5 comments/ 38047 views/ 9 favorites The Chaos Blade By: Phineas This is the third installment in the Viconia series (which is a trilogy at present but may continue to grow). My special thanks for this one goes to Kevwe, a man who would not settle for anything less then the best. Prologue She screamed. Mixed in the cry was frustration, exhilaration, pain, and victory. The child slid free of her womb, coming to rest fully in the hands of the midwife that served her. She was Kalista Risingmoon, wife of the brother of the King of the Elves. The healer chanted and a numbing coolness spread over her, soothing the fires that burned within her. The baby, a boy she noticed immediately, was toweled dry and placed in her arms. She smiled at it, elated in the absence of the pain and the pressure she had endured. The newborn baby looked around curiously, making no noise but clearly aware and healthy. "Kelnozz," Kalista whispered. "I name you Kelnozz Risingmoon, nephew to the King and son of the mightiest elven warrior Viconia has ever seen." "I see great things for the babe, Milady," a man said, coming from where he stood nearby. He, Kalista, and her husband, Myragordamar, were old friends. Now he was an advisor to the King as well as herself and Myra. "Many hardships await him, but his future will be filled with greatness if he overcomes them." Kalista frowned, she wanted no hardships for her firstborn. Nonetheless, great responsibility and great power could not be wielded without proper tempering. "Leave us please, I wish to be alone with my son." The healer looked at her, surprised at her proclamation. He bowed his head respectfully and gathered up his religious items, leaving the room on the heels of the midwife and her assistant. Narellin waited until they left then looked upon mother and son a final time. He nodded and smiled at her. She knew what to do. Narellin had only just returned to his offices when his assistant gestured to him anxiously. Smiling, Narellin pulled him aside and inquired as to what had him so exasperated. "Milord, General Myragordamar has returned! You wanted to be notified when he arrived. His armies rode through the gate an hour ago." Narellin's dark skin paled as he pondered the news. Finally he smiled and thanked the man, then dismissed him. He turned and rapidly strode out of the room heading towards the gate of the palace to find his long time friend. News at the gate was of the worst sort for him. He turned rapidly, the messenger already forgotten, and headed briskly towards Kalista's chamber again. He reached up to rap on the door when he heard the angry voice of Myragordamar from within. "My own wife, betraying her kind! What right do you have to this dishonor?" Myragordamar shouted, his muffled voice easily carrying to Narellin. Narellin pushed open the door and stepped in. He and Myragordamar had known each other since boyhood, centuries long past, and together had met Kalista. It had been an obvious and instant matching in the partnering of Myragordamar and Kalista, her sorcery augmenting his unmatched prowess with a blade in battle. Off the field of battle they supported each other as well, quickly falling in love and letting the natural tide of things carry them away. "Peace my friends, what troubles you?" Narellin said, forcing a calm mien. Myragordamar turned to face him, his expression livid. "You! Do you know of this? I return early to find my wife performing dark rites upon my newborn son! She would turn him into one of the forsaken ones that have turned away from the glory and the brotherhood we have!" Narellin shook his head and looked at Kalista briefly, meeting her pain filled eyes. He blinked once, and she nodded, knowing the course that they must take. Narellin turned back to Myragordamar and shook his head again, feigning surprise. "I knew nothing of the sort! Are you sure of this? How did the campaign go?" Narellin tried to change the subject long enough for he or Kalista to come up with a possible justification. The elven general shook his head and looked away out a window over the graceful arches of the palace and the city below. He stared out the window for a long moment before he answered. "The battle went well, if you can call brother slaying brother a good thing. I have battled all things this world can offer, from demons to dragons, yet none leaves the wound in my soul that slaying my kin has done to me. I fear that even should those who have turned to the darker ways be destroyed or return to us, the damage done to many of us is to great to recover from." "As for her," Myra gestured towards the woman who was wrapped only in sheets and clutching his son on the bed. "Do not forget that whenever one who has been corrupted is found, I am the judge and executioner. From having seen the foulness of their magic countless times I am forever stained. I can not forget, no matter how long I may yet live. Do not doubt what my eyes have seen, Narellin, you know me to well for that." Narellin nodded. He understood all to well the lure of power that the dark ways promised. He was a wizard, a master of the arcane arts, the very manifestation of power that the rebels sought."I had but one thing to look forward to when I returned... the love of my good wife and the hope that I would arrive in time to witness the birth of my son," he continued. "But what do I find? My son is born and she is consecrating him to the dark powers that the traitors have turned too!" Myragordamar turned to her and glared at her. "How long has it been? How long have you played me the fool? How many lives have been lost because you knew my heart and my strategies I would take into battle?" She shook her head, tears glistening on her cheeks. Kelnozz was cradled tightly against her breast. The baby stared alternately at the sources of noise, trying to reach it's first bit of understanding. "I know this much, I interrupted your dark rites and will spare the child because of it. Your treachery can not be forgiven, however much I wish it otherwise." Myra strode forward to her bed and pulled Kelnozz from her, prying the hands of the woman who had become a stranger to him from the child. Kelnozz still did not cry out, but instead watched the events unfolding about him. "Narellin, my oldest and truest friend, take the child please. Make it well and see it gets a proper nursemaid." "What will you do, Myra?" Kalista moved back and forth on her bed, her eyes wildly jumping from one man to the other and then to her son. The sheets, forgotten, fell about her, entangling her. "The King's law states that any who practices the dark rights is guilty of treachery and must be slain." Myragordamar said, his voice flat and emotionless. "You would murder your own wife?" Kalista said, staring at him. She knew the penalty for her actions, but the consequences had seemed so unreal. "My wife has already been murdered by the insurgents that spread the poison and lies of the dark ways. I do not know who you are," he stated just as flatly. The tears stopped flowing from her eyes then. She nodded slowly, resigned to her fate. "Treat your son well then, Myra, for he has a powerful fate before him." Myragordamar looked out the window again, clearly upset at the choice forced upon him. It was more then just the King's law, it was his own as well. "Myra, I have a suggestion." The elven general turned to the wizard, a brief glimpse of hope crossing his features. "Speak, Narellin, this moment is very bitter to me and I