The Alfar trudged across the open fields, just to the side of King’s Road. The heat of the God-sun summer beat its warm fury down upon us, creating one of the most beautiful days I’ve ever seen. While regimented and disciplined, the fey folk didn’t march, they strolled in unison, talking in their beautiful, lilting language, singing and humming.

At the forefront, Saerwen, the queen of the mercenary band, in her ethereal beauty, her leaf-scale armor glinting in the light, casually walked, fearless. She walked proudly and powerfully, a regal posture to her gait. All the Alfar had that aura of power and nobility. Watching the sway of her lithe hips evoked the memory of our midnight meeting.

After sexually exhausting Aruemondo, I went through the Elvin camp towards the clearing Eldag had designated. Some small lights flickered, seeming to be bluish torches outlining the meeting area. As I neared the space, I was astounded to discover that they were not torches.

Blue, floating flames, magical will-o-wisps, danced slowly around the clearing. The half dozen of them cast an eerie, electric, blue glow over the scene, washing the clearing in pale cobalt. Alien-sounding, complicated music could be heard, barely above a whisper, wrapping the space with an aura of enchantment. I knew that it was the complicated, multi-layered music of the Alfar although I couldn’t discern the source.

As astounding as true magic made manifest was, the scene in the middle of the small clearing gave me pause. Saerwen reclined in the middle, her legs spread, bent at the knees. Her back was arched, her head thrown back in the ecstasy of sexual pleasure, her body resting on her elbows. I could hear her moans and sing-song voice, speaking softly to her lover.

Between her legs, lying upon his stomach on the forest floor, was a man, a human man, a silken-clad human man. It was Eldag. His lute leaned against the bole of a nearby tree, his hands quickly running up and down Saerwen’s spread thighs. The minstrel’s head was weaving up and down as he sexually serviced her elfin slit with his tongue. At least he wasn’t talking annoyingly.

Feeling my Untamed lust well up, I watched, half wanting to join and half not wanting to interrupt. Her head turned to me, a look of divine passion upon her face. Her smile was both beautiful and devilish as our eyes met.

“Lá sanomë empollië, sillë” she moaned out. “Yes, there, faster, like this.”

As her body convulsed, her hands grabbed Eldag’s head, holding it in place as she thrust her mound into his mouth. Her hips humped and pumped over his face; her back arched then straightened as the throes of a powerful orgasm consumed her.

Mesmerized, I watched, enthralled, barely noting my sex juices running down my scorching thighs. Her orgasm eventually subsided, she mouthing unintelligible Alfarian words.

“That’s why we call him ‘Silver tongue’,” Saerwen laughed to me. “Come, sit. We have much to discuss.”

“I can come back,” I responded. “Sometime when you aren’t involved in romance.”

“Romance is for children and stories, this is just pleasure.” She glanced towards Eldag. “Begone.”

“I knew you were real Kyrie when you blurred in your trance.”

“I did what?”

“Your magic,” she gestured at the lights dancing around us. “Your magic made you so quick that you became a blur. As I said, combat reveals the truth. Sit, let us plan.”

I sat. We planned.

I agreed to accompany the small army of Alfarian warriors on their journey to meet the true Empress, Cintra, despite wanting to head directly to Valencia to seek vengeance upon Maelorn, who ruled while wearing the outer guise of Cintra.

In the company of elves, the Alfar, I had no need to remain hidden. While they called themselves mercenaries, they didn’t merely fight for coin. A score of Great Turns ago, long before I was born in the heat of the red sun, King Rodrick had sent troops to aid the Alfar, risking war with Fieldmarch by moving troops through the neighboring kingdom to support the fey in Valalfar. Their war-forged alliance had not been forgotten.

Numbering in the middle hundreds, worth several thousand human warriors, the Alfar marched towards the forests where Cintra and her band of rebels were secreted. Despite having no horses, Thunder Hoof cantering beside me, Eldag’s mare being dragged along with him, we made good speed.

One of the Alfar, a scout riding in a cart pulled by Aruemondo, his eyes glazed over into almond-shaped, white slits, came alert and jumped off the cart.

“Anglenna-firen gwaith,” he shouted.

Without a word, no panic seen among them, only faint smiles, the majority of the Alfar just disappeared. They pulled up the hoods of their cloaks and simply faded away into nothingness. It was more magic, invisibility.

Saerwen looked at me. “Mortal men army approaching. Maybe time to dance.”

Scanning the horizon, I saw nothing. The remaining few dozen continued nonchalantly walking. Eldag tied his horse’s reins to his belt and began playing his Lute.

“Across the plain lands we sang, we marched,

Filled with heroics, bellies full, not parched.

The Reavers doth come to slay elf and Kyrie,

Not knowing their strength and their bravery…”

As he played, I began to feel different; a tingling sensation ran through my body, invigorating me. My trepidation over the unseen foes disappeared from my mind. Any fear or nervousness was replaced by self-assured courage, me firmly believing that I was up to any task that may befall. The few, seen elves also seemed to stand straighter, to walk with more confidence.

“Bard make magic. Mondo like,” my hugely-endowed friend said.

“Pengron manwa,” Saerwen commanded as she stopped walking