn on the dance floor.

Golariel gave a speech halfway through the evening, formally introducing Illemitar and unveiling the plans to get things back on track. The other queens stood alongside her to offer her their support. A sense of hope swelled within the ballroom, which endured throughout the rest of the evening. Food and drink were served at the tables along the perimeter of the room, of which Lemmy hardly had a chance to avail himself of between all the dance partners he received. When the minstrels took their breaks, so did he.

“I’m going to head home,” Yennisa laughed wearily toward the end of the night. “Amali and I are wiped. I think Grinda might have fallen asleep in a dark corner, somewhere. I haven’t seen her in a couple of hours.”

“I’m sure the Gloom Lord is keeping tabs on her,” Lemmy remarked even as he offered a nod of acknowledgment to the archfey on the far end of the room who’d hardly moved a foot or so from his own dark corner. He appeared to prefer the role of a wallflower than that of a dancer, but he seemed to be enjoying himself well enough so Lemmy didn’t question it. “You want me to go with you?”

“No, no!” Yennisa giggled. Lemmy realized perhaps she’d had a lot more of the wine than he had. “You stay, have fun. Golariel said she had something to talk to you about, anyway.”

“Oh, right,” Lemmy muttered, glancing in the High Queen’s direction. “I almost forgot. Thanks for reminding me.”

He offered her a small, sweet kiss to send her on her way, entrusting her in the capable hands of the other elves before approaching Golariel across the dance floor with its thinning crowd of dancers. “You wished to speak with me, My Lady?”

Golariel’s only answer was the soft, serene smile that he’d come to know her for. She extended a hand to him, beckoning for him to follow through one of the archways at the rear of the room. As they passed through the arches, a glimmer of magical light transported them somewhere other than the corridor he’d seen beyond.

Looking around the room, Illemitar realized that it was the private chamber of the High Queen. The floorplan was open, with large openings that led out onto multiple balconies, all of which were adorned with vibrant creeping vines and floral blooms. Roughly at the center of the room was a large circular bed, capable of accommodating much more than just one elven queen.

Golariel walked away from him, reaching up with her fingers to the shoulders of her gown to slip it off of her, revealing her graceful nude form as she approached a small table at the far end of the room. Lemmy noted multiple bottles of wine on the table as she popped one open to fill a goblet.

“Would you like anything to drink before we begin?” Golariel asked pleasantly, turning to face him with luminous lashes unable to conceal the fondness for him in her sparkling eyes. Her hair cascaded down her back like a pale curtain, perfectly framing the lithe and delicate frame of the High Elf’s body.

“Begin what?” Lemmy asked, though he had a pretty good idea of what it was she wanted of him.

“Sex, my dear,” she laughed, her voice crisp and clear like a ringing bell. “Tonight, you’re going to breed the High Queen.”

Chapter 10

Illemitar glanced back at the door. Though they had just stepped through it to enter the room, it was closed now. Considering the nature of the magic, it may have been closed the entire time. “What about the ball? What about everyone else?”

“I considered inviting them,” Golariel confessed. “But I thought it more prudent to go easy on you tonight after all the dancing.”

Lemmy’s face scrunched up in bewilderment as he pointed vaguely at her. “Was that a joke? Since when do you joke?”

“I’ve been known to tell one or two when the mood strikes,” Golariel countered as she took a drink of her wine and crawled onto the bed. “Join me.”

Lemmy took a few steps closer to the bed but didn’t begin disrobing. “It feels awfully sudden.”

“It is,” Golariel agreed after another long drink of wine. “I’m hoping to have it done before I, or the other queens, talk me out of it.”

“Why?” Lemmy wondered, regarding her with heightened scrutiny.

“It’s the way of things. I’ve been forced to set my leadership instincts aside in favor of fairness to the others,” Golariel explained. “Even personal desires must be set aside to put the needs of others aside. But if I do so with this, I fear that I shall not have the chance again for some time. More importantly, the power gained by both of us from breeding could be invaluable in the future.”

That wasn’t something Lemmy had considered. Golariel was already a powerful individual. With the enhanced power bestowed by the brand, she would be in an even greater position to defend against the return of the Necromancer. However, it was likely that the other queens would perceive it as a slight. Accusations of him playing favorites were practically assured. He would have to seed them soon after or have a damn good excuse not to.

“Sometimes, the constant debate and arguing becomes too much,” Golariel continued, setting the goblet of wine aside as she made herself comfortable on the bed. “I would like a taste of freedom, just for one night.”

The High Queen situated herself on the bed more comfortably, leaning back into the pillows as one lithe hand slithered down her abdomen to settle between her legs. There, as she spread her legs open, she parted the glistening pink slit of her sex with two fingers. Her eyes met with his, adding a strange weight to the enticing presentation. “Come, Illemitar. Free me for the night.”

Lemmy found himself unable to argue with such an invitation. Not only was he going to service a physical and emotional need, but the prospect of a powerful queen with even more power at her disposal in defense of their people was a difficult one to ignore. Discarding his clothes swiftly, but not so quickly as to seem overeager, he joined her on the bed.

Golariel extended her other hand to him, caressing the side of his face as he drew near. Her touch was like warm flower petals, inviting and soft. She parted her lips as she drew him in, kissing him gently with a practiced restraint. To Lemmy, it evoked a sense of testing the waters, of dipping one’s toe in to check the temperature before diving in head first. There was a carefulness to it. More than that, it was an unspoken offer for him to change his mind if he so wished. He didn’t, but the silent offer was appreciated nonetheless.

He met her kiss with willing happiness, pleased to put a taste to the precious, pristine pink that had transfixed him so many times before. They held a light sweetness for him, like a fruit he was unable to put his finger on. Likely, it was one he’d yet to taste, considering the exotic selection available in Elfland. He got the sense that she wished to take her time with him, and though his erection begged to find a home in her, he set the desire aside to simply taste of her lips before moving on slowly to her neck.

The elven queen let out a low sigh of relief as he meticulously relieved her of the pressure she’d held within for so long. Kissing down her neck to her clavicle, Lemmy moved onto her soft, delicate breasts. The queen arched her back, ever so slowly, offering herself up to him to feast upon. It was an offering he gratefully accepted as the floral scent of her invaded his nostrils and overtook his senses. With one hand, he felt between her legs, prodding at the slick heat of her with careful precision. Another sound of pleasure escaped her lips akin to a whimper. She was ready for him, but she was delighted by the control and care he presented her. Though he wished to linger upon her breasts, tonguing and teasing her pert pink nipples, he decided to venture lower.

Licking gently past her navel until his head came to rest between her legs, Lemmy took a mouthful of her cunt hungrily and drank deep of her nectar. His tongue probed the inside of her before climbing its way to the top of her slit to dance with the eager nub that awaited him there. Her whimpers and sighs became moans as her fingers weaved their way into his hair and her legs writhed languidly under him. Where he had expected a slightly salty musk, he found the same sweetness as that of her lips. Spurred on by his curiosity, he feasted upon her in a series of licking and suckling actions. The motion of her legs and the tenseness in her fingers grew more excited, signaling to him the approach of some small release of the sexual energy pent up within.

He felt the tenseness in her flesh, the way she struggled to resist wrapping her legs around his head to hold him there for the rest of his natural life. He felt the tenseness snap under its own weight before giving way to delicious release. The High Queen’s moan filled the chamber for a moment as the grip on his scalp tightened, and her thighs quaked with ecstasy.

“Ooo, yes,” the queen gasped, her back arching as she rode the wave of orgasm upon his face. “It’s better than I remember. Better than I hoped. Now, give me your seed. I’m ready!”

Lemmy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, concealing a slight smirk of self-satisfaction in the process. Rising to his knees once more, he complied with the queen’s request wordlessly, burying his aching, eager erection into the slick mound of her cunt.

“A-ahh,” the queen gasped, quivering more with every passing inch of his shaft that sank into her. She was so sensitive from the first orgasm that she was already teetering on the edge of another. “T-that’s it; you needn’t hold back with me.”

His hips swept back before driving hard and deep, grinding another orgasm out of her instantly. Her body trembled beneath his as she wrapped her arms around him, holding herself against him firmly. “Keep going.”

Lemmy wasn’t sure if she would be able to take much more, and he had just begun, but he figured when a queen told him to do something, it was probably best not to question it. He settled right into a vigorous rhythm, pumping her tight hot insides with the crude yet powerful implement that was his cock. One delighted climax rolled into the next an untold number of times as Lemmy pummeled her brutishly with increasing fervor. Despite the repeated orgasms, she remained tight and firmly affixed to his flesh, working him as expertly as he was working her. He could feel her hips, moving of their own accord, rising to meet him with every thrust as she endeavored to relieve him of his virile seed.

Despite the rising bliss, the crescendo of it took him completely by surprise, as if someone had come along and kicked a chair out from under him. It was an anticipatory tension that suddenly dropped out from within him, releasing everything that had built up there in a final eruption of sticky heat. The queen’s back arched again as she let out a desperate cry of ecstasy, relishing every last drop of elven seed that filled her.

The brand appeared almost instantly, but the queen didn’t take it as a sign to stop. Similarly, Lemmy felt a strange surge of power pass through him, unlike anything he had experienced with the others he’d branded.

“Keep going,” the queen whispered breathlessly. Now that business had been attended to, in a way, she wished to savor only the pleasures. He offered her no argument and demonstrated a multitude of those pleasures for her until there was little energy left between them. Lemmy couldn’t be sure how long it had been, nor did he care as he stared up at the roof of the queen’s bedchamber, adorned with an intricate mural of events in ancient elven history he was unfamiliar with.

Sleep took him before he’d even recognized the need for it, his eyes only opening hours later when he felt the wet suckling of the queen’s lips on his cock. “Mmm,” Lemmy groaned. “Guess it was foolish to think we were done, hm?”

As he watched her head bob up and down his shaft, he caught the slightest shift of the shadows somewhere on the other side of the room. Without a word, he pushed the queen to one side and rolled to the other, falling from the bed as he pulled his sword from the pile of clothing he’d left behind when he’d joined her. A large sword cleaved the bed open in the space they’d occupied just a moment before, a towering figure in dark armor glaring hatefully at him with twin pins of red light from within the helm.

“Fuck me, a death knight,” Lemmy gasped, leaping to his feet as he readied his weapon. He’d heard stories of such powerful entities, but never fought one himself. A seasoned fighter he’d partied up with once before had battled one, only barely escaping with his life. There was no mistaking such a thing, though, its aura of palpable malice enveloping everything around it as it turned to face him.

Lemmy lunged without hesitation, thrusting the sidhe weapon fiercely for the armored midsection of the undead warrior. Despite the size and heft of its blade, the death knight batted the strike effortlessly to one side before answering with a strike of its own that cut a shallow wound in Lemmy’s shoulder. The chill of the warrior’s undead state sent shivers down his spine, nearly arresting his movement entirely.

“Trespasser,” the death knight snarled, advancing on Lemmy with heavy, determined footsteps, weapon at the ready. Again Lemmy moved to strike, this time with a horizontal slash that he anticipated would be parried and countered. His intuition was accurate as his blade was knocked aside, allowing him to use the force of the strike in his own defense rather than being caught unaware once again. The death knight seemed unphased by its strike being intercepted, but Lemmy wasn’t sure that he would be able to tell one way or another with its face concealed within the blackened helm.

“Excuse me,” Lemmy smirked, pressing a clinch with the undead warrior. “Of the two of us, I was the one who was invited by the queen.”

“By my wife!” The death knight roared, slamming a gauntleted fist into Lemmy’s face and crushing the bones in his nose. Crimson cascaded from his pulped nose as he stumbled back, eyes wide in shock.

“A-Alinar?” The queen stammered, eyes round with horror. “It can’t be. H-how?”

Lemmy shook his head as he dove away from another fierce strike from Alinar, the death knight’s blade carving a deep wound in the wall behind where he had just stood. Lemmy grabbed the nearest bottle of wine with his free hand and lobbed it at the death knight, hoping to provoke a reflex from the warrior to create an opening. Instead, the bottle merely shattered harmlessly against the helmet as Alinar advanced.

“It is of no consequence,” Alinar said dismissively. “The High King has returned. You, Illemitar, shall be the first to suffer my wrath.”

“So long as I don’t have to suffer that smell,” Lemmy quipped, barely holding the trembling fear he felt at bay.

“No, Alinar!” The queen yelled, scooting fearfully away from him across the floor. “You cannot lead our people! You’re dead. You’ve been dead since the Battle of—!”

“Silence!” The death knight roared, turning his attention briefly to look at the queen. Lemmy surged forward with renewed determination at the thought he might raise his hand to Golariel, but he realized only too late that he had been played. Alinar’s hand snapped out, seizing Lemmy by the neck and lifting him into the air like he was a child’s toy.

“Fool. You think the King of the High Elves so green, so inexperienced in the art of the blade to be caught unawares so easily?” The death knight’s grip tightened, causing spots to form in Illemitar’s vision.

“Call me an optimist,” Lemmy choked, bringing the sidhe weapon up and driving it down into the gap between the former king’s helm and pauldron. The death knight batted the blade aside with his own, the red eyes from inside his helmet boring holes into Lemmy’s very soul.

“You are but a child,” the undead king growled. “A pathetic attempt to replace me—to take what is rightfully mine.”

“Hrck,” Lemmy sputtered, disappointed that his witty retort was lost in translation of being choked to death. He brought a hand up, readying the only spell he could consistently pull off, and snapped his fingers in the death knight’s face. Instead of the bright flash and spark he was expecting, a small explosion of flame erupted around the undead king’s head, knocking him back and releasing his grip on Illemitar.

As the death knight stumbled back, Lemmy hit the floor hard, managing to recover enough to take a desperate swing. He managed a glancing blow across Alinar’s thigh, barely cutting through the strong metal of the undead king’s armor. It was enough to get his attention, though. Lemmy scrambled backward, gulping down lungfuls of air to dispel the spots from his vision.

“Guards!” The queen yelled, a supernaturally enhanced quality to her voice causing the nearest guards to hear her command wherever they were.

The doors to the queen’s chambers burst open a couple of seconds later as two female guards, armed and ready, rushed to their queen’s aid. The pair hardly got two steps into the room when Alinar thrust two fingers in their direction. “Begone!”

The guards, along with the doorway, the wall, and the corridor outside, vanished in a violent eruption of profane purple magic.

“Holy fuck!” Lemmy spat, awestruck by the display of power.

“NO!” Golariel cried, distraught at the sudden extinguishing of two elven lives.

“You’re killing your own people!” Lemmy snarled, gripping the sword tightly in both hands. “Not what I’d consider kingly qualities. It’s no wonder she’s not jumping for joy at your sudden return, dipshit.”

In another display of rage, the death knight turned the still glowing fingers on Lemmy. “Your words mean nothing. You are nothing!”

As the spell erupted from the death knight’s fingers again, Illemitar forced his newly blossoming magical will into the sidhe weapon. It was a spell he’d always wanted to make use of, but which he’d never had the talent for. His guess was that by branding the High Queen, he’d come away with a more unique boon than he had with the others: a boost to his magical control. Between that and the magic within the fae blade itself, he hoped there was enough juice to pull this off.

He swung the sword horizontally, catching the small ball of profane energy along the flat side of the charged blade, smacking the spell back like he was wielding a cricket bat. The death knight hardly had a second to realize what had happened before a blast of twisted, profane power caught him square in the breastplate. The force of the blast, though not enough to disintegrate the menacing death knight, was more than enough to hurl the undead king out of the room and sail past the balcony railing at speed. Several branches were snapped free of the large trees outside as the form of Alinar vanished into the dark.

Lemmy ran to the balcony, ready for the death knight to somehow return, his weapon at the ready. After a few moments of nothing, breathing heavily into the night, he realized that Alinar wasn’t likely returning soon. He glanced over his shoulder before rushing to where Golariel sat terrified on the floor.

“Are you alright?” Lemmy asked gently, helping the queen to her feet as more guards rushed in through the immense gap in the wall.

“I am,” Golariel assured him uneasily. “Just shaken.”

“Understandable.” Lemmy guided Golariel to the ruined bed as the guards rushed past them to the balcony, inspecting the scorch marks left behind by the death knight’s magic. Only one of the guards noticed the glowing brand on their queen. “Just breathe. I don’t think he’ll be rushing back just yet.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Golariel insisted, lowering her voice as best she could to conceal the roiling sea of emotion beneath. “A death knight? He never broke an oath. He gave his life for his people and died with honor.”

“Is there any other way for someone to be cursed to become a death knight without being an oathbreaker?” Lemmy wondered. He knew the rough lore of such creatures but hadn’t spent a lot of time studying the specifics. To become a death knight was a punishment, some said a divine one, for breaking a sacred and holy oath. If what Golariel said was true, it didn’t make much sense.

“Only through the most powerful of necromantic magic,” Golariel answered skeptically. “I would assume the Necromancer capable of such a feat, but we would have known of such a spell being cast. The forest would have marked his passing at the gravesite or that of the death knight coming here. Guards would have spotted him entering.”

Lemmy shook his head, at a complete loss. He glanced over at the guards as they quickly mustered a search for the creature and a complete lockdown of the Silver Court and the High Queen’s residence. “What about the magic I used? I’ve never been able to do that.”

“A boon I hoped you would receive,” Golariel answered. “Males who brand powerful, wizened elves such as myself, were said to gain powerful mystic insights in ancient times. I had hoped they were not mere stories.”

“So I can do magic now?” Lemmy mused, considering the possibilities.

Golariel smiled softly for the first time since before the appearance of the death knight. “It would seem so, though you’ll need proper training to control it and unveil your affinity.”

“Well, that’s good news, at least,” Lemmy sighed, wincing as the pain in his shoulder announced itself angrily.

Golariel’s eyes went to his wound, her smile fading away to be replaced by a concerned frown. “You’re wounded. You need treatment immediately.”

“It’s only a flesh—.” Lemmy’s words dropped off as he looked upon the wound himself. Though relatively shallow, the flesh around the wound had grown pale, rashy, and unsightly, with little black veins creeping outward from the opening. “The fuck?”

Golariel’s eyes narrowed as she examined the wound, though she was careful to keep some distance between the two of them. After a moment, she looked away, a look of despair robbing her eyes of their usual light.

“I’m sorry, Illemitar,” she whispered hoarsely. “This is not an affliction I can cleanse you of.”

“That’s alright, I’m sure Yenni can handle it,” Lemmy assured her as he moved to place a hand on hers, only for her to pull away from him suddenly. “Golariel?”

“You don’t understand,” she said, tears streaking down her face. “The blade was tainted. You’ve been afflicted with necropox, and there’s nothing I can do to save you.”

Chapter 11

Illemitar heaved as his grip on the bucket tightened. Another wave of nausea had struck in the short time he’d been home, but he’d hurled so many times that his stomach had nothing left to give. Worse still, was the fever that was burning him up from the inside. The wound he’d suffered had been magically healed by Yennisa, but the affliction remained.

“Illemitar,” Kulderani said gently from the doorway. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“I would say water,” Lemmy retched. “But I doubt I’d be able to keep it down.”

The Sun Elf nodded solemnly. “I understand. If there is something you require, you’ll tell me?”

Lemmy nodded, cradling the bucket in his arms. “Y-yeah. I will.”

A moment later, the doorway was vacant, and Lemmy was left alone in the small spare room. Though none of the branded women were at risk of contracting the necropox, he’d decided not to take any risks. Yenni wasn’t branded, but he didn’t know if being a half-elf made her more or less prone to infection, so he’d been forced to send her away as well. Kulderani was the only one he knew for sure could become infected with the pox, but she continued to check on him regardless.

The rash had expanded across his shoulder and up the side of his neck. Dark blisters had begun to form at the site of the original injury. He had been told that it was progressing much faster than it did with most males, but most of them had not been infected through cursed blades. It was possible that it was an entirely new form of necropox too, which was an entirely different can of worms if true.

“I heard you were sick,” Drukara said from the doorway, not hesitating to step into the room despite his appearance. “It seems the rumors were true. Necropox.”

“Afraid so,” Lemmy grumbled as he leaned back against the wall. “Last male elf. The best I can hope for now is that I managed to sire a son or two before I bite the big one.”

“That is rather inconvenient,” Drukara admitted, approaching him and kneeling down in front of him. He noticed a distinct lack of fear in her eyes despite how risky it was for her to be so close.

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” Lemmy chuckled despite the seriousness of the situation.

The Dark Princess shook her head as she offered him a playful smirk. “No. It isn’t. I happen to have a friend who might be able to help you with this. I’ll need your permission to bring her here, of course. I don’t imagine she’s the type the others will let pass unharassed.”

Lemmy’s lips pressed into a thin line as he regarded her apprehensively. “Why? Who is she?”

“Princess Ambriel, Opheliel’s daughter,” Drukara answered solemnly.

He couldn’t help but let out a short laugh. “Well, that would make sense, yeah. Of all the people we could have waltzing in the front door, do you think that’s such a good idea?”

“The affliction was introduced through your blood,” Drukara explained. “So a blood mage seems to be just what we need, and Ambriel is a blood mage of considerable power.”

“Something tells me it can’t be as easy as that,” Lemmy argued skeptically. “Otherwise, they would have used it back then, right?”

Drukara simply shrugged. “Perhaps. But there’s been a lot of arcane research that’s gone into this for a very long time. It’s through the work of the blood mages that we’ve managed to slow the progression of the women. It’s worth a try.”

That explained how Opheliel had managed to retain her status among the elves, Lemmy thought. Her people and their magic had been the means of staving off the pox until he had been discovered. He didn’t want to put anyone else at risk, but if it were the job they had taken upon themselves already, it wouldn’t seem like too big of an ask. It could also have been a way for him to gain insight into the Dusk Elves and their queen.

“Alright, we can give it a shot,” Lemmy agreed with a sigh. “Let’s see what she has to say.”

Drukara offered him a soft smile before standing and leaving. Illemitar was once again left alone in the room with nothing to do but sit, think, and hug his bucket. He realized only as he woke up that he had fallen asleep at some point. He hadn’t had much sleep when he’d spent the night with Golariel and hadn’t had a chance to get any since. Judging by the light from the windows, he’d only drifted off for a few hours. It took him a moment to regain his senses, at which point he heard raised voices coming from the next room.

“Absolutely not!” Yennisa shouted, jabbing a finger in Drukara’s face. “You were bad enough, but the daughter of that bitch can go the fuck back home!”

Drukara, maintaining her composure, held her hands up defensively. “These are Illemitar’s wishes, Yennisa. She might be able to help him.”

“More likely that she’s hoping to milk him before he dies,” Amarieth growled cynically, her arms crossed over her chest. “Blood elves haven’t been able to find a cure before, why would they now?”

“It’s the only option we have left,” Drukara argued. “Even if all she can do is slow the progression, it might be enough for him to give his spouse a child before he passes.”

This last point seemed to force the argument to a grinding halt. The other women in the room who hadn’t jumped in with anything to say were much more hesitant to do so now.

“It’s alright,” Lemmy said from the doorway behind them, holding his bucket securely under one arm. “I want to hear what she has to say.”

The Dark Princess opened the door behind her to let the Blood Princess enter. Ambriel looked a lot like her mother but without the predatory gleam in her eye. She had the same body and bearing and kept her white hair up in a tight bun on the back of her head. Her porcelain skin, nearly as white as her hair, offered a stark contrast to the scant splashes of crimson she wore. “Good afternoon, Lord Illemitar. Ladies.”

“Princess Ambriel,” Kulderani replied flatly, offering her a minimalist nod of respect. “You believe you can do something for Illemitar?”

“I will certainly try,” the Blood Princess replied calmly, stepping further into the room. By the look on her face, as she glanced around the room, the decor wasn’t much to her liking.

“Just so you can get brand,” Grinda retorted from where she sat in a nearby lounge chair, nursing her hangover from the night before.

Ambriel responded with a casual shrug of her shoulder. “Of course. I’ll not deny it, I’m not doing it out of the goodness of my heart. I don’t even know him. But there’s no denying how much every elf still needs him. How much we all need to be branded. Yes?”

“I suppose she has a point,” Amali chimed in, unable to argue with the Dusk Elf’s logic.

Lemmy nodded toward the spare room. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Drukara and Ambriel followed him into the spare room, which had little to nothing to make them comfortable. They’d pulled the furniture from it when they’d moved in, adding it to the common room so that everyone had a place to sit. All that was left was a basic bed, which Lemmy sat on, resisting the urge to lay down and get a little more sleep. The fever wasn’t as bad as it was before, and there was a part of him that was convinced it had been the little sleep he’d managed to get while curled up in a ball on the floor.

With a simple gesture, Drukara willed the curtains to be drawn shut, and the door closed behind her, casting the room into darkness. With a snap of her fingers, the candles on the nightstand were ignited with a soft blue flame.

“Let us begin,” Ambriel said softly, motioning for Lemmy to relax. As he scooted a little further back onto the bed, the Dusk Elf took his hand in hers and pulled his arm out, exposing his wrist. With one of the long nails of the other hand, she opened a shallow cut. She let it bleed for a moment, squeezing his arm a few times to ensure that the blood didn’t clot. As he bled, she took a moment to examine the rash around the original wound that had infected him.

“Is it true this was delivered by a death knight’s blade?” She asked, eying the rash curiously.

Illemitar winced as he looked down at the shallow wound on his wrist. “Yeah. It didn’t feel like much at the time. I didn’t even realize what had happened until after the fight.”

Drukara produced a vial to gather the blood before it dripped free of Lemmy’s wrist. “Is that typical for a death knight?”

“No,” Lemmy and Ambriel answered at the same time. After an awkward pause, Lemmy continued. “I’m not an expert, but I ran with a guy who fought one before. He had wounds from the encounter, but none of them became infected. They were a little necrotic at first, but he said as soon as a healer got to them, it was fine. The nature of divine magic purifies it, I guess.”

“So this was unique,” Drukara concluded, her brow furrowing. “And given the nature of the infection, it would seem to indicate the involvement of Nestori, just as people are saying.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Ambriel cautioned, lifting Illemitar’s wrist to her mouth and licking the wound. Before he could jerk away, he noticed that it had completely healed. She took the vial from Drukara and held it up to the light of the nearby candle. She whispered a few words in ancient elven, causing the vial to bubble slightly. “Hm.”

“Is it really a good idea for you to be licking blood like that?” Lemmy asked, ignoring her focused interest in the vial of his blood. “Is it safe?”

“No,” she said simply as she swished the contents of the vial around.

Lemmy looked at Drukara, who only shrugged in response. “Oh, well, so long as we agree on that, I guess.”

“Your blood is rather unusual,” she continued, ignoring the male’s remarks. With a few quick gestures of her fingers, the blood flowed up and out of the vial, hovering as a single globule in the air. Arcane circles formed in rings around the globule, expanding and contracting at Ambriel’s touch. As she spun the rings, the arcane text within revealed itself for her to scrutinize, though Lemmy understood only a small portion of it from his studies under his mother.

The Dusk Elf’s eyes lit up, as much as black eyes with red irises could, anyway. Then, she turned her attention to Lemmy. “Who else knows about this?”

Lemmy’s expression grew a little dour, understanding what it was that she had found. “Not many. We’re trying to keep it under wraps for now.”

Ambriel’s eyes turned to the floating globule of blood again as she continued to scrutinize the rings. “It’s a treasure trove of information. I could spend years unraveling the mysteries in your blood and hardly scratch the surface.”

“Why?” Drukara asked curiously, offended that she had been left out of the loop. “What’s so special about his blood?”

Ambriel answered before Lemmy could concoct an excuse to brush her off. “It’s primordial. Illemitar is only a few generations removed from Tellithri.”

Drukara stared dumbfounded at Ambriel, looking between her and Illemitar in silence. “That is indeed unusual.”

Lemmy’s brows knit together irately. “I wish we could have kept that—.”

“The good news is,” Ambriel interrupted, disregarding Lemmy’s concern. “The potency of your blood presents us with options.”

“Options?” Lemmy perked up curiously, leaning a little closer to look at what she was seeing in the arcane rings. “I like options.”

“Ambriel,” Drukara said tentatively. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Ambriel muttered, squinting at the rings as she continued to turn them with one finger. When she finished one, she forced it to shrink before expanding another. “Normally, I would subject the sample to further alchemical analysis, but we’re pressed for time.”

Lemmy motioned to one of the rings with a few symbols he recognized. “What’s this one?”

Ambriel paused and expanded the ring to examine it more closely. “It appears that your blood is fighting the pox rather ably. Nestori designed it to spread among the elven population but didn’t account for the primordials. Either because he wished to spare them specifically or because there were so few at the time that needed to be accounted for. Impossible to say for certain, but the fact remains that your blood is already predisposed to fighting the pox.”

“Can you strengthen that part of his blood?” Drukara asked. “Bolster it somehow so he can fight it off?”

“I believe so,” Ambriel answered as she began to collapse the rings around the globule. “But not here. I need to get him back to my laboratory.”

“Where’s your laboratory?” Lemmy pressed curiously, though he was fairly certain that any answer she had for him wouldn’t be satisfactory. Everyone was on edge as it was with her there. Picking up and leaving with her was only going to make matters worse.

Ambriel, seemingly oblivious to his ambivalence, turned to answer when a sudden tremor in the floor and lurching of the walls cut her off. The three of them sat in silence, staring at one another when Kulderani kicked the door open with a sword in hand.

“Was that you?” She grunted, the determination in her eyes melting away as she observed the confusion on their faces.

“Uh,” Lemmy mumbled, glancing at the other two before turning his attention back to Kulderani with a bewildered shrug. “No.”

Another lurch, more powerful than the first, rattled the candle free of the nightstand, sending it to the floor, where it was extinguished. Yelling in the distance, accompanied by the distinct and near-deafening sound of an explosion, got everyone to their feet.

Amarieth poked her head into the doorway next to Kulderani, a look of panic in her eyes. “It’s the Pact Maidens.”

Ambriel and Drukara swore under their breath as Lemmy took a moment to remember who the Pact Maidens were. “Wait, the eco-terrorists?”

“The same,” Kulderani growled, stepping away from the door. “We will handle it, you stay—,”

Another blast blew the curtains open, sending debris spraying into the room from outside and everyone sprawling to the floor.

“They’re after the male!” Ambriel snapped, meeting Kulderani’s gaze. Without another word between them, the Sun Elf took Amarieth by the arm and dragged her away as she yelled orders to the others.

“We have to get him out of here,” the Blood Princess whispered to Drukara. “Before those maniacs get him.”

Lemmy got to his hands and knees, a sudden wave of vertigo preventing him from going any further. “What in Targosh do they want with me?”

Drukara offered a hand to help him to his feet, moving slowly so as not to make the vertigo worse. “The Pact Maidens desire nothing more than the complete salvation of the entire Sylvan Wood and believe the best way to secure their goal is to wipe out every last elf who lives here.”

“Drukara,” Ambriel pressed, grabbing her by the arm to get her full attention. “We need to go. Now.”

“That doesn’t seem prudent,” the Dark Princess argued weakly.

Ambriel’s face remained serious and focused even as another magical explosion rocked the elven home to its foundation. “We can’t let them hurt him. I can save him, but we have to go.”

Drukara heaved a defeated sigh. “Very well.”

Lemmy shook his head, grabbing the weapons he’d left leaning against the wall next to the bed. “We can’t go anywhere. I have to put a stop to this.”

Before he could say anything else, Drukara took him by the arm and pulled him back. All three of the elves tumbled backward into the long shadows of the room, the darkness rippling and parting around them as readily as water. Lemmy swore, but the sound of his voice was completely silent in the trackless void they tumbled through. Somehow, amid it all, Drukara was able to get her bearings and right herself, pulling both of them to her as they fell foot first through the ceiling of a completely unfamiliar room. The two princesses landed gracefully on their feet while the afflicted Lemmy hit the floor nearly face-first.

“Ugh,” he grumbled as he struggled to his feet. The room around them was filled with arcane implements, magical components, and alchemical reagents. Numerous diagrams on large sleeves of parchment were pinned to display boards on one side of the circular stone room, while immense curved bookcases filled with ancient tomes occupied the other. In the middle, a ritual circle had been laid into the floor, filled with gold, atop which was an examination table with arms fastened to it with what could have been torture implements.

“This is your lab—?” Lemmy felt a hand close around his throat, lift him into the air, and drop him onto the examination table in one fluid motion. Before he realized it was Ambriel who had manhandled him with such ease, she’d clamped the manacles of the table down around his wrists and ankles.

“I appreciate your assistance, Drukara,” Ambriel said coolly, stepping away from the examination table. With a gesture of both hands, red flames devoured her clothing, transmuting them into an impressive set of leather fetish wear, the corset of which left the Dusk Elf’s pierced nipples exposed. “You can have what’s left with him when I am done, deal?”

“Ambriel,” Drukara objected. “This isn’t what I had in mind. You’re supposed to cure him.”

“And I will,” Ambriel assured her, toying idly with the steel hoop in her nipple. “Then I’m going to have some fun with him. I haven’t had a man on the slab in too long. I’m all pent up. You know what that’s like.”

“Ambriel!” Drukara repeated a little louder. “My friend, please. We do not have to do it this way. I believe he will give each of us what we want once you’ve treated him.”

“Why? Because you danced with him?” Ambriel scoffed. “Because he looked into your eyes and made you laugh? Drukara, please. You are too easily smitten with males you seek to dominate you. Have I taught you nothing of proper submission?”