would have light words to sweeten it." "If it is as you say, that your wife was assassinated long ago, then this women who is before you is no threat. Send her away, exile her to a secret place where she may do no harm and no harm will come to her. Your wife was beloved by the people, let them mourn her loss and let them celebrate and cherish her...your son." Both husband and wife looked to the wizard, Myra with his face tight with controlled emotion, Kalista with a stunned expression. Finally Myragordamar nodded, his decision reached. "Go, Narellin, take my son from here. See to it that my personal guard is sent, I have a long journey ahead of me," the elven champion said. Narellin bowed his head slightly and whisked Kelnozz out of the room, taking the newborn with him to his own chambers. On the way he sent word that Kelnozz's personal guard were to attend him in his wife's chambers, for something fell was amiss. Back in his own offices he locked himself in his room and stared down at the babe in his arms. "It's too late to finish the spell your mother began, child, but let me see if there is anything I can do to prepare you for your future," he said, smiling triumphantly. "Perhaps some day, when you are grown and see the natural way of things, we can go and find whatever prison your father places your mother in and free her. Oh, and don't worry about your father, he'll be dealt with soon enough." Narellin talked quietly, for his own benefit more then child's since Kelnozz was far to young to remember or understand the words. Narellin then began chanting, invoking his magic to determine what he might yet do to the babe. Freshly born but strangely quiet and complacent, Kelnozz chose this time to begin to cry. He kicked out and thrashed his arms as best as his infant muscles would let him, visibly and aurally upset at the magic being gathered about him. Chapter 1 Fresh from a battle the young woman glanced around at the strange setting she was in. It was night, but the stars and the full moon shone brightly upon the lagoon she found herself in. Tropical as well, from the feel of it and the silhouette of the palm trees surrounding the beach she was on. Yamara glanced down at herself. She was a mess. She had no idea how many months or years it had been since she had taken a proper bath. She had always maintained her hygiene as best she was able, but the thought of a quick swim in the nearby water had her warming up inside. Never mind how vulnerable it might leave her, at that moment she did not care. She needed to wash away the stains under her fingernails and under her skin one way or another. Yamara's armor and clothing was dirty and in need of mending. Her situation was not one that offered such amenities, however, so instead she simply let it fall to the sand unceremoniously. She stood naked on the unknown beach and wondered if she should have felt at least a small amount of trepidation. She shrugged for the benefit of no one other then herself. She was to drained to care what might come after her. Yamara looked out over the lagoon. The faint light from the cloudless sky painted a faint picture of two islands, one closer and the other further out, but both fairly sizeable. She held no illusions as to her ability to swim out to one of the islands. Even the closer one was several hundred yards distant and she had never been that strong of a swimmer. Instead she walked forward until the water lapped over her feet. It was warm and refreshing. She found myself sighing softly as she let some of the tensions that had been building up inside of her since my bath flow out of her. She glanced around. It appeared she was the only one in the grotto. Such a beautiful and peaceful place yet she was the only one in it. She shook her head and chuckled. As far as she knew she was the only one on this entire world. A ridiculous thought, but she entertained it anyhow. Another glance around, wondering if maybe there was somebody hidden spying on her naked body profiled by the moonlight against the darkness. Her modesty was normally nothing so much as a lack thereof, however. Still, she felt a race of excitement at being so exposed in the strange environment. She shook it out of her head and waded into the water, letting the warm waters coax her further and further from shore. Before she knew it, she was swimming. Powerful strokes that seemed to renew her instead of draining her. The water was salty, but not nearly as much as she had expected it to be. Her buoyancy in it helped keep her arms from tiring, but she soon started fearing she would get herself lost in the near dark. She swam in place, treading water so she could get her bearings. She glanced around and saw how much closer the island was. Glancing back she did a double take to realize she was at least half the distance to that island. She took a quick stock of her endurance and decided that she had more then enough. She swam on. Before she knew it her hands dug into the sandy bottom. She put her feet down and walked out of the surf, breathing hard but feeling alive. She stood on the sandy beech of the island and marveled at the distance from the shore of the land that she had swam out from. She could have grown concerned about that, but she was beyond caring at that point. She had no idea where she was and no idea where she was headed. Yet, in spite of that, Yamara knew where she needed to go. Without weapons, clothing, or armor, she walked silently forward on the pads of her feet into the trees. Her path, as always, lay ahead of her. She climbed higher and higher on the small island, always going up when a choice presented itself. The light had long since faded behind me but she somehow knew where to step and what not to walk into. Soon she crested the top of a rock and looked around, knowing she could go no higher. She was on a rocky crest overlooking the grotto. The other island was still nearly twice the distance from her as the shore with her worldly possessions on it, and she was more then a little relieved to feel no urge to head there. She settled down on the broad expanse of what felt and looked like weather-beaten rock, sitting in a thoughtful pose and staring into the blackness of the water below. She fell so deep into her thoughts and memories that she lost track of not only time, but also her whereabouts. She was reliving those final moments again, tears of sadness leaving wet trails down her cheeks. Gone this time was the unrelenting guilt. In its place was only sadness but also a feeling of acceptance. Brina had forgiven her. Brina had confessed herself to her. They had truly understood one another at the last, and as she thought about it, had another fate awaited them there was no telling how messed up things might have become between them. Then she noticed for the first time the light below her. A single light, glowing softly but steadily, was moving through the trees. She watched intently, feeling certain that it was no threat. She was merely curious. Something made her feel safe in a way that nothing else had ever done. She felt that it was bad for her simply because her senses would grow dulled if she spent to long there. She heard a woman curse then. It was distant and she could not pick out the words, but the tone left no question as to the gender. She smiled softly and rubbed the tears away from her cheeks. The light moved closer and she had to reposition myself on the edge of her overlook to see it. She was on her hands and knees looking down the thirty feet that was the rock face on that side when suddenly the light changed directions. It started coming straight up towards her. Yamara's mouth fell open in surprise. The woman rose out of the trees with nothing to propel her and no means of control. A ball of glowing light was held in her open palm, her other hand was at her side. Her feet were as bare as Yamara's, but she wore a loose shirt made of blue silk that fell loosely about her and clung to her curves. Crimson lace about the deeply plunging neckline and the sides completed the shirt, and matched the crimson trim on the black skirts that fell to her ankle. Her hair was as black as her skirt and shimmered in the light. Yamara's gasp of surprise changed direction then. She was still surprised by the strange woman's magical ascent, but now she was gasping at her beauty. Her wavy black hair framed her nicely tanned face and fell to her shoulders. She smiled at Yamara and stepped forward when she was at her level, putting her feet on the rock and letting her spell dissipate. "Hi, I'm Alesha," she said, offering Yamara no chance to recover. Her hand was extended. Yamara climbed to her feet quickly and shook her hand, forgetting completely about herself. Alesha's eyes wandering over Yamara's body, examining her in a way that left her feeling vulnerable and mildly turned on at the same time. She blushed slightly under her scrutiny in spite of herself. "I'm sorry, I've just been alone here for a very long time," she said, noticing Yamara's slight discomfort. Yamara waved it away and asked, "I was up her looking for some peace and quiet, is there anything I can do for you?" "Oh, you were? I'm sorry," Alesha said, looking disappointed. "Wait a minute, you've been alone for a long time? How long?" Alesha's expression brightened slightly in the pale moonlight. "Many years," she said. "A great many years." Yamara filed her answer away, ready to think about it later. Then her curiosity get the better of her. "With your magic you can leave this island, can't you? Why make a hermit of yourself." Alesha smiled sadly. "You have no idea, do you? How did you come here?" Yamara shook her head, a tinge of sadness dulling the edge of her curiosity. "Sorry, none of my business I guess," Alesha responded. "To answer your question, this world is dead. I am the only person that lives here. I was imprisoned her a long time ago, that is why I am lonely." "An entire world with no people on it? No humans, elves, dwarves, or anything else?" Alesha nodded. Yamara took a deep breath and tried to decide if that was for the best or not. She would be safe from any of the calamities that seemed to befall her around other people, at least. Still, as much as a loner as she was, she was not sure she could survive without others. "You did not come here of your own volition then?" Alesha tried again, hoping to break through Yamara's defensive mask. Yamara was having none of it. "Imprisoned, you say?" she asked, Alesha's earlier words suddenly flashing back to her and saving her from reliving her own memories so soon. Alesha gave her a shrewd look, her smile fading for a second. Then she laughed rather harshly. "Alright, fair enough. Why should you tell me anything if you don't know anything about me. Have a seat and let's do this then." Alesha sat down on the rock beside her, pulling her skirt up to avoid tearing or snagging it. Yamara watched her and noticed her very faded and worn her clothing was. She was mildly irritated at how she had invited herself to her private moment. Then Yamara let out her pent up breath and sat down facing her, ankles crossed in front of her and her knees on the ground. Yamara made no move to cover myself, trying instead to make Alesha uncomfortable with herself exposed to her so openly. Alesha's smile and wink instead served only to infuriate her. "So talk," Yamara said gruffly. If she had offended her she showed no notice of it. "This world is my prison," she explained. "I was put here because this is the only safe place for me, short of killing me. I was a bad girl." Given how she had found Yamara directly in her hidden spot and used what seemed like powerful magic to do it, Yamara was not inclined to disbelieve her. Still, she seemed harmless enough. Then again, So had Brina before she had been twisted into that hateful thing she had become. "I sold my soul to the devil," Alesha told her after a moment of introspective thought. She offered a bitter smile and followed it with, "it seemed like a good idea at the time." She had piqued Yamara's interest there, and the way in which she tried to lighten the conversation the blond woman appreciated. "How did you manage that?" she asked her. Alesha looked at her, appraising her for a moment. Finally, having made her decision, she plunged on. "I was a fool. Simple enough. I was in over my head and I wanted to help out the men I admired and even loved. The only way I could do it was to accept the candy a stranger offered me." The Chaos Blade Her analogy baffled Yamara, but the context was enough for her to reason it out. Yamara wondered at how she could have let herself get in over her head enough to take and survive the dangerous trek she claimed she had. "I'm from a boring world with a lot of technology but no real beauty or magic. Mankind has all but killed nature there, and even humans grow docile and tame in spite of trying to kill each other over stupid reasons," Alesha explained. "Humans always find stupid reasons to kill each other," Yamara offered. It was true enough. After all, she had even done her share of killing for no good reason. Yamara shivered and hoped that she had washed her hands of it. Then she gritted her teeth and vowed that she was finished with it. There were better ways to live and she owed it to myself, to Brina, and to Evart to find those ways. "I suppose they do," Alesha agreed. "But anyhow, some magic spell went wrong and summoned me from my bathtub to Viconia. The wizard ended up dead thanks to the two I mentioned, and they took me under their wing and helped me out. I had to learn how to do everything in a new world, it was scary and exhilarating. Till we got separated and one of my protectors was hurt and I had to make myself useful." Yamara nodded, it was an interesting story and other then her being helpless and useless, not terribly different from Yamara's own world-hopping. She even felt that she knew how she had gone down the "wrong" path. "So you made a deal with a demon to help your friend out?" She nodded, sighing slightly and looking out over the water of the lagoon. "Long time ago, 80 years or so now, I've lost count." Yamara's eyes widened. "80 years? That's a long time to be stuck in one place. Especially to look as young as you do." She smirked. "Yes, immortality is a blessing and a curse. Do you have any idea how boring this place can be after a while? I've done it all here: fights in the arena, served beer and food in the tavern, even spent my time in the brothel as both customer and employee. It gets boring quick when you know the walls of your prison." "Immortality?" Yamara asked carefully. Only very powerful beings that dealt in magic made claims such as that. Elves, though long lived, still had the decency to die at some point. "Yes, my gift left me untouched by age." Yamara glanced around. It seemed large and filled with places to explore, but she knew better. She nodded her head after a moment, signaling her understanding to