The Dark Elf sighed dejectedly as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t need you to lecture me, alright? Just hurry up and treat him so we can get our brands already.”

“Why are you doing this?” Lemmy asked, not bothering to struggle against the manacles while battling a renewed wave of nausea and vertigo.

“Because, my dear,” Ambriel answered, pouring the vial of his blood into an alembic half-filled with a strange blue liquid. “My mother and I agree on few things, but on the matter of retaining our matriarchal supremacy, our philosophies are aligned. But where she envisions herself as the one sitting upon the throne when Golariel is deposed, I envisioned someone more like… myself.”

“So, just a basic-ass power grab?” Lemmy groaned, exasperated. “There’s bigger things at stake here, you know?”

Ambriel crawled up onto the table, using attachments not unlike stirrups on either side that allowed her to move immediately into a straddling position in his lap. In one hand, she held a wand, the tip of which she ran along the side of her face. In the other hand, she held a collar made of thick leather and engraved with powerful arcane symbols. He assumed the collar was intended for him. “That’s the thing about being the savior of elvenkind, isn’t it? You become so fixated on the goal right in front of you that you can’t envision what comes after everyone has been ‘saved’. Do you have any idea what kind of chaos you’ll subject us to if everything is simply allowed to return to the way it was?”

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Lemmy argued in a calm and level tone.

Ambriel tapped the side of her face with the wand skeptically. “I would like to believe you, I really would. You seem sincere enough, anyway. But the fact is that the males of our kind have an abysmal track record for following through on their promises, don’t they?”

“What are you talking about?” Drukara asked, lingering at the edge of the magic circle as Ambriel toyed with Illemitar.

“He didn’t tell you?” Ambriel said, her eyes growing wide with mock amazement. “About the identity of the death knight that infected him in the first place?”

Her eyes never left him as she spoke to Drukara, boring holes right through him. “Go on, tell her who it was that attacked you while you were siring a child for the High Queen.”

The Blood Princess pressed the tip of the wand to the underside of his chin to encourage him to answer, watching him expectantly. Lemmy rolled his eyes and let out a dejected sigh. “It was Alinar, but Golariel said he never—.”

“Of course she would, wouldn’t she?” Ambriel snapped, losing a measure of her composure as her fangs gleamed just behind her crimson lips. “Wouldn’t want everyone to know the perfect pretty High Elves throwing their weight around had an Oathbreaker for a king!”

Drukara shook her head slowly, trying to make sense of what she was hearing, but Ambriel didn’t let up. “But that’s not all, is it? The deception of your kind knows no bounds. Tell her why your blood is primordial, or did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Illemitar’s gaze grew more severe as he stared up at the Blood Princess, utterly powerless but ready to toss her across the room if he could get just one arm free from the restraints. “It’s not relevant—.”

“TELL HER!” Ambriel roared as a couple of strands of white hair came loose from the tight bun on the back of her head and spilled into her face. “Tell her what your true surname is ‘Limenelda’!”

Lemmy closed his eyes, wincing as the wand prodded the underside of his chin with more force. A wisp of magical energy crackled along the tip as a threat. There was no use in evading any longer. In his state, there wasn’t much he could do to fight back, and not much reason to keep it a secret if Ambriel planned to keep him in her little lair.

“Nestori,” Illemitar confessed quietly, opening his eyes slowly to the horror-struck gaze of the Dark Elf. “My surname is Nestori. The Necromancer is my father.”

Chapter 12

“Your father?” Drukara gasped, taking a horrified step back. “How is that possible?”

“That’s why he can resist it,” Ambriel scoffed, jumping off of Illemitar to check on the alembic as it bubbled. “Daddy didn’t want his precious little boy getting infected. Special treatment while the rest of us lost everything trusting in oathbreaker kings and their cronies.”

“I don’t think that’s exactly how it went,” Lemmy growled defensively.

Drukara squared her shoulders and lifted her chin imperiously. “So then tell me how it went.”

“I don’t know,” Lemmy said with a slight laugh, doing his best to offer her a shrug. “I wasn’t there. I don’t talk to the guy, we don’t get together over Hunt’s Day dinner and shoot the shit, I don’t even know him. I’ve never met him. I didn’t find out he was my father until Golariel told me.”

“Golariel knew!?” Drukara exclaimed. “And she’s been keeping it from all of us this entire time?”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Ambriel said, pointing the wand in Drukara’s direction briefly before slipping a small flask under the alembic as it began to drip. “Secrets and lies, all to prop up the rule of the High Elves once the dust is settled, with a Primordial Elf holding the leash.”

“So what are you gonna do?” Lemmy interrupted incredulously. “Keep me in your mother’s basement and sell tickets for admission to ride me? What exactly is the plan here?”

“First,” Ambriel pulled the flask out from under the alembic to swish the viscous contents around within it. “I’m going to purge you of the pox. Or rather, I’m going to give you a little boost so that you can fight it off better on your own. Then, we’re going to secure a few brands for the two of us and a few others I’ve handpicked. That should boost your power enough to be rid of the pox for good.”

So far, the plan didn’t sound so terrible, Lemmy thought. It was vaguely what he thought it would be from the start, albeit with a few more whips and chains than he might have anticipated. Ambriel drew closer, her red eyes looking him over hungrily. “Then, once you’ve been purified, I’ll feed on you.”

Now, the plan differed significantly from what he’d originally thought. “Excuse me?”

“I’m going to drain your balls, then your veins,” Ambriel clarified, pointing at the aforementioned parts with the wand in turn. “Once I’ve imbibed your blood, I will gain all of your primordial power as well as the power you have stolen from all the elves you’ve branded with that monstrosity between your legs.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Lemmy frowned, holding his hands up against the restraints as best as he could. “I didn’t steal a fucking thing. Nothing is even taken from any of the women I’ve bedded, but if it had been….it was all given freely. I didn’t coerce or deceive anyone.”

“No, I suppose the mythology our people have built up around you has done most of the work for you in that respect,” Ambriel agreed. “Regardless, the power will be mine. Once it is, we will have no further use for you beyond mere breeding stock, accessible only to those willing to accept the future laid out before them.”

Lemmy frowned, glancing over at Drukara, who looked ambivalent about the proposal. “And what of the Necromancer? Or have you forgotten about the threat he poses amid all of this scheming and backstabbing of yours?”

“Your father?” Ambriel laughed, pressing the flask to his lips and pouring the contents into his mouth. He didn’t resist; it was the treatment he’d sought after all, but the taste of it made him immediately question the decision. “I’ll be more than capable of disposing of him once I’ve finished with you.”

“Blegh!” Lemmy retched. “Tastes like old, grimy coins fished out of an ogre’s asscrack.”

“You’re welcome,” Ambriel sniffed, returning to the alchemy bench with the flask to place back under the alembic. “If you don’t show any improvement, we’ll give you another dose.”

“If you break him,” Drukara mused. “What will be left for me? I won’t get the experience I want from him.”

Ambriel held up a finger as she stepped over to a small cupboard at the end of the alchemy bench. Opening it, she pulled out a small vial of bright pink fluid, which she held between two fingers. “Worry not. I’ll pump him so full of this that he’ll stay rock hard and horny as a bull in a rut for his every waking moment. There won’t be a warm hole he won’t seek to cream with that freakish anatomy of his.”

“Look,” Lemmy groaned. “I know this is probably a fetish for you or something, but the insults are getting a little hurtful at this point.”

“I didn’t realize you were so sensitive,” Ambriel replied with a brief roll of her eyes before tossing the vial to Drukara. The Dark Elf snatched it out of the air easily before fawning over it with both hands. As much as Lemmy sort of liked the idea of becoming an unstoppable fuck-golem, he had no desire to become one at the expense of everyone else. Taking him off the board would be a huge mistake on Ambriel and Drukara’s part, but the fear they had for the uncertainty he represented was understandable from a certain point of view. The facts, as they were, had been completely distorted, he was certain, but without an alternative to present them, there wasn’t much he could do to convince them. They had no reason to trust a thing that came out of his mouth.

“Well, I have to admit,” Lemmy relented. “It’s a pretty solid plan. I’d give it a solid eight out of ten.”

“Your approval is not required,” Ambriel commented as she sauntered back over to the restrained male elf on the examination table. The eerie lighting of the laboratory cast her in a strange light that highlighted her best features, which Lemmy actually found quite desirable.

“Of course, but I’ve got a couple of pointers if you’re open to it,” Lemmy continued, glancing in the direction of the alchemy bench before double-checking the state of the arcane circle beneath them. He couldn’t feel any magic coming from it at the time, at least nothing he had to be worried about. It remained in something of a stand-by state, ready for the proper words or gestures to complete an enchantment. Based on the brief look he’d gotten of it when they’d fallen into the room, it was designed primarily to enhance the restraints and restrict the use of magic. The fact that Drukara was hesitant to step into it only confirmed his suspicion, while the magic crackle in Ambriel’s wand had confirmed the circle remained merely in a primed state.

“Oh?” Ambriel arched a brow of amusement, the piercings in her nipples twinkling in the dim, intimate light as she drew nearer. “By all means, grace us with your wisdom.”

“Well, first,” Lemmy began, smiling at the Blood Princess. “You forgot to account for the fact that I wasn’t raised as a High Elf. I was raised by humans.”

“An insignificant factor,” Ambriel said dismissively. “Human capabilities are far beneath my concern. Had they any skills worth acknowledging, it would be different. And the second?”

Lemmy’s lips pressed into a thin line before he took a breath through his teeth. “You forgot to activate your magic circle.”

Ambriel’s brows knitted together incredulously as if she considered the supposed ace up his sleeve to be utterly ridiculous. But as their gazes met and he gave her a sympathetic shrug, she realized, only too late, that it was no bluff. With a snap of his fingers, an intense spark lit up the room, temporarily dazzling the elves accustomed to dimmer lighting while igniting the contents of the alchemy bench behind Ambriel.

The Blood Princess opened her mouth to speak the words to seal the circle, only to have the explosion of volatile alchemy behind her send her sprawling to the floor prone. A secondary explosion, more violent than the first, set off a chain reaction of additional explosions that set fire to the laboratory, tore pieces of the golden circle from the floor, and sent the examination table tumbling over sideways. Lemmy caught a brief glimpse of Drukara being thrown across the room from the force before losing sight of her in his new sideways vantage point.

“Maybe seven out of ten,” Lemmy muttered before looking in the direction of his discarded sidhe blade and whistling. The sword stirred, rattling in its scabbard briefly before going still. “Oh, don’t give me that. I know you can hear me.”

It wasn’t that the sword could actually hear him, but with how well attuned it was to him, the spell he was trying to work should have been much easier with his boost of power. It hadn’t taken long for the first dose of Ambriel’s remedy to clear his head and restore some of his vitality, so he knew neither of those was a factor. He’d never managed to master the retrieval spell when he was younger, but he knew all of the parts of the spell. He had the focus, the will, the newfound energy, and…

“Shit,” Lemmy grumbled, opening one of his hands, forgetting the sword needed a clearly defined destination to jump to. With another whistle, the sword leaped from its scabbard and shot through the air to settle into his hand. He jammed the blade immediately into the manacle, holding his ankle in place, and cut right through it. The metal simply couldn’t stand up to the magic contained within the Onorasidhe’s blade. Then, with one leg free, he reached out to the wand Ambriel had dropped on the ground nearby when the alchemy bench had ignited. After a moment of orienting the implement, he flicked it back to his other restrained hand, where he caught it.

“Open!” Lemmy said, flicking the wand around. Nothing happened. “Uhm. Shit.”

He rapidly went through a series of attempts in other languages, using words for open, release, and liberate. Each time he spoke was punctuated by another flick of the wand. None of them appeared to work, a problem that became more serious as Ambriel struggled to her feet and looked at him from over the side of the toppled table.

“I’m going to make you pay for this,” the Blood Princess snarled. Lemmy replied by pointing the wand at her and channeling the spark spell through it. Instead of a simple ignition, the spell erupted from the implement as a bolt of orange streaked toward Ambriel’s head. The Dusk Elf swept a hand in front of her, quickly producing a protective ward that shunted the resulting explosion to one side, though not far enough for her to keep her footing.

“Hm,” Lemmy said, grimacing with mild admiration. “Not bad.”

Abandoning his attempt to guess the unlocking command, Lemmy spun the wand around in his hand to jam the tip of it into the table’s surface. Channeling the spark spell again, he blew the bulk of the table out from behind him, scattering it as debris across the floor of the laboratory while freeing him.

“Not bad at all,” he chuckled, ridding himself of the remains of the manacles as he got to his feet. He turned to face the brief movement on his left, which he caught out of the corner of his eye and pointed the wand.

Drukara was too quick for him, lashing out with a whip of pure shadow essence and disarming him of the wand entirely. Without hesitation, she launched herself at him as the wand formed into a sword to meet him halfway. Their blades clashed brilliantly, casting magical sparks in all directions as the opposing energies contained within them struggled against one another. Lemmy didn’t have a chance to use his superior strength to overwhelm her. Instead, he was forced to dodge to one side as Ambriel narrowly missed a thrust with a long, thin blade composed of blood.

The two had practiced with one another on numerous occasions and knew precisely where the other would be in a combat situation. They circled up around him and tested his defenses like wolves around a bear, snapping at his heels and waiting for a proper opening. Elven swordsmanship wasn’t his area of expertise, but his father—his human father, Beskel— had been no slouch. Lemmy had put his skills to use for several years, honing them further to suit his tastes. He simply had to trust in those skills against the more experienced elven princesses.

They sprang as one, striking at different parts of his body in the hope that by avoiding one, he would fall prey to the other. He didn’t take the bait, moving into one of the strikes with an aggressive parry while leaving the other strike utterly impotent. It didn’t buy him much of an advantage, but it forced them to reconsider their strategy. It only took them a brief second to adjust, but it was enough for Lemmy to press forward, corralling both women to one side of him as he assaulted them with a flurry of strikes from the sidhe blade, creating a cascading storm of magic sparks each time their blades met.

Ambriel’s bravado and condescending attitude toward his skills had evaporated, but it made her all that more dangerous to Lemmy as she brought more of her skills to bear against him. With a brief word and a clenched hand, she seized the blood in his veins, disrupting its flow to force another wave of crippling vertigo upon him. Drukara capitalized on it by forming her sword into a whip once again to pull his legs out from under him.

Disoriented as he was while Drukara dragged him across the floor toward him, he was surprised he was able to parry Ambriel’s blade with his own, pinning it to the floor beside him. Drukara raised her other hand, taking aim as he felt the magic building for a spell to disable him. With his sword occupied, holding Ambriel’s in place, Illemitar extended his free hand toward his discarded gear. “Gorbag!”

The orcblade leaped from its scabbard as the sidhe weapon had done, landing swiftly in his free hand as he brought the edge of it across the Dark Elf’s arm. He didn’t give it enough force to maim her in any serious way, he didn’t have to. All he had to do was draw blood for the blade to work its magic, funneling a portion of the Dark Elf’s vitality into him. With his reserves shored up by the transfer of energy, Lemmy kipped up swiftly to his feet and brought the blade to bear against Ambriel as Drukara recoiled in pain.

The orcblade cut a deep groove across the woman’s shoulder, feeding some of her vitality to him as he pressed the attack further.

“An Orcish weapon!?” The Blood Princess hissed furiously.

“Had a lot of dance partners before you, darling,” Lemmy quipped, knocking her weapon wide with one blade as he intercepted Drukara’s re-entering the fight with his other. He held them both at bay, deflecting and parrying several of their best attacks as they moved slowly across the burning laboratory. Though he held them off capably, they were beginning to make headway against him as they adapted to his style despite it being a combination of strength and finesse neither had likely encountered before. A few shallow cuts on his thighs and torso reminded him that he had to put a decisive end to the fight immediately.

Tossing one weapon into the air, Lemmy snapped off another spark spell toward Ambriel, who was forced to halt her advance by throwing another protective barrier in front of herself. Catching the blade, he threw everything he had into Drukara, overwhelming her with a storm of blades that forced her onto a desperate defensive. Within seconds, he’d given her several more shallow cuts with the orcblade, forcing her to become increasingly lethargic so that when he finally disarmed her of her weapon with the sidhe blade, it was a trivial matter.

The Dark Princess nearly collapsed in exhaustion, doing everything she could to stay on her feet. Lemmy’s ear twitched as he heard the subtle whispering of an incantation behind him and turned just in time to meet Ambriel’s spell head-on. It struck the orcblade, wrenching it from his grip and pinning it to the floor in a sticky mass of coagulated blood. He didn’t give it a second thought as he advanced, leaping into the air with the sidhe blade clutched in both hands.

Ambriel produced a protective barrier with one hand while readying her weapon for a parry in the other. Neither was capable of standing up to the powerful downward strike of the sidhe blade as a streak of sunlight cleaved through the barrier, shattering it and the sword of blood into pieces with a single blow. Ambriel, eyes wide with shock, stumbled a step back as she desperately tried to use the half of the sword that was still intact to block his next strike. The force of his swing knocked the blade clear from her grip while putting her flat on her ass.

She didn’t have a chance to scramble away from him or form another spell. Lemmy had the tip of his sword level with her throat. A mere twitch of his wrist would be enough for him to open an artery. Her pale breasts rose and fell by the light of the blaze as her chest heaved from the exertion. Her gaze met with his, the fire of her laboratory reflected in her crimson eyes.

“Go on then,” she growled. “Be done with it.”

“You underestimated me,” Lemmy remarked, keeping the edge of his blade level with her throat.

The Dusk Elf’s eyes didn’t leave his, staring back at him defiantly. “It would seem so.”

“That would seem to imply that you’ve misjudged the situation,” Lemmy continued, staring back at her as Drukara ambled weakly toward them. Ambriel made a motion toward the Dark Elf with her hand to stop. There was nothing her friend could do for her now. Lemmy’s eyes softened, seeing a glimmer of compassion in the eyes of the Blood Princess for her companion. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to rule you.”

He lowered his weapon slowly and extended an open hand to her. “I want to help you. You just have to let me.”

Ambriel regarded his hand suspiciously in silence, considering what he’d said to her. Finally, she took his hand in her own and allowed him to pull her back to her feet.

“Touching,” Opheliel commented, her voice somehow cutting through the growing blaze on the other end of the laboratory. She stood in the middle of the room, her hands clasped in front of her with no evident hint as to how she entered the room.

“Mother,” Ambriel sneered, her lips bending into a frown. “What are you doing here?”

Opheliel’s eyes glimmered excitedly as she bit her lip gently with one fang. As always, she made no effort to conceal the hunger for Lemmy as she sized him up again. “I’ve come to claim my prize.”

“He’s not yours to claim,” Drukara protested, barely able to hold herself up. Ambriel lent her a shoulder to lean on so that she wouldn’t faceplant into the stone floor.

Opheliel took a step closer, a gesture that was somehow at once innocuous and incredibly threatening. “Silence. You two have played your part in this farce. It is time for you to step aside. You’ve no further use for my plans.”

“Your plans,” Ambriel echoed, the temptation to spit at her mother’s feet evident in her tone. “You’re deluded. I’ve acted in my own interest, not yours.”

“Which was in my interest,” Opheliel explained as though to a small child. “It was not difficult to manipulate you into acting in such a way. For all your lofty aspirations and self-delusions, you’re still such a simple creature—easy to read.”

“Bitch,” Ambriel snarled, incapable of retaining any measure of composure. “You’ll not have him.”

“Oh, but I think I will,” Opheliel calmly retorted. “And if either of you choose to stand in my way, I shall cut you down without a second thought.”

“W-what?” Drukara stammered fearfully. “My mother will not stand for this once she hears—.”

“Darling,” Opheliel interrupted, her small smile spreading into a ferocious, predatory grin. “Who do you think helped me plan all of this?”

Chapter 13

“This is stupid,” Lemmy groaned. “What use is there for this infighting and politicking when the very thing that threatened to wipe everyone out has returned? It won’t matter who sits on the throne of an extinct population.”

Opheliel’s smile didn’t falter as the raging inferno continued to spread through the room, making it more difficult to breathe for anyone but her, by the looks of it. “You mean the Necromancer?”

“No, I mean Pogo the clown,” Lemmy sighed irately. “Of course, I mean the Necromancer.”

“I don’t foresee a complication there,” the Blood Queen said dismissively. “Now, come peacefully, or I will be forced to resort to more drastic measures.”

Drukara and Ambriel exchanged glances, both of them nervous and uneasy. But there was something else there that Lemmy detected briefly: suspicion. Something about what Opheliel had said had set alarm bells off for them, but he’d missed it somehow.

Illemitar took a step forward, placing himself between the princesses and the Blood Queen as he held his sidhe sword at the ready. “No.”

Silence fell across the room as even the fire seemed to hold its breath. Opheliel’s smile became more brittle, and the look in her eyes more unhinged. “No? What does that mean?”

“Are you deaf and stupid?” Lemmy snapped. “It means no. All the bullshit you just said, the ultimatum you’ve thrown out? No to all of it. Go fuck yourself.”

“I’d say I was disappointed,” the Blood Queen purred. “But the truth is, I’m looking forward to breaking you.”

With the slightest gesture of one hand, the Blood Queen caused a flaming mass of debris to magically pull itself free of the walls and hurl itself at the group. Without giving it much thought, Lemmy lashed out with his sword, channeling the spark spell through it as he had with the wand. The result was a brilliant flash of orange light that leaped from the edge of his blade through the air as a dazzling arc where it met with the flaming mass, cleaved it in two, and arrested its momentum.

Lemmy looked for the next attack, resisting the urge to marvel at how well he’d managed such magic on the fly, but Opheliel had vanished.

“Stairs,” he muttered back to the other two. “We need to get out of here before we suffocate in this smoke.”

The princesses fell back, retrieving what they could of their weapons in the process. Lemmy cut his orcblade free of the coagulation on the floor and snatched it up on his way out. The trio bolted up the long, curving stone stairway that led to the upper floors. Lemmy didn’t know how far underground they were or even where to go, but with Ambriel in the lead, it didn’t seem like an issue.

“Drukara,” Lemmy said as they stopped on the next floor. “Probably a good time for that shadow trick you used before to get us out of here.”

“Right,” the Dark Elf agreed, reaching out to a mass of shadows along the corridor wall. They didn’t respond, nor could Lemmy sense her magic taking hold. The princess’s face scrunched up, bewildered. “Uh oh.”

“My mother has complete control of her domain,” Ambriel explained, leading them quickly down the corridor. “Magical entry is barred in all but a few instances. I toiled for years to assemble a proper magical array to allow me to work independently of her influence in my laboratory.”

“Which is fucked now,” Lemmy winced. Had he known then what was in store, he wasn’t sure he would have made the decision differently. It didn’t make it sting any less, though. “So we have to get out of here on foot. We can manage that.”

The corridor opened up into a large atrium, made completely of stone in the style of a mausoleum, adorned with the colors of the Dusk Elves. Dim magical torches provided just enough light for them to see by. They darted across the open area toward the other side without hesitation.

“Agh!” Ambriel choked, appearing to suddenly have an invisible leash around her neck pulled upon. She fell in a heap, kicking and struggling wildly against the unseen force. Behind them, the Blood Queen approached them calmly from one of the many shadowed alcoves, one hand extended, holding the other end of the unseen leash in a firm grip.

“Let her go, Opheliel,” Lemmy warned, taking a step closer. “We’re leaving—all three of us.”

Ambriel’s eyes shifted briefly toward Lemmy, unable to properly convey her shock amid her struggling and choking. Drukara’s jaw set as she moved to stand beside Illemitar. She was in no condition to fight, but she would do everything she could.

“Or what?” the Blood Queen replied with amusement.

Rather than argue with her, Lemmy lashed out with the weapon through the space he reasoned an invisible leash would go. The magical connection between the two points was just as vulnerable to the magic of a sidhe blade as a mundane leash would have been. With the connection severed, the magic dissolving away into motes of iridescent dust, Ambriel leaped to her feet.

Though unexpected, the move wasn’t of any major concern for Opehliel. The sound of guards approaching from numerous points of entry to the atrium echoed off the walls and the vaulted ceiling overhead. The Blood Queen was not without options.

“What are you going to do, Illemitar?” Opheliel wondered, opening and closing the hand she’d held her daughter with a moment before. Each of the Dusk Elf’s fingers ended in long, sharp crimson nails that Lemmy was certain functioned more like claws. “Are you going to fight every guard, killing the women you’re supposed to have come here to save?”

“If you’ve commanded them to attack me, then their fates are on you,” Lemmy argued, but the words rang hollow in his ears. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fight them, knowing that some would fall before his blade. They were duty-bound to do as she commanded and had no way of knowing she wasn’t worthy of such loyalty.

“Be ready, Drukara,” Ambriel muttered behind him. He tightened his grip on his sword, considering perhaps the orcblade might be able to do enough to exhaust the guards with shallow cuts the way it had with the Dark Princess.

An intense, piercing pain in his neck that swiftly gave way to a euphoria that made his head swim halted his thought process altogether. Ambriel’s arms wrapped around him, holding in place as she moaned into his neck, drinking deep of his blood. Stunned by her feeding, all he could do was stare. His knees felt weak from the dissonance between mind and body, but she held him so tightly as to prevent him from slumping to the ground.

The feeling was warm at first, gradually transitioning to a comfortable numbness that beckoned to him, promising even more if he were to submit to it entirely. Opheliel seemed equally surprised, as did the first of the guards to arrive on site. Everything went quiet as Ambriel fed upon the last male elf. Only Lemmy was aware of how much it turned her on as she ground her hips slightly against him and offered him little moans. When she finally released him, with a little suckling pop, he was almost sad that it was over. His head swam with the familiar vertigo of before, forcing him onto his hands and knees.

“Alright, mother, you want to play this game?” Ambriel sneered, her body swelling with the power of Lemmy’s primordial blood. “Let’s play.”

Extending both hands forward, wreathed in the arcane symbols of blood magic, Ambriel seized the blood in the veins of every guard present. Each was forced to discard their readied weapons as she bent them to her will, twisting them around like marionettes caught within their own strings and hurling them outward in every direction. The magic didn’t kill them, but the disruption and manhandling ensured they would not be rejoining the fight. Opheliel formed a swift sequence of arcane gestures with both hands, launching an empowered bolt of blood lightning at her daughter.

Ambriel, grinning with sadistic glee under the influence of power coursing through her, stepped forward and caught the line of lightning in one hand. Several arcs of electricity snapped around her, licking the cold stone of the mausoleum-esque floors as they cast wicked shadows across the walls and dark alcoves. She shifted her footing to keep the secondary arcs from hitting either Illemitar or Drukara, then shifted her stance to point a hand back at the Dark Princess.

Drukara’s eyes went wide as a sudden blush of health filled her face, her vitality restored by the eerie scarlet glow of Ambriel’s magic. Lemmy could feel the magic going beyond mere reparation, adding to her existing magical might to empower her above what she was normally capable of.

“No,” Opheliel snarled brutishly. Her face contorted with unbridled rage as she poured more of her will into the torrent of lightning her daughter was holding at bay. “No! You won’t escape! Submit!”

“Submission was never an option,” Ambriel cackled, thin dark veins slowly spreading outward from her eyes. “I’d rather die!”

“Don’t,” Lemmy grunted weakly, putting a hand on her ankle gently. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Then die, already!” Opheliel interjected furiously. Bolts of lightning exploded around the Blood Queen, tearing long, thick grooves out of the stone walls, defacing statues, and igniting tapestries. The earth beneath their feet lurched and cracked as pieces of the ceiling high above them shook loose and fell around them. The thin black veins in Ambriel’s face continued to spread.

“Time to go,” Drukara said quietly, taking hold of Lemmy and dragging him back toward her. Her eyes had gone completely black as she conjured the shadows around them into a dense, inky pool. With the Blood Queen’s focus held by Ambriel, there was nothing she could do to interfere with Drukara’s spell. Even if she could, the Dark Princess had been empowered so much she might have been able to punch through anyway. It was difficult for Lemmy to gauge for sure with all of the magic flying around.

Lemmy felt the sensation of the floor going out from under him, knowing he had only a second to react. Mustering all the strength he had left, he snatched out at Ambriel’s leg and held it tightly.

“N-NO!” Ambriel shrieked, but it was too late for her to resist. The combined weight of the other two elves was too much for her to handle, and she was pulled into the shadowy void along with them. They plummeted through the trackless darkness for only a few seconds before being suddenly ejected onto the floor of a dark, wet cave. The landing was rough for them all, tumbling across jagged stone and strange, crusty growths Lemmy supposed were uneven mineral deposits.

“You idiot!” Ambriel roared as she struggled to her feet, stalking toward Lemmy in a rage. “What did you do? I didn’t want to go!”

“She was going to kill you,” Lemmy protested, wincing as he slowly dragged himself to his feet to face her. “You didn’t need to sacrifice yourself.”

“It wasn’t about beating her,” Ambriel argued as she held both hands up furiously, resisting the urge to strangle the man. “It was about standing up to her.”

“Which you did,” Lemmy assured her, taking her hands with his. “You did an impressive job.”

Ambriel’s anger cracked and began to melt, unaccustomed to the gentle touch and tone of voice he had adopted. She didn’t look entirely sold on sparing him her wrath, but she was certainly second-guessing it.

“I couldn’t get us all the way home,” Drukara interrupted. She was bleeding from several scrapes and cuts and had elected to just remain on the floor of the cave for the time being. “She got a brief hold of me before we could get away entirely.”

“That’s alright,” Lemmy said calmly, glancing between the two princesses. “Does she know where we are?”

Drukara shook her head. “No. She didn’t have enough time to track us, and I’m preventing her from scrying upon us as we speak.”

“What about blood sympathy?” Lemmy asked, turning his attention back to Ambriel who seemed mildly impressed he knew anything of the concept. In blood magic, blood was the most sympathetic connection a caster could have with a target. If one had a sample of another’s blood, the amount of power brought to bear against them could be considerable. But an aspect of it few spoke about was that those with blood ties could use their own blood to forge a link with others as well, even if it was an imperfect one. Vampires did it to control their spawn, but mortal blood mages had been known to do it with family members as well.

“That won’t be a problem,” Ambriel answered coldly. “I’ve been establishing protections against sympathetic magic from my mother for years. Your primordial blood has only strengthened those wards for—.”

Ambriel’s eyes went wide as she suddenly doubled over, vomiting a dark mass of partially congealed fluid onto the floor of the cave. Lemmy looked away, afraid that in his weakened state, he might suddenly become a sympathetic puker. She repeated the process several times until she finally had nothing left to vomit. She continued to dry heave for a few minutes longer, gasping to catch her breath between episodes.

“I guess that primordial blood isn’t sitting well,” Lemmy speculated, brushing some of the hair from her face and easing her down onto a raised section of the rocky floor nearby.

“It’s not the blood,” Ambriel gasped before shaking her head in protest. “Well, it is—just not the primordial part. It’s the necropox. I burned through so much of your power holding her off that the tainted portion of it—.”

Ambriel retched again, holding the back of her hand up to her mouth. Nothing came up, but talking was a chore for her all the same. “Fuck.”

“You have necropox now?” Drukara asked, placing a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. The veins in Ambriel’s face had already started to become rashy and inflamed. Ambriel nodded as she brushed off the Dark Elf’s concern.

“There are all sorts of protections against disease while feeding,” Ambriel explained. “But we don’t have one for the pox, unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry,” Lemmy muttered, a wave of shame overtaking him.

“Your sympathy isn’t required,” Ambriel responded curtly. “I knew what I was doing.”

Illemitar eyed her shrewdly for a moment. “You mean you didn’t expect to live long enough to deal with the consequences, right?”

Ambriel looked away, unable to lie or admit the truth. She remained silent. Lemmy turned his attention back to Drukara. “Where were you trying to take us before Opheliel interfered?”

“Home,” Druakara replied. “My home, I mean. I need to speak with my mother and demand answers. What they’ve done goes beyond anything justified by politics and power struggles.”

Lemmy chuckled a little bit, stepping away from the two princesses to have a look at the strange glowing lichen on the wall providing them with the little light they had to see by. “Is it? Doesn’t seem like it’s very different from the shit you and Ambriel were trying to pull.”

“It’s very different!” Drukara huffed indignantly as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“He doesn’t know,” Ambriel grumbled as she struggled with the urge to begin retching again. Sweat had begun to form on her brow, showing Lemmy that her symptoms were rapidly progressing.

“What?” Lemmy asked as he turned to face the two princesses. “What don’t I know?”

The women exchanged glances before Drukara took an apprehensive step toward Lemmy. “When you fought the death knight, did you notice anything strange about how it felt?”

“Well,” Lemmy nodded quizzically. “It was a death knight, so yeah. It felt pretty strange. They have an aura of undeath everywhere they go. A lot of adventurers can’t even hold onto their weapons in the presence of one; they’re so stricken by fear.”

“Anything else?” Drukara pressed.

“No, I was occupied with fighting for my life while buck-naked,” Lemmy joked.

The Dark Princess sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before continuing. “Have you encountered any other undead in the Sylvan Wood other than the skeletons and zombies that have been reported? Unusual specimens?”

“We did fight some ghouls,” Lemmy answered, before snapping his fingers and pointing. “And a Ghast! It wielded ice magic and seemed to be the one in charge of the little group when they slaughtered the fae creatures.”

“And did they feel the same?” Drukara wondered, her eyes scrutinizing him more closely.