Alesha. The raven haired beauty smiled sadly. "I haven't seen my jailer in years now either, at least 20 or 30. I wonder if he has forgotten me." Alesha's voice caught in her throat a little at the end and she looked away again. If nothing else, it fit with her story about loving the men she had journeyed with. Obviously the man or men who had imprisoned her here were one and the same. "That long, perhaps the worst has happened... perhaps he has died?" She chuckled, still looking away. Her hand brushed her face, certainly wiping tears away, before she looked back. She had a wry smile on her face. "No, he's an elf, and no ordinary one. I don't think he can be killed, at least not by anything Viconia has to offer." Viconia was clearly the world she spoke of. Another one Yamara had never heard of. And apparently the elf she spoke of was far from ordinary himself. "Even elves can die of old age, but 20 years is not so long to them." Alesha nodded. "On Viconia elves do not die of old age. I thought all elves the same, but if you know otherwise then I will take you at your word. Kelnozz was around 5000 years old when I last saw him. I hate to admit, after all this time, but I miss him still." "And without his pardon you can not leave here?" Yamara asked her. Alesha looked at her and shrugged. "I think your love is misplaced, but I am no expert in affairs of the heart." Alesha shrugged again. "So then, that is my story. You sound as though you have one to tell as well. Yamara looked at her, studying her carefully. They met each others gaze, not challenging either but also not backing down either. Yamara nodded after a long moment. "Alright, I suppose you've earned it." And so she told her. Not all of it, but enough for her to understand. From the beginning to the present, including the sordid details of her relationship with Brina. Yamara tried to shock her a few times, but to her own surprise Alesha was nonplussed by any of it. Even her meeting with Dagrazt, the Dark Lord of Malatoria, did little in the way of putting Alesha off balance. Yamara learned more about Alesha in the telling of her tale then she did when she had told Yamara hers. Yamara also learned that she had an old soul and had seen far more she had. Alesha had trafficked with great things, greater then Yamara had imagined, and she thought she had seen it all. It was only a matter of time, really. After the great disclosure they had both made, though Yamara's seemed far greater to her, they were both feeling a little open and vulnerable. Before Yamara's story was even finished Alesha was holding her hand. Shortly after, their lips were together. Thing progressed naturally then, and for the first time in a very long time, Yamara knew the pleasure of the release that only another women can give. And again and again. It was easily the next day before they returned to the beach where Yamara's clothing remained on the sand. The two girls spent much time together, becoming fast friends quickly. They both had their mood swings, but they helped one another forget about them and move on and survive in their harsh but beautiful surroundings. During one of Alesha's she again expressed her desire to escape the abandoned paradise, but did not think she had the strength alone. Leery, Yamara nevertheless asked her for details. Alesha told Yamara of her sword then. Of how with it she had managed incredible amounts of power, using the sword as an antenna or conduit to tap into the magic around her. With her sword she felt she would have power enough to escape and be able to command strength enough to be left alone wherever she chose to go. Viconia was forbidden to her, that much she knew, but other worlds existed. Other worlds where her past would be unknown. Other worlds where she could live as she wanted and be left alone. It made Yamara think of returning to Evart, but she dashed the thought quickly, such a thing was not possible. Yamara could empathize with her, all she had ever wanted was enough power to be left alone. The abandoned Eden they were in would be perfect for her except she now found she craved the occasional contact with other sentient beings. Kelnozz had told Alesha she was forbidden to leave the world without his pardon, but no such thing had happened to Yamara. Yamara had taken so much from so many people she felt it was time she gave something back. She offered to do her this favor, to retrieve her sword for her. Alesha told her then of her world and of who had it when last she knew, as well as how to find him. The rest was left to Yamara. A new quest and a new stairway in life to climb, Yamara left soon thereafter, stepping through a magical gate that Alesha opened for a brief period of time with her magic. She appeared in the dark again, though the smell of rotting garbage and the noises of the bad sections of a city assaulted her and reminded her of her childhood. She shook her head and glanced around, immediately unfamiliar with her surroundings. Even the buildings looked different to her. They were made out of small rectangular red stones that she had never seen before. Nearby was a green bin forged of steel that was the source of the worst of the smells that assailed her. She shook her head again at the oddity of it all and moved down the alley cautiously into the new world beyond. Chapter 2 All he ever asked for in life was for help in trying to prove that money alone could not make him happy. Thus far, he had failed miserably to prove that simple truth. It was a common myth middle and lower class people told each other and themselves, though deep down nearly all of them yearned for it. It had taken Eric many years of hard work to accomplish it, but now that he had enough to live his lifestyle quite comfortably, he had no intentions of ever losing it. Originally a computer geek with an athletic side and a passion for motorcycles, he had turned his knowledge of computer lore towards programming. Designing systems able to outperform those in place, Eric's software package acquired first a single state contract, then others followed as soon as they were able to do so. The purpose of the software was running the lottery games for the states that were his customers. Now, some 7 years into it, Gamers, Inc. possessed 39 state lottery contracts and was looked at very favorably by the remaining 11 when their current contracts ran out. Even other countries around the world had expressed interest, a fact which caused more then a few ulcers to the managing staff of the other big fish in the international lottery pond. At the age of 34, Mr. Hunt could have retired if he chose. He chose instead to continue working, an ethic he instilled into himself less then 10 years past, but one that had served him well. It was this work ethic applied in other areas that kept him in top shape, regularly playing tennis and hockey, as well as lifting weights and eating healthy. Perhaps his greatest accomplishment, were any to ask him, was that he had managed to remain single throughout his life, in spite of a couple of close run-ins with ring-crazy women. Speaking of crazy women, he glanced over at the one lying beside him. After a particularly fulfilling bout of totally raunchy and obscene sexual acts, they had collapsed on the bed. Eric thought that the girl had dozed off, but he was not sure. His own mind had wandered, going over everything from the upcoming roller hockey game his team was supposed to play in a few days to the board meeting he had planned early next week at work. Now he took a chance to admire the woman laying beside him. They had met at a club, one of the many he occasionally frequented when he was in the mood for some companionship. Neither one showed any interest in the dance floor, instead she merely slid into the seat across the table from him and looked at him challengingly. Eric had been surprised at her audacity. Then, meeting her gaze, he had been more surprised at how she radiated raw sensuality. It was only a matter of time then. She showed no interest for the usual fencing match that most women played when it came to finding a bed partner. Instead she took the offensive and before he knew it, they were back at his place. Now her short blond hair was tussled by their lovemaking. Her eyes were closed and her mouth opened a slight bit as she breathed regularly. Taller then most women at 5 and a half feet, her green eyes had pierced him earlier that night with an intensity that had surprised him. He guessed her at being in her early to mid 20's by appearances, but after having spent some time with her, he suspected she was older then he had first guessed. Nonetheless, her skin was soft and smooth and nicely rounded. Being a reasonably charming and attractive man himself when he put his mind to it, Eric had dated better looking women, but there was something about this one that attracted him to her. 'C' cup breasts and a waist that was perhaps 30 inches, he had to remind himself to keep this one at a distance. As much as he felt himself drawn to her, he felt something was strange about her other then her accent (which he was unable to place). He had learned years ago to trust his instinct. It was years ago indeed that a great many things had changed for him. He had met first two men that had claimed to come from another world. One a mountain of a man named Garrick who possessed the strength and ability to do things that Eric was reasonably certain were impossible. The other was a very tall black man by the name of Kelnozz, who was no slouch when it came to muscle tone either. Both seemed largely ignorant of technology, and to back up their stories they wielded medieval weapons with a proficiency that Eric was certain no one else on the Earth could match. Garrick had claimed to be a former God of the world they insisted they had come from and Kelnozz a dark elf. Eric had gone with them on their mission, being their transportation and guide to America. They had quickly learned the English language and had even taught him a bit of theirs, though both claimed skill in many languages native to their world, Viconia. More importantly, they had taught Eric some great lessons about being a warrior. Not merely a sword or gun wielding soldier, but a person who did whatever was necessary to succeed in life. Being a warrior had only a little to do with being armed and taking the life of another. Instead it had to do with having the desire and the ability to fight for what was necessary. In what seemed a short time they had accomplished their goal, which was to capture an ungodly beautiful woman that had come from their world to Earth in an effort to raise an army of followers and conquer not only the Earth, but also to return and rule Viconia. As part of the terms of her capture, she had been forced to release her followers from the magical thralldom in which she held many of them. Magic, on Earth. Had Eric not seen it with his own eyes and felt its effects he would never believed it. The thoughts of Alesha still haunted his dreams. Nightmares really, the eroticism of some of them frightened him anymore, for they always ended in death and worse. But triumph they had. In addition to the occasional training sessions Garrick or Kelnozz gave Eric, they also gave him Alesha's sword. The sword was priceless in and of itself. The crosspiece was made of ornately carved ivory and trimmed with a metal that Kelnozz had told him was mithril. Having no idea what mithril was beyond that in popular Tolkien fiction, Eric just shrugged and accepted the explanation. The blade was black, though not merely a fire tempered black iron, but made from some metal that he had never seen before. It shined brightly whenever light hit it, yet when you stared into the blade it seemed as if you were looking into a void. A fuller ran along the length of it, adding rigidity and allowing it to be withdrawn from a body with greater ease. The final thing of interest about the short sword was the leather hide that was wrapped about the ivory hilt. Eric had never seen it's like before, and Kelnozz had assured him it was griffin hide. He had accepted it as well as anything he had encountered then, for the thought of a giant beast with the body of a lion and the wings and head of an eagle were no stranger then anything else he had seen at the time. Kelnozz had also claimed it was a very powerful magical weapon, and that he should take care with it. Other then going through katas with the sword, Eric had never found any use for it, save as a beautiful decoration piece. According to his one time companions, many beings were trapped within the sword, including a powerful demon that Eric had seen them banish. Sometimes he caught himself daydreaming, wondering if any of that had really happened or if he was really crazy and had dreamed it up. He knew such was not the case deep down in his bones, but that did not stop him from wondering. Picturing Alesha, the self appointed high priestess of the cult they had put an end to, Eric felt himself growing aroused again. The woman possessed a dark beauty that was so intense he felt as though he would cut himself upon her. Well toned but not overly muscular, she had nonetheless impressed upon him in the very short time he had seen her that her strength was not to be underestimated. Of course, her strength was the least of her weapons. Trained to a level of expertise with the sword he now owned by Kelnozz himself before she had been seduced by evil forces and coerced into abandoning the dark elf, she was almost as deadly with a blade as Kelnozz or Garrick. But even worse was her magic. She possessed incredible powers, seemingly able to shape the forces of nature and magic around her as she wished. Smiling ruefully, Eric imagined her most dangerous weapon of all was her simple beauty, able to enslave men by their hormones with a simple smile or flash of her skin. Eric rolled over then looked back at the woman sharing his bed that night. Yes, definitely a keeper for a sportsman that wanted to keep what he caught. Eric regretted having to tell the girl in the morning that a relationship between them was not to be. The things she had done in bed that night had truly blown him away, both literally and figuratively. He had never known anyone more skilled, though he suspected Alesha might have given her a run for her money. Another thing that he found strangely unique and captivating about her was her name, Yamara. Eric's eyes trailed down her body in the dim light let in by the large windows that made up one of the walls in his bedroom. He had run into her at a popular nightclub. At first he had dismissed how quickly they had hooked up as mere coincidence and perhaps his own charisma, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to him like she was the aggressor. In the few hours he had known her, he had yet to see her with the benefit of a full light. Still, he suspected perhaps that was for the best. Dim lighting and beer goggles, both