Illemitar thought back to the encounter, pushing aside the fight and exchange of words, and tried to remember what he’d felt with his sixth sense. He had become so accustomed to its presence that it became a normal part of his overall sensory input. It was like trying to remember something he smelled or touched amid all the chaos. To his surprise, there was something that stood out.

“Yeah, now that you mention it.” Lemmy nodded, recalling a similar sense of dread with the ghast as there had been with the death knight. With the ghast, it had felt distinctly more magical—born of a necromantic spell rather than a byproduct of the creature’s presence. The fact that ghasts didn’t have auras like death knights did make him question it in retrospect. “It had a necromantic aura to it. I suppose I just chalked it up to whatever magic created it.”

“On that, you are correct,” Drukara agreed. “But was it the same as it had been with other undead up to that point?”

Lemmy crossed his arms over his chest as his brow furrowed. “No, why?”

“We believe they originate from different sources,” Drukara explained, motioning briefly to Ambriel. “Different casters created those undead. It’s widely understood that the skeletons and other lesser undead wandering the wilderness are a result of the Necromancer’s return. The scope of his power causes lesser undead to rise on their own, independent of his will or attention. They have no magical resonance left from a spell because their creation is a response to the influence that is already present.”

“So, someone else created the greater undead?” Lemmy speculated. He had no idea why someone would do that, but the evidence seemed to suggest it. “Who? Why?”

“My mother,” Ambriel groaned angrily as she wiped the sweat from her face. “She’s unleashed those things while letting everyone believe it’s the Necromancer.”

“Whatever the Necromancer is doing or planning,” Drukara added. “It isn’t this. She’s slipped her own undead in, using Nestori as cover.”

“It lets her brazenly kill off her rivals and enemies while blaming it on your father,” Ambriel concluded. “That’s why she said she wasn’t worried about the Necromancer, because she knows that she’s the one behind the bulk of the threat posed to the other queens, you, and even us.”

“Motherfucker,” Lemmy spat. That was what he had missed when confronted by the Blood Queen in the laboratory. “She brought Golariel’s husband back as a death knight to sow discord as well, didn’t she?”

“Afraid so,” Ambriel frowned, visibly distraught that she, too, had fallen for the ploy. Thinking the former king was an oathbreaker and Golariel was part of a cover-up had confirmed all of her worst fears. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Drukara argued. “Clearly, she’s been working on this for a long time.”

“It’s a discussion that we can have another time,” Lemmy remarked as he held up a hand to cut it short. “We need to get somewhere safe to lick our wounds before deciding our next move. I’m not sure confronting your mother is a good idea with just the three of us. Especially with Ambriel and I both afflicted with—.”

Lemmy froze as he looked at the sight of his rash, or rather, where the rash had previously been. The skin had begun to heal, and the symptoms were subsiding. Taking another moment, he felt his own forehead, finding that the fever had broken, and realized that he’d not experienced any other vertigo since Ambriel had fed upon him. His eyes drifted over to the curdled mass on the floor and then over to the Blood Princess, who was worsening by the minute.

“That’s not just a byproduct of burning through my power, is it?” Lemmy accused levelly. “You took it all from me. Every last bit.”

Ambriel stared at him intently in complete silence, her face dripping with sweat, unable to muster the words to answer him. Instead, she simply nodded.

Chapter 14

The wilderness of the shadowlands was not entirely unknown to Lemmy. Nearly every region in the world had a portion of it that protruded into the underground environs, like dark reflections of what stood on the surface. But the shadowlands of the Sylvan Wood and Elfland were a shade different in that they were much more full of life than Lemmy had become accustomed to during his adventures. Like the surface, it was densely populated by exotic and gigantic specimens of things he’d never seen before. Most were fungi of some variety or another, but others turned out to be the roots of the incredibly massive trees on the surface.

While the fungi were breathtaking in their own right, with many possessing bioluminescence and bright coloration, the roots were more interesting to him due to the multitude of smaller ecosystems they seemed to host as they cut through tunnels and caves like giant wooden serpents frozen in time. Navigation was difficult for him in that place. There was no way for him to know before moving it, if a hanging sheet of moss hung freely from one of the roots and ceiling or if it concealed a dead end. Forward progress would have been much slower had it not been for Drukara’s ability to guide them.

“How do you know which way you’re going down here?” Lemmy asked, carrying a worsening Ambriel in a piggyback as they picked their way carefully through a patch of explosive, swollen shrooms.

“All elven ears are sensitive, but those of the Dark Elves have become accustomed to the unique sounds in the caverns and tunnels,” Drukara explained, gesturing forward as if the path was plain to see, laid bare before them. “We’ve learned to use that to help with navigation.”

“Like a bat,” Lemmy said playfully. The corner of Drukara’s mouth twitched into a slight smirk.

“I suppose so,” she agreed. “We’re also accustomed to the way the air moves. The currents between the larger caverns and the smaller ones influence the direction you want to go. Most of the larger caverns tend to be further from the surface while the smaller ones are closer.”

“Why is that?” Lemmy wondered, glancing up at the ceiling high above them. He wasn’t sure what passed for a large cavern in the shadowlands.

“The larger creatures are more sensitive to the light,” Drukara answered. “They create their hollows further down. Though they have been known to ascend to the upper levels to prey upon other creatures from time to time.”

“Dark Elves, I take it?” Lemmy suggested, adjusting the distribution of Ambriel’s weight on his back as he ducked under another heavy sheet of hanging moss. Drukara had informed him that this particular variety of moss could create severe itching and rash if he were to come into contact with it. A shrieking of some unknown distant creature echoed off the walls around them.

“Among other things,” she replied. “The ecosystem is surprisingly diverse by surface standards. It’s why the Dark Elves originally committed themselves to the study of it ages ago. You ask a lot of questions for a High Elf.”

“Do I?” Lemmy responded, amusing himself by answering her with yet another question. “Is that so uncommon?”

“In my experience, yes. For High Elves, anyway,” the Dark Princess explained. “High Elves usually feel like they know everything they need to know already or keep their lack of knowledge on a subject to themselves until they uncover their answers through study. Revealing ignorance to others was once considered a sign of weakness; today, it is merely considered taboo.”

Lemmy chuckled. “That doesn’t really work for adventuring. You want to know everything you can about what you’re walking into before it bites you in the ass. My father drilled that into my head at a pretty early age.”

“Your father?” Drukara asked, confused and apprehensive. She slowed her pace to look back at him suspiciously.

“My human father,” Lemmy clarified pointedly. “Beskel, my human father. The man who actually raised me. You can be sure that when I refer to my father, I’m not talking about the Necromancer.”

“Oh.” Drukara nodded in understanding before continuing on. “What was he like?”

“Was?” Lemmy laughed more heartily this time. “He’s not dead or anything. He and my mom retired from adventuring a while ago. I expect they’re having a nice breakfast right now before my father goes out to tend to the horses and my mother goes to work in the garden.”

“So they’re farmers of a sort?” Drukara speculated, having difficulty understanding what Lemmy was telling her for some reason.

“No, no,” he corrected, shaking his head. “I mean, not professionally. My father likes animals, and my mother likes plants. But they don’t have either for survival or even for profit. The amount of gold they pulled down from their adventures over the years practically set them up for life. Now, they spend their days with their son out of the house just pursuing their interests and taking it easy. Human lives are much shorter, for those fortunate enough, the back end of their time in the world is spent simply enjoying it while they can.”

“I see.” The Dark Elf nodded her approval. “It sounds rather pleasant. They taught you your skills?”

“Most of them, yes,” Lemmy replied as he slowed his pace to carefully move across more uneven terrain amid the itchy moss hanging above. “Some I picked up on my own. But that only came from following those foundational lessons—like asking a lot of questions.”

“We’ll stop to rest here,” Drukara announced, changing the subject as she pointed out a hollow in the cavern wall with minimal hostile fungi. The bed of moss that blanketed the bottom of it seemed ideal to rest and recover on.

Illemitar gently set the Dusk Elf on his back down, laying her out on the moss. The rash had formed into blisters in several places, reaching from her mouth and face down the side of her neck. Her eyes had begun to swell shut, making it as difficult to see as it was for her to speak.

“You should probably fuck her,” Drukara stated matter-of-factly.

Lemmy’s head whirled around to look at the Dark Princess indignantly. “Excuse me?”

“To cure her before it progresses further,” Drukara clarified. “It’s spreading faster than I’ve ever seen. I don’t know if we’ll make it back home before… well…”

He nodded his understanding, looking back at Ambriel, who waved her arms weakly in protest. She didn’t have much to say on the subject but the gesture was enough. Lemmy sighed. “I would just end up re-infecting myself again, wouldn’t I? And around and around we’d go.”

Ambriel nodded weakly. As much as he was sure she would be to be rid of the pox so easily, putting him back at risk was a far less attractive prospect to her. Of course, she did have a pretty persistent death wish, so Lemmy couldn’t be sure if she was looking at things objectively.

“You can’t jump us the rest of the way to your home?” Lemmy asked Drukara over his shoulder.

“I’m exhausted.” The Dark Princess held both hands up helplessly. “I’m afraid I don’t have much left in me. I burned through the boost Ambriel gave me with our escape. I won’t be able to move us again until I’ve had some rest.”

“Alright, then what do you know about blood alchemy?” Lemmy pressed, getting the attention of both the princesses. “It’s a diverse ecosystem here, right? Surely we can create some kind of, uh…alchemical roux? I don’t know the term. But we add my blood to it, and maybe we can make something like what she made for me in her laboratory.”

“Would that work?” Drukara asked, her gaze shifting over to Ambriel, who took a moment to look around and think about it. After some contemplation, she finally nodded.

“The only hard part is going to be her explaining to us what to get,” Lemmy remarked, though he was ready to go through the list patiently if she was. To his surprise, Ambriel raised one of her hands and formed a rapid sequence of signs and symbols with it. “What’s this?”

“Dusk Elves and Dark Elves have a shared unspoken language,” Drukara explained as she kept her eyes focused on Ambriel. “We use it in situations where we can see in the dark, but our enemies cannot.”

Lemmy’s brows went up, a little impressed. “The thieves guild back home has something like that. This seems a tad more sophisticated, though.”

“It’s evolved over the years,” Drukara said dismissively, not terribly interested in a linguistic history while she carefully observed Ambriel’s instructions. “She’s giving me the ingredients now. She says once we’ve gathered them, she will give us instructions on how to prepare them. She wants me to gather what we need while you prepare a fire for some of the reagents.”

He got to his feet, wasting no time in gathering what he needed for a fire. His survival skills were honed enough that he knew what to grab even underground. If it was a cooking fire, it wouldn’t need to be very big, so he found a small divot in the stone outside the alcove to use as the fire pit before filling it with a bit of dried moss and some kindling. Once that was going, he began the search for wood or something that could be used in place of it. Normally it was the toughest part of starting a fire in the shadowlands, but the underground of the Sylvan Wood had a few more options than he was accustomed to. Even so far from the sun, there were plants that thrived in the dark, some of which even had fruit hanging from them that may have been edible.

Finding some dry, broken branches from the plants, he threw them on the fire and waited patiently for Drukara to return. With how exhausted she was, he would have preferred to go, but it would have wasted more time to send him searching for components he was unfamiliar with. When she finally returned, he motioned for her to have a seat and relax while she relayed instructions to him on how to prepare everything.

Some of the reagents merely had to be cut, chopped, or dried, but others had to be burned down into a fine ash and set aside. The most challenging were those that needed to be boiled, but Drukara had brought him the top of an ironcap mushroom that could be turned upside down and hollowed out to use the durable exterior skin as a makeshift pot.

“Make sure the fire isn’t too hot,” Drukara cautioned him. “It’ll lose its firmness if it gets too hot. Everything will spill.”

Lemmy did as instructed, knowing that his little cooking fire wasn’t likely to reach the temperatures needed to break down the ironcap. He filled it with water dripping from a nearby cluster of stalactites, added the chopped reagents, and brought it to a boil. The resulting liquid was a murky yellow, which he then had to filter through a tubular fungi called darkstalk. The liquid that resulted was far less murky, more akin to amber in color.

“Now add everything in the sequence we’ve laid them out in, with your blood going last,” Drukara said, motioning to the meticulous organization of the reagents she had insisted upon laid out on a broad leaf. One after another, he added the reagents to a second ironcap pot, watching as the color began to shift wildly from one addition to the next. Cutting his hand with the blade of his sword, he drew enough blood to add at the end. The smell wasn’t something that he’d been prepared for, though.

“Ugh, it’s like dog farts,” he groaned, holding his nose as he stirred the pot with a stick. “Is she really going to drink this?”

“No,” Drukara replied grimly. “You are.”

“W-what!?” Lemmy exclaimed, shaking his head wildly until he noticed the mischievous gleam in the Dark Elf’s eyes. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

“I am,” the Dark Princess admitted as she reclined back into the moss bed, a satisfied smirk gracing her lips. “Take it off the heat and let it thicken. Once it’s cooled we apply it topically.”

“You had me going there for a second,” Lemmy admitted with a soft chuckle, pulling the improvised pot from the fire to let it cool.

“I noticed,” Drukara responded, her eyes closing slowly. “I’m going to get some sleep. As I said, once it’s cooled, just apply it to the affected area. She says with your blood in the mixture, it should work quickly.”

Lemmy did as instructed, sitting back on his own bed of moss while the dog farts in the pot thickened into a salve. It didn’t take Drukara long to fall completely asleep, as evidenced by her slumping posture to one side and the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Ambriel had fallen asleep sometime earlier, perhaps when they were mixing everything together. They were an unlikely pair of friends, he thought, though he didn’t get the same sense of a romance from them as he had from their mothers. Perhaps they regarded one another as sisters of a sort, seeing as their mothers were so close.

He got up to check the salve, turning it with a stick while keeping his nose out of the direct line of fire. The intensity of the stink had subsided a little, but not enough to place his face right over the pot. He decided it was thick enough and brought the pot over to Ambriel, who he woke by gently kicking the bottom of her boot with his. Her eyes flew open abruptly, jarred awake by even the slightest touch.

“It’s ready,” he said, holding the pot up as he knelt down beside her. Ambriel leaned closer to have a look and nodded.

“You want me to just dump it on you?” He asked, earning a glare from the Blood Princess. With a slight chuckle, he waved a hand defensively. “Joking. I’ll dab it on with one of the leaves here.”

Satisfied with the second method, she sat still while he went to work painting the rashes and blisters with the salve. He could see it beginning to work on previous areas even as he went to work on the next. By the time he was done, she was covered in the foul salve across her face, most of her arms, and down her exposed chest.

“Like the piercings, by the way,” he commented, glancing at the metal hoops through her erect nipples. It could have been cold, could have been arousal. Judging from her behavior, it was a toss-up for the latter. The fact she didn’t recoil from the smell told him she either had an immense amount of self-control, had gone nose-blind from her work, or didn’t mind the smell at all.

Her crimson eyes shifted to look at him, searching him for any signs of dishonesty. Deciding that he was genuine in his compliment, she raised her chin to show she accepted his praise. She hadn’t had an opportunity to change out of the fetishwear, though the way she moved and behaved told him she might have been more comfortable in this sort of thing than anything else. Glancing down, he noticed that they weren’t the only piercings that she had. “Those too. Some sort of cultural thing?”

“In a way,” Ambriel croaked. “To become a master of blood magic. One must become comfortable with drawing it from one’s self. One must know their flesh intimately, painfully, before they can properly know another’s.”

“Kind of experimenting on yourself before experimenting on others?” Lemmy surmised. “I can respect that. Not what I would have originally guessed of blood mages. They don’t have a very good reputation where I’m from.”

“No,” the Dusk Elf croaked again, her voice slightly raspy. “They wouldn’t.”

“You haven’t done much to prove it wrong, you know,” Lemmy said, setting the pot aside once the last of the salve was applied. “I would have been more than willing to help you with whatever you needed. You could have just come to me.”

Ambriel stared at him, thinking of how to explain it—debating if she even wanted to try and explain it to him. He held up a hand and sighed. “You have a distrust of others. That’s understandable considering what I’ve seen of your mother and elven politics around here. But despite the fact that I’m physically elven, your lot’s way of thinking is as foreign to me as mine is to yours. I’m pretty straightforward, so when I say something, I mean it. As awesome as it is to be burdened with the task of banging a score of hot elven ladies, it’s still a responsibility I intend to take seriously.”

“And when it’s done?” Ambriel retorted with a grumble. “What then?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted readily. “I’ve gone over the question a few times in my head and with others and haven’t decided on what approach to take. I do know I don’t want to crawl up everyone’s asses as King of the Six Kingdoms, but I also don’t want this backstabbing and shit to continue either. There’s got to be a middle point we can all settle on in there, right?”

“That seems fair,” the Dusk Elf agreed, slowly pulling herself to her feet. “Did you see any ponds or streams out there earlier?”

“There was a little stream a little ways back,” he indicated the direction with his thumb. “Do you need me to take you?”

“No,” Ambriel responded. Lemmy looked at her doubtfully, which caused her to square her shoulders and clear her throat to speak more clearly. “No. I can walk. I’m feeling better.”

Lemmy pursed his lips but decided to take her word for it and not push the matter. “Alright, but if you need anything, just shout. I’ll come running.”

Ambriel stared at him impassively in a moment of silence before offering him a shallow nod. “I believe you.”

Chapter 15

By the time the Blood Princess returned to camp, Illemitar was already balls-deep in her companion. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been able to resist or that he was merely waiting for an opening, though. She had awakened when Ambriel had stepped out of the camp and suggested perhaps another way for them to get moving sooner might be for him to brand her. He’d expressed doubt but also remembered their discussion at the ball. He’d offered to give her a sense of freedom she yearned for, and with how things were going, he thought it unwise to put it off for later.

“Ah! Aghn!” Drukara moaned ecstatically, held firmly in a full nelson on their knees as he brutally pummeled her from behind. He’d been with enough women who liked complete submission to know what the woman wanted out of the experience, even if she’d not had the opportunity to indulge. “F-fuck! Don’t stop! It’s so good!”

Lemmy had no intention of stopping at that point, though it was always good to hear positive feedback. He’d already worked her hard and deep for most of the time Ambriel had been absent to clean the foul salve from her skin, so he was too close to finishing to pull back now. Judging by the supreme tightness of her insides clamping down around him like a deliciously lustful vice, she was too.

His intuition proved correct a second later as her back arched and her mouth opened in a silent cry to the darkness, her orgasm overtaking her senses and sundering them into thousands of beautiful pieces as he followed after, filling her for the first time with a virile loud of his elven seed. He groaned as the final, powerful bucks of his hips offered him a few precious seconds more of orgasmic bliss as he emptied his balls into her womb. The brand that came immediately after shined more evidently in the dark, casting a slight glow on the bed of moss beneath them as she collapsed forward.

Suddenly, Lemmy felt a boot dig into his side, knocking him off the Dark Elf and tumbling onto his back in the moss.

“Filthy beast,” Ambriel snarled. “I’m not gone for more than a few minutes and you ravage my best friend?”

“Actually, you were gone for quite a while,” Lemmy objected, stopping suddenly when she climbed onto him, hovering over his lap for the briefest of moments as she stood his cock up and sank down onto it.

“You should have waited,” Ambriel scolded, her skin looking surprisingly smooth and less irritated. She moved down to the hilt of him in one swift motion, savoring the feeling of him buried within her before rocking her hips forward. “Such impatience disgusts me.”

“O-oh!” Lemmy answered plainly. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he understood what she was saying. She’d wanted to be part of it, together with Drukara, but they had gone on without her. “Sorry.”

“You are sorry,” she said, slapping him across the face. Having fought her before, she knew it was nowhere close to how hard she could hit. It offered only a slight sting against the pleasure in his loins. “A sorry excuse for an elf with a sorry excuse for a cock. With a little training, you may become passable.”

The Blood Princess placed her hands on the wall behind him, adjusting her angle and leverage as her riding of him became filled with forceful intent. The nipples piercings swung gently in time with the pace of her hips, dangling only an inch from his face. Unlike the other elves he’d bedded and fucked since his arrival, Ambriel did not strike him as a virgin or the slightest bit inexperienced. She’d had other male sexual partners before, or women she’d bound with strapped toys, but he didn’t see her as being one to submit to females if she could help it.

“Don’t just stare,” she commanded, bouncing brazenly on his freshly milked cock. “Suck my tits, meat.”

His body surged with renewed vigor. If Amarieth learned anything from Ambriel, he was going to have a problem. The problem, of course, was being strapped to the bed for the majority of his day being dominated by hot horny elven women. Really, if he had tried to explain his life to someone not familiar with the circumstances, they wouldn’t be capable of understanding why he had such an immense challenge in front of him. It sounded ridiculously cushy, even to him.

Taking one of her lovely, pale breasts in one hand and the other into his mouth, he went to work on showing that he was more than merely passable. The point was one that she got almost immediately, judging by the way she clamped down around him, letting out a long groan of relief. But even when she appeared to be losing herself to the moment, she was always firmly in control. Every part of her, despite appearing aggressively reckless, moved with intent. She squeezed around him on every backstroke, pulling at the cock within her with marked deliberateness.

His mouth popped free of the breast in his mouth, the eager pink nipple brushing against his lips as he spoke. “Fuck, I’m close already.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she growled, her hips suddenly moving at a ferociously swift speed. She was telling him not to, but she was excited to make him. “You already got yours with Drukara. It’s my turn now, and I intend to get my fill!”

Filling her was precisely what his body had in mind, erupting in defiance of her command and painting her insides a pearlescent white. She looked down at him, the glare she wore cracking to reveal the pleasure and satisfaction in her eyes, rocking hard against him with a vice grip around his gushing meat.

“Pathetic,” she gasped, the heat of her insides coiling around him, wringing him of everything he could physically offer her at the moment. “Absolutely pathetic, little man. What use is such a monstrosity as this if you can’t keep control?”

It didn’t matter what weird insults she had for him, her body told him differently. She was positively elated with the result. He offered her a little tug of the ring through her nipple to add some spice to her orgasm as she hit its peak. It was a gesture she greatly appreciated, judging by the spasms that ran down her back. “Ahh!”

The brand appeared across her abdomen before she’d even finished quaking with ecstasy, casting a faint glow across his stomach. Reaching up to his head, she ran her fingers through his hair, nails scraping his scalp as she abruptly cocked his head to one side and sank her fangs into his exposed neck.

“Hggn!” Lemmy grunted, jerking briefly to protest the bite when his body gave up a second smaller orgasm to add to what he’d given her with the first. The Blood Princess offered him a long, low moan as she drank deep of him, his head swimming with the twin experiences of filling her up with his essence by blood and seed. When she was done, she licked the wound closed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You have to stop just biting me like that,” Lemmy warned half-heartedly. “It’s startling.”

“It was required,” she responded, sitting up as she licked her fingers clean of any errant blood, offering him something of an exotic display in the process. “The blood and the brand, when paired, ensure my full recovery.”

“Then what was the salve for?” Lemmy grunted incredulously as Drukara giggled beside him with uncharacteristic girlishness.

“To treat the symptoms, to make me non-contagious for a time,” Ambriel admitted, running her fingers down her chest as she basked in the afterglow of her climax. “The plan was always to milk you for the cure. In your sleep, if needed.”

“You two!” Lemmy tossed the woman off of him playfully and started to roll away, only to be ensnared by the dark beauty of Drukara. “Are going to be the death of me, I can tell already.”

The Dark Princess spread her legs open for him, showcasing a thin trickle of elven spunk that had escaped the recesses of her cunt. “Again,” she whispered. “This time, I want you to choke me when you do.”

It was like whiplash going between the two of them for the next hour. Both had very different needs from him that they wished to gorge themselves upon, putting his ability to switch to the test. When the two women were finally satisfied for a time, Lemmy took his chance to collapse into a section of the moss bed and get some of that rest they’d talked about earlier—the rest that they had stopped for in the first place.

When he woke, he wasn’t in the bed of moss any longer, but in a proper bed with dark, silk sheets and plush pillows. Beside him, Ambriel slept soundly, but Drukara was absent. Looking around, he was able to make out the details of the room, coming to the conclusion that they were in the Dark Princess’s bedroom. She’d moved them during his sleep, but somehow, he hadn’t even noticed.

“Uhm,” he muttered, squinting in confusion as he resisted the urge to return to sleep and deal with his questions later. Ambriel didn’t stir, her white hair fanned out across the luxurious pillow, her breath coming at a quiet, steady pace.

The door opened, and Drukara stepped in, followed by every elven woman of his party he’d branded, in addition to Yennisa bringing up the rear. “Here he is, as promised.”

“Lemmy!” Yennisa yelled excitedly, sprinting to the front of the line and hurling herself at him in the bed. “Elthuna’s breath, I missed you!”

Lemmy wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to bury himself in her familiar scent and radiant warmth. “Hey, Yen.”

“Urghh,” Ambriel grunted, lifting her head up and looking over at the two before turning her gaze to the others. “Oh. You’re back.”

“What’s everyone doing here?” Lemmy wondered, clearly happy to see them all regardless of the reason. “What’s going on?”

“Drukara told us everything,” Kulderani answered, crossing her arms as she walked further into the room. “Then she brought us here.”

“I’ve asked that my mother wait to speak of our arrival to anyone until she’s given an audience,” Drukara elaborated. “I’m not convinced about what Opheliel said at the laboratory—not entirely. It’s a feeling I can’t shake. I believe I can still reason with my mother.”

Lemmy glanced between Ambriel and Drukara briefly as Yennisa continued to rub her cheek aggressively against his. “You two came up with this while I slept?”

“It was mostly her,” Ambriel replied, slowly rolling out of bed, her porcelain-white skin displayed plain and bare for everyone in the room. “I think this is a foolish decision, but I am learning to trust the judgment of others while I re-evaluate my own.”

“If Illemitar hadn’t forgiven you,” Amarieth warned with a snarl. “I would have your head for what you did.”

“You are welcome to try,” Ambriel remarked casually as she opened Drukara’s wardrobe nearby and slipped into a white, silk gown.

“Don’t,” Lemmy interjected firmly. “We’re not doing this. The situation’s more fucked than we realized, and we need to be all on the same page if we’re going to get through it without losing anyone.”

Ambriel and Amarieth stared daggers at one another in silence for a moment longer before finally averting their gazes. “Fine,” Amarieth agreed begrudgingly.

“You’ve seeded two more,” Kulderani observed, glancing between the two princesses. “With the addition of Golariel, your power should be growing considerably.”

“It has,” he agreed. “I’m actually able to wield a bit of magic now.”

“R-really?” Yenni gasped excitedly. “After all this time, you’ve finally managed to cast a decent spell?”

Lemmy’s expression was nonplussed. “Try not to sound so shocked, would ya?”

“Well, it’s been a long time,” Yenni laughed. “I remember all you used to be able to do was that silly little spark spell your mother—.”

Lemmy stared into her eyes unenthusiastically, a little piece of him slowly dying inside. Yenni gasped, realizing that, technically, it was still the only spell he knew. He wasn’t considering the retrieval spell he’d used with the swords until he was sure he could do it outside of a desperate situation, and the abilities he’d demonstrated with his weapons were just variations of the spark spell channeled through different mediums.

“Oh,” she murmured sheepishly. “Well, I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

“Get outta’ here,” Lemmy said, tossing the priestess off of him and onto the bed playfully. She responded with a dramatic pout. “Alright, so what’s the plan? When do we get this audience with your mother, Dru?”

“Dru?” The Dark Elf’s brow rose at the new moniker of familiarity.

“Uh, sorry,” Lemmy said, crawling out of bed. “Maybe Kara?”

“Ehm,” Drukara grunted, joining the rest of the women in the room in staring at the hefty hog hanging between his legs. “Dru’s fine, I suppose.”

“Jaws off the floor, ladies,” Lemmy said, looking around for some clothing. Grinda appeared at his side, producing his travel pack with some of the other clothes the Onorasidhe had made for him inside. He’d nearly forgotten that she’d provided him with an entire wardrobe of clothes to wear after the ball.

“Thank you,” he said as he took the bag and rifled through it for something to wear. Grinda blushed slightly, saying nothing as she looked away. Settling on the closest thing to basic traveling clothes, Lemmy began to dress himself.

“My mother will meet with us within the hour,” Drukara said, finally answering the question. “Formal wear isn’t required for it, however.”

“It’s not formal wear,” Lemmy explained, motioning to the clothing with its emerald hues and vibrant trim. “It’s just a sidhe’s idea of traveling clothes, I guess.”

“Ah,” the Dark Princess acknowledged. “We’ll all be present, but I suspect that Ambriel and I will be doing the majority of the speaking with you adding credibility to our accounts, assuming that she is skeptical.”

“How likely do you think that’s going to be?” He said, slipping on a pair of boots that felt like a dream. They hugged his legs and feet perfectly, neither too loose nor too tight. Every article of the clothing had a similar quirk to it. His tunic was breezy, like wind through the trees, despite it being almost completely buttoned up. The trousers showcased the power and strength of his legs, groin, and ass with how tight they appeared, but they felt like loose-fitting loungewear.

“If Opehliel was lying about how much my mother knows,” Drukara responded. “Very likely. My relationship with her is not like Ambriel’s with her mother. It’s much better.”

“Mm,” Ambriel grunted with disapproval, crossing her arms over her chest, the piercings in her nipples protruding against the thin silk fabric of the robe.

The Dark Princess spared her a brief glance before continuing. “I would be shocked to hear that she was on board with the idea of Opheliel killing me to get what she, or they, want. No matter how close they’ve become over the years, it strains credulity.”

“That’s promising,” Lemmy remarked before turning his attention to the others. “So, assuming that Isodre is not on board with the Blood Queen’s treachery, what comes next? I don’t want to just leave her to stew and gather her forces, but the Necromancer has yet to make a move, and we have a swath of elves waiting for their brands.”

“Yennisa and I may have come up with something to assist with the last part,” Amali announced bashfully, glancing in Yenni’s direction. The half-drow perked up immediately, excited for the new idea.

“Lay it on me,” Lemmy said, gesturing between them. Amali took the lead, bouncing forward like a giddy little girl.

“A cloning spell!” The sorceress exclaimed.

“…a what?” Lemmy responded unenthusiastically, the smile he’d been wearing falling slightly.

“More Lemmy means more dick,” Yennisa explained. “Thus, more brands!”

“But wouldn’t that be dangerous?” Lemmy objected, waving his hands. “Would it even work? The copies don’t have the same attributes as the original. They’re not as powerful or physically fit.”

Amali shook her head energetically. “You’re thinking of a simulacrum. They’re much weaker than their originals. But a cloning spell allows for exact duplication, down to every last detail.”

“Whoa,” Lemmy breathed. “Okay, that makes a little more sense. Where did you come up with this?”

“The archives of the Emerald Court,” Yennisa answered, just as excited to be sharing the news as Amali was. “We visited to find a powerful spell to track you down. We thought the Pact Maidens had run off with you once we’d turned them back. Considering no one had been able to locate their lair, we knew we needed something more rare—more powerful—to track them down. Ideally, it had to be something we could cast as a ritual in order to ensure success.”

“We came across the cloning spell by accident while going through the archives,” Amali concluded, practically vibrating out of her skin with excitement. “So when we set up for breeding, we can just clone you and have you impregnate multiple women at once.”

“What happens when the spell expires, or one of the clones is killed?” Lemmy wondered curiously.

“They vanish and their experience is transferred back to the original—to you,” Amali responded. “So we have to be careful not to have too many active at once, or the sudden influx of memories and sensory information when the spell expires could overwhelm you.”

“That sounds like a sanitized term,” Lemmy remarked skeptically.

“Fry your brain,” Amarieth clarified with a hint of amusement. “So we’ll have to be careful.”

Lemmy clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. “Delightful. Sounds awesome. What about Opheliel?”

“We’ll have to figure that out later,” Kulderani said. “I don’t want to raise the alarm until we know where Isodre stands. There’s no telling how the other queens may react. They could rush to judgment of her without giving her a chance to speak for herself, but if she stands beside us when we inform them, there will be no question as to where her loyalties lie.”

“Could tell Papa,” Grinda suggested. “Would not share with queens until say so.”

Lemmy glanced around the room briefly for objections. Though a few were skeptical, no one said anything. Looking down at Grinda, he offered a nod. “Can you get word to him quickly?”

“Grinda can,” the Half-Goblin nodded affirmatively, offering him a snappy salute. “Leave immediately.”

Illemitar gathered the shorter woman into a hug, squeezing her tightly in case it was too long before he saw her again. “Be safe. Don’t engage in anything risky, no matter what it is. Just get word to the Gloom Lord. Tell him everything Drukara told you.”

Grinda blushed deeply, something that never ceased to look a little off on the faces of the women with green skin, but he was getting used to it. She offered another snappy salute before vanishing into a smoky cloud of gloom. Drukara’s head turned slightly as if to watch her go. Illemitar realized that with similar abilities, perhaps she could actually see her as she went. Perhaps Grinda could do the same. That would make for interesting teamwork drills between them the next time they had the opportunity to train together.

Lemmy smoothed out his tunic and heaved a breath of resignation. There was too much hinging on the meeting with Isodre for them to discuss matters any further without running in circles. It was impossible to tell how they would tackle the matter of the Necromancer if they didn’t yet know what to do with the Blood Queen. Either one was likely to be quite the undertaking. “It’s about that time. Let’s not keep Queen Isodre waiting.”

Chapter 16

The doors to the inner chamber of the Indigo Court groaned loudly as they opened for the last male elf and his companions. Intricately carved reliefs adorned each door, depicting beautiful elves from the history of the Dark Elves that Illemitar didn’t recognize. Yennisa, on the other hand, had a better grasp on what was depicted and gazed in awe as they passed through the doors into the court itself.

Beyond the doors, a great hall filled with ancient tapestries was dimly illuminated by blue bioluminescence that cast everything in an eerie and unsettling light. At the head of the massive chamber, Lemmy could make out a writhing mass of what turned out to be flesh. There, on the throne, sat Isodre with a harem of naked and mostly naked Dark Elves at her feet and on each arm. Each member of the harem fawned at the woman, who had a powerfully erotic air to her that even Lemmy already felt tugging at his will. He didn’t recall this specific aura of power from her the last time they had met, but then the auras of the queens had a way of overwhelming his senses when they were all gathered together. It was a wonder that other elves could even speak in their presence, sometimes.

Here in the Indigo Court, Isodre was the final authority on everything. When gathered with the other queens, none made an attempt to overstate their regal station, but in her own court, the Dark Queen had no such compunction. She wore a large crown of onyx, contrasted against the pure white of her hair. Her eyes, an icy blue, reacted with the light to look more intense. Her skin was dark, flawless, beautiful, and mostly bare, with white silk hanging from her frame to accentuate the swell of her breasts and long, supple legs instead of concealing them.

As they approached, the Dark Queen ran her long, lithe fingers through the hair of one of the women hanging close to her thigh, as though she were a pet. “Illemitar Liminelda,” she said, welcoming him with a gesture of her free hand. “An honor to have you in my court.”

From the corner of his eye, Lemmy noted the presence of several armed guards hanging back in the darkness, barely noticeable with how still they were and the black armor they wore. The number present was above what he would expect for a meeting such as this.

“I’ve received troubling word from various sources of something that transpired in the Black Court recently,” the Dark Queen continued. “And I have been asked by my daughter Drukara not to speak of your presence here until I have heard what you and she have to say.”

The Dark Queen’s eyes drifted toward Ambriel, who had conjured a red gown more appropriate for a meeting with a queen. “Princess Ambriel, you are most welcome in my court as always, but your presence here is unexpected, to say the least, considering the troubling whispers from your home.”

Ambriel dropped to one knee respectfully, as did the others, save for Lemmy, who remained standing. It was a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by the others occupying the chamber, though Isodre herself didn’t seem to mind it.

“Queen Isodre,” Ambriel responded, her gaze fixed upon the floor in front of her. “You honor me, as always. We come with disturbing news.”

“I’m sure you have,” the Dark Queen remarked in an amused tone, motioning for her to rise. “Speak.”

“My mother, Queen Opheliel, has turned her back on her people. She attempted to detain the last male elf for her own purposes while depriving the rest of elvenkind of his seed,” Ambriel explained, gesturing to Lemmy. “She intends to make the Dusk Elves the new ruling class—.”

“An ambition I am told you shared,” the Queen interrupted. “Or rather, hoped to undermine with plans of your own, of which my daughter was party to.”

Drukara’s brows shot up as a look of betrayal filled her eyes. Despite her best efforts to isolate her mother from any poisonous influence, she had already begun to hear rumors before they’d arrived. “What we devised was a shade different than what Opheliel has in store, I assure you. And we only did so because—.”

“Because you believed that others could not be trusted?” Her mother interjected again as she slowly sat up. “That your mothers could not be trusted? That the male could not be trusted?”

Ambriel and Drukara exchanged glances, similar to how they had in the laboratory when Opheliel confronted them. This time, Lemmy caught it. Taking their unspoken meaning, Lemmy took a step forward. “Opheliel was telling the truth. You were in on it, weren’t you?”

Isodre’s face split into an almost gleeful grin. “Opheliel is my closest and oldest companion, Illemitar. There is nothing she does that I am not already aware of. There is nothing she does not tell me.”

“Really?” Lemmy asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Glancing back at Drukara, he considered her earlier faith in her mother and how sure she had been. Even now, she seemed very confused as to what she was hearing. Turning his attention back to Isodre, he decided to press the issue. “So, which one of you cooked up the idea of the death knight breaking into Golariel’s chambers? You? Or were you the one that unleashed a ghast on the Onorasidhe’s domain?”

As he spoke, he watched Isodre’s confidence melt into confusion and skepticism. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, shit,” Lemmy scoffed. “I guess she doesn’t tell you everything then, does she?”

The Dark Queen’s eyes drifted over the other occupants of the room, settling on Ambriel and Drukara briefly before returning to Lemmy. “It’s well established that the Necromancer has returned, and yet you would attempt to place blame on the Blood Queen for such terrible creatures.”

“She near as admitted it to us,” Drukara answered for him. “Her intentions go beyond using Illemitar as a bargaining chip for political power. She is attempting to use the Necromancer’s return as cover to rid herself of rivals permanently.”

“Did you give her the idea that killing your own daughter would be an acceptable casualty to obtaining the male?” Ambriel asked pointedly, taking the Dark Queen off guard.

“I would never,” Isodre spat indignantly, turning her gaze to Drukara to further assure her. “It must have been a bluff, my dear—to get you to stand aside and surrender Illemitar to her.”

Drukara shook her head, holding her mother’s gaze with grave sincerity. “It was no bluff, mother. I looked her in the eyes, as I am doing with you. I saw no hint of deception. I saw no mercy or compassion. I saw naked ambition and murderous intent.”

Isodre’s expression went through a multitude of different emotions that Lemmy found difficult to track. Whatever she was thinking was putting her through something considerable, sending her expressive face on quite a dark journey. Perhaps things that had been said between the two behind closed doors had taken on new meaning, or moves that they had made behind the scenes had been cast in a new light.

“Neither of you was meant to come to harm,” Isodre muttered, shaking her head in denial. “We wished only to toy with Illemitar, bend him to our will before Golariel and the other queens could get their hooks in him. Given the opportunity, they would deny us or force us to sit at the end of the line while they built their kingdoms back up.”

“She’s been playing on those fears,” Lemmy added, gesturing to Ambriel and Drukara with one hand. “That’s how she got into their heads. She had them acting out of desperation to save their people. Ambriel was convinced, seemingly correctly, that her mother was no longer fit to rule the Dusk Elves as a result.”

“No, no,” Isodre argued, shaking her head. The Dark Queen got to her feet quickly, leaving the fawning harem of Dark Elves behind as she descended from the dais. “They were merely meant to ensnare you—to grab your interest in order to lure you into our domain. Nothing more. Then it was to be she and I that…”

The Dark Queen trailed off, realizing that the bit of mischief she had planned with her companion had been a smoke screen. The Blood Queen had perhaps had no intention of even informing her that she had secured Illemitar until she had already hidden him away for herself to use at her leisure. She would have killed her own daughter, as well as Isodre’s, in order to achieve such a goal. Her expression turned sour. “Cunt.”

“She seems to have everyone fooled,” Lemmy commented, trying not to place blame upon the shoulders of someone whose help he required.

“How dare she!” Isodre roared as a baleful wind filled the chamber, setting the tapestries to chaotic flapping and everyone occupying the space to shield their faces. “After all we’ve been through together? After everything I’ve given her!?”

The Dark Queen’s hair raged wildly around her, caught in the tempest of her own fury as the glowing of the fungi around them intensified. “She would betray me after it all? Me?!”

“My Queen,” Yennisa said, getting to her feet and extending her hands gently toward the Dark Elf. “Please, calm yourself. She has betrayed everyone in her quest for power and complete dominance of Gilfindor.”

The Dark Queen’s rage abated slightly as she looked upon the half-drow before her. Something kindled there for Isodre, either compassion or an idea. As it turned out, it was a mix of the two.

Yenni smiled gently. “We need your help to ensure she doesn’t get away with this. No doubt there are other attempts being made on other queens and key figures around Gilfindor and the Sylvan Wood. If she’s successful, we won’t have the means to stand against Nestori when he returns.”

“No,” Isodre murmured in agreement. “No, we wouldn’t.”

The fungi shifted in position, and Lemmy suddenly realized they weren’t stationary specimens but rather towering mycans—intelligent, walking fungal creatures that he’d encountered once before in the past. “Oh, shit!”

Several of the mycans turned their attention to the queen, communicating with her through the telepathic link they typically forged with those they trusted. The Dark Queen looked back at them, nodding in agreement. “Yes, I think that would be a fine idea. It would certainly piss her off, that’s for certain.”

“What’s going on?” Yennisa asked fearfully, unaware of the creatures’ intentions. “What do they want?”

“The mycans of Nocelux serve me,” Isodre assured her. “They provide me with protection and offer me counsel when they see fit. We speak through a shared mental link. They think that it is time to do something about the curse that has been placed upon you.”

Lemmy and Yennisa exchanged stunned glances. “You found a way?” Lemmy asked.

“Shortly after you demanded it of us,” Isodre responded, gesturing to the mycans. “I had the mycans begin the search, though Opheliel said it was a waste of effort at the time. I planned to have it either as a bargaining chip if things went wrong, or a means to entice Yennisa to come back home to her people.”

“R-really?” Yennisa could hardly believe what she was hearing. “You want me here with you?”

“Of course,” Isodre assured her, placing a hand gently on her arm. “Politicking aside, the blood of my people runs through you. Even if you were not a priestess of considerable power to serve as an asset to your kin, I would still desire your return.”

“Oh,” Yenni muttered sheepishly.

From the darkness among the mycans, a much smaller figure shuffled into view. The figure was draped with a long, ragged cloak and walked hunched over with the assistance of a large gnarled stick. Her small, shuffling steps spoke to a frailness that Lemmy felt was partially a ruse based on the magical resonance he sensed about her.

Noticing that the flesh on the hand grasping the stick was black and gnarled, Lemmy’s hand went reflexively to the weapons he wore at his side.

“Peace, Illemitar,” the crone urged as she approached. “I have no ill intent or wish for violence. I come to handle the matter that vexes Yennisa Kindheart.”

“You’re a night hag,” Lemmy responded coldly, causing the rest of his companions to get to their feet and ready themselves. “Even among hags, you’re not known for your altruism.”

“No,” the night hag cackled slightly. “But I have been paid well, I assure you.”

Lemmy’s eyes darted at the Dark Queen. “Paid?”

“Nothing you need worry about,” the Queen assured him, looking pointedly at the hand on his weapon and his companions. With a subtle wave of his other hand, Lemmy motioned for them to stand down.

“I am known as Bess Fangwhistle,” the night hag continued. “But you can call me Auntie, if you wish.”

“No fucking way I’m calling you that,” Lemmy remarked, earning a rolling murmur of agreement from his companions behind him. “Say what you wish to say.”

“Suit yourself,” Bess continued, approaching even closer. Her magical aura was an unclean one that made Lemmy’s skin crawl. “So much for civility and cordiality.”

Thudding the walking stick, which was likely a magic staff in disguise, onto the stone floor in front of her, the hag spoke through a crooked smile. “It so happens that the witch that cursed you, young Yennisa, is a wayward apprentice of mine. One who has repeatedly misused the gifts I bestowed upon her and earned my ire. So, by consuming the curse she placed upon you, I will gain the means to locate her and… discipline her for her transgressions, shall we say.”

Lemmy eyed the hag suspiciously for a moment before turning an apprehensive gaze toward Yenni. They would basically be turning the witch over to the hag for execution. The curse upon the priestess was a cruel one indeed, but the decision as to whether it was worthy of her death wasn’t Lemmy’s to make. It had to come from Yennisa.

“Why did she betray you?” Yennisa wondered, spotting an angle that Lemmy had glossed over in his mind. “How?”

Bess heaved a sigh of exasperation. “If you’re looking to assuage any guilt you might have by setting me on her scent, you needn’t worry. The magic she has used to curse you, and others like you, was stolen from me when she absconded with my grimoire and other various implements used in my magic. My abilities were hobbled for a time as I had to dedicate my efforts simply to rebuilding what was taken or destroyed. Why she did it is a simple matter of greed, ambition, and impatience.”

“Impatience,” Lemmy echoed skeptically.

“Ascending to the power one like myself creates takes time,” Bess explained sweetly. “She believed that I was holding her back, which was true, but not for the reasons she had conjured in that thick skull of hers. Rather than wait patiently to have my secrets bestowed upon her, she elected to steal them instead—cut out the middle man, as it were.”

“So she wasn’t paying you back for something you did to her first?” Yennisa pressed. “You didn’t hurt her or torture her? Something like that?”

“Of course I did,” the hag cackled again. “But that’s all part of the process! She knew this going in. No, her motive wasn’t revenge. Merely greed.”

Lemmy shuddered a little as he took a step back. Hags were some of the most unsavory creatures to walk the living world. Consumed with selfish desires at best or given to nihilistic sadism at worst, the creatures delighted in the suffering of others and had twisted their entire culture around celebrating such acts. It was almost to the point of dogma.

“Alright,” Yennisa finally said. “Let’s get this over with. What do I need to do?”

“Nothing,” the hag said, approaching her with the same gnarled and twisted grin. “Just stand still and let me work.”

Lemmy understood why the Dark Queen had gone out of her way to get her hands on the night hag. But circumstances had changed dramatically and now she was doing it almost entirely to piss off Opheliel. It wasn’t clear to him why it would upset Opheliel so much at first, but the more he thought of it the more he began to consider the possibility of Yennisa’s power being subdued the whole time. She was a priestess, and her inability to love surely hindered the means by which she channeled the divine. Most considered her a powerful magic user already but without a curse keeping her flame under a bushel, what would she be capable of? What would she be capable of with a brand further boosting her power? Such power brought to bear against the undead would be devastating.

Bess grabbed Yennisa’s face with one gnarled hand, big and powerful enough to crush her skull if she so wished, and drew her in for what could have been a kiss. She stopped a scant inch from her mouth and opened it, taking a deep breath in through what steadily became a gaping maw. Lemmy’s hand tightened around the hilt of his weapon, as did Kulderani’s behind him. Looking at the Queen, Lemmy saw no sign of deception or betrayal. On the contrary, Isodre seemed completely at ease with what was transpiring.

Yenni’s body began to go limp, supported solely by the night hag’s grip, as her eyes rolled back into her head. A dark, wispy smoke with sparkling motes of purple magic crept from the mouth of the priestess, swirling through the air as magic thrummed from the gnarled stick that the hag carried. The mist moved into Bess’s mouth where the hag drank deeply of the magic curse she drew from inside Yennisa.

Yenni’s body spasmed and jerked under the strain of the transfer, setting Lemmy’s teeth on edge. Behind him, Amali placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him from acting rashly. She met him with a look of assurance as he turned to look back at her. His magical sense was clouded by his panic and desperation for Yennisa, but the sorceress’s was not.

“It’s almost done,” she whispered, though the look in her eyes said she didn’t care much for the macabre display either. On either side of the chamber, the mycans began to sway as a mental chant filled the minds of those gathered. The curse was actively resisting extraction by the hands of the hag, but Bess’s power appeared too much for that of the curse placed on the priestess so many years ago.

With a final tug, the last remaining portion of the curse lodged within Yennisa was jerked free where it snapped up into the hag’s waiting maw. Bess’s jaw snapped shut, and she swallowed what remained of the curse. Her pitch-black eyes lit briefly as she broke the magic inside of her. “Ahh, there we are.”

Turning with Yennisa still held firmly in one hand, she dropped the priestess into Lemmy’s waiting arms. “She just needs a little rest, and she’ll be right as rain.”

“What now?” Lemmy asked, brushing some of Yenni’s hair out of her face as he looked down at her, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Have your way with her, for all I care,” Bess cackled callously. “I’ve done my part and got what I came for. Now, I will depart and track down that traitorous apprentice of mine.”

“Yeah,” Lemmy remarked absently, his eyes not leaving the unconscious face of his wife. He lifted her up into his arms, adjusting her weight before offering Isodre a slight bow of his head. “Thank you for this. I won’t forget it, I swear.”

“Neither will Opheliel,” Drukara noted as she heaved a sigh. “When word gets out about this…”

“She’ll come here,” Ambriel concluded, realizing perhaps that it was part of the point. With Opheliel drawn into a trap by Isodre, Lemmy would be free to slip into the night and deal with more pressing matters. Tracking down the Necromancer jumped to the top of his list, even if he didn’t know precisely where to start.

“Alright, well, let’s hope Yenni gets enough rest before then,” Lemmy added, not wanting to put the woman at more risk than she already was. He still needed to hear back from the Gloom Lord as well, and Grinda wouldn’t have any way of tracking them down if they left early.

Offering Isodre another thankful nod, Illemitar turned and carried Yennisa Kindheart back to the chambers of the Dark Princess, where she would rest until she was ready to wake.

Chapter 17

Without a window to stare out of, Illemitar found that waiting around for Yennisa to wake up felt strange. Tangibly, there was no difference between staring into a room and staring out of it while one waited. Yet, somehow, it felt very different. To alleviate the feeling of creeping on the sleeping priestess, Lemmy got himself something to eat and had a seat in a nearby armchair. Being in Drukara’s home had some advantages as he was able to get something a cut above trail rations or Lambrosian bread. Stuffed mushrooms were perfect for stuffing himself to the brim.

After he was done eating, he had a little snoop around the room and found something curious. Where he would have expected the private bath of a princess to be, he found a strange sort of stall with an overhead spigot attached. The head of the spigot was filled with numerous holes so when it was turned on, water flowed from it like warm rain. He didn’t know where the water came from, or how it was heated the way it was, but it reminded him that he was in desperate need of a good wash. Taking his clothes off, he stepped into the stall and closed the heavy curtain behind him. He washed himself up with a floral-smelling bar of soap, scrubbed out the sweatiest parts of himself, and tended to his long hair.

He lingered in the stall longer than was strictly needed, but the heat felt good on his skin and helped to relax his muscles. Eventually he pried himself away, grabbing a towel from the nearby rack to dry off with.

For the first time since he’d left for the ball, he was well rested, well fed, bathed, free of the pox, and feeling better than ever. The boosts in power he should have enjoyed immediately upon branding a queen and two princesses had been throttled significantly. Only now could he truly feel the power coursing through his veins. He had a chance to play with the magic he had acquired as well, refining the retrieval spell that allowed him to call weapons and even devise a means to hurl things across the room. With proper training, he’d be able to achieve some truly impressive spells, but there was something fun about coming up with things on his own or digging up lessons from childhood memories.

Yenni stirred while he was messing with the spark spell near the fireplace. He was getting used to dialing back the power on it but abandoned his improvised training to go to her side.

“How are you feeling, Yen?” He asked, sitting down on the soft bed with her. “Everything alright?”

Yennisa’s eyes fluttered open and looked around the room, confused. When her gaze finally settled upon him, she simply stared for a time, unable to speak. Hot tears streaked down her cheeks as she beheld him. She couldn’t sufficiently process the torrent of new emotion as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.

“Yen?” He pressed, placing a hand on her shoulder hesitantly. The priestess tilted her head toward his hand, nuzzling it with her cheek warmly.

“Oh, Lemmy,” she whispered. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” He laughed uneasily. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Curse that witch… I’m sorry I was not able to feel this for you the whole time. I didn’t realize how different it would be,” she choked back a sob, leaning closer to him as he took her into his arms. Once her face was buried in the fabric of his tunic, she let it all out. He ran his fingers through her slowly and just let her cry. Love wasn’t always welling feelings of affection. It was sometimes a terrible sorrow or a heap of regrets. All of these things were experiences she’d had, perhaps separate from love, but now that the emotion had been restored to her, she was getting the whole treatment all at once. It was messy, but it would be worth it, he was sure.

“It’s alright, Yenni. It’s over now. The curse is a thing of the past,” he assured her in a gentle whisper against the top of her head, holding her tightly. “The hag made good on her word.”

Yennisa made a choking chuckling sound. “I bet you’d never have expected to say something like that, huh?”

“No,” he laughed slightly. “Definitely not. It took everything I had not to cut her into little pieces when she was manhandling you like that.”

“I bet,” she sniffled, leaning away from him to wipe her face quickly. “Thank you.”

“Is there anything I can get you?” Lemmy asked, gesturing back to his plate at the table. “I’ve still got some stuffed mushrooms if you’d like.”

“Yes!” Yenni exclaimed happily, making little grabby hands like a child as he rose from the bed to retrieve his plate. Before he’d even fully sat down with her, she snatched the plate from him and fed the mushrooms into her face with her fingers, not bothering with the fork. “Ohhh, that’s incredible.”

“The curse didn’t affect the way things tasted, did it?” He wondered. He supposed if someone was truly passionate about food, it might have seemed a shade different. “Or are you just that hungry?”

“Dunno,” she admitted with a mouthful of mushrooms. “Could be both, I’m starving.”

“Well, the rest are yours,” he chuckled, enjoying how happily she ate. It was preferable to the tears by a long shot. “Isodre thinks that Opheliel will come straight here as soon as she finds out the curse has been lifted from you.”

“What?” Yenni grunted, setting the empty plate aside. “Why would she give a fuck if I was still cursed or not?”

“Your power growing is a problem for someone using blood magic, necromancy, and diabolism to make her move against the other queens,” Lemmy explained succinctly. Yenni understood his rationale almost immediately, a wide smile forming on her lips as her eyes lit up. “That’s right; we can fuck to our heart’s content and get me a brand of my own now.”

“Uh, yeah. Basically,” Lemmy agreed with a slight shrug.

“What are you waiting for?” Yenni asked at nearly a shout. The woman got to her knees and pulled her robes off, revealing the familiar curves and dark skin he had come to love every inch of over the years. “Whip that thing out, and let’s do this!”

Lemmy couldn’t help but grin back at her. “I guess some things were bound to stay the same when it comes to your libido, eh?”

“Yes, but,” she licked her lips anxiously. “I’m eager to experience it like this—without the curse. It’ll sort of be like a new first time for me, a completely new experience, and with you, of all people!”

“I think you’ve sold me on it,” Lemmy admitted. It was a good thing he’d bathed while she was asleep, or his smell might have been enough to put her off the idea. He got to his feet briefly, dimming the magical lanterns scattered around the room as he stepped out of his clothes and threw them over the back of the armchair.

“Come here,” she beckoned, kicking some of the excess blankets and pillows out of her way as she laid back on the bed. He couldn’t help but pause and give thanks for her being rid of the curse, and to revel a little in how beautiful she was. She had always been beautiful, but something about the burden lifted from her shoulders lent her a certain glow that he couldn’t fully quantify. She smiled up at him, practically a sunrise unto itself, and opened her arms to him.

Lemmy sank down into the bed with her slowly, claiming her lips anew as she bound him into a warm embrace. There was something there that was different. It wasn’t as though her lust had abated, but it was accompanied by something more fulfilling, something less desperate and more content. He had thought only she would be able to truly mark the difference between before and after, but he realized that he could as well. They weren’t about to fuck, bang, or any of the other colorful terms Yenni had used for sex over the years. This time, the two were set to make love.

There was no marking the passage of time between them. His lips and hers remained with each other indefinitely after finding one another, yet somehow, he had effortlessly maneuvered into position to enter her gracefully. The motions of their bodies complemented each other perfectly, without need for words. As his hips glided forward, hers rose to receive him, taking him as far as he could go before releasing him. Again and again, their loins met, and their chests pressed firmly to one another, their moans and sighs of pleasure and satisfaction echoing in one another’s ears for what seemed like an eternity. Neither was in a rush to have it done, and so their pace remained a constant, never-shifting rhythm that they held complete mastery of.

“Seed me,” she whispered in a delicate sigh against his ear. “Make me pregnant, Lemmy. I’ve waited so long.”

It was only by her request that the pace now changed, quickening enough to bring him closer to the edge. The power of his thrusts grew a little as well, though it was nothing to what he’d subjected her to so many times before in the past.

“I love you,” she mewled happily, her emotions overwhelming as she wrapped her legs around him as if to draw him in further than was physically possible. “By Tellithri, I love you, Illemitar!”

His breath hitched and his body tensed, unable to hold back in the face of something he had so longed to hear, though he’d never quite known it until that moment. “I love you too,” he answered in a strained whisper as he pushed his love for her deep into her womb where it could manifest physically. Her back arched, large, warm breasts pressed firmly to his chest as she tumbled through the blissful riptide of orgasm. The brand spread across her abdomen without delay, glowing much more brightly than it had with any of the others. Indeed, even the color of the brand was different. It blazed a radiant gold of sorts and had embellishments to it that he hadn’t noticed with the others.

“Yesss,” she groaned, her arms stretching over her head as she braced herself against the headboard. It was everything she had wanted and more, by the look of it. Lemmy, too, found himself exulting in their shared triumph. So close with hearts so distant and finally united together in a single act.

Coming down from their glimpse of heaven, the couple panted heavily as they rested against one another, both covered in a thin sheet of clean sweat. Though he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that they had been at it for quite some time, it felt like it had been far too short. It felt like it had passed in the span of a heartbeat.

“That was…” Yenni said, her voice trailing off as she shook her head. The words escaped her but Lemmy attempted to find one that might touch a little on how she was feeling.

“Transcendent?” He offered with a raised brow, relaxing on the bed beside her.

The priestess nodded, staring up at the stone ceiling of the bedchamber. “Fulfilling, too. It’s a feeling akin to what we experience when we’ve had nothing but lambrosian bread on the road and then finally get to have a real meal, but on a completely different scale. It’s a nourishment of the soul, to love and be loved in turn, one that I was somehow staving off all this time until you were able to pull me from the icy depths of my curse.”

“I can’t take the credit for that, unfortunately,” Lemmy sighed, a little disappointed that he’d not been able to charge in as a daring hero to liberate her from her curse. “But I am glad to see it done.”

“Nonsense!” Yenni objected, turning onto her side to look him in the eyes. “None of this would have happened if we’d not come here. I could be at home, sulking in a corner, still cursed forever for something that was no fault of my own. Instead, you let me stay with you where I could get the help I needed. You protected me. You cared for me. You did everything a loving husband should, even if I was too blind to see it and unable to be a proper loving wife.”

“Don’t beat yourself up too much,” Lemmy laughed a bit. “You were doing really well for having some hag-born witch-curse laid upon you. Let’s try to be more focused on what lies before us than what lies behind us, hm?”

“Alright,” Yenni agreed, smiling brightly again. “In that case, I’ll focus on the sex we’re about to have, rather than the sex we just had.”

“That’s not what I—!” A chill ran down his spine, killing the rest of his playful protest on his lips. He went rigid for a moment before breaking into an uneasy shudder. He didn’t know where it had come from or how, but he could sense Golariel. Her heart was filled with doubt and fear. Something dangerous was bearing down upon her and the people of Ganlyn, and she knew not where he was.

Yennisa stared at him, the twinkle fading from her eyes. “Is… that Golariel?”

“You feel it, too?” Lemmy whispered.

“I…think I’m feeling it from you, actually,” Yenni speculated. “It’s difficult to tell. Even more difficult to describe. Something like an echo of fear.”

Lemmy sat up slowly, looking around the room for an answer to reveal itself. He noticed that the more he scrutinized the feeling, the clearer it became and the more sure he was of its source. It was definitely Golariel reaching out to him, perhaps through some mystical connection of the brand or a waking dream. Either way, it was in response to dire circumstances.

“We should go,” Yenni said, getting up from the bed in a hurry.

“What about Isodre,” Lemmy asked, torn between the two priorities. “She’s expecting Opheliel to show and that’s when Drukara and Ambriel want to spring a trap. With the aid of Isodre’s guards and the mycans, we might be able to disable her before she could do any serious damage.”

“For all we know, it could be Opheliel who is putting Golariel in danger at this very moment,” Yenni argued. “We could be waiting here with our thumbs up our asses for days while she’s fucking up Ganlyn.”

“If that’s true, and is Opheliel is using it as a way to draw me out?” Lemmy wondered. It was just the kind of shrewd maneuver she would attempt if she didn’t know how to find him. If word reached her of what had happened in the Indigo Court, he had no doubt she would still come, but how many lives would be lost between then and now?

Yenni looked at him, unsure. It wasn’t an easy decision to make. He could surrender his advantage only to walk into a trap of Opheliel’s design. “Fuck it,” he said, throwing up his hands as he sprang to his feet. “No balls, no blue chips.”

“Alright, I’ll inform the others,” Yennisa replied with a smirk. “Get our stuff ready, and we’ll be off as soon as I get back.”

“Kinda pissy that I didn’t get that second round,” Lemmy muttered as they hastily pulled their clothes and gear on.

“Me too,” Yenni admitted, “But I’ll make it up to you when we get the chance. With all of us together, I don’t think Opheliel stands a chance, no matter where we are when we confront her.”

Illemitar nodded confidently. “Yeah, I think you’re right. If she’s the cause of this, she’s going to live just long enough to regret it.”

Yennisa stepped out of the bedchamber as Lemmy busied himself with getting the rest of their things together. He had just finished closing up their packs when the door burst open, and Amarieth burst into the room. “Are you ready? We must go at once!”

“Has Isodre been informed?” he asked, slinging both packs over his shoulder easily as he followed the Wood Elf out. In the corridor, the rest of his companions stood at the ready. Ambriel and Drukara were among them.

“My mother is disappointed, but agrees that waiting would be foolish,” the Dark Princess answered for Amarieth. “She will grant us passage to the surface. From there, it’ll be up to us to get the rest of the way. She will remain here in case Opheliel or her forces come here.”

“Do you two want to remain here with her?” Lemmy asked.

Ambriel crossed her arms and scoffed. “And let you be the one to put an end to my mother? No, I don’t think so. If anyone is going to force her to breathe her last, it’ll be me.”

Drukara motioned for everyone to follow, leading them down a corridor to a large chamber with arcane circles being drawn into the floor by half a dozen Dark Elves. At the head of the circles was Isodre herself.

“Without knowing what you’re jumping into,” the Dark Queen began. “It would be unwise to send you into the heart of the Silver Court. With daylight on the surface right now, it would be a difficult feat regardless. So, I will get you as far as I can so that my daughter can conserve her energy.”

“I appreciate it,” Lemmy said, handing Yenni’s pack off to her and looking over the others. “Grinda will be returning here shortly. Will you tell her where we have gone?”

“The Half-Goblin?” The queen asked. “She is not with you?”

Drukara shook her head and waved her hands. “Unimportant. We have to go now.”

The queen offered silent agreement as she motioned for them to enter the inner circle. As the final touches were placed on it, Isodre spoke a few words in the drow dialect to breathe magic into the markings. Lemmy could feel the powerful magic of the queen as she channeled it into the arcane circle, nearly blinding his magic sense in the process. The physical glow of the circle would have been just as bad if he’d not been expecting it and covered his eyes with one hand.

“Will you be able to handle the Blood Queen if she comes here?” Illemitar asked the Dark Queen.

“If not,” the Queen answered with amusement. “I will be sure that she thinks of the moment she crossed me every time she looks in the mirror to admire herself. She will have to live with the disfigurement I bestow upon her for the rest of her days.”

“Nice,” Amarieth said approvingly. It wasn’t a promise to bring the Blood Queen down, but it was the next best thing.

“Give a sending spell if she does,” Amali said apprehensively. “I should be able to receive it even at such a vast distance, now that I am branded. We’ll hurry back as swiftly as possible.”

Lemmy and each of his companions turned to look at Amali and her uncharacteristically assertive statement. She glanced back at them, brushing a lock of red hair from her face bashfully, but didn’t back down from her statement, holding firm. Lemmy nodded, looking back at Isodre. “What she said.”

“Very well,” Isodre agreed as she resumed the spell. With both hands outstretched, she bellowed the words of the incantation in ancient drow. The light emanating from the circle intensified before twisting into a vortex and going dark as the shadows heeded the command of the Dark Queen. The world vanished around them, and the party was cast into the darkness as they hurled toward the surface.

Chapter 18

The party of elves fell upward out of the dense shadows of the forest canopy for only a moment before gravity reasserted itself and deposited them haphazardly among the brush of the forest floor. None among them landed with particular grace, but thankfully, none of them landed on their faces either. Lemmy was the first on his feet, poking his head out of the bushes to have a look around.

“Someone’s been through here recently,” Lemmy remarked, indicating several broken branches and smaller plants that had been flattened in the wake of a large force marching through. More telling was how the leaves of various plants had begun to wilt. It was a clear sign of an undead presence.

“We shouldn’t waste time then,” Amarieth replied as she stepped out of the bushes into the path laid out before them. With a quick gesture of her hand, she conjured her bow into existence with a magic arrow already nocked and ready.

“How much undead does she have under her control?” Yennisa asked Ambriel as the group fell in behind them.

“I don’t know,” Ambriel muttered, conjuring her weapon to ready herself as well. The blade, which Lemmy had seen up close in his battle with the princesses, looked completely undamaged despite the state he’d left it in. He supposed that whatever magical process allowed her to conjure it might also be responsible for the miraculous repairs. It was a useful spell he’d have to learn someday, now that such a thing seemed possible for him. “Her command of such monsters has been a revelation to me as well. Necromancy for the Dusk Elves has been mostly academic, a means of studying cures or repelling hostile necromancy. Few practice it, even fewer with such malice.”

“I should be able to handle it,” Yenni commented doubtfully. There had been a distinct jump in her power, but without knowing what they were walking into, there was no way to assess it accurately.

“I hope for all our sakes that you’re right,” Ambriel replied coldly as she cast a skeptical look at the priestess.

“It’ll be alright,” Amali assured Yenni, offering her a gentle squeeze of her arm. “We’ll do it together.”

“How touching,” Ambriel scoffed, looking away as if she might be sick with such open displays of affection. “Perhaps the power of friendship will see us through.”

“If that’s the case, you’re probably fucked,” Kulderani laughed. “Because you’re not making any with that attitude.”

Drukara cleared her throat a little indignantly, causing Kulderani to raise a hand defensively. “New ones, I mean.”

“I don’t need friends to do what must be done,” Ambriel snapped at the Sun Princess. “My abilities are formidable and so long as we manage to keep focused, friendship shouldn’t matter in the least.”

“I shared your skepticism once,” Kulderani responded seriously, managing to hold Ambriel’s attention. “But unlike you, I approached this dynamic with an open mind and a willingness to learn. I’ve seen the advantages that the bond offers, and I’ve come to agree with Amali that it is an asset and not a weakness.”

The sorceress beamed happily at the Sun Princess’s praise, nudging Yennisa with one elbow. Yenni chuckled in response as the stress and doubt began to ease its hold upon her.

“And yet I noticed you have no brand of your own,” Ambriel noted, motioning to the Sun Elf’s exposed abdomen. “It would seem you’re not as tightly bonded to the group as you would have yourself think.”

Kulderani was visibly stricken by the comment, though she managed to hide it quickly. Illemitar sighed and rolled his eyes, looking back at the group. “Alright, that’s enough. She and I have spent most of our time training rather than fucking. It’s been incredibly valuable. Enough that without your dance partner in our duel, I would have defeated you handily.”

“Is that so?” Ambriel bristled. “Perhaps you would like to test that theory now?”

“If you could not defeat him while having the advantage of numbers,” Amarieth interjected. “You would certainly not be able to do so now when the advantage is his. Even with your brand, it would not be enough.”

“Nah,” Lemmy waved his hand. “I’d love to go one-on-one, but now isn’t the time. Your mother is destabilizing the entire region, and all you can think about is keeping the bad girl facade up.”

Ambriel raised a brow, unsure of how to respond to that. Lemmy took a step forward, jabbing a finger in her direction. “It might be how you’ve managed to protect yourself under your mother’s roof, but don’t brandish it to the rest of us, alright? You’re with us now. Like it or not, that means learning to trust each other and work as part of this group as well as you work with Drukara.”

The Dusk Elf’s gaze shifted toward Drukara, who gave her a subtle nod of encouragement. Ambriel considered Lemmy’s words for a moment in silence before briefly looking away. “Very well. I will try to keep an open mind.”

“Good,” Lemmy agreed, heaving a sigh. “Because if this goes the way I’m afraid it’s going to go, you’re going to be the Blood Queen sooner than you realize. Your people are going to need that compassion you harbor for them to be more accessible once things go pear-shaped. A cold facade will not earn their confidence. It won’t convince them that they’re in better hands, even if I know it to be true.”

Ambriel’s pale cheeks gained a slight pinkish hue to them as her posture went rigid. “Enough. I already agreed, the rest of this is… it’s gratuitous.”

“Just needed everyone else to see you’re capable of that,” Lemmy smirked, offering her a wink as he turned and continued forward.

“Of what?” Ambriel grumbled indignantly.

“Blushing,” Yennisa answered for him, regarding the Blood Princess with a more discerning eye. The priestess had misjudged the Dusk Elf, but Lemmy had been quick to lay her true nature bare for them.

“There is a strategy, right?” Drukara wondered as they picked their way swiftly through the brush.

Lemmy frowned, glancing back at the Dark Princess before refocusing his attention in front of them. He wanted to say that there was a strategy, but his only plan of attack was to attack. He was confident that it would fall together once they had a handle on the situation, but he had a feeling his last encounter with the Blood Queen had only shown him a small portion of her power.

“Yeah,” he answered. “We can’t let her get any momentum on us, nor can we allow her to realize she’s underestimated us. Last time, she didn’t feel the need to come at us hard. So if we hit her hard and hit her fast, perhaps we put her down before she gets a handle on what she’s dealing with.”

Amarieth looked over at Lemmy with a raised brow. “At your level of power, you ought to be able to beat her in a fight. Even as a Queen, the brands you’ve bestowed should be enough.”

“Probably,” Lemmy agreed, shrugging slightly. “But she’s shown she doesn’t care about anything but herself. I can’t risk the amount of damage she would do in a protracted duel.”

“Ah,” Amarieth nodded in understanding. “Of course.”

As they drew closer to the Silver Court, the signs of the undead passing through grew more pronounced. From what Illemitar could tell, they had not moved as a single massive force, but rather as several disparate ones that converged together over time. With her ability to command them magically over great distances, Opheliel could coordinate troop movement without the typical formations and chain of command.

“We’ll be coming up behind them soon,” Lemmy said in a deeper voice to the group, sinking lower to pick his way through the branches and roots more carefully. The telltale glow of the Eternal Tree reached them only a moment before the sounds and smell of battle. “So the challenge is going to be cutting our way through to secure Golariel. She needs to be our priority. Once we have her, we can worry about Opheliel.”

“If you believe speed is the key to success,” Drukara began. “Perhaps you should go ahead without us.”

“You won’t slow me down. We can go together—.”

Drukara held a hand up to stop him. “You misunderstand. What I mean, is that I can send you ahead once we’re in range. If we remain behind as a group, it will look like you’re with us. We can draw their attention away from the Silver Court while you secure Golariel.”

“I’ll go too,” Yennisa added quickly as she took a few quick steps forward.

Drukara shook her head. “No, we need you here with us. Divine magic is going to draw more attention to us than anything we can do. Not to mention, no one is going to believe that Illemitar will have left you behind. It completes the ruse.”

Lemmy gave Drukara a deadpan stare before letting his gaze shift toward Yennisa. “She’s right. No one would believe I would just leave you behind.”

“So don’t,” Yennisa objected, tears forming in her eyes. “I don’t want to be separated from you again. What if something happens?”

“It’s not about me,” Lemmy argued sincerely. “We’re here to save people, remember? It’s what we came here to do. It’s always been the job, even if the details have changed.”

Yennisa frowned, but Lemmy could tell that he had struck a chord with her. He wasn’t sure if it would have been the same while she was cursed; no doubt there would have been more arguing, but now she seemed much quicker to understand. “Alright, but once the battle has shifted, I’m coming after you.”

“I know.” Lemmy smiled knowingly at her. “And you won’t keep me waiting long, either.”

His smile didn’t last long as they emerged from a cluster of trees on a rise overlooking the battle below. Lemmy assessed the battlefield in silence. At such a large scale, he had expected more fires to be burning, either to smoke people out or to repel the undead, but there were surprisingly few. With so many undead at her command, Opheliel had elected for a swarming strategy. The elves of the Silver Court were reluctant to repel them with anything that might result in a forest fire so close to the Eternal Tree.

“Very few Dusk Elves on the battlefield,” Amarieth noted beside him. “Perhaps only those she trusts?”

“Maybe,” Lemmy answered, but he had his doubts. He wasn’t sure why, but something about the rationale didn’t ring true. He could see the banners of the Dusk Elves, but Amarieth was right about how few of them there were. The battlefield churned and moved like a living thing; arrows and magic hurled from the living of the Silver Court opened up small pockets among the undead, only to be immediately swallowed up by the surging throng of necrotic bodies. The defenses of the Silver Court were good at repelling large invasion forces of the living, but the undead didn’t care much for the deterrents and obstacles put in place. Without concern for the wellbeing of comrades, they would climb over one another to get past any barrier or trap.

“Are you ready?” Drukara asked quietly. “It won’t be long until we’re noticed. I might not have another opportunity.”

“Yeah,” Lemmy nodded and stepped back from the dropoff. “Where are you going to be putting me?”

Drukara stared into the distance for a moment before Ambriel joined her. The two briefly discussed different points. Depositing him too close to the main body of fighting would defeat the purpose, but if they overshot things, he could end up too close to the second front on the other side of the Silver Court.

“The top is the only option,” Ambriel insisted. “He should be able to make his way down from there.”

“What about inside?” Lemmy suggested. “When I spoke with the queens, the walls looked like densely gathered trees but there was darkness in the spaces between.”

Ambriel raised a brow at Drukara as the rest of the group looked on expectantly.

“The inner chambers are going to be heavily warded,” Drukara remarked doubtfully. “That’s a lot of magic to punch through.”

“I’ll help you,” Ambriel assured her with a confident nod.

“That’s the spirit,” Lemmy joked, looking out across the battlefield. “You ready to do this, then?”

Ambriel cut a small line along her arm with the edge of her blade and used it to begin painting something on Drukara’s forehead. “One moment. We can’t leave anything to chance.”

The Dusk Elf continued to paint the Dark Elf with her own blood, inscribing various sigils down her arms and across her chest. Lemmy tilted his head as Ambriel connected the markings to the brand across Drukara’s abdomen and noted how similar the patterns looked to one another. Once the Blood Princess was done, she inscribed a few similar sigils on her palms.

“All done,” Ambriel declared, placing both hands in front of her to begin empowering Drukara. “Ready when you are.”

The Dark Elf nodded to Lemmy who gave each of the elven women a reassuring nod in turn. Drukara spoke the incantation, and Ambriel followed with one of her own, using the links between the sigils and the brands to empower the magic exponentially. Lemmy fell through the shadows of the trees around him and vanished into the dark. Instead of a free fall, Lemmy felt as though he were being propelled downward at incredible speed. There was something thick in the air, as though the darkness itself was trying to resist him, but his speed was too much for it to get a hold of him. The magic in the dark, put in place to ward intruders from the inner chambers, was unable to match the power propelling him.

Lemmy could hear Drukara’s breath hitch as she struggled. He could feel the strain on her body and the stress on her mind. Ambriel’s voice was there as well, muttering her incantation rapidly to keep Drukara conscious. He realized then that what the Blood Princess was doing was less about giving the Dark Elf additional juice and more about sharing the load. She was doing her damnedest to ensure that Drukara survived what the wards would do to her for attempting to breach them.

The air became brittle, with a strange chalky taste in Lemmy’s mouth, and a moment later he found himself ejected at high speed from between two trees within the inner chambers. He slid across the floor, finally managing to make something of a graceful landing from the shadows. His boots squeaked against the polished floor as he slid to a stop and realized he was alone in the room. Glancing around, it appeared as though the inner chamber hadn’t been breached yet.

The strange tingling sensation he’d felt in the Indigo Court returned, though this time, it was more of an urgent sting than a tingle. He knew instinctively that Golariel sensed his presence and that she was calling him to her, somewhere beyond the inner chambers. He didn’t know his way around, but something told him that if he approached the archway, it would bring him where he needed to be as it had done for the two of them the night of the ball.

Beyond the strange walls, he could hear the echoes of screams and orders being shouted over the chaos. There were a number of civilians nearby, or people who otherwise weren’t formally trained as soldiers. He had to hope that the group was doing their best to draw attention now that he had successfully made it inside. He moved through the archway at a sprint and found that it did transport him from the chamber to somewhere else entirely, but it was to a corridor he did not recognize. Ahead of him, a group of armored ghouls took notice of him immediately.

“It’s him!” The lead ghoul snarled. “How is he here?”

The group rushed him, brandishing long, blackened claws instead of steel weaponry. He drew the sidhe blade and met them halfway, cutting three of them down in the blink of an eye before driving the sword to the hilt through a fourth’s chest. The magic contained within the weapon sizzled against the undeath, infusing the ghoul and disrupting the very essence of the magic that animated it. The ghoul writhed briefly before sliding off the blade, where it fell to the floor in a crispy heap.

“Fuck!” Another ghoul snarled as it tried to backpedal through the rest of the group, only to be stopped cold by his comrades.

“Bring out the wraiths!” A larger figure from the rear of the group yelled. Not a moment later, a large tenebrous form burst through the wall, descending upon Illemitar with murderous intent. It looked strangely like a being clad in a black hood from the waist up, with nothing but trailing smoke and ethereal vapor from the waist down. Its hands were like claws, and within the hood were the faintest outlines of a twisted and tormented face.

Without taking a moment to consider his course of action, Lemmy spun on the entity and brought the blade down with both hands. He was surprised to find the blade find purchase in something akin to mud, cleaving through the wraith with a single stroke and splattering ectoplasm across the wall. The wound, if it could be called that, fizzed with something black and purple, sparkling with the light of the sun reflected off a murky pond. The wraith bloated and swelled before bursting apart at the seams, dousing both Lemmy and the group of ghouls in rancid ectoplasm.

“Nope,” the ghoul from earlier said as he turned to push his way through the group that had held him before. Now, the rest of the ghouls had no desire to keep him there. They themselves had no desire to remain. Wraiths were some of the nastiest incorporeal undead Lemmy could think of, and he’d one-shotted it easily. It was surprising even to him.

The group scattered, even as another wraith descended from the ceiling to cover their escape. The furious, misty form of the wraith delayed Lemmy only a moment as he severed its incorporeal head from the rest of its form, causing both halves to erupt into ectoplasmic bursts. Lemmy gave chase, charging after the group of outfitted ghouls, cutting them down as he overtook them with astonishing speed. At the front of the group, a strange variety of ghoul he’d not seen before turned to face him with a wicked black sword in both hands. It barely got the weapon to the ready before the male elf cut clean through the necrotic weapon and its wielder. The undead hissed and snarled as they scattered in all directions, desperately trying to flee the dawning wrath of Illemitar.

Remembering that Golariel’s bedchamber was much higher in the building, Lemmy began his search for a staircase. Stepping through an archway, he found himself in the main hall, effectively moving backward. Another throng of undead filled the vast chamber, attempting to cut down the guards that were barely holding them back. Lemmy threw himself into the writhing mass of death and didn’t stop swinging until he emerged on the other side, a path of gory destruction left in his wake. It didn’t seem to matter what variety of things got in his way. Skeletons, zombies, wights, ghosts, phantasms, wraiths, shades, ghouls, and ghasts all fell before his blade. What looked like a desperate thrashing to some was a calculated and rhythmic flow to Illemitar. As he whirled about on the dance floor, he realized why the archways weren’t taking him to where he needed to go.

“It’s Illemitar!” One of the guards proclaimed, rallying the others to her position. “Protect the king!”

The soldiers of the Silver Court surged, taking advantage of the gap in the undead lines and forcing them back. Lemmy pushed through toward the archway at the rear of the chamber, the same one he’d used on the night of the ball. The realization he’d had about the archways led him to believe that they didn’t just read intent, but also visualization. His mind had been divided between where he had come from that night and where he’d ended up, so the first archway had deposited him somewhere between the two points. The second archway had sent him to his entry point from that night. Now, with the image of Golariel’s bedchamber fixed firmly in his mind, he dove through the archway with his weapon at the ready.

What he failed to account for was the damage that had been done to the room that night. Instead of depositing him into the bedchamber of the High Queen, he found himself in the corridor at the end of the hallway. He assumed it was the next available archway that had been undamaged by the death knight.

“Golariel!” Lemmy called, jogging down the corridor with his weapon held to the side. “My lady, are you still here?”

The wall to his left exploded outward, sending him hurling across the corridor and through the next wall. The force he’d been hit with should have killed him. At least, it would have before he’d come to the Sylvan Wood. Now, he was able to pick himself up and dust off with only a few scrapes to show for it. Through the immense holes left by the magical explosion, Alinar emerged. “A fair question, Illemitar. I would also like to know where my wife is.”

“I guess they don’t have the ‘til death do us part’ thing in elven vows, huh?” Lemmy quipped as he spun the Onorasidhe’s weapon around in one hand. “Maybe you just give up now and save us both the trouble, hm?”

“Amusing,” the death knight’s voice growled from within his helm, eyes flaring brightly with hatred. With a casual backhanded swing of his gauntlet, the death knight blew out a thick support of the structure as he approached, scattering debris in every direction. “Very droll. But you’ll find I am not so easily shaken by your mockery as lesser foes.”

Lemmy shrugged and leaped forward with all his strength, surprised at how swiftly he covered the space between them. In the blink of an eye, he was on the death knight, his sword coming down in a fierce downward stroke. The death knight’s necrotic sword met his, holding it at bay for a tense moment before Alinar was forced to abandon the clash and shunt Lemmy’s weapon to the side.

The death knight shook one of his hands out as he took a step back from the other male, observing the difference in strength since last they’d fought. “You’ve seeded more females, I see.”

“Two princesses,” Lemmy laughed. “Can you believe it? I’m actually living the experience, and I hardly can.”

“Do not take such a familiar tone with me, Illemitar,” Alinar warned as he advanced toward him. Though Lemmy felt confident he could handle the second round, there was no mistaking the intimidating presence of the death knight both in stature and aura. It was nearly overwhelming, even with his boost in power, but he recognized that it was mostly a trick of his mind at this point.

The two clashed in another flurry of strikes, neither gaining ground on the other and neither losing any stamina. Instead, they were feeling each other out, looking for openings.

“One of them was your boss’s daughter,” Lemmy continued. “Where is Opheliel, anyway? I was hoping to save my best material for her.”

Though Lemmy couldn’t see the face of the death knight, he had the distinct sense that it was smirking at him. “Your power may have grown, but your intellect is still sadly lacking. Opheliel is not here. She left this attack to me, so that I may reclaim what is mine.”

Lemmy’s taking a moment to process this new information afforded the death knight a brief window to strike. Alinar forced his blade to swing wide, then fed the momentum with another strike forcing Lemmy’s blade to go flying across the room and through the hole in the wall. He stared back at the death knight in horror as the former king of the High Elves moved in for the killing blow. Lemmy realized where Opheliel was with the rest of her Dusk Elves.

She’d drawn him out by threatening Golariel while she’d gone to the Indigo Court.

Chapter 19

The sword of the death knight came down with astonishing speed, but Illemitar managed to be quicker. Clapping both hands shut around the blade, Lemmy halted the momentum of the strike less than an inch from his skull. It was the stupid kind of gimmicky stunt that young adventurers bragged about pulling off with their friends in a tavern after a late night of drinking. Lemmy himself had been such an adventurer once, and the last time he’d attempted the stunt, he’d received a nasty head wound amid uproarious laughter and free ale for the night.

Lemmy was stronger and faster than he had been that night, with considerably more at stake than bragging rights. The weapon shook in his hands as the might of the death knight struggled against his own. As their gazes met, Lemmy had no more quips or jokes for the creature that had once been the king of the High Elves.

“How long can you hold this, I wonder,” Alinar mused. “My stamina knows no limit while yours, though impressive, will eventually run out.”

Alinar put more of his weight behind the weapon, telling Lemmy that the death knight’s confidence was a bluff. It wasn’t about his stamina, but how he misjudged where Lemmy’s strength was compared to his own. “I’m curious how she did it.”

“Did what?” Alinar growled, impatient and annoyed every time he had to suffer through Lemmy speaking to him.

“Broke you,” Lemmy replied as he let threads of magic move into the blade. If it were even to graze him, it could infect him again with necropox. The weapon was too dangerous to have in play any longer. “Golariel swears that you’re no oathbreaker, and I’m inclined to believe her, yet here you are, a death knight. So how did she break you?”

“What are you doing?” The death knight snarled as the necrotic surface of the blade began to hiss and pop. The process Lemmy used wasn’t all that different from the spark spell when he’d placed it in his own weapon. The necrosword offered more resistance, but the approach was still mostly the same. The force behind the blade grew more desperate as the death knight tried to free his weapon from Illemitar’s grip.

“How did she twist you into this?” Lemmy pressed, pouring more of his will into the magic that flooded the blade. The surface bubbled now as motes of orange light burned away the taint held within the mithril.

Alinar wrenched the blade free, taking a step back as he gazed at the blade of his weapon burned clean of the necropox by Lemmy. “How have you done this?”

“I’m not sure,” Lemmy said, standing and approaching the death knight as he drew the orcblade. “I’m learning as I go.”

Alinar readied his weapon again, though Lemmy could see that it felt strange in his hand. The connection the death knight had with the weapon had been disrupted, but it wouldn’t disorient him for long. Lemmy had to move quickly.

Even as he took a step forward to press the attack, Alinar knew he had lost the advantage. He pointed at Lemmy with his free hand, forcing him to hesitate and reconsider his attack. As the death knight loosed a devastating spell, Lemmy drove his weapon into the floor with every ounce of magic he could muster coursing through it. The impact blew the floor out beneath both their feet, causing the death knight’s spell to go wide even as Lemmy passed beneath its original trajectory.

Both of the combatants were in free fall, tumbling through the gap in the floor to the corridor one floor down. As soon as Lemmy hit the floor, he rolled to the side, avoiding the falling crushing weight of the debris that resulted from him crashing through, and ruining, several floors.. Alinar did the same, moving to the opposite side of the corridor as he regarded Lemmy coldly across a sizable stack of rubble.. Dust billowed up from the collapse, filling the corridor and obscuring all sight between them. Somewhere in the distance, Lemmy could hear the sounds of battle growing more distant as the fighting moved from inside the Silver Court back outside, where the party he’d left behind continued to draw attention.

Sensing a subtle shift in the cloud of dust, Lemmy dropped to the floor and lashed out with his blade, catching the death knight as he embedded his own weapon in the wall behind where Lemmy’s head had just been. The orcblade bit through a small gap in Alinar’s plate mail, causing his hands to protest with agony. It was a price he had to pay for using a lifestealing weapon on such a powerful undead.

Lemmy rolled away from Alinar as he ripped the blade from the wall and drove it down at him, cleaving several inches into the floor instead. Again, Lemmy lashed out, tagging the death knight across the waist this time, and paid for it with another shock of pain that ran up his arm.

“It’s a poor weapon you’ve chosen,” Alinar said as he wrenched the sword from the floor. He glanced briefly at the wound in his side before continuing his advance toward his foe. “You will pay for every strike until it kills you.”

“You’re not wrong,” Lemmy agreed, taking another slice out of the death knight’s leg. It didn’t cause him to falter much, but it did take a toll on Lemmy as he slumped against the pile of rubble.

“You should have held onto your sidhe weapon,” Alinar continued, readying his weapon for the final blow. Lemmy simply nodded in agreement as he let his attention drift elsewhere. “Though the outcome would have been the same regard—.”

The death knight’s chest exploded as the sidhe weapon tore through him at high speed from the gap in the ceiling behind him, summoned silently by Lemmy.

“Ohhhh ho ho hooo nooo!” Lemmy laughed, catching the stained weapon in an outstretched hand. He felt a surge of warmth run up his arm the moment he closed his hand around the sidhe weapon. “Did I just cut you off? I’m sorry, I should have timed that better.”

Alinar’s weapon clanged heavily on the floor as he held both hands up around the gaping, sizzling hole dripping with the necrotic remains of his insides. “You… were positioning me.”

“Yeah,” Lemmy said, wiping the orcblade clean along his hip before placing it back in its sheath. “Had to buy a little time.”

The death knight fell to his knees as a trembling hand went to his helmet to pull it off. Lemmy’s hand closed around his, keeping the helmet in place. “If Golariel saw you, do you think she would like what she sees?”

Alinar stared back at him before closing his other hand over Lemmy’s. “No. I don’t think she would. Not anymore.”

“Best to let her remember you how you were,” Lemmy said quietly, easing the fallen king back against the wall to prop him up. “You’re not an oathbreaker. How did Opheliel do this to you? How did she twist you into this thing?”

“I don’t know,” Alinar answered honestly, shaking his head slowly. “I remember being in another place—somewhere warm. Then, I was plunged into darkness amid a seemingly endless torment. Then an offer to be free of it. To walk the world again to prevent the same torment for my people, to live, to see Golariel’s face again. I only had to agree to serve.”

Lemmy nodded sadly. He wondered if he would have done the same in his position. Wherever he was, occupied somewhere in the afterlife, he had been ripped from it and deceived. By agreeing to the offer, he had somehow violated his oath. He’d been tricked into it as a disembodied soul and then stuffed back into his own corpse to serve Opheliel. “I know a pretty good priestess that should be able to cleanse you in a little while. She’ll send you back to that warm place.”

“My sword,” Alinar rasped, reaching for his weapon. Lemmy picked it up and placed it in the death knight’s hands, which he clasped close to his chest over the hole Lemmy had put in him. “Do not bury it with me. If your priestess can do as you say, I would have it buried in Opheliel’s skull instead.”

“I’ll try,” Lemmy assured him. “But you should probably know there’s a bit of a line.”

“Heh,” Alinar chuckled for the first time as the cold hatred in his eyes began to fade. “Fair enough. Take care of our people.”

“I will,” Lemmy promised, squeezing the hands of the fallen elven king. “Rest now.”

Alinar stared at nothing in particular a few feet behind Lemmy’s head before chuckling in a strained rasp. “Cut me off.”

“What?” Lemmy asked, doing his best to choke back his conflicted emotions.

“The sword,” Alinar gurgled within his helmet. “You said you ‘cut me off’.”

“Oh, yeah,” Lemmy laughed, unable to keep himself from smiling. Alinar laughed as well, strained though it was. It was a brief moment of levity for them both before the laughter died on the lips of the death knight, and he went still. Lemmy sat there for some time longer, decompressing from the physical and emotional intensity of the fight.

“My lord?” A guard inquired from behind him. “My lord, are you wounded?”

Lemmy shook his head. “Nothing serious. You don’t have to worry about me. Where’s the Queen?”

“The Woodland Queen got her out,” The guard answered, her gaze fixed on the expired death knight slumped against the wall. “She brought her to the Emerald Court.”

“Golariel was fine with that?” Lemmy got to his feet, looking at the guard with a faint hint of amusement in his eyes.

The guard’s gaze shifted toward Lemmy as she shrugged. “Not exactly, but Lady Effrien didn’t give anyone much choice on the matter. She said we couldn’t risk the life of her unborn child, that she would rally the Wood Elves to come retake the Silver Court.”

It wasn’t a terrible plan. In fact, it might have been something Lemmy had done if he had been in Effrien’s position. It was about more than just Golariel at a time like this, and sometimes, falling back to gather strength was the best option available. He was no military genius, but that made sense to him. “Send a message to the Woodland Queen that we’ve retaken the Silver Court and to send her people to help lock it down.”

“And you, my lord?” The guard sounded concerned about his next move.

“I have to return to the Indigo Court,” Lemmy answered. “The Blood Queen has sent her forces to take it from Isodre.”

“Why?” The guard asked, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. “Why is she doing any of this?”

“Couldn’t tell you,” Lemmy chuckled, glancing down the corridor as more guards approached. “Lady’s brain is a bag of cats.”

“My lord?” The guard’s face screwed up in confusion at his phrasing.

Lemmy waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Any word on Yennisa and the others?”

“They’re on their way here as we speak,” the guard answered more professionally, even going so far as to adjust her posture when she did. “They should be arriving shortly.” `

“Alright. Send word to the other courts—to the queens. Tell them what I told you about Opheliel,” Lemmy instructed, holding the guard’s gaze pointedly. “They need to know.”

“Is she working for the Necromancer?” The guard speculated fearfully.

Lemmy frowned, shaking his head. “No. At this rate, I think she might be trying to replace him.”

What joy that could be mustered in his reunion with Yennisa and the others was short-lived. They didn’t have time to rest and recover, but Drukara was almost entirely spent from the battle. The others weren’t in terrible shape, thanks to Yenni’s quick thinking and healing on the move, but everyone was tired. Lemmy caught the highlights of the battle from the girls as they spoke to him excitedly, their words overlapping one another as they did. He shared what little he could in the brief and rare pauses of chatter.

“She forced him?” Yennisa asked as she looked over the remains of the death knight on the slab. The guards had moved him along with much of the debris in the corridor to make room to transport the wounded. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Tricked him, more like,” Lemmy muttered. “Not that it makes much of a difference. She pulled a soul from the afterlife and jammed it into its corpse to do her bidding.”

“That’s low even for necromancy,” Yenni grumbled irately.

Typically, necromancy didn’t deal with the genuine souls of the deceased. Not when it came to reanimation, anyway. The remains were animated solely through the power of the magic itself and undead with intelligence merely accessed the memories and experiences of their former selves. In most instances, the soul that had been the person had already passed on to the afterlife. Reaching out to such departed souls was powerful magic, but was typically reserved for mundane communication or resurrection. Reanimation didn’t require the soul, so it was considered a waste of time and energy. But for a death knight, one needed a soul to curse in order to properly create the thing.

“I can cleanse the body and offer prayers for the soul, but the rest is out of my hands,” Yennisa cautioned. Ultimately the final decision of where souls went wasn’t up to her, but Lemmy was confident that a prayer from her would not fall on deaf ears.

“Thanks, Yen. I’ll leave you to it,” Lemmy said quietly. “Once you’re finished with the rites, we need to go.”

Lemmy rejoined the others, providing them with more details now that they had calmed down. As much as he hated to push them, the survival of numerous Dark Elves hinged on them being as swift as possible.

“Will the Woodland Queen come?” Drukara asked apprehensively. “We could be abandoning everyone here if not.”

“She’ll come,” Amarieth answered confidently. “With every last Wood Elf available to her.”

“Will you be able to get us back to the Indigo Court?” Lemmy asked as he assessed the Dark Princess. Putting him through to the Silver Court had been tough enough, but she had done quite a bit of work in the battle that followed.

“Returning home will be much easier than coming to the surface was,” Drukara responded. “But I can’t promise I’ll be much use after that. It’s still a considerable distance.”

“If I amplify her anymore, her heart might give out,” Ambriel added quietly, watching Drukara with the same concern. The fact that their mothers could be at each other’s throats didn’t make matters any better.

“You won’t need to,” Lemmy promised. “Once we’re there, she’ll need to be the strength her people need. We’ll handle everything else.”

“We certainly will,” Ambriel confirmed coldly.

“Do you think Opheliel will be there waiting for us?” Amali asked anxiously.

“Ideally, I’d still like to get there ahead of her,” Lemmy explained. “She’s moving a much larger force than us, so I believe we have the advantage of mobility.”

“I don’t think she’s moving with a large force,” Ambriel interjected. “I think she’s moving with a small hand-picked group. Marching an army through the Shadowlands would be too risky. It would hand the advantage to the Dark Elves, who could pick them off at their leisure.”

“So then we’re looking at the very real possibility that she’s gotten there before us,” Lemmy concluded, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So then, does she try to hold the Indigo Court with the queen as her hostage, or does she just take her out quickly before returning home?”

Ambriel glanced at Drukara, hesitant to speak in such frank terms with her listening. “More likely, she would abduct her so that she could take her time with her. My mother would not be quick or clinical with something she regarded as a betrayal.”

Lemmy considered this for a moment. He didn’t know what to do. Opheliel had managed to remain one step ahead of him—anticipate his movements. She’d known that he would come for Golariel to protect the Silver Court and its people. She’d drawn him out expertly and quite possibly accepted the loss of her death knight as a necessary sacrifice. Now, he was faced with another decision and this time he had Ambriel’s insight to guide him. But Opheliel knew this as well.

“No.” Lemmy wagged a finger, speaking more to himself than anyone else. “No, no. She’s still there. She knows what advice you would give me, Ambriel. She wants me to go to Vrezatha in an attempt to head her off. Likely she’s left some nasty surprise for us there, perhaps the remainder of her forces laying in wait to bring us down with overwhelming force. Meanwhile, she communicates her orders from a distance from the Nocelux with all the time she needs to fortify her position.”

“She’s using me again to mislead you,” Ambriel surmised bitterly. “And using what I would say to walk you into a trap.”

Kulderani folded her arms over her ample chest. “Then we go to the Indigo Court before she has the chance to realize her mistake.”

“What about Grinda?” Amali wondered. “She’ll be returning to the Indigo Court as well, with her father’s forces at her back.”

“We have to assume she’s accounted for that too,” Lemmy muttered, though he didn’t know how she could have or what she would do about it. He had no idea what the Gloom Lord’s forces were capable of, or if he even had an organized military beyond the patrols of his borders. Whatever he had available to him, Opheliel knew much more about it than Lemmy. Relying on the Gloom Lord’s forces to turn the tide would likely be another mistake. There was no way she wouldn’t have anticipated it, considering how favorable the Gloom Lord had behaved toward him even before branding Grinda. Still, Opheliel would be walking into the belly of the beast, completely unaware.

Lemmy couldn’t afford to take the bait, but not doing so could place Grinda and the Gloom Lord in unnecessary danger. It wouldn’t do anyone any good for him to just run into the situation without some kind of plan. There had to be an angle to it that she hadn’t seen—something he could use to catch her off-guard. It seemed unlikely that there was a single piece on the board that she would have neglected, so the reasonable course of action was to introduce a new piece to the board entirely.

“What about the wild elves?” Lemmy mused, looking between the girls staring back at him expectantly. “What’s left of them, I mean.”

“They’re in the Gloom Lord’s domain,” Amarieth answered. “Remember?”

“So they will be marching with him?” Drukara speculated.

Lemmy held his hands up, halting any overlapping chatter before they got started. “No, no. They are under his protection, but they do not fight for him. He’s never asked them to fight for him. I think he believes it’s only for me to decide.”

“You want to go recruit the wild elves?” Kulderani asked, her arms still crossed over her chest. “Are they even a battle-ready people?”

“I don’t know,” Lemmy admitted. “I know less about them than you, but I know if they’ve been sitting on the sidelines for so long they might have escaped Opheliel’s attention. They’re an outside factor that she’s failed to account for.”