helped men and women alike in their nocturnal pursuits of companionship. Not as voluptuous as he would have preferred, she was nonetheless endowed correctly and in all the places that it mattered. Eric's hand reached out and gently slid along the curve of her thigh and along her trim belly. She woke instantly, her eyes focusing on him with an uncanny alertness. His hand stopped and he was about to withdraw it when she smiled faintly at him and glanced down to see his hardness. Her smile grew then and she rolled towards him onto her side. Unlike him, she possessed a single item of clothing still, a thin silver chain about her neck upon which hung a good sized ruby shaped like a teardrop. Eric opened his mouth to say something but she stopped him from talking by placing her fingers over his lips. Her piercing green eyes bored into his, a twinkle of amusement in them. She slid down the bed then, pulling her fingers away from his mouth and lightly scraping her nails across his chest. All to soon and not soon enough she arrived at her destination. Eric felt her hot breath blowing lightly across his manhood, teasing him to greater heights. Then her soft lips brushed against him, just rubbing along his length lightly. Eric groaned. He did not know what it was about this woman, it had been years since he had been as active in a single night as what she had coaxed out of him, yet here she was again driving him to a pleasant distraction. Her lips sank lower, kissing lightly now along the base of his shaft and then the fleshy pouch below that housed his sensitive and overworked balls. He sucked in his breath as her mouth opened and her tongue began to lightly lick him. A little suction from her mouth and Eric found himself clenching the sheets with his hands. He wanted desperately to drive himself into her mouth, but even more he wanted her to continue the delightful torture. Yamara licked all the way up to the tip of his cock then, a string of pre-cum attaching her lips to him when she pulled away. She dropped her head back to him and swirled her tongue around his head, agonizing Eric further. Then, in a moment of rapture for him, she sunk his titanium phallus into her mouth until the tip of it bumped against the back of her throat. Fighting the natural urge, she swallowed repeatedly to further stimulate him. Eric groaned and felt his hips unconsciously buck up at her. She looked up at him and smiled around the raging cock in her mouth, with over an inch and a half of him still not covered by her hot lips. The Chaos Blade Then just as suddenly, she pulled away from him. Eric gasped at the cool air and looked down at her. She had retreated further down, licking at his sack again. She forced his legs apart and lay between them, worshipping his crotch with her tongue. Then Yamara sank down even further, her tongue licking a teasing trail behind his sack towards his ass. Eric's breath caught in his throat as she flicked her tongue against his rectum, spiking his already aching libido into overdrive. He moaned lightly and noticed that his muscles in his body had been clenched tightly enough that he had begun to shake lightly. Yamara's hand lightly slipped up and down his shaft, milking the pre-cum out of it while her tongue continued to tease his asshole in a way that Eric could never remember any other girl doing. Sure, he had seen it in porno's and read about it, but he never expected to meet a woman willing to actually have a go at it. He had done it once or twice to ex-girlfriends himself, and they certainly seemed to enjoy it, but the favor had never been returned nor did he really think much of anything about it. Then it was over. She slipped back up and greedily sucked his cock into her mouth. Eric tried to form words but only managed to grunt on his first try. Before he could try any more one of her hands found its way up to his mouth and two of her fingers slipped inside, distracting him with its unspoken request. A prisoner in his own bed, he went along and focused what few still functioning brain cells he had on devoting proper attention to her fingers. Down below Yamara continued to sink her head up and down on his penis, bottoming out on every plunge with his cock grounding out against the back of her throat. Yamara stopped pistoning her head then and Eric realized that his hips had been thrusting up at her mouth in time. One of her hands, the one not in his mouth, wrapped around the base of his cock and actually encouraged his behavior. He doubled his efforts, driving his cock into her mouth in an effort to sate the incredible lust he was feeling. For all intents and purposes the rest of the world had ceased to exist, all that mattered was Eric fucking Yamara's mouth. He was almost there then. He could feel the gripping sensation down in his balls and knew that with a little bit more effort he would succeed. A tiny part of consciousness remained that told him to warn her of his impending explosion, but when her hand slipped away from his cock and began to fondle his balls the last resistance he had to animalistic behavior left him. Just to be safe, her fingers slipped out of his mouth and her hand cupped itself over his mouth to prevent him from speaking anything more then a mumble - not that he had the presence of mind to do that anyhow! Eric's loins clenched and unclenched, driving orgasmic shivers through him as the process began. He grunted behind Yamara's hand as his semen rushed through his cock and into her mouth with powerful splashes. His hips continued to thrust into her mouth and his cock continued to bottom out against the back of her throat on each thrust throughout, but the tight seal she maintained around him prevented any of his seed from escaping. Eric felt certain that he had never came so much or so hard in his life, and the slightly swelled look on Yamara's cheeks seemed to confirm the fact. He finally collapsed back on the bed, his muscles exhausted and spent. Yamara continued to suckle at his cock, sending oversensitive shivers through him. She swirled his sperm around his cock, refusing to relinquish her seal. Eric would have chuckled if he had the strength to do so. Then the strength came to him. All of a sudden something seemed out of place. The light in the rim, dim as it was, seemed to dim further. A quick glance down at Yamara and Eric saw that she had noticed something as well. Nothing had changed, but yet something had. Her eyes darted around and her head pulled up off of his still hard cock, not spilling a drop in spite of the distraction. Eric rolled off the bed then, reaching under it and pulling out a pistol he kept for just such an emergency. Yamara rolled the other way, dropping into a low crouch and narrowing her eyes as she searched for the unseen threat they both sensed. They did not have to wait. Between one blink of the eyes and the next three people appeared at the far end of the room. Dressed in black clothing, they looked around the room and the one in the middle focused his gaze on the sword mounted on the wall above the head of the bed. "What the fuck do you want?" Eric asked. Yamara remained motionless, blending into the shadows so well Eric forgot for a moment she was even there. The man smiled darkly. "You have something that belongs to us, we'd like it back." The two men to either side moved out a bit, taking up flanking positions on the bed. None of them had any visible weapons, but the long black coats they wore could have easily hidden any