“So we’re leaving to meet with the wild elves?” Yennisa asked as she emerged into the room. She looked winded but no worse for wear from the rites she’d performed for Alinar.

“No, we can’t leave the fate of the Gloom Lord and Grinda to chance,” Lemmy replied. “We have to do whatever we can to help them.”

Amali pouted in confusion. “But you just said—.”

Lemmy held a hand up, looking between her and Yenni impishly. “What can you tell me about that cloning spell you two found?”

Chapter 20

The tension in the shadowlands was palpable the moment the party of elves arrived. Illemitar could feel it in the air, but he wasn’t nearly as attuned to the environment as Drukara was. As they stepped out of the shadowgate she’d created, she looked visibly faint. Yennisa was at her side, supporting her weight as she looked her over with a keen healer’s eye.

Rather than drop them directly into the Indigo Court, the Dark Princess had put them on the outskirts of the city of Illmarus at the heart of Nocelux. The city itself was impressive, the perfect mirror to the architecture and grandeur of the High Elves. It wasn’t at all like the stories, or like the wayward Dark Elves found in the rest of the world. The buildings were carved into the walls of the vast caverns that made up the city, shaped and meticulously maintained for generations. Massive statues had been carefully carved from pillars of rock or staggeringly large stalagmites. Most were undamaged. Those that were damaged, told the story of the path that Opheliel and her soldiers had taken through the city.

Many of the drow remained in their homes while others worked to clean up the damage that had been done. The closer they got to the Indigo Court, the less they could rely on side roads and back alleys, traveling the main roads lit by dense clusters of bioluminescent moss and mushrooms. The dim light illuminated the lifeless bodies of those who had resisted the incursion, yet to be retrieved by their loved ones for fear of suffering the same fate.

“This is awful,” Amali whispered, holding a hand close to her face to dampen the smell. “How could they do this?”

“Many likely believe, as I did, that the ends justify the means. That the corruption of the High Elves has spread too far,” Ambriel answered with a hint of shame in her voice. “They believe they’re fighting for the survival of their people.”

“At the expense of mine,” Drukara lamented weakly. “Of all the people they should give the benefit of the doubt to, it should be the Dark Elves.”

“True,” Ambriel muttered. The two peoples had been close for so long that it strained credulity to think they had been turned against the Dusk Elves. “Perhaps I am giving them too much credit. Perhaps they simply do not care.”

Lemmy looked between the two and shook his head. “Try not to get caught up in this. We can sort it out after we’ve put an end to the fighting. Assigning blame isn’t nearly as important as fixing the problem.”

“Of course,” Ambriel answered sincerely. “I’m prepared to do what is necessary to see it through.”

“It seems you were right about them remaining here,” Amarieth remarked, gesturing toward the ramparts of the Indigo Court at the top of the hill. The force of Dark Elves that protected it had been replaced by Dusk Elves who were holding the position until reinforcements arrived. “What’s the plan for entry?”

“Front door,” Lemmy declared. “No amount of sneaking is going to get us past the magical warding. Drukara doesn’t have enough energy left to bypass them, so instead, we’re all going to be seen escorting her back home.”

Kulderani nodded, always liking the direct approach when the situation warranted it. “It’ll give the people here hope. The last male leading his coterie into battle against the invading queen.”

“Well, that too,” Lemmy agreed as he suppressed a smirk. When she put it that way, it sounded way more heroic than he had originally intended.

As they continued up the road, it was only a matter of time before they would be spotted. “Thoughts on how to bust through the gate?” Lemmy asked.

“We’ll handle it,” Amali said, exchanging a glance with Amarieth and nodding. “We have just the thing for this. I think you’ll like it.”

Lemmy raised a brow at Amali, wondering if she still had enough power left after what she’d done so far, but decided not to question it. “Alright, the floor is yours, ladies.”

Amarieth smirked slightly, assuming the position as she conjured her bow. Instead of holding it vertically, she turned it horizontally, nocked an arrow, and drew the bowstring. Amali stood beside her, going down to one knee, and pouring her own magic into the magical weapon to bolster it. After a brief moment, the bow grew and warped, extending into something impossibly large for a single person to hold. The arrow grew as well, looking more like the bolt of a ballista than a simple arrow. The ground around Amarieth swirled with magical power as the Wood Elves synced their magic perfectly.

“Element?” Amali asked as some of the guards on the ramparts noticed the magical light forming on the road leading to the front gate.

Amarieth tilted her head to the side in consideration before settling on an answer. “Lightning.”

“Coming right up,” her sister laughed, shifting the magic to the lightning element, causing the light of the spell to crackle electrically. The arrow spat sparks in every direction as its glow intensified. Without another word, Amarieth released the oversized arrow, causing a line of lightning to instantly snap between her and the gate. The impact was so immense, it nearly caved the whole front of the gatehouse in upon itself. Remnants of electrical energy crackled from the point of impact for a moment longer, licking across the surface of anything metal within range.

“Whoa!” Lemmy laughed, drawing his sword as he gave each of the Wood Elves a nod of approval. “How long have you been working on that one?”

“Relatively new,” Amarieth answered. “We’ve been trying to take the lessons of teamwork to heart, raising the bar for ourselves.”

“Well, you did a kickass job,” Lemmy commented as he moved forward at a jog. “Eyes up. Let’s hit them hard and fast!”

The group did precisely that, keeping Drukara at the rear so that the strain on her was minimal. Yennisa provided them with a dome of protective light, which deflected the arrows that fell upon them from the ramparts. The gaping hole of the gate filled with soldiers armed with longspears ready to meet the charging group.

“Kulderani?” Lemmy asked without taking his attention off the Dusk Elves as they closed the distance.

“On the right,” she answered, calling her breach point so Lemmy knew which way she was going. The two broke from the group, sprinting forward before leaping through the air at an impressive speed and coming down on each of the soldiers they had picked. Lemmy tried to avoid using fatal strikes, but he didn’t know if the Sun Princess was of the same mind.

Lemmy’s blade landed in the soft meat between the neck and the shoulder, held back just enough to not cleave further than it had to. The wound was serious, but the Dusk Elf could survive it if she laid down her weapon and sought help immediately.

Inside the gatehouse, the undead forms of the previous guards lurched at them in an attempt to flank them. Even without his recent boost in power and speed, Lemmy doubted they would have been fast enough. He pulled the sidhe sword free from its scabbard with his free hand and cut the undead abominations down in a single stroke, not nearly as concerned about their well-being as the living Dusk Elves.

Pulling the orcblade free from the last soldier, he advanced. He hadn’t taken into consideration the undead presence Opheliel would create from the slain Dark Elves. He wondered if perhaps he had been holding out some faint unconscious hope that she wouldn’t go that far.

“Lemmy!” Kulderani yelled. Instinctively anticipating what she required of him as her magical will brushed against his own unseen sense. He held his sidhe blade out as readily as if she’d asked to hold it, letting the Sun Elf draw upon the power of the setting sun contained within. The magical energy infused the Sun Princess’s sword, supercharging the magic already held within it. Bringing the weapon down in a fierce swing, Kulderani loosed an arc of blistering sun magic that carved a swath clean through the advancing undead Dark Elves.

“Yenni!” She yelled, advancing a step to assume a lower stance. The priestess answered with a swift incantation and a spell cast directly into the Sun Elf’s weapon. The mithril of the blade lit up like the Eternal Tree itself as Kulderani brandished the blade overhead. The Dusk Elves recoiled, dazzled by the sudden blistering radiance of the combination of Yennisa and Kulderani’s magic. The rest of the group seized the moment to advance, with vines and arrows putting down further resistance in the gatehouse as they emerged from the other side.

An alarm had gone up, but it mattered little in Lemmy’s mind. No matter how many came, they would handle them. Mycans, tainted and reanimated with necrotic energy, lumbered out to meet them, their immense forms silhouetted briefly against the background lighting before stepping into the radiance cast by Kulderani’s blade. Without proper eyes to speak of, the light did nothing to blind them, but Lemmy could see the faint signs of blistering on their skin mere seconds after exposure.

Yennisa called out authoritatively in the same magical language she always used, but this time her voice boomed, echoing off the cavern walls and ceiling. As the mycans halted their advance, shuddering and jerking like broken marionettes, Lemmy realized it was a prayer of sorts that matched the effect of the ‘turn undead’ spell, and it was working wonderfully. The mycans emitted unclean psychic screams as they tried to put distance between themselves and the priestess.

Amarieth infused her bow, now normal size, with the fire element and loose several bolts of flame that exploded on impact upon the mycans. Even in their cowed state, something had to be done to physically move them and the archer had decided this was the best way.

Seeing the main gates of the structure swinging open to spew out a tide of reanimated servants and soldiers, Lemmy decided to shift his approach slightly. Looking up to a balcony overhead, he went down to a knee, set his swords down, and put his hands together. “Going up?”

Kulderani and Amarieth knew what he was going for immediately. The Sun Elf sprinted toward him, stepping into his hands, and braced herself as he lobbed her high into the air, with her pushing off of him at the last possible second. The princess sailed in a high arc, landing perfectly on the overhead balcony above. Amarieth followed with flawless form, allowing the rest to follow, leaving Lemmy on the ground alone to clear the distance under his own impressive power.

“They’ll be doubling back,” Ambriel remarked, turning her attention to Amali. “Immolate?”

“Immolate,” Amali agreed as she held a hand over the railing of the balcony. Ambriel reached out toward the Wood Elf, twisting the power within her blood to become more potent, multiplying the power of the fire spell as the sorceress dropped it on the confused forces below.

The explosion cast a hot wind up over the balcony and into the room beyond, carrying the smell of burning undead flesh with it. “Wonderful,” Ambriel commented as they continued forward.

The balcony connected to a parlor of some kind without a soul in sight. Lemmy sprinted across the room and threw the doors on the opposite side open, revealing a corridor that was just as deserted. “Drukara, which way? She’ll be in the most defensible section of the building.”

Drukara motioned straight ahead with one hand. “Third hall on the right, then up one floor. The inner chambers of the keep are reinforced.”

Lemmy didn’t waste another second, charging forward before they could be joined by any more resistance. The fewer Dusk Elves he had to fight, the less of a risk there was of killing them. He doubted there was any among their number, even the most elite, that was anywhere near him in terms of power or skill. Hell, he doubted any of them would be a match for Kulderani, and she was technically, at that point in time, the weakest member of the group. His aversion to conflict with them wasn’t for his safety, it was for theirs.

As they climbed to the next level, the new corridor was alive with animated armor, ready to do battle with them. Lemmy sighed, not relishing a fight where vitals and weak spots weren’t a factor. Anything that resembled a construct could draw out a fight long enough for more skilled warriors or mages to arrive and provide backup.

“Tch!” Ambriel scoffed in disgust. “Drukara, you should know better than to be using such things.”

Slicing her palm open with her blood sword, the Blood Princess brandished the wounded hand toward the first of the advancing suits of animate armor. The thing shuddered and fell, its legs losing all strength as the rest of its body crushed inward like an empty can of beans.

“Armor doesn’t have blood,” Amarieth noted, visibly confused.

“Iron!” Amali laughed in amazement. “It’s the iron, isn’t it?”

Ambriel glanced sideways at the Wood Elf, a glimmer of approval in her eyes. “Very good.”

Lemmy nearly laughed as well, understanding why Ambriel had scolded Drukara now. The Blood Princess made short work of the armor, commanding the metal through the sympathetic link between the iron in the armor and that of her blood, annihilating each suit of armor in turn as the rest of the group passed unharassed. Such magic wouldn’t have worked with mithril, but even the smallest amounts of iron would be a weakness for the Blood Princess to exploit. Her movements were powerful and precise as she ruthlessly crushed, tossed, and rent metal like it was nothing.

“I don’t suppose the reinforcement of the inner chambers can be torn apart like that, too, eh?” Lemmy joked, knowing full well that magical warding would prevent such a strategy.

“Sorry,” Drukara smiled weakly as they turned the corner. “We’re going to have to come up with something much more powerful than—!”

The group froze as they approached the doors of the inner chamber, which had been ripped clean off their hinges. Suddenly, the momentum they’d held since the gatehouse seemed to evaporate. The bodies of Dusk Elves, Dark Elves, and mycans were strewn about the corridor in all directions around the broken doors. Even the magic felt like it had been torn through, with threads of it barely clinging to what remained of the warding magic that had infused the doors.

“That…” Amali whispered, shaking her head. “Doesn’t feel right.”

“No,” Lemmy said as he approached cautiously, noting how the metal components of the doors had been corroded into little more than rust. “It doesn’t.”

Turning the corner, the sight of carnage continued. Lemmy couldn’t tell by the bodies if the forces had fallen fighting one another. The scene was simply too chaotic. The smears of blood across the floor and walls were indication enough that not everyone had died quick deaths. Much of the flesh had become desiccated; the life sapped from them entirely regardless of other wounds that may have proved fatal.

“D-did Ophelial do this?” Yennisa stammered in awe and disgust. What had once been the main hall of the inner chambers was now nothing more than a tomb. “Is this the kind of power she wields?”

A figure entered from the shadows of the far side of the room, clad in a cloak forged from the restless souls of the dead. “I’m certain the Blood Queen once believed herself capable of such a thing.”

From either side of the hall, more figures emerged from the shadows of the support pillars. Each was a female elf clad in dark, vicious armor emblazoned with crossed swords on the pauldrons and breastplates. One was carrying a battered and beaten Opheliel by a fistful of her hair, and another was doing the same with Isodre.

“Pact maidens,” Amarieth hissed anxiously as the queens were tossed to the floor in heaps.

“But the dose of reality she was served has corrected that notion,” the hooded figure continued as he took a few steps forward. The similarity to Lemmy’s voice was striking, though it sounded older, wizened, and jaded. Pushing his hood back, the figure revealed his face, similarly striking in likeness to Lemmy, albeit more pale and gaunt. The man’s eyes were an icy blue to the point of being nearly white. His hair may have once been blonde or brown but had turned silvery with advanced age.

“Illemitar, we meet at last,” the tall, elven man said, a faint smile on his lips. “I have looked forward to this moment for so long. It is good to see you, my boy. You look strong.”

Lemmy exchanged looks with the rest of the party before quirking a brow at the man. “Nestori?”

The man’s smile grew slightly as a glimmer of joy shined in his eyes. “Yes, son. It is me.”

Lemmy’s blood ran cold as he stared at the man who was his birth father. The Necromancer of legend that had nearly wiped out the entire elven race. Yet he seemed so cordial—even friendly with him. “Uh..”

“Please, approach,” Nestori beckoned with one hand. “You needn’t stand on ceremony here, Illemitar. Let me have a look at you. I haven’t seen you since you were a babe.”

Lemmy took a few hesitant steps forward, looking at the dozen or so Pact Maidens gathered around. None of them made a move toward him. Not one drew a weapon. “What is this? What’s going on?”

“I took the liberty of handling the situation here for you,” Nestori replied, motioning to the queens. Isodre was unconscious, but Opheliel managed to hold on despite her bloodied state.

“You did this?” Lemmy asked, dumbstruck. “For me?”

“Well,” Nestori spread his hands. “Not entirely. But it would be a lie to say I didn’t have you in mind when I acted. It should never have been your burden to manage the petty squabbles of the elves. It was always meant to be mine. A task I failed to perform so long ago.”

“Ah, you mean when you nearly wiped them all out?” Lemmy asked incredulously. Glancing at the Pact Maidens, he realized now where their ideology came from. He hadn’t made the connection before and felt stupid for failing to have done so.

“Indeed,” Nestori confirmed without a hint of shame. “I made them more durable than I realized. I grew despondent over the failure of the necropox and sank into myself. I did not mean for this burden to be yours.”

Lemmy glanced back at the group behind him, each of them in varying states of horror and confusion. Frowning, he looked back to the Necromancer and shook his head. “It’s a good thing that some of them survived.”

“Why?” Nestori wondered sincerely, looking down at Opheliel. “You think it a good thing that creatures like this come to be? She exists only for her own self-indulgence, for her own decadent pleasures, and for power simply for the sake of having more power. How is that a good thing?”

“One could argue that conflict is just a challenge for the best of us to overcome and become stronger for having done so,” Lemmy answered defensively. “But I’m not much of a philosopher so I’ll go with the old ‘baby with the bathwater’ maxim. Not letting a few bad apples spoil the bunch. That sort of thing.”

Nestori folded his hands behind him, amused by Lemmy’s argument. “Quaint axioms accumulated from your time with mortals of even lesser quality than the elves, no doubt. Hardly convincing.”

“I don’t need to convince you,” Lemmy argued, growing impatient. “I never intended to convince you. I don’t owe you that. I don’t owe you anything. I just need to stop you.”

“What a strange thing to say,” Nestori replied cooly. “After what I have done for you. I preserved you for a better life, in the hopes of curing you. Had I not, you would have died young amid the conflict of my progeny, the elves.”

“Progeny?” Drukara asked warily. “What do you mean?”

Nestori offered a brittle smile to the Dark Princess. “I suppose it would have been too much for Illemitar to share with you. But I see no reason not to. The final curtain is about to fall, so there’s no need to keep the truth from you any longer.”

“Dru,” Lemmy warned, shaking his head. “Don’t listen to him. It doesn’t change a thing.”

“There is a reason that the Pact Maidens have sworn themselves to me, after all,” Nestori continued, ignoring Lemmy entirely. “While your people have known me mostly as the Necromancer, they know the truth.”

“Lemmy,” Yennisa quavered, taking a step forward. “What’s he talking about?”

“Stop it,” Lemmy warned the Necromancer as he pointed the sidhe sword at him. “Just stop. It’s pointlessly cruel.”

“How can something so pure as truth be cruel?” Nestori argued, amused. “Those who balk under the weight of truth were never strong enough bear it, and should not be coddled, for there is no loftier thing such as truth.”

“Enough!” Lemmy shouted, his blood boiling with the arrogance of the man. “I saw everything. I know what you did and how you went about it. It doesn’t change anything. You saw the fighting and discontent and instead of even trying to help them, you decided it was better to just wipe the slate clean—to start over! Like they were nothing! But they’re people.”

“They are mine to do with as I like,” Nestori objected coldly, his eyes moving across each of the elves standing behind Lemmy before settling on the last male of their kind. “I created them.”

The chamber grew so quiet Lemmy could have heard a pin drop. Yennisa shook her head ardently. “No, that’s not true! We are all children of—!”

“Tellithri Illthuni?” Nestori interrupted. “Created in his likeness and granted wisdom by the gaiyani Elthuna?”

The elves stared back at Nestori in awestruck horror. The Necromancer shook his head. “A fiction. He may have taken you in, but he is no more your creator than these so-called queens. It was I who made you and I who will unmake you.”

“W-why?” Amali stammered, tears forming in her eyes.

Nestori heaved a sigh of pity as he motioned to the queens sprawled out on the floor. “Behold, the inevitable fate of elvenkind should it be allowed to continue. She is not even the first among you to have done this. I admit, I reserved my judgment as long as I could. When Illemitar woke to the world and began on his path, I held a sliver of hope that perhaps he would see something I did not. That he could truly unite my progeny under one banner—perhaps enlighten them. Much of what was attributed to me in the last few decades had nothing to do with me. It was you. All of you, and the constant scheming and backstabbing. Any time someone went too far, any time someone wielded too much power to remain inconspicuous, I was a convenient scapegoat to hide behind.”

“Bullshit,” Amarieth growled. “You’re lying.”

“No,” Ambriel muttered, choking down her anger and sorrow. “He’s not. It might not have been the High Elves this time, but once upon a time, it was. Others before that.”

“My aunt would never,” Amarieth snarled, ready to duke it out with the Blood Princess for the Woodland Queen’s honor.

Ambriel held her hands up in an uncharacteristically defensive gesture. “The Kings of old schemed and fought with one another at length. History is clear on this fact. When they fell, the Queens simply took up their causes out of a sense of loyalty to the departed.”

“Precisely,” Nestori agreed. “And we are left with but one option: to start over. It is my decision to make, and I have made it.”

A familiar coughing filled the room as the Gloom Lord emerged from the doorway behind the group. “Were that true, it would not justify what you have done to my people. Or to the other people of this world. How do you rationalize such atrocities in that twisted mind of yours, Nestori?”

“Erlking,” the Necromancer groaned irately. “Still limping along, I see. Foolish of you to interfere again after the last time. Perhaps the lesson was not as severe as I thought.”

“Severe enough,” the Gloom Lord coughed, moving eerily past the group to stand beside Illemitar. “But it matters not. It is the right thing to do. It is what must be done. And so I shall do it.”

“Erlking?” Illemitar asked in a hushed voice. “You’re the Erlking?”

“I was, once,” the Gloom Lord said without turning his head to look at Lemmy. “A long time ago, in a time before Nestori’s arrival. I didn’t know it then, but I likely ceased to be the Erlking the moment Nestori arrived. The moment he descended from the stars and wiped countless lives off the face of the world, my power waned. Only I was too proud, too arrogant to see it then. By the time I came to terms with it, I lacked the power to stand against him.”

“And you’ve even less now,” Nestori interjected. “A shame. Had you remained in your hole at the edge of the forest, I might have overlooked you entirely. But now that you are here, I will have to eliminate you as well.”

Chapter 21

“I don’t know if I can take much more of this,” Illemitar gasped as he fell backward into the soft embrace of pillows against the headboard. Feminine fingers danced along his naked chest as the face of the Wild Elf they belonged to came into view.

“Ah, but you must Illemitar,” Keya teased, her beautiful wide eyes alight with excitement. “That is our agreement, after all.”

Keya was the leader of the wild elves, quite possibly a princess of the late queen, though she remained cagey about whether or not that was true. The wild elves had a belief that if they were to reveal such information, it would be tantamount to painting a target on the back of whoever carried the title of princess. Simply being the leader was enough, but to be a princess meant that she ought to be queen, and without the numbers to defend a queen, no Wild Elf wanted to risk it.

Now that he had met them, Lemmy understood why they were called wild elves. Everything about them seemed untamed and raw. They dressed in the colors of nature when they bothered to dress in anything at all, adorning themselves with blooming flowers and other colorful plant life. In any other forest of the world, it would have made for poor camouflage, but in the Sylvan Wood, Lemmy had been surprised with how effective it was. Their eyes were larger than other elves, inquisitive and hungry for something beyond mere food. Their hair trailed down their backs in cascades of untamed pinks and blues while their skin had a subtle, pale pink hue of its own.

“Of course, but you can’t expect me to seed the whole tribe here and now,” Lemmy laughed nervously. More of the wild elves came into view just as the one that had vigorously ridden him stepped back to admire the glowing brand on her lower abdomen.

“And why not?” Keya cooed, caressing Lemmy’s cheek fondly. “What man would shy from such a prospect?”

“Oh it’s not the act,” Lemmy argued. “It’s the timing. Getting to the Indigo Court to deal with Opheliel is sort of a pressing issue. When it’s done, and we resettle you in your ancestral lands again, I will make good on my promise.”

Keya glanced around at the elves that had gathered, eying the male like a juicy slab of meat. Many were focused more specifically on the hard slab of meat between his legs that appeared to disagree with his objections. Another Wild Elf climbed on top of him, sliding his still-erect cock inside of her without a word. Rather than easing into it, she went right for it, moving her hips aggressively to secure her rightful amount of seed before Keya could agree to a reprieve.

Keya’s bright magenta eyes flashed with excitement, seeing Lemmy’s expression shift to conflicted bliss as he attempted to maintain focus on the issue at hand. Her smile widened impishly as she savored the little shifts in emotion on his face. “I suppose I’ve no reason to doubt your word. It’s the queens that concern me. The Gloom Lord has sheltered us from their scheming and feuding. To leave his domain and march on the Indigo Court would mean leaving that all behind—to get caught up in the intrigue once again.”

“I understand,” Lemmy gasped, wondering once again since the first of the wild elves had fucked him, how women without males for so long had become such experts at milking cock. “Believe me, I do. But your place is with them. With Opheliel handled, we can focus on the primary threat to our people… the Necromancer.”

“Our people,” Keya repeated with a wistful sigh as a dozen wild elves around them furiously masturbated at the lewd display before them. Most wouldn’t get a turn with the male that day, but all wanted to remain ready for him at a moment’s notice. Others just wanted to engage with the rare showing currently on display. “I do like the sound of that.”

“It’s t-true,” Lemmy’s breath hitched as another load of thick ropey cum was wrung from his flesh. The Wild Elf on top of him let out a satisfied sigh, her body shuddering at the warm, full feeling that accompanied the blossoming brand across her flesh.

She pulled herself off of him, only to be replaced with another elf with a banging body thirsty for his baby batter. Once more, there was no holding back. As horny as the elven women were, they had no interest in foreplay or taking it slow. They wanted what he had to offer upfront and would engage in more time-consuming frivolity later when they had a chance.

“Seriously,” Lemmy grunted as the woman settled in, her hips rocking vigorously, desperately hoping that the one before her had not somehow secured the remains of a limited supply. “We need to get going.”

“Not yet,” the elven woman straddling him cried, pressing her tits together and tugging on her nipples. “Just look at me, Illemitar. Look how much I want you. I need you.”

Lemmy couldn’t help but feel like the wild elves should have been his first stop in the Sylvan Wood. It would have been a very different experience and given him a very different impression of what his future there would be like. There wasn’t one among the whole tribe that didn’t want to become his personal cum-dump, not one of them too proud to submit to him just for a chance to worship at the altar of his cock. “Don’t you want to cum inside me, my lord?”

Keya’s grin grew more mischievous, her ears twitching with anticipation of another climax from the male savior that had appeared to them out of nowhere. Normally, they would have been much more hostile with someone entering their territory, but the Gloom Lord had informed them of the male’s return to the Sylvan Wood some time ago. They hadn’t expected a visit from him so soon but were overjoyed at his arrival. “You can’t blame her, can you?”

“N-no.” Lemmy shook his head, his body surging with vigor. Each time one of them was branded, he regained enough stamina to seed two more. It was a recursive loop, but one he had intended to engage with to some degree from the start. Keya herself had been the first to claim him, as was her right, and the power he had gained just from her was what led him to believe that she was of royal blood and not just some elected official of the tribe. “But like I said—.”

“Timing,” Keya interrupted with a sigh. “Still, it is quite incredible. I originally thought we would have to pump you full of potions and our own special brand of magic to bolster your stamina and keep you virile, but you’ve managed to do it all under your own power.”

“Sort of,” Lemmy gasped as another powerful wave of ecstasy ran through him and another Wild Elf received her brand in a moment of mind-bending bliss that bowed her back into an elegant arch. “Some of it is still you. Every brand bolsters my power just as it does yours.”

“Interesting!” Keya grinned again, leaning closer as she nuzzled into his neck. “So really, running through all of us would give you all the power you need to handle the queen, hm?”

“Yes, but—!”

“Timing,” Keya sniffed exasperated. Of all the elves he had met, the wild elves behaved the most like the fey of legend. “So you’ve said.”

Lemmy sat up, interrupting the next woman’s attempt to mount him. She looked hurt and offended, but he knew it was mostly an act to secure his compliance. Every one of them wanted just one more round, but even with their dwindled numbers, there were still too many. “I’ve given you more than a dozen brands as a gesture of good faith. Are you going to uphold your end of the bargain?”

Keya pouted as she glanced at the gathered women. After a moment of internal conflict, she waved a hand. “Ready yourselves! We march to the Indigo Court.”

“Thank you.” Lemmy sighed with relief as he got to his feet and hastily grabbed his pants. The small shelter he had been held in for nearly his entire stay emptied of elven women who went to gear up for a fight. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Keya’s fingers grab the base of his cock and feed its length into her mouth. “Keya! Come on!”

“Calm yourself,” she giggled, slurping and lapping at his flesh. “I’m merely cleaning you up. Consider it a show of gratitude for the kindness you’ve shown us today.”

“Er, alright,” Lemmy grunted awkwardly, pulling his tunic on as she continued to lavish his meat with her tongue. “I think you got it all.”

“One moment,” she muttered, nuzzling further between his legs as her tongue cradled and caressed his sack. “Nearly done.”

“Okay, okay, okay!” Lemmy stumbled away, playfully batting at her. “You’ve had enough! You’re as bad as Yenni.”

“Yenni?” Keya asked as she got to her feet, the curves of her body causing an instant pang of regret to run through Lemmy. “Who’s that?”

“My wife,” Lemmy replied reflexively. It didn’t sound as silly as it used to, but there were a lot of things about the spousal arrangement that they still had to work out plainly.

Keya’s brows went up in surprise. “Your wife? She is fine with sharing her mate with the rest of the elves?”

Lemmy made a little so-so motion with one hand. “She’s warming up to it. It’s the sort of conclusion your brain arrives at before your heart. Do you know what I mean?”

“I believe I do,” Keya replied, gesturing with one hand to recall the floral blooms that made up her clothing. Even without everything on display, the woman had a distinct allure and a body for sin. “Is she a human from the lands you came from?”

“Half,” Lemmy answered, strapping on the rest of his gear and securing the weapon at his side. He frowned at the thought of being without the orcblade and the Onorasidhe’s sword, but the spell was unable to replicate them and they were needed elsewhere. “She’s half Dark Elf.”

“Oh!” Keya smiled brightly. “That’s wonderful. Even when not with us you were able to find some of our people abroad!”

Lemmy shrugged slightly. He hadn’t really thought of that before, but it had a ring of truth to it. Even if he didn’t count Yennisa, he could remember several half-elves and people with elven blood he had met during his adventures. He wondered if perhaps there was something that drew him to them, or them to him. Considering his ancestry and the primordial nature of his existence, he supposed it was possible. A question for another time, he told himself.

“How do the wild elves engage in warfare?” Lemmy asked as the two stepped out of the intricate tent. “Do you have organized formations, or do you prefer guerrilla tactics?”

“We do not fight like gorillas,” Keya objected, slightly confused and offended. “We are powerful magic users, emulating the grace and power of the nymphs and dryads with whom we are allied.”

Lemmy raised a brow, looking back at the leader of the wild elves, resisting the urge to laugh. The second part of her statement was much more interesting to him, anyway. “You’re allies with the nymphs and dryads here?”

“Of course, we are kindred spirits in many ways,” Keya responded. “Our ties run deep. It is with them that we have often sought physical comfort as well.”

That explained it, Lemmy thought. They hadn’t been sitting idle the whole time the males had been gone, they’d been banging some of nature’s most formidable fuck-buddies and had turned it into an artform all their own.

“Neat,” he said. “Do you think they could be convinced to assist us?”

“There is no need for convincing.” Keya smiled as she motioned to their surroundings overflowing with blooms. “They are already among us.”

Lemmy tilted his head in confusion as he glanced around. Though he couldn’t see anyone else but the wild elves busying themselves among the tents in the trees, he began to feel a distinct presence in the breeze that rustled the leaves and his hair alike. His brows furrowed, trying to think of a more polite way to ask for their aid in battle, but as he considered his wording, he watched as the lowest branches of the trees bent and bowed toward each of the wild elves. The branches pinned floral tokens into each elf’s hair, from which emerged an impressive living set of armor that covered their bodies in twisting spirals from head to toe.

“Our alliance has secured us tokens of the nymphs’ protection and the sacred woodcrafts of the dryads, united together,” Keya explained as a branch bent to place a token in her hair. Though the armor left her face exposed and retained her shapely figure, the potent magic that emanated from her reminded Lemmy of being back in the Onorasidhe’s domain. “They do not go off to battles with us, but they do ensure that we return from them.”

“Impressive,” Lemmy remarked genuinely, noticing that the brands on her and some of the others glowed through the twisted green wood of their armor, expanding further up to their hips.

“We’re ready when you are,” Keya announced, motioning with both hands as wild elves emerged from the forest from every direction, each of them clad in the magical armor. “We await your command, our King.”

Lemmy wasn’t sure if he’d get used to being referred to as the king any time soon, but for the moment, it served his purpose of getting everyone on the same page. “Earlier, you said the Gloom Lord has his own entrance to the Shadowlands?”

“Indeed.” Keya nodded. “It is not far. Once we have entered Isodre’s domain, we will have to move swiftly. We will secure passage from the gnomes in the Gloom Lord’s name once we have arrived.”

“Do you think we’ll encounter much resistance?” Lemmy asked as he motioned for Keya to lead the way. The Wild Elf gave a series of hand signals to the others who fell in with them, though the formation was a loose one at best. By the way they stalked their way through the trees, he assumed they operated more like hunters than soldiers, similar to the Wood Elves.

“None,” Keya answered. “The gnomes are vassals of the Gloom Lord, though they reside in the Shadowlands. And if war has broken out below ground, most other creatures will have heard of it and withdrawn to await the outcome. It will be one of the swiftest traversals of the Shadowlands I’ve had in a long time.”

“Oh,” Lemmy commented with a little shrug. “Well, I guess it can’t rain every day.”

Keya’s brow furrowed in confusion again. “What does rain have to do with this? There is no rain underground.”

“It’s, uh,” Lemmy felt his ears growing a little hotter. “A figure of speech. A turn of phrase.”

“How does one turn a phrase?” Keya wondered, utterly mystified by what he was saying.

Lemmy waved both his hands quickly. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just focus on the task at hand.”

The entrance to the Shadowlands was a cave that resembled the grinning maw of a gargantuan rock giant. They crawled in through the mouth and immediately began their descent down a steep, spiraling passage of rock in near-total darkness. As the darkness became almost too much for Lemmy to see through, light began to return in the form of the glowing underground flora.

“Go on ahead,” Keya said to one of the advance scouts. “Inform them of our arrival and destination.”

The scout sprinted off soundlessly into the dark, leaping over a cluster of large mushrooms and vanishing altogether. Keya glanced at Lemmy briefly. “Gnomes are naturally suspicious and will not show themselves to a large force such as this. We send one person as an envoy.”

That made sense to him. Everything he knew of gnomes told him he would rather do things their way than the alternative. Gnomes that felt slighted by those in their territory would often target the unwelcome parties. They usually never even see the creatures but would find themselves endlessly beleaguered by inexplicable occurrences, hidden traps, and suspiciously placed monsters that just so happened to be right in the path of such trespassers. There had been one adventure he’d been on where the party had suspected the interference of gnomes they had unwittingly angered but had never been able to prove it. Things had not gone well.

“We will take the dimroads,” Keya continued. “Do you know this term?”

“Yeah,” Lemmy nodded. “Constructed by the dwarves ages ago and entrusted to the residents of the various regions of the shadowlands. These ones belong to the gnomes, I assume?”

“Exactly so,” Keya confirmed with a smile. “With their permission, we will be given passage and travel much easier. Dimroads are the safest way to journey down here as long as you’re not trespassing.”

It was a tidbit of lore Lemmy could have used several times in the past. Now that he knew it, he would be sure to remember it in the future. As the King of the Six Kingdoms, having treaties for such passage in place would be ideal for troop movement. He had to consider that as the ruler of the elves, it might also fall to him to defend the other residents of the Sylvan Wood and the domains that sat beneath them.

As they turned down an even steeper grade several minutes later, the scout returned and confirmed that they had been granted passage along the dimroads. The road itself was ancient, and Lemmy marveled at the construction as they finally stepped onto it. Calling it a road felt a little like underselling it, in his mind. The word road implied a flat stretch of cobblestone or brick to most people, but the dimroads were different. They were carved and shaped from the stone of the caverns themselves, with numerous pillars lining either side and archways inscribed with directions to long-forgotten settlements along branching roads. Every pillar, and every archway, was intricately carved with dwarven designs and adorned with subterranean plant life that served to enhance the beauty of the designs.

In the past, Lemmy had seen only the broken remains of dimroads that had gone out of service or been destroyed in ancient conflicts, but the one they walked in now appeared to be in near-pristine condition. He couldn’t imagine it being much more impressive the day it had been completed.

“Does this go all the way to Illmarus?” Lemmy wondered.

“No,” Keya answered with a brief shake of her head. “But there are connecting roads. Those closer to Illmarus fall into the domain of the Dark Elves, but I imagine securing passage from them would be a waste of time, considering the state of things. Either they will welcome our aid, or they won’t.”

“If Opheliel has already struck, I imagine they have bigger problems than monitoring a few roads,” Lemmy hoped aloud. He had no idea what to expect when he arrived, but as they neared Nocelux, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach grew heavier. Something wasn’t right. There was something he had failed to account for, and he was worried that it might end up costing him the lives of others.

Hopefully, he’d see it before it was too late.

Chapter 22

The Necromancer and the archfey stared intently at one another. Illemitar moved to get between them and was surprised to feel the Gloom Lord’s hand on his shoulder to stay his feet. “No, Illemitar. Not yet. I must make my stand first.”

“But he’ll kill you,” Lemmy replied in a hushed voice. “If he maimed you at your full strength, there will be nothing left of you this time.”

“Yes,” the Gloom Lord agreed. “But were I the type to let the youth fight my battles for me while I sat back and did nothing, I would not be worthy of your concern in the first place.”

Lemmy reached up and held the Gloom Lord’s arm firmly. “It’s not your fight anymore. It’s mine.”

“You would raise a sword to your own father?” Nestori asked, completely aghast. “Nonsense.”

Lemmy’s gaze shifted to meet the Necromancer’s. “You don’t get to call yourself my father, not after what you’ve done. Not that it makes a difference. You need to be stopped before you cost any more lives.”

Nestori sighed and motioned lazily toward Lemmy and the group. “Leave my son alive. Destroy the rest.”

Lemmy’s eyes went wide with horror as the Pact Maidens sprung into action, drawing their weapons as they recklessly charged upon the group. Lemmy moved to intercept the nearest one as the rest of his party rose to meet the challenge. The Gloom Lord didn’t move, his gaze still fixed upon the Necromancer as battle erupted around him.

The Pact Maidens were more formidable than Lemmy could have imagined. He sensed the power of Nestori infusing their flesh, though they weren’t undead. He remembered from his dream how the Necromancer had gone through a multitude of other magics before arriving at necromancy as the answer to his quandaries. Among the things he had experimented with were life magic and alchemy, but found them woefully incapable of conquering death. When it came to living minions, however, they seemed to work perfectly fine.

Each of the Pact Maidens was stronger, faster, and more durable than any elf Lemmy had encountered. Every time that Lemmy clashed with one, their swords sparked and rang out through the chamber, but the Maidens were never thrown off-balance. Even more concerning, was how the rest were faring against them.

Kulderani’s footwork kept her a step ahead of maiden blades, but Amarieth and Amali were struggling to keep enough distance to function. Amarieth couldn’t line up a shot and was forced to use the magic bow she wielded to defend against the vicious, profane weapons of the maiden pressing the attack against her. Amali could hardly get a word or arcane gesture in before she was forced to abandon the spell in favor of evasion.

Despite holding back from the fight, Drukara was forced to defend herself with her shadow sword, though Lemmy couldn’t see how she would last more than a minute in her state. Ambriel was trying to keep a defensive position around her, but two of the maidens were baiting her out to separate them, sensing the weakness in the Dark Princess. For his part, Lemmy had to contend with two more joining the initial one he’d clashed with, putting him on a perpetual defensive to stay ahead of their weapons and whatever terrible energy infused them.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Lemmy warned the lead maiden on him. The bottom half of her face was unconcealed, her lips twisting into a smirk. She wasn’t taking him seriously.

“Have it your way,” he muttered, locking the blade up with the sidhe weapon before slamming his head into the helmet, denting it around her skull despite the magical reinforcement within it. He shouldered his weight into her, nearly bowling her over as he pivoted and thrust the orcblade down into the thigh of the second attacker who was mistaking his maneuver for an opening. The blade bit deep, drawing a large portion of her vitality before he ripped it out horizontally, leaping up into the air to wrap his ankles around her head and tumble to the ground. The weight of him and the sudden weakness from his strike took the pact maiden by surprise as he lobbed her to the side with his feet, rolling along the ground, and hamstringing the third pact maiden with the orcblade.

Rolling to his feet, he slapped the weapon from the first maiden’s grip with the sidhe blade and drove the orcblade deep into her gut. He didn’t want to hurt them. He didn’t want to take a single elven life. But if the Pact Maidens were sworn to Nestori, he had to handle them with the same severity of intent as the Necromancer himself.

“Lemmy!” Yennisa cried, causing his blood to run cold as he turned his head in her direction. Two of the Pact Maidens were overwhelming her, beating furiously upon her protective barrier with powerful strikes that threatened to break through at any moment.

“Fuck!” Lemmy spat, as more of Nestori’s stooges interposed themselves between them.

Suddenly, Grinda appeared behind one of the Pact Maidens harassing Yennisa, driving both of her daggers into her neck before reaching around with a third concealed blade to drive into her chest. Yennisa seized the moment, causing the barrier to explode in a brilliant light before she drove a radiant flame into the chest of the remaining dazzled Pact Maiden, boring a hole halfway through her torso in the process.

Fighting between the Gloom Lord’s forces and the reanimated creatures under Nestori’s control spilled in through the front doors, adding more fuel to the chaotic fire that was quickly spreading through the immense chamber. The Gloom Lord still didn’t move, nor did the Necromancer.

“This situation is about to become unmanageable,” Ambriel called to Lemmy over the fighting.

“To Yennisa!” He responded in a commanding voice as he drove his boot into the maiden before him to clear some space to move. One by one, the party converged on Yenni. Instead of going to her for protection, he wanted to give her time to go on the offensive. With her power, she would be able to do an immense amount of damage to the undead while leaving the fey warriors under the Gloom Lord completely unharmed.

They circled up around the priestess, as fallen Pact Maidens began to rise from the grave. Lemmy spared a glance in the Necromancer’s direction to see the man smirking calmly as he looked on confidently. It didn’t matter how many times they dropped one of the Pact Maidens, he could just bring them back with hardly any effort.

“Fuck,” Lemmy growled, looking over his shoulder at Yenni. “You’re up, Yen. Show us what you got.”

Yennisa took a breath and brought both hands up over her head, the prayer she spoke echoing off the chamber walls. Lemmy felt something that he’d never felt before. The presence of something bigger, not in physical size but in intellect and power. It’s very being was on a higher level than his. It felt like whatever it was turned its gaze upon him and the priestess at his side and made a decision. Several motes of radiant light sprang to life around Yennisa, taking the form of small winged entities even as she herself sprouted a pair of glowing wings of light. The smaller entities swirled around her before diving into the bodies of any undead creature around them, burning them to a crisp by the light of Elthuna’s sacred judgment.

Nestori’s expression of confidence turned to one of concern in an instant. Lemmy couldn’t help but smirk. Yennisa continued to chant, beating her wings once—twice—bathing everything for several feet around her in the divine wind. Undead lost the reanimating power in their eyes before crumbling to the ground in heaps, dissolving under the power of the holy energy. The group pressed out from Yennisa, felling several of the creatures attempting to resist the power as well as the Pact Maidens that had not yet perished to rise again as undead.

One moment, the Necromancer was there glowering, and the next, he was gone, reappearing in front of Yennisa with a large necrotic scythe bearing down upon her. Lemmy could barely perceive it, much less act to stop it, but the Gloom Lord did. The archfey appeared before the Necromancer, holding the scythe a fraction of an inch from the priestess’s skull with a sylvan sickle in one hand.

“It would seem Tellithri does not care as much about the ties of blood as you do,” The Gloom Lord growled before slowly pushing the Necromancer back. As Nestori moved to adjust his footing, Grinda burst from a cloud of gloom and drove her daggers into the Necromancer’s ribs from behind. Either strike could have been fatal, but Nestori casually spared a hand from the haft of his scythe to seize the Half-Goblin by the skull and squeeze.

“The only thing worse than the corruption of the elves is to see what foul creatures they have come to mix with over the years,” Nestori snarled as Grinda let out a cry of agony. The Gloom Lord roared in rage, casting the scythe to one side as he swung on the Necromancer with a second in his other hand.

The strike bit deep into the Necromancer’s shoulder, cutting nearly halfway down through his torso before coming to a squelching stop. Nestori frowned as he looked down at the wound. Dropping Grinda, he brought his hand up and drove it through the torso of the archfey with ease, his hand burst from his back covered in the blood and flesh of the Gloom Lord.

“G-Grinda,” the Gloom Lord coughed, dropping his weapons to hold the arm of the Necromancer in place weakly. “Leave this place. Run.”

The arm skewering the archfey glowed briefly before hurling the body of the Gloom Lord across the room, where it struck the far wall and fell to the floor in a heap.

“NO!” Lemmy raged, throwing himself at the Necromancer without a second thought. Nestori had just enough time to pry the sickle from his body to let the wound mend itself before intercepting the flurry of strikes from Illemitar with his deceptively large scythe. Lemmy wouldn’t have expected such a large weapon to be so fast, but the way the Necromancer moved with it, spinning and choking up on it when in close and extending it out to create space when he needed, was beyond anything the young elf had seen before.

Lemmy felt the edge of the scythe’s blade across the back of his neck, causing his blood to run cold. Nestori stayed his hand, regarding his son with disdain. “You try my patience, boy.”

Infuriated, Lemmy knocked the scythe to the side with the orcblade before following up with the sidhe blade. “Cut the crap, old man!”

“You’ve no idea as to how much of an understatement that is,” the Necromancer sighed, leaping back to stay ahead of Lemmy as he parried his furious assault with flawless precision and grace. The flesh of the dead outside of Yenni’s reach twitched and spasmed, clambering toward Lemmy to get a hold of his ankles and legs to slow him down. “But with my venerable state comes wisdom which you cannot fathom. Clarity that you could never grasp. It must be this way, for there is no other way it could be. You offered me a flicker of hope, but alas, not even your considerable talents were enough to redeem this failed species.”

“You don’t get to decide that!” Lemmy objected, cutting himself free of the dismembered limbs to continue his advance. Nestori stepped forward, slamming the top grip of the scythe into Lemmy’s sternum with impeccable timing and surprising strength, knocking the wind clean out of him. With another fluid motion, he whirled the scythe around, hooking him with the blade without cutting too deeply, and used it to hurl him several yards, where he collided with Ambriel and Drukara. The three went to the ground in a heap.

“I’m afraid I already have,” Nestori lamented as he approached them slowly, his gaze shifting toward Yennisa as she cut his reanimated minions down in droves. “Nothing you do here will have an impact on the outcome. I have already dispatched the carriers of my new plague throughout the Sylvan Wood. Soon, they will erupt, scattering it to the winds. Every last living creature and plant will succumb to it within days.”

“You monster!” Amarieth roared, loosing a crackling arrow for the Necromancer’s skull. Catching the arrow an inch before impact, Nestori snapped the arrow in two as he dispelled the magic within it, casting it to the side without a hint of concern as to whether or not the arrow would have found its mark.

Yennisa rushed forward, using her hands to command the winged motes of light, wielding them like weapons against the Necromancer. Not making the mistake of underestimating her, Nestori responded in force, intercepting each of the strikes with his scythe before slamming the head of it into her chest to knock her back. Yenni arrested her momentum by fanning her wings out to either side, before gathering the motes together and blasting Nestori in a singularly impressive eruption of divine radiance.

The Necromancer was hurled backward, skipping across the floor as he tumbled head over heels in a chaotic mass before coming to a stop against the far wall.

“Holy shit, Yen,” Lemmy laughed, struggling to his feet under protest of his aching body.

Nestori groaned, slowly rising to his feet as he brushed the hair from his face. Despite the burnt cloak and tattered robes, he seemed relatively unharmed. “You dare…?”

Lemmy looked over at the others, assessing their relative strength. All but Drukara and Grinda appeared to be in decent shape. “Alright, together. We don’t let up until it’s done.”

Kulderani and Ambriel nodded as Amali conjured flames in both hands. Lemmy led the charge, both weapons in hand as his father rose to meet them. The assault was a devastating one by all accounts, with the most coordinated attacks Lemmy had seen out of a party in his entire adventuring career. Lemmy, Kulderani, and Ambriel were all expert swordsmen working together as one to harry the Necromancer with attacks as Amali and Amarieth hurled magical arrows and spells from the periphery. Though they managed to keep Nestori on the back foot, he still managed to land blows on each of them with his impressive speed and strength. None of them lasted, regenerated by the healing magic of Yennisa faster than he could dish them out while simultaneously weakening in her holy aura.

The same was true in the other direction, however. Every blow the party managed to land on the Necromancer lasted only for the span of a breath before his necrotic recovery erased even the faintest hint of its passing. Lemmy knew it wasn’t sustainable, but he knew there had to be a limit to Nestori’s power. If they kept the pressure on, he was confident that they could wear him down for a more decisive strike. He had to believe that their collective stamina could outlast his.

“ENOUGH!” Nestori roared as a sphere of necrotic cold erupted around him, throwing everyone to the ground except for Lemmy whose sidhe weapon protected him from the brunt of the magic. Of course, the Necromancer was quick to follow up with the back end of the scythe in a mighty swing that crushed the bones in Lemmy’s left arm on impact.

Ambriel and Kulderani sprang to their feet, the former knocking the scythe wide as the latter drove her hefty blade hilt deep into the Necromancer’s chest. Nestori regarded the Sun Princess coldly as he seized her by the neck with one hand, causing her flesh to begin withering within seconds.

The Blood Princess snarled, pushing blood magic through the Sun Elf to stave off the effects of the necrotic magic as Amali seized the opening in their clashing magic with a spell of her own. The focused intensity of the heat from the scorching ray was enough to punch a hole clean through the Necromancer as well as the wall behind him.

“RAGH!” Nestori swept the scythe out before him in a wide arc, infused with necrotic energy that tore wounds open in all three of the women as they were sent crumbling to the floor. Through the haze of pain, Lemmy noticed the wound from the fire was much slower to heal than anything else they’d thrown at him. He released the orcblade from his crippled hand and adjusted his stance to favor the sidhe weapon.

Nestori advanced, heaving the scythe over his head to drive down onto Ambriel, only to have a massive swarm of writhing shadows intercept the strike. From half a dozen yards away, Drukara manipulated the shadows to entangle the scythe and wrench it free of the Necromancer’s grip. As blood trickled from her nose, she pulled her arms apart, forcing every last bit of her strength through the shadows to sunder the scythe in an explosion of profane, necrotic magic.

The Dark Princess sank to her knees, barely able to keep conscious under the strain of destroying the scythe. Enraged as he was, Nestori was not inclined to let it go. He punched the air in front of him, causing a massive blast of force to slam into Drukara, knocking her clean across the room to rest beside the fallen Gloom Lord. With another gesture, he rained a storm of necrotic ice upon the fey soldiers that had swelled within the chamber, dropping bodies by the dozens.

“Some creator you are,” Lemmy grunted, shuffling toward the Necromancer. “What kind of person beats on pregnant women like this, eh?”

“How dare you—?” Nestori snarled.

“You do this to my mother too?” Lemmy growled, his fury growing once more as Yennisa struggled to prioritize who to heal first. “Is that why I came out all sickly and not my big brother? Or did you save the beatings for after?”

Lemmy felt his body lifted from where he stood before being slammed against the wall on the opposite side of the massive chamber with the Necromancer’s hand around his throat. “I never laid a hand upon your mother, you ingrate! Everything I did was for my family!”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Lemmy scoffed, sending the spark spell into the blade of the Onorasidhe’s sword as he thrust it forward. Nestori was quick enough to move, but not entirely. As the blade sliced open his side, the wound exploded, sending father and son sprawling to the floor in sizzling heaps.

“Stay down, boy,” Nestori warned as he shambled back to his feet. The sound of Yennisa’s prayers grabbed his attention as he realized Lemmy’s intention had been to piss him off, to draw him away from the others so the priestess could do her healing unmolested. He turned his attention to her, clenching his fists at his side.

Lemmy caught him halfway across the room, both of them moving at dizzying speed. Again, the wound erupted with solar flame, this time down the Necromancer’s back, forcing him to stumble in agony to the floor. Without hesitation, Nestori sent the back of his fist into Illemitar’s skull. The young elf stumbled to one side, hardly able to keep his balance as the Necromancer advanced on the priestess. With a short uppercut-like motion, Yenni was lifted off the ground by some great impact. Two immense black hands formed around the wings of the priestess and ripped them off as easily as ripping the wings off a butterfly.

Yennisa’s scream of pure agony cut Illemitar to the bone as Nestori advanced, prepared to deliver a killing blow to his wife—his love. His Yennisa.

With renewed rage and power, Illemitar exploded forth, driving his blade into his would-be father again and again. Each strike carried a solar spark, detonating on impact and throwing the monster of a creator off of Yennisa’s scent. A dozen strikes later, Lemmy could feel the Necromancer weakening, he could feel him beginning to fade. Then the blade snapped, and Nestori drove the other end of the blade into Illemitar’s gut, slightly off-center.

“You have earned my respect, boy,” Nestori said in a ragged voice before slamming a fist into Lemmy’s skull. Then another. It was all the young elf could do now to just remain on his feet. “But it’s time to stop fighting me and accept the inevitable.”

“No,” Lemmy gurgled, wiping blood from his mouth as he stared angrily back at Nestori through swelling eyes. “I won’t. I’ll never stop fighting you. You’ll have to fucking kill me. But if you stop now, I’ll let you lead me to where my mother is buried so you can beg her forgiveness.”

Nestori stopped dead, his fist cocked back for another strike. “You what?”

“If anyone might forgive you,” Lemmy spat a wad of blood onto the floor. “It would have to be her, right? But you’re going to have to make it good after everything you’ve done. Not just to the elves, not just to me, but to her people.”

Lemmy looked in the direction of the decimated fey forces as they regrouped. The Gloom Lord lay in a heap alongside Drukara as his people tried desperately to tend to his fatal wound. “She was fey, after all. You loved her. But you can’t spare an ounce of compassion for her people? For her son?”

“Compassion,” Nestori repeated, lowering his fist as his eyes grew glassy with a torrent of memories of the distant past. “They’ve done nothing to earn compassion. Nor have the elves. An endless cycle of violence and corruption.”

“Of which you have become a part of,” Lemmy argued, his knees shaking with the strain of remaining upright. “You’re not exempt. You’re part of the problem. But I’ll give you a chance to make it right…because compassion doesn’t need to be earned when given freely. I may not be able to forgive what you’ve done, but I can do that. I can offer you the chance. Just like I did for Alinar.”

“Alinar,” Nestori whispered, his brows furrowing. “She brought him back from beyond the veil and twisted him into something—.”

“Something like what you create,” Lemmy finished for him. “When Opheliel looked upon your deeds, that was what she took away. She’s a warped mirror of all you’ve done.”

The Necromancer looked down at his hands as tears began to trickle slowly down his face. “W-what have I done? I…”

Illemitar sank to his knees, unable to remain on his feet any longer. “You need to worry less about what you’ve done and what you’re going to do next.”

Nestori nodded as his mind raced to devise a means to undo what he’d set in motion. Lemmy’s head drooped as his eyelids grew heavy. He realized he was kneeling in a pool of blood, though he couldn’t tell if it was all his or not. He supposed it could have been his father’s, too, or a mixture of everyone who had fallen in the battle. His brows furrowed as the blood began to move seemingly of its own accord. His mind couldn’t make sense of it as the blood slid along the floor as if running downhill.

“I can recall the carriers,” Nestori whispered, his eyes raising to look upon Illemitar. “I’ll destroy them, negate the magic I infused them with. Then I will take you to see your—.”

A pale hand erupted from the Necromancer’s chest, holding the very heart of him within its claws. Nestori stared in horrified confusion at the blackened organ held in front of him.

“I never thought you one to succumb to such foul sentiment,” Opheliel whispered into his ear, a sadistic grin splitting her face in half. Blood from the floor ran up her legs, entering her wounds and bolstering her power, robbing the energy of countless fallen creatures in the process…including Nestori’s.

“Illemitar…” Nestori sputtered, coughing up blood. Even with his fate literally presented before his eyes, he still couldn’t comprehend it.

“But that’s why you must be replaced with someone better,” Opheliel whispered gleefully, her fingers clenching tightly around the blackened heart until it erupted in a squelching pop. With a casual gesture, she kicked the Necromancer face-first onto the floor before taking a large, voracious bite from the heart.

Chapter 23

Illemitar stared in horror and disgust at the Blood Queen as she chewed the heart of the Necromancer, swallowed, and took another bite. Her fangs made light work of the tough muscle, allowing her to eat it as easily as he might have an apple or a peach.

“I have to thank you for your contribution,” Opheliel said around a bite of the primordial flesh. “Now that I’ve your father’s power, I’ve no need for something as simple as your seed. I can restore my people and reshape them as I see fit. I can make males from females if I wish, have them conceive immaculately, or shape entirely new entities from nothing. The sky is the limit now, and I owe it all to you, Illemitar.”

“Well, you know me,” Lemmy replied weakly with a shrug of a shoulder. “Always happy to help.”

Opheliel took a few steps forward, her pale bare feet stained with the blood of the fallen. She leaned down slowly, regarding Lemmy with a cold maliciousness. “But, I suppose if you want to beg, I can hear you out. I could still use a cock like yours for my amusement, I’m sure. Until I grow tired of it. You could still have a place in my—.”

Lemmy shoved the broken part of the sidhe sword into the Blood Queen’s abdomen and twisted. “You really like to hear yourself talk, huh?”

Opheliel’s face contorted in pain, looking down at the weapon impaling her before closing a hand around Lemmy’s wrist and snapping it. “Defiant to the end. Surely you know this isn’t enough to end me now. I’m beyond such things.”

Lemmy barely registered the pain amid the haze of suffering clouding his mind. Instead, he began to laugh as Opheliel wrenched the broken sword from her gut and cast it aside like a splinter.

“What do you find so amusing?” Opheliel asked as she carefully closed her hand around his throat. “I must know.”

Lemmy grinned, tears rolling down his face as he looked up into the Blood Queen’s hateful eyes. “I knew there was something that I wasn’t accounting for. Something in play that I didn’t see that was going to bite me in the ass.”

“And here we are,” Opheliel agreed.

“Here we are,” Lemmy repeated in a near-delirious tone.

“I couldn’t have planned it better,” Opheliel continued as the grip around Illemitar’s throat tightened. “I couldn’t be sure that the Necromancer would show himself. I hoped he would, certainly, especially with all the pressure I applied to draw him out. Then, of course, I had to bide my time until you weakened him. Feign my defeat. They did much better at breaking me down than I thought they would, but luckily, they left Isodre right next to me for a little pick-me-up to get me back on my feet.”

“You killed Isodre?” Lemmy asked weakly, struggling to speak through the grip she had on him.

“Mhm.” Opheliel nodded. “But I’ll bring her back. Better, more compliant, more loyal. She’ll be licking my cunt again by the end of the week.”

“Neat,” Lemmy replied.

“If only you had been clever enough to anticipate this,” Opheliel grinned wickedly as she squeezed.

“I did,” Lemmy rasped, forcing the Blood Queen to ease her grip out of curiosity. “That is, I accounted for something I couldn’t account for, so I decided to put something into play you couldn’t account for.”

Opheliel’s brows knit together incredulously. “What?”

“I figure the best way to counter a known-unknown was with an unknown-unknown,” Lemmy explained. “You know what I mean, you stupid fuck?”

The Blood Queen’s face contorted with rage as she jerked Lemmy’s head to one side, snapping his neck as easily as she had his wrist. Yennisa’s scream of horror drew Opheliel’s attention as she dropped his lifeless body to the ground. “Utter nonsense. The desperate blathering of a dying brain.”

As Yennisa broke into a fit of sobbing, Opheliel took a moment to revel in the moment, to savor her victory. At her feet, the body of the last male elf twitched and began to crumble. The Blood Queen’s brows knit together in confusion, disappointed that she would be unable to feast on what was left of his flesh and blood. Still, there was plenty leftover of Nestori to hold her over for some time yet.

“Bow before your new queen!” Opheliel bellowed for those still living in the chamber. “Bow and be spared my wrath. Swear yourself to me, to know my mercy.”

“Never,” Amarieth growled, tears streaming down her face as she positioned herself between the Blood Queen, her sister, and Yennisa. “I’ll never bow to you. I’ll never forgive you.”

“Then you shall be the first to be sacrificed upon the altar to me,” Opheliel shrugged nonchalantly. “A shame that Effrien could not be here to see it. Of course, with my reinforcements’ arrival imminent now that the Necromancer is gone, I suppose I could take you prisoner until she can.”

“You really do like to hear yourself talk,” Ambriel grumbled, pushing herself to her hands and knees despite her wounds. “You should try to listen more, mother. If you did, you’d know this isn’t over yet. You’ve not won yet.”

“All that remains is tidying up,” Opheliel answered dismissively. “Which our people will gratefully do for me once they’ve arrived. You, on the other hand, I won’t be so merciful—.”

“They’re not coming!” Illemitar shouted from the doors at the front of the chamber. Opheliel turned on her heel to face him, confused not only that he was standing but that he looked completely unharmed. A few wild elves, fully armored, stood at his side while others spread through the Indigo Court to meet Opheliel’s reinforcements head-on.

“I killed you,” she stated, gesturing to the crumbling bits of his remains.

“You killed one of me, yes,” Lemmy laughed smugly, reaching out as the orcblade sprang from the floor into his hand. “But what about second me?”

“Why are you crying, Yenni?” Amali whispered to the priestess. “You knew what the plan was the whole time!”

“I wanted TWO Lemmies,” Yennisa cried in anguish. “I could have had two fat hogs stuffing my holes, and now he’s gone.”

Amali’s eyes faltered, realizing that she, too, would be missing out on getting double-teamed by two Illemitars. “…Oh no.”

“How have you done this?” Opheliel growled, her elongated nails extending into claws at her side as she approached him. “I demand you tell me.”

“Tell you what,” Lemmy said as he moved forward to meet her halfway. He offered a brief gesture back to the wild elves that had accompanied him to hang back. They would be needed to hold the line until he was finished with the Blood Queen. They’d fought their way in without losing any of the tribe, he wanted to keep it that way if he could. “You give me your complete, unequivocal surrender, right here and now, and I’ll tell you.”

“Stupid boy,” the queen spat, leaping at him with more speed than anyone in the room could visually follow. Lemmy, on the other hand, had just bedded numerous wild elves and then absorbed the remaining power and knowledge of his clone, so he saw her advance as plainly as any other. He intercepted the first swipe of her claws with the orcblade, much to her surprise.

With the flick of his wrist, Lemmy caught the side of her hand with a shallow cut and withdrew. Just the small wound was enough for Lemmy to gauge the amount of power he was dealing with. He parried another several strikes from the Blood Queen before answering with a fierce strike of his own. Realizing that she wasn’t dealing with the same Lemmy she had seen battle the Necromancer moments before, Opheliel took no chances, intercepting the strike before repositioning. The two circled one another, waiting for the other to make the next move.

“I’ve taken Nestori’s primordial power,” Opheliel warned. “Added to my own, you’re far outmatched.”

“Then hit me already,” Illemitar teased. “You going to make me wait forever? I got other shit to do besides dance with you all damned day.”

“I will not be spoken to in such a way by a whelp,” Opheliel snarled. As angry as she was, she could still tell he was goading her into making a sloppy attack. “Your death will not be swift this time.”

“If you say so,” Lemmy replied with a shrug before snapping his fingers. The intensity of the spell was surprising even to him. He knew that he would have to rename it, as ‘spark’ simply didn’t do the powerful explosion any justice. Surprised by his command of magic, Opheliel was slow to get out of the way and even slower to protect herself with a shield spell. The Blood Queen was hurled backward, skidding along the stone floor as she dug her claws into the floor to come to a stop.

Lemmy appeared in front of her with a strike at the ready before the two both vanished, bouncing around the room in the span of a few blinks to all eyes in the room except their own. For the combatants, the battle covered every surface of the immense chamber, their strength, and speed nearly beyond reckoning. Opheliel managed to land a kick into Lemmy’s skull, knocking him down to the floor and back against the wall of the entryway. He ducked just in time to avoid an impaling strike from her claws, slamming the hilt of the orcblade into the back of her skull with such force that he put her through the wall entirely and into the corridor outside.

“We need to follow them,” Ambriel grumbled at Yennisa. “We can’t let them out of our sight.”

“I know,” Yenni replied, glancing at the wounds of her other companions and frowning. “What about them?”

“You needn’t worry about them,” an elf with pink hair assured her, jogging over from the other side of the room.

“K-Keya?” Kulderani laughed in amazement, holding her gaping wounds with both hands. “You came?”

“Illemitar was quite persuasive,” Keya answered, placing her hands over Kulderani’s before turning her attention to the priestess. “Are you Yennisa?”

“I am,” Yenni nodded, slightly defensive. “And you?”

“I am Keya, the leader of the wild elves,” she responded happily. “It is an honor to meet you. You needn’t worry about your companions. I doubt I can match your level of skill with healing, but it should be more than enough to leave little more than a faint scar when I am done.”

“O-oh!” Yennisa perked up, glancing at Ambriel. Though the Blood Princess was still hurt, she wasn’t about to sit things out and wait to see what the outcome was. Not with her mother involved. The two ran as fast as they could to follow after the battle that spilled from the inner chambers, through the corridors, across the main atrium, and into the courtyard outside for all to see.

“I can barely see what they’re doing,” Ambriel muttered as they emerged into the courtyard, the faint shapes of Lemmy and Opheliel appearing at multiple points in the span of seconds, leaving behind the collateral destruction of every strike in their wake. The ground was scored up, the walls crumbled, and numerous gouges were carved out of every surface where one failed to connect with the other. “That orcblade of his isn’t going to keep up with this.”

“No, it isn’t,” Yenni agreed, chewing her lip.

Lemmy ducked under another strike from the Blood Queen, elbowing her solar plexus with his offhand before bringing the back of his fist across her face. He’d learned very quickly that the short disruptive strikes consistently caught her off guard while she remained wary of the lifestealing blade he wielded. Even the smallest injuries from it transferred her vitality to him. He could wear her down over time with a thousand different cuts if she wasn’t careful.

She had tried multiple times to manipulate the blood in his veins to gain an advantage but found that he was too powerful now for it to be an easy task. Given time, she could likely overcome his resistance, but he wasn’t going to give her the time. Instead, she had to make do with other spells, conjuring weapons of her own with the power she’d created within her from the blood of Nestori’s heart.

With every passing moment, she tried new permutations, changing her body to meet her needs. She created denser muscle, faster reflexes, solid crimson plating along her arms and legs, and spider-like segmented spikes out of her back that grew increasingly accurate with their strikes.

Finally, she caught him out of position, piercing his flesh with one of the spider legs as she pinned his weapon in place and broke it. There was a brief flash of light as the magic within the orcblade was released, and the remains became inert orichalcum.