sort of firearm. "See this?" Eric asked, holding his pistol up to get their attention. "I'm not entirely sure how you got in here, but if you want to avoid a trip to the hospital or morgue, you'll leave the same way by the time I count to three." The man chuckled softly and the his two flunkies just grinned as if Eric had told a good joke. "One!" Eric said, somehow reminded of his childhood where his parents had threatened a spanking had he not done what they wished by a three count. Unlike his parents, he had no intention of delaying the time from 2 to 3 by adding in two and a half, two and three quarters, etc.. "Two!" Their grins did not diminish any. Eric opened his mouth and let loose the final number, squeezing the trigger that he had sighted in on the apparent leader of the would be thieves. "Three!" The gun flew out of his hands then, crashing into one of the tempered windows and causing it to shatter into thousands of tiny pieces. He scowled and understood what had been bothering him. He glanced at Yamara and had to take a moment before he found her. She blended into the shadows beside the bed and the wall so well he had began to wonder if he had been abandoned. "I've dealt with your kind before," Eric spat out, standing up. "I helped banish your queen, in fact, you're no match for me!" The leader of the thugs grinned and his eyes flashed red for a brief moment. If he was hoping to distract or frighten Eric he was disappointed. Eric leapt onto the bed and grabbed the sword on the wall. He triggered a hidden button that released the catches on the mount, allowing him to wield the extremely well balanced weapon in front of him. Turning back around he saw that he was alone in the room. More then just saw, he felt that they were alone again. "Yamara!" Eric said, wondering if she was a part of it too. "I'm here," she said, moving away from the now open window where the pane of glass had shattered. Eric looked at her through narrowed eyes, had she not drawn attention to herself, he might not have seen her at all. He prided himself on being an observant and perceptive person and to not be able to see someone in the same room as him bothered him immensely. "Are you all right?" He asked, moving closer to her, the sword still in his hand. It fit his grip well, warming to his touch. He had always marveled at how natural the short sword felt in his hand and now was no exception. Yamara nodded, her arms coming up to fold across her chest in a deliberate move to try and conceal her nudity. Too deliberate, Eric thought. "Who were those people?" She asked. "I was thinking of asking you the same question," He replied. Eric came around the king sized bed and gently grabbed her arm. He pulled her over and sat her on the bed, watching her closely all the while. She went along willingly enough, but something about her attitude just did not sit right with him. "What's this about a queen you helped banish?" She asked him when he glanced at the broken window before speaking to her again. Eric stuck his head out the window, looking down at the ground seven stories below. He owned the penthouse apartment in the building. Owned the entire building, actually, a few upper level management people lived in apartments in the building, as well as a few other people who just rented. None of the non-employees knew that he owned it, of course. Somehow three men had managed to not only break into a fairly secure building, but they had also gotten past the human guards stationed on the ground floor, the stairwell, the elevator, or the roof. Not to mention they had then somehow managed to send his favorite pistol flying seven stories to a metal crunching grave below. "Damnit, I really liked that gun. Expensive getting all those modifications done to a Glock 23." He muttered quietly before turning back to Yamara. "Well dear, this queen was a self styled queen. More of a high priestess really. But you see, I have a feeling you already know this and I'm preaching to the choir." Her mouth opened to protest but he waved her silent. "Here I was thinking what a great person you were and how I was sorely tempted to break my no commitment rule and try to turn this into something other then a night of incredible sex. Rest assured love, that's not a concern I have anymore. Now my concern is what you know that I need to know and whether or not you should even walk out of here." Yamara dropped her hands to her sides in indignation. Then she realized she was naked and her hands and arms once again tried to cover herself, though this time she was even more modest, one hand dropping in her lap while the other clutched at both breasts in an attempt to conceal them. "That's a good act, Yamara," Eric admitted grudgingly. "But you're not blushing at your nudity. That and your eyes have yet to leave mine, it's quite disconcerting really. A guy could get lost in those beautiful eyes of yours, as I'm sure you well know. In spite of this assault, I can't help but still find you damned desirable." His body betrayed him and confirmed his words by causing his cock to throb partially to life at the sight of her trying demurely to cover herself. "Lights - full!" Eric cried out, stepping away from the window. The computer controlled systems he had programmed himself and installed in his penthouse kicked on, lighting up all the recessed lighting in the place. Yamara blinked hurriedly, trying to adjust her eyes to the new lighting. Her gaze shifted away from Eric then, and he found himself thinking a little more clearly as she tried to recover. Eric stood next to her and stared down at her, forgotten sword hanging from his fist at his left side. "Tell me Yamara, what should I do with you?" She looked back up at him, squinting a little in the light but otherwise recovering quickly. Eric looked at her face and noticed for the first time some odd faint patterns on her skin. He leaned closer to her and took her chin gently in his hand. He studied her skin for a bit then raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "You've got an even tougher job convincing me now then before. You've been ridden hard and put away wet I think, and more then once. Lots of old wounds and scars, but they're really hard to notice. That's either damned impressive medical work or there's a lot more to you the meets the eye." She looked up at him silently. Then her eyes glanced down at his cock, which was behaving itself rather nicely at the moment. As she glanced at it she licked her lips subconsciously. Eric narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but he could not help the thrill of excitement that caused his manhood to pulse upwards. "Stop that!" He demanded pulling her head back up towards his. Yamara's hands fell back to her sides and she looked up at him expectantly. There was a new look deep in her eyes this time though, and it was one of annoyance. Eric sat on the bed beside her and sighed. "All right, out with it, what's your story?" "Aren't you worried they might come back?" Yamara asked, her voice no longer as sexy as it had been up until then. "Ha! Nice try! You get me worried about that and then offer a 'safe' place to take me too, then we get jumped there and they get this sword back. I don't think so toots, I'm not going anywhere with you without a lot of confirmable explaining from you." The look of annoyance passed her eyes and made its way onto her face this time. "I don't know this place very well at all, so anyplace 'safe' you want to go is entirely up to you. Just seems stupid to me to stick around in a place where the security has already been breached." Eric eyed her suspiciously then glanced away at the sword still in his hand. She was on his right and the sword in his left hand. He raised it up and looked at its blade, wondering if he really was staring into infinity within the blade or if it was merely an illusion. "Why do they want that sword?" Yamara asked after a moment. Eric started, realizing he had started to zone out. "Magic," he muttered, half expecting her to scoff and half expecting her to jump at the confirmation and try to wrestle it from him. "It belonged to Alesha, their high priestess. She supposedly captured a lot of souls in it, souls which are still trapped in it, including a powerful demon that she made serve her." She nodded, accepting what he said without any complaint or derision. "Ten years ago we - that is Kelnozz, Garrick, and I - found her group of followers and did our best to put an end to it. Unfortunately, I guess we didn't get all of them. Kelnozz defeated Alesha while Garrick took care of the crowd of blood hungry worshippers, I helped wherever I could, mostly against Alesha, though I did have a nasty encounter with the demon I mentioned. I've been keeping my eyes and ears open and I guess their nasty little sex and death cult has sprung back up down in Florida. It's not growing as fast or as powerfully as it did before at least, so apparently Alesha is still under parole," Eric explained, remembering parts of the fight where Garrick was outnumbered 40 to 1 and still managed to hold his own against the crowd. His injuries from the fight against Alesha and Talifernon the demon ached in spite of the many years during which they had healed. "Were you there then or did they recruit you since then?" Eric asked snidely. He figured she would have not even been a teenager back then, but depravity knew no limits. Yamara frowned. "No, ten years ago I was being trained by a different group of evil men, sorry to disappoint you." "Ah ha!" Eric said. "So you admit to coming her with a nasty purpose in mind then!" Yamara sighed. This seemed like a simple assignment in the beginning. Find this Eric Hunt and get into his penthouse so she could steal the sword. She had opted to use her feminine wiles to get there and had found that the men on Earth were a far cry better in bed from the ones on the worlds she had visited, or at least Eric was. She had planned on giving him nothing but good treatment for all the pleasure and simple courtesy and respect she had received, but now he was pushing things the wrong way and getting on her nerves. "Look, I have had nothing to do with these cultists you're talking about. I've only seen about 23 summers, so that would put me pretty young to be a full fledged raving zealot, don't you think?" She spat out, looking directly into his eyes. Eric grunted and glanced at his alarm clock. 4:30 on a Saturday morning. 23 summers was an awfully odd way to tell your age. There was definitely something odd about her. "Explain the scars." Yamara's gaze dropped for a moment, then she looked back up. "Like I said, I was trained by evil men. You make a mistake, they punish you." "Then why are they only visible if I look really close?" Eric asked. "I have plenty of scars and their fairly obvious. There's the surgery marks in my leg from a bad jump over Iraq, there's the bullet hole in my right calf, there's the shrapnel mark on my chest and above my left temple, there's the knife cut on my arm, there's countless childhood incidents - one involving a chain saw... they all show up pretty clearly, don't you think?" "As much as they feel pain helps instruct, injury hinders. They always had me ready for another lesson the very next day," Yamara said, clearly not wanting to discuss it. "So you've been trained, eh? Trained to do what and by whom? Lots of evil men in the world, babe. Most of them, in fact." "Lots of things. It's not important really. Look Eric, I'm sorry about what's happening to you, you clearly don't trust me anymore and I assure you that I was genuinely interested in you. Things are not working out as I had hoped they would though, so it's up to you as to what you want to do. Either let me go or figure something out, perhaps it's not to late. Like I said, I'm far from helpless, if you want my help, perhaps we can figure something out if the offer interests me enough." Eric chuckled. "That's a good one. I try to be open minded but it's the middle of the night and in spite of how great the night started, it's taken a turn for the worse. Really down the shitter, in fact. What say I just decide you're against me and I would be better off ramming this pig-sticker in your gut?" Eric stood up and faced Yamara directly, his sword held threateningly between them so that with a thrust he could make good on his threat. Yamara glanced at the blade and then again at his manhood briefly before looking up at his face. Her expression was extremely calm. So calm it unnerved him a little. "You could try, but you would not do it," she said. "And why is that? Hon, from where I'm standing, aside from the fact that you're a great lay, I have known nothing but trouble since meeting you!" Eric said. "I misspoke myself. You could try but you would not be able to do it." Eric laughed sharply. "I'd happily fuck the brains out of you the rest of my life, my dear, but I'd just as happily simplify my life and not have to worry about you sneaking up on me." "Then try," Yamara looked almost bored. Almost. He could tell that her stance had changed ever so slightly. She was poised now, in spite of looking casual. Eric was a veteran of more then just the campaign with Kelnozz and Garrick, he had also served for six years as a United States Air Force para-rescue trooper, which was one of the more secretive special forces branches out there. Para-rescue was used for recovery instead of surgical strikes though, but they still saw plenty of classified action. Eric was debating doing that very thing when that tickle on the back of his neck kicked in again. He looked over and there were all three of the bad guys that had shown up earlier, once again standing a few feet away from the foot of the bed. He turned and dropped into a crouch to center his balance. "Enough of this shit, if you fuckers want this, come and get it!" Eric roared, charging at the three of them. He aimed for the man on the left, who was the closest to him. His only thought as he charged was that maybe he should have put some pants on. Eric veered to the right and engaged the man in the middle a second before the guy on his left would have met him. This threw the man on his left off, allowing him to slip past him and lunge at the leader. The leader parried the blade to the side with a saber that he pulled out from somewhere within his coat. The man on his right drew a wicked looking dagger and moved to try and get behind Eric then, being careful of the king sized bed. "Lights - off!" Eric cried out, dodging a thrust from the saber and trying to get his back to a wall. The room was plunged in darkness then, giving Eric what he thought was the advantage of knowing where everything was. He heard a grunt and more glass breaking, then felt something tug at his right arm above the elbow. He slid away from it to his left and lashed out with his sword, feeling it bite into something. The hiss of pain he was rewarded with let him know that he had scored a hit.