“Shit,” Lemmy muttered, ripping the leg from his abdomen and using it to throw the Blood Queen through a nearby wall. “Uh, Yen?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m doing it,” she yelled, placing her hands together and doing her best to ignore the pain in her back and shoulders where the wings of light had been ripped out. It made it much more difficult to focus on any magic beyond lesser healing spells.

“Yennisa,” Ambriel pressed as the Blood Queen tore through the hole in the wall like a shot and slammed into Lemmy, driving him through the curtain wall and out of the castle grounds. “Hurry up.”

“You’re welcome to lend a hand any time,” Yenni snapped, her sweaty brow creasing anxiously. “It fucking hurts.”

Ambriel regarded her silently for a moment before looking at her back. She seemed to consider how painful such wounds had to be before placing a hand on one of them. Yenni winced but didn’t protest.

“Close your eyes, focus only on the spell,” Ambriel coaxed in a soothing voice. “Give me your pain. I will carry the burden while you do what you must.”

Yenni nodded quickly, doing exactly as she was instructed as Ambriel used her blood to weave a spell that transferred what the priestess was feeling to herself. The Blood Princess let out a short gasp as the pain hit her, but maintained physical contact and the magical connection regardless. With her mind unclouded, Yenni was able to focus her will and call forth what Lemmy needed of her.

Lemmy coughed raggedly as the wind was knocked out of him. She’d vaulted him into the air before sending him hurling through one of the statues dedicated to some ancient sexy drow he didn’t recognize. The impact would have killed anyone else. Hell, it would have killed him just a few days ago, but he’d managed to outfox Opheliel by just enough to get yet another tremendous boost to his power. Now, he felt like he had fallen off the swing his father had hung from the branch of the oak tree back home. It wasn’t enough for her to put an end to the fight, but it was enough for her to press the advantage as she opened new wounds in his flesh with her short swords and spider legs.

He glanced in Yenni’s direction, sensing the completion of the spell, and couldn’t help but grin. He extended a hand, reaching out with his will and whispering the name of the sword to himself. As Opheliel came in for another strike, the weapon of the High King of the Elves appeared in his hand just in time for a parry. It gleamed brightly in the dark of the Shadowlands, like a beacon on the shore of a stormy night. A righteous wind rose around Illemitar as he recalled Alinar’s dying wish.

“Silverheart,” Opheliel gasped, her eyes wide in amazement at the fully restored weapon of the fallen High King. Yennisa had cleansed it along with the death knight’s remains, but only the true King of the Six Kingdoms would ever be capable of wielding it at its full potential again. The priestess, having been the one to purge it of the taint within, had been able to convince the weapon of who might be worthy of just such a feat.

Lemmy’s eyes glowed silver as he pushed back against the Blood Queen, the power of the weapon not so much granting him more power but allowing him to access much more of his own at one time.

“I’m going to bury this in your fucking skull,” Illemitar promised. “Are you ready?”

Chapter 24

“How can you wield that?” Opheliel rasped, utter horror filling her eyes in the presence of Silverheart. Illemitar presumed she had considered it off the board the moment the death knight tainted the legendary weapon indefinitely. Even with the death knight dead, she would have regarded it as beyond redemption, yet here it was staring her in the face. “It’s impossible.”

Lemmy threw his weight into the weapon and found that it was almost enough to put her on her ass. Were it not for the spindly spider legs sprouting from her back, she wouldn’t have been able to keep her balance. He pushed the advantage, bringing the legendary blade down in a clean, heavy stroke. The weapons she conjured earlier didn’t stand a chance, shattering like glass on contact with the blade that managed to cut a narrow line through her flesh as well.

It was much larger than the swords he typically used, but he was surprised to find that the handling was about the same. It had the same curvature to it that characterized most elven weapons but was more comparable to a greatsword than a longsword. Mithril offered some lightness without sacrificing durability, but it was the ancient magic woven into it that made it handle like a dream. He followed with several swings, each with a silvery line of light that trailed behind the blade. Opheliel abandoned all attempts to block and committed herself entirely to evasion.

In an act of desperation, she hurled a ball of explosive blood lightning at him, which he instinctively batted to one side with the weapon. It burst harmlessly around the blade, the crimson hue of the electrical magic shifting to a silvery blue before dissipating entirely. He’d seen a little of what the death knight had been capable of with the sword but realized that in a tainted state, it had probably been functioning at only a fraction of its total potential.

“Maybe it knows I have a promise to keep to its former owner,” Lemmy casually suggested. “Maybe Yennisa sweet-talked it for me. Or maybe it just likes me. How it’s possible really ought to be the least of your worries.”

Opheliel looked down at her hands, unable to comprehend how she had been outclassed with all of the power she had acquired. The Necromancer’s power had become hers, and yet the son of Nestori had somehow surpassed her. Balling her hands tightly into fists, the Blood Queen trembled with rage. “You’ve taken everything from me…”

“I haven’t taken anything from you,” Lemmy argued. “Your scheming has done that. Your lust for power has done that. We could go on and on, but suffice it to say, you fucked up long before I got here. Even your daughter was committed to knocking you off the throne as a detriment to your people before I ever set foot into the Sylvan Forest. You made your bed, now you have to lay in it.”

“You’ve taken everything from me,” the Blood Queen repeated, looking at him with purely red eyes. “So I will take everything from you.”

“Wha—?” Lemmy managed to sputter before the Blood Queen vanished from where she stood and retreated, heading back toward the Indigo Court. She was heading back toward Yennisa and Ambriel. “Fuck!”

Yennisa and Ambriel were surprised to see the Blood Queen appear before them in a crimson haze, poised to strike them down with newly formed weapons of mystic blood. Lemmy appeared at nearly the same time, knocking the weapons wide but unable to answer with a counter before the queen vanished again. She moved further into the keep, refusing to linger long around one set of loved ones when there were so many more to choose from.

“What the fuck is she doing now?” Ambriel demanded.

“Trying to kill everything I care about before I can put an end to her,” Lemmy growled as he gave chase, his legs pumping with supernatural speed as he shot past the debris and rubble created earlier in their fight. Far behind him, Ambriel and Yennisa gave chase, refusing to leave Lemmy alone if it could be helped.

Opheliel tore her way back through the gatehouse, through the courtyard, and up into the keep, dealing as much destruction to every surface she could get her claws on and blasting sections free with magic when she couldn’t. Lemmy was forced to do clean up, moving people out of the way and destroying falling debris as he desperately tried to keep up with her. In a race, he would have easily overtaken her, but this was no race.

They burst into the inner chambers again, much to the surprise of everyone still there. Keya was the first person the Blood Queen set her sights on, possibly because in the darkness of the Shadowlands, the Wild Elf’s coloration stuck out. They had passed several on the way back in, but all were engaged in battle with what remained of those loyal to the Blood Queen that she’d paid them no mind. Keya was quick to dodge, leaning into an impressive back bend that allowed the queen’s bloody talons to pass over her by less than an inch.

Anticipating the follow-up strike, Keya was able to block with the thickest part of her armor along the back of her arm. The conflicting magic caused sparks to spit in every direction, reminding Lemmy that he wasn’t restricted to melee range anymore.

Taking a deep breath, he focused his magical will through Silverheart and swung in a wide, sweeping arc in front of him. The power of the spark leaped from the edge of the blade like a crescent moon, severing both of Opheliel’s arms from her body. The Blood Queen stumbled away from the Wild Elf, howling and shrieking in pain even as the blood trailing between the arms and the stumps pulled the severed pieces back together again.

Seeing an opportunity to get her own licks in, Keya moved forward to strike with her shortsword, only to be brushed off with a blast of pure magic from the Blood Queen’s eyes. Engulfed in red light, Keya was thrown back against the wall, her armor being the only thing to save her from instant, utter annihilation.

“Illemitar,” the Wild Elf pleaded, surprised at how easily she was overwhelmed by the queen’s power. At this point, it was unlikely that any of his companions would be able to go toe-to-toe with the woman for more than a second or two. Their best hope of survival was to stay clear and let him handle the situation.

Lemmy swept in, blade level with the Blood Queen’s neck. Silverheart severed her head from her shoulders as easily as a hot knife through butter. But before the head could hit the floor, it had suctioned back onto the stump. In the second of dumbfounded shock Lemmy experienced, Opheliel plunged multiple spidery legs into his shoulders and thrust him against the wall.

“I am beyond mortal concerns now,” Opheliel crowed, seemingly just as surprised as Lemmy that she had survived the beheading a second before. “There is no stopping me. I am Opheliel the Undying, goddess of the elves.”

Lemmy had to admit, it was kind of a snappy name. Too bad it had to be attached to someone such as her. He looked down at Silverheart as he struggled to keep the weapon in his grip. He could heal wounds at incredible speed now, but so long as she was pinning him to the wall he wouldn’t ever have the chance. Whatever nerves and muscles were responsible for lifting the arm were similarly disrupted.

Opheliel’s face split into a savagely fanged grin as she, too, realized his plight. She drove the legs deeper into his flesh, pushing through to the wall behind him as she sent bursts of crimson red voltage through his body.

Illemitar’s body seized up and jerked around for a moment before the sword fell free from his grip, clattering on the floor at his feet. She repeated the full-body shock several times, leaving Lemmy feeling like his insides had been cooked to a crisp. Only his heightened durability was keeping him alive now.

“I’m still going to take everything from you,” Opheliel promised. “But I won’t run the risk of you living long enough to see it. You’ve been a thorn in my side for too long.”

Lemmy’s eyes shifted toward Kulderani several yards behind Opheliel and to the right. She seemed hesitant to jump in if it was only going to make things worse. She gripped her sword tightly, readying herself for what could be the final mistake of her life. Lemmy made a motion up with his head. Confused at first, the Sun Princess made a face as if to ask him what he was talking about. Abandoning subterfuge, Lemmy lifted his head again and called out to her. “Up!”

The sun princess lobbed the sword into the air where Lemmy reached out to it with his will, silently speaking the words for the retrieval spell. It wasn’t his weapon, but he hoped that the overflowing magical might held within him would allow him to bypass that small limitation.

The gamble paid off, and the sword shot through the air as if fired from a ballista, cutting through a few of the spidery legs on one side before coming to rest in Lemmy’s grip. Opheliel cried out in pain, blood and other mysterious fluids spewing from the stumps of the legs as the severed pieces skittered out of Lemmy’s flesh to reunite with her body. With one arm freed it was a simple thing to cut his way free of the rest with the Sun Elf’s sword.

“No more!” Opheliel screamed in agonized frustration, reaching up with both hands toward the vaulted ceiling. “No more!”

The ceiling cracked as the whole chamber lurched. The sobering realization of what she was about to do hit Lemmy at once. All of the Indigo Court and the city beyond were part of a single, massive cavern that, in turn, was part of an extensive cave system. With the power stolen from Nestori, crude and unrefined as it was, she was more than capable of simply collapsing everything in on itself and wiggling out of the wreckage after everyone was dead.

Time slowed down in Lemmy’s perception as he took stock of everything that was available to him. No one weapon would be enough to stop her, not even the impressive power of Silverheart. He could hack away at her until the sun blew up, and she would just put herself back together again without having to think about it. So, he would have to use more than one weapon. He would have to use every weapon at his disposal.

Leaping into action, he started with Kulderani’s weapon as he went for the arms, interrupting her kingdom-ending spell as he severed them from her body. Before the arms could rejoin the body, he used the blade to pin one of them to the ground in much the same way she had done to him against the wall. Leaping with acrobatic panache around her, he continued to call weapons to himself. The broken pieces of the Onorasidhe weapon tore through her body like shrapnel, pinning whatever pieces they could to the ground in the process. The inert remains of the Orcblade were called to pin her second arm to the floor.

He continued his assault in leaps and bounds, summoning Ambriel’s blood sword as she entered the room to sever and impale a leg. He seized one of Yennisa’s severed radiant wings and buried it halfway into the stone, then called Drukara’s shadow whip-sword to lash around her head and pull her down over the wing, severing her in half at the torso. The Gloom Lord’s sickles came to him, where he pinned her remaining leg and lower torso to the ground. Grinda’s daggers pinned the shoulders on her upper torso, and Amarieth’s bow was used to pin her skull down. Finally, he leaped into the air, catching Silverheart halfway through a backflip as he looked in Amali’s direction.

“Fire,” he said, and the sorceress poured her magic into the blade alongside his own as she had done with her sister earlier. The blade exploded into blinding moonflame as he drove the legendary weapon through the Blood Queen’s heart.

Every part of her was severed, pinned, and restrained, but even then, she was not yet dead. Her eyes began to glow, ready to release another of the crimson blasts. The rest of her body writhed and wriggled against their restraints in a desperate attempt to be whole again. He poured his magic into Silverheart, burning the torso from the inside out before ripping the blade free and sinking it into her skull… just as promised.

The Blood Queen’s body went still as it was slowly consumed by the mystical moonflames. He’d never seen a moonflame in his life until then. For those it defended, it offered comfort, but it was the bane of existence to any it was meant to punish. Lemmy’s breath came in ragged gasps, exhausted nearly to his limit, but it was done.

“Fucking hell,” Lemmy gasped, with a slight laugh. “I will never complain about troll regeneration again for the rest of my life, I swear.”

The ground beneath his feet lurched again, causing him to look around in confusion. The damage Opheliel had done hadn’t been enough to bring the whole cavern down at once, but it had destabilized it enough that it appeared to be a foregone conclusion now. It was coming down one way or another.

“We…” Lemmy grunted, pressing the knuckles of one fist firmly against his head. “We have to get as many out as we can. I can’t stop it from coming down.”

“You needn’t do so,” a familiar voice echoed in his mind. Lemmy could feel the presence of Golariel even if he could not see her before him. “You have done your part. I am here with you, as are the remaining queens. Have Drukara, Ambriel, and Yennisa meet us in the courtyard.”

“W-why?” Lemmy said aloud, unaccustomed to communicating through telepathy or whatever it was he was experiencing. “What are you going to do with them?”

“I need their help,” Golariel replied calmly. “And they have earned the right to act alongside us as the new queens among the elves.”

“New…?” Lemmy’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head. He could see how Ambriel and Drukara had ascended to the rank by the fact that both of their mothers had perished, but Yennisa wasn’t a princess to any of the elven queens. “Why Yennisa?”

“You are the king, are you not?” Golariel asked. “And she is your wife?”

Lemmy smiled despite the seriousness of the situation. Yennisa was going to get a real kick out of that once it was all over. “Yeah, she is.”

“Then send her to us,” the High Queen responded happily. “And send Keya along as well. It is time she stepped out of the Gloom Lord’s shadow to rejoin her people.”

Lemmy’s smile vanished, replaced by a sorrowful frown as he looked toward where the Gloom Lord had fallen. The fey had taken him out at some point during the battle, though he had no idea where. “Erlking,” Lemmy corrected. “He was the Erlking.”

There was a long silence in his mind as Lemmy realized that Golariel hadn’t known. “Was?” She asked quietly.

Lemmy nodded. “He fell in battle against Nestori.”

Another silence followed. Lemmy sensed a great deal of emotion from the connection with Golariel, more than he typically saw from her in person. “Very well,” she continued calmly. “He shall be mourned upon our return.”

“Lemmy!” Yennisa cried as she threw her arms around him, eyes welling with tears. “Thank heaven you’re alright! I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you after having my curse lifted. Raising a baby alone in this big cruel world would—.”

“Yenni,” Lemmy laughed, taking her hands in his. “Yen. Yen! Listen. Listen to me.”

The priestess calmed enough to hear what he wanted to say, though he could tell she was still on a hair trigger. “Golariel wants you, Ambriel, Drukara, and Keya to report to the courtyard immediately. She says together, you all can stop the cavern from collapsing on Nocelux.”

“Really?” Her ears twitched curiously. “How?”

“Fuck if I know,” Lemmy laughed, falling back onto his ass and stretching out on the floor. “But if she said you’re all capable of it, I have to believe her. It’s not as though there’s anything I can do about it. I’m going to just lay here and sleep for a week or two.”

“I don’t think the King of the Six Kingdoms gets to take two-week-long naps,” Amali giggled as she sat down beside him. Though she’d suffered far fewer wounds than some of the others, the toll her magic use had taken on her was visible in her tired eyes. “But if you do, I would like one too.”

Amarieth sat down on the other side of Lemmy, her gaze distant. “It’s alright, Yennisa,” she said quietly. “We’ll watch him. Go see the queens.”

Yennisa glanced between them before offering them a genuine smile. “Thank you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Amarieth nodded, offering the priestess a half-hearted wave as she took off to inform the other princesses. Lemmy lay there motionless with the Wood Elves for a time, staring up at the cracked ceiling and trying to ignore the repeated tremors that ran through the floor beneath him.

“I know what she did was terrible,” Amarieth began quietly, staring at the dismembered charred remains of the Blood Queen. “And that I should hate her for it. But something about seeing an elven queen butchered in such an agonizing way doesn’t feel right.”

“I know,” Lemmy agreed without looking away from the spot of the ceiling he was staring at. “It’s unpleasant business.”

Amarieth stared for a moment longer before shaking her head. “No, what I mean is that it never should have been allowed to get this far. We shouldn’t have had anyone, much less a queen, driven to the point that this had to be her end. Nestori wasn’t entirely wrong about the corruption and how deep it runs within our people. I think I was just too blind to see it before.”

“We won’t let it come to that again,” Amali assured her sister.

Lemmy nodded. “That’s right. Our job, from here on, is to ensure no one has to do or see what happened here today ever again. We’ll bring our people together under a new way of thinking: a brotherhood or sisterhood—whichever. And we’ll start looking out for each other. If it weren’t for us, Ambriel and Drukara would be just like Opheliel and Isodre now. Perhaps they would be lying cold on the ground right alongside them. I know we can make those changes. They’re proof of that. You’re both proof of that as well, in your own way. You’ve changed so much in such a short time.”

“You think so?” Amali asked hopefully, smiling over at Amarieth.

“Yeah, I do,” Lemmy answered, finally looking over at her with a bright smile. “It’ll be alright.”

“Still,” Amarieth remarked coldly. “You did slaughter a queen. For that, there needs to be some form of punishment.”

Amali and Lemmy both turned to look at Amarieth, who concealed the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Lemmy chuckled softly, realizing what she was getting at. Amali looked between them, confused. After a moment of puzzling over it, the lights seemed to go on in Amali’s eyes.

“Wait a minute,” she sputtered, pointing between them. “Is this a sex thing!?”

“Yes, sister,” Amarieth laughed gently. “It’s my sex thing, specifically. One that Illemitar has been kind enough to indulge in secret. I’ll explain it to you later. I think I’m ready to talk about it.”

Chapter 25

“Grinda will miss him,” the Half-Goblin sniffled as the flames of the funeral pyre blazed before them. Illemitar placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “Grinda couldn’t save him.”

“I don’t think he wanted to be saved,” Lemmy commented quietly. “I think he just wanted to stick around long enough to know you’d be alright. He wanted to show he’d learned from his past mistakes and to provide you a better example to live by.”

“Maybe,” Grinda grunted, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. “Still gone. Still hurts.”

“I know,” Lemmy said, looking at the pyre as the remains of the archfey burned atop it. “I’m going to miss him too.”

The funeral for the Gloom Lord, the former Erlking, had more of a turnout than Lemmy had expected. Elves from all over had come to pay their respects alongside the archfey’s subjects, commemorating his sacrifice in the final battle against the Necromancer. It was a surprising show of support on the part of the fey as well, who embraced the elves as neighbors and family at long last.

The queens paid their respects before the fire had been lit, offering beautiful speeches to express their undying gratitude for what the Gloom Lord had done for them and what he had tried to do for them for years. The Onorasidhe came, speaking in hushed words with the queens when the funeral was over, offering her apologies and condolences for all that had happened. Somehow, Lemmy felt as though the rift that had been carved through the Sylvan Wood by Nestori was finally beginning to heal.

It didn’t take long for construction to begin for the breeding grounds in Hura. In fact, the wild elves had all returned in a bid to reclaim what they’d lost and to rebuild where they could. Without the influence of the Necromancer in the world, the power of the Eternal Tree was finally able to breathe life into the wilderness of Hura and the lands further beyond. Now that it was no longer constrained by the looming presence of Nestori, it could do what it was truly meant to do.

“I think I’m going to enjoy living here,” Yennisa remarked as the two sat on the porch of their home in Osserin one evening, her belly swollen by the life she carried inside her. “Did you send word along to your parents yet?”

“Yeah,” Lemmy answered as the pregnant elves across the way waved happily in their direction. He returned their wave with a smile on his face. “I figure if I delay telling my folks they’re going to have a grandchild any longer, my mother will end up killing me.”

“You mean grandchildren,” Yennisa teased impishly. “They’re going to be the grandparents to a lot of elves.”

“Phew,” Lemmy sighed, shaking his head vigorously. “One step at a time, they’re getting on in years, alright? We’ll break it to them slowly when they get here.”

“They’re coming here?” Yenni exclaimed, nearly jumping out of her chair. “All you had to do was tell them in a letter! Why are they coming here? When!?”

“What’s going on?” Kulderani asked, emerging from the doorway with a swollen belly as well, albeit a little smaller than Yennisa’s.

“Lemmy invited his human parents to come visit,” Yenni complained. “I have so much work to do if I’m going to get this place presentable.”

Kulderani moseyed over to the railing, her belly shining with the brand Lemmy had given her a few weeks before. “You could probably just have a few servants do that for you.”

“No,” Yenni objected. “Maybe after we’ve moved into the palace or whatever, but so long as we’re living here, I do the work. I’ve always wanted to do the homey little chores for my husband, to make a home that puts both of our hearts and minds at ease. I can’t do that with servants, and I won’t have much longer to do it. The queens are going to demand we move to the palace once some of the children are born.”

The sun princess shrugged. “Ignore them. Technically, you’re the Queen of the Six Kingdoms now. You outrank them.”

“Little early to be pulling rank, isn’t it?” Lemmy mused.

Kulderani smiled back at him. “After what we’ve been through, after what Yennisa specifically has been through, I think they can handle a few demands here and there.”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Lemmy laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Try not to stress out, Yen. My parents won’t be here for a few days.”

“Days!?” Yennisa shrieked, jumping to her feet in the early twilight. “They’re going to be here in days?”

Lemmy spread his hands defensively. “Of course. Most of the Teeming Wilds beyond Hura have been brought back under control. It’s not nearly as dangerous as it was, and the route is much more direct, with the wild elves keeping an eye on things. It won’t take them nearly as long to get here as it did for us when we came out with Amarieth and Amali.”

“That’s not the point!” Yennisa whined, tugging at her ears in frustration. “It’s not enough time.”

“Well,” Kulderani chuckled. “I’m going to let you two figure that out on your own.”

“You heading out?” Lemmy asked, partly ignoring Yenni’s tantrum.

Kulderani nodded as she tied her hair back with a few deft moves of her hands. “Yeah. It’s getting late and I’m expected. I’ll come back tomorrow, though.”

“Nah,” Lemmy said, shaking his head. “Training can wait for a while. You get some rest; enjoy some time off.”

“I don’t need time off,” the sun princess objected, but she could see there was no arguing with the King on the matter. If she showed up tomorrow, she’d end up wasting time sitting around while he refused to let her train with him. She waved him off with a sigh and headed off into the night.

“Yen,” Lemmy said, motioning to the chair beside him. “Have a seat. Relax. You can worry about my parents visiting tomorrow. Let’s just enjoy the rest of the evening, eh?”

The priestess’s expression softened as she surrendered to his wishes, sinking into the chair beside him with a little sigh. “We’re going to have to work on your communication skills with me, mister.”

“Your majesty,” Lemmy corrected with a dainty motion of his hand. “Not mister. You have to address your King properly.”

Ambriel scoffed as she approached from the other end of the porch. “Feh! Not until after the coronation, we don’t. No crown, no majesty. I, on the other hand, am the new Blood Queen.”

“You still going to go with that name?” Lemmy wondered casually. “Your mother was the Blood Queen. Do you really want to be attached to her more than you have to be?”

“No,” Ambriel admitted as she looked out over the forest below. More people had moved into the settlement, and there was a lighter sense of belonging that came with the twilight hours of the day. Soon, that feeling would be punctuated by the sound of children’s laughter. “I think I’ll rename myself the Dusk Queen when the time comes.”

“What do you mean?” Yennisa asked. “When the time comes?”

“Well, I don’t want to be associated with her corrupt rule,” Ambriel explained without turning to face them. “But I don’t want to look like I don’t want to be associated with her. It’s political maneuvering you don’t have to worry yourself with. I’ll handle it.”

“I’m still surprised you gave her an official funeral in Vrezatha,” Lemmy remarked. “Awfully compassionate of you.”

Ambriel scoffed, glancing at him over her shoulder. “It was for my people, not for her. If it were up to me, I would have kicked what little you left of her into a ditch and got on with my life without a second thought. But the people need closure. They need to understand what she did and that I am not her. I am giving her what she would have denied me if the situations were reversed.”

“Like I said,” Lemmy smirked. “Awfully compassionate.”

“It’s the smart thing to do,” Ambriel objected. He could see her blushing even in the dim light of the forest. He made a motion with his hands that indicated he surrendered—that he’d let it go and not press it further. Satisfied with the gesture, Ambriel turned her attention back to the chatting civilians below, out for an evening stroll.

“What about Dru?” Yennisa asked tentatively. “How’s she doing?”

“She’ll be alright,” Ambriel responded somberly. “It’s taking a little time for her to get over her mother’s death. They had a good relationship despite everything that happened.”

“Have you gone to see her?” Yennisa inquired, leaning forward in her chair. Ambriel glanced over at the priestess defensively, then pointedly looked away. Yennisa frowned. “You should go see her.”

“It’s not so easy as that,” Ambriel muttered, a slight crack in her voice. “How do you offer comfort to a woman whose mother was murdered by your own?”

“The same way you do anybody,” Lemmy answered seriously. “You two know each other better than anyone. You know what she’s been through, and she you. She knows what you’re about, and she’s not going to lay the blame for what Opheliel did at your feet.”

Ambriel remained silent for a moment longer before offering a subtle nod. “Very well. I will see to her tomorrow.”

“Dinner’s ready!” Amali announced as she burst through the door, the savory smell of roasted meat and potatoes wafting out behind her. “Ambriel, you hungry?”

The Dusk Queen wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before turning to face the sorceress. “I could eat.”

The truth was that Amali had become quite good at preparing meals for everyone. She’d learned to make several human entrees at Lemmy and Yenni’s request to make them feel more at home. The woman was in an extended nesting phase and had extended her efforts to everyone she considered her family. Ambriel, for her part, had grown fond of the Wood Elf in that time, thanks in no small part to her culinary excellence. Lemmy let the ladies go inside as he brought up the rear, sneaking a last glance at the neighbors laughing happily before entering his home.

The spread was impressive, as it always was. Amali bounced over to Yennisa’s seat and pulled it out for her before offering to do the same for Lemmy. He waved her off before seating himself, his mouth watering with the enticing aromas of dinner.

“Amarieth baked the rolls!” Amali announced, motioning dramatically to a basket of freshly baked rolls. Her sister wasn’t as skilled as her with a lot of cooking, but she’d developed an interest in baking that she’d been working hard to refine. Her first few attempts had been less than stellar, though Lemmy could never have told her.

Amarieth rolled her eyes from her chair on the opposite side of the table. “Don’t tell them that. Now they’re not going to eat them.”

“I’m sure they’re wonderful,” Yenni assured her, making a show of plucking one of the rolls from the basket to set on her plate.

“That Grinda’s job,” the Half-Goblin said from the edge of the table, swatting the back of Yennisa’s hand gently. She had gone so far as to dress up nicely for the meal despite there being no special occasion. There had been talk of her taking on more responsibilities in the fey realm after the pregnancy, but Grinda showed little interest in the idea. She’d lived a life of battle and patrols for so long that now all she wanted was to relax with her new family and be a mother to her child. Lemmy wondered how long it would last, but saw no problem with her taking the time off to figure it all out.

“Fine, fine,” Yennisa sighed, holding her hands up out of Grinda’s way as the goblin busied herself with serving up large portions of meat, piping hot vegetables, mouth-watering potatoes, and buttery rolls.

“This looks great, ladies,” Lemmy said, cutting into the juicy slab of meat on his plate. “Thank you.”

“Mm!” Ambriel grunted in agreement, stuffing a large chunk of meat into her mouth. The Dusk Queen nodded several times toward Amali to express her profound approval.

For a few minutes, no one said anything and simply enjoyed their meal. They’d had several of them since the last battle with the Necromancer. Each time they sat down together, Lemmy was reminded of how grateful he was to have them all alive with him. The final ritual spell the queens had cast to stabilize the caverns of Nocelux had been fatiguing for Yennisa and the others. Lemmy had worried that the conflict and exhaustion had taken a toll on their pregnancies, but it turned out that elven women were more durable in that respect than he realized. The brand was a potent protection against all harm, which he should have known from the immunity it had gifted them from one of the most deadly plagues the world had ever known.

Thankfully, the pustule-ridden creatures shambling through the forest set to erupt and infect the world with a new strain of that same plague had perished and withered into husks upon Nestori’s death. Their remains had been located and burned in numerous locations throughout the Sylvan Wood and the Shadowlands beyond. There had been some tension with the gnomes about the fires sparked in their lands, but Lemmy had managed to smooth things over with the help of Keya, assuring them that they were providing them a service for their own protection.

Nestori had not been given the same kind of funeral that the Gloom Lord had received, or even what Isodre and Opheliel had received in their respective kingdoms. Lemmy had returned alone to retrieve the remains of the Necromancer, burying him in an unmarked grave where he had once dreamed his mother and brother had been buried ages ago. Lemmy didn’t know what awaited the man beyond the veil, or if he ever had the chance to be with his mother again, but he found himself wishing some nights that he’d at least been given a chance to offer his apologies to her and to his brother whom he had never met. Perhaps at the end, the realization of what he’d become and what he’d done, was enough for Tellithri to grant him that much.

“Lemmy?” Yennisa asked, interrupting his train of thought. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?” Lemmy grunted, realizing he’d been holding the same piece of food in his mouth for quite some time. He swallowed it and waved a hand casually. “Oh, yeah. Fine.”

“You looked a little distant there for a moment,” Yennisa remarked.

“Just thinking,” he responded, forking another delicious potato into his mouth. “I’m alright.”

“Good,” Amarieth acknowledged. “Because I have quite the evening planned out for you Illemitar. You’ll need all your strength and stamina for this one.”

“Again?” Amali groaned. “Haven’t you had enough of that yet?”

Ambriel resisted the urge to laugh at Amali. “When you hold something like that in for so long, it can take some time to settle into it becoming normal. Give her a little time.”

“Mostly, I just want to get as much time in the corset you gifted me as I can before I get too big,” Amarieth joked as she patted her branded belly. “Soon, I won’t be able to fit into it. I’ve loosened the straps as much as I can.”

Lemmy chuckled as he took a long drink of the elven wine from his goblet. He’d always been more of an ale guy, but the flavor of the wine had managed to win him over. “Don’t worry, I’ll be more than ready for you.”

“I’d be less worried about her and more worried about tomorrow,” Yennisa interjected. He was due back to the breeding grounds in the morning and wouldn’t be returning for a few days. If he showed up worn out, there would be several objections filed by the queens and numerous elven women who felt like their needs weren’t being met due to the actions of one fetishistic Wood Elf. In truth, there were still plenty among the elves that would do the same if they thought they could get away with it.

Illemitar placed a hand over Yennisa’s and offered her a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be alright, my love. You needn’t worry.”

Yennisa beamed, her stomach fluttering with excitement every time he referred to her in such a loving way. She knew that, from time to time, he would do it to halt any further discussion on a subject and shut her down. She didn’t mind it. It was one of the loveliest ways to resolve a conflict that she could imagine, and she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. She hoped it never grew old.

“Okay, you don’t have to butter me up so much,” Yenni murmured, blushing as she played with her hair. “You’re already getting laid tonight.”

Lemmy laughed a little as he finished his meal, taking his time with the wine as the others ate. Looking between them, he couldn’t help but wish Drukara and Kulderani were there with them, though he understood why they couldn’t be. He reminded himself that there would be many nights to come when they could all get together. Indeed, as the family grew, there would be even more seats at the table with happy, smiling faces, excited stories of childhood adventures, and reports on daily lessons and training. Drukara would heal. Kulderani would be back. Everything would work out. He knew that now. It would just be a little longer as everyone settled into their new routines. They would all have their respective duties to perform and roles to play, but they would always be able to find their way back to each other.

“Oh, I almost forgot to mention,” Yennisa said, practically bouncing out of her chair. “I went to see Golariel today about everything coming up with the babies and such, and she did a little divination to check the health of the baby.”

“Everything’s alright?” Amali asked with a faint note of concern. Yenni patted her hand gently to assure her.

“Of course,” she said. “Golariel says everything looks good and that he’s gonna be perfectly healthy.”

A silence fell over the table as everyone exchanged glances with one another. It was so thick that any one of them could have reached out and cut it with a knife. Lemmy’s eyes drifted over to Yennisa slowly as an indescribable joy began to bubble up within him. “He?”

Yenni nodded excitedly, her curls bobbing around her face had become much bouncier since she’d gotten pregnant. They suited her in a way Lemmy could not have imagined if he’d not seen it for himself. She was absolutely radiant. It was baffling how much he loved the woman.

“Mhm!” Yennisa chirped. “It’s a boy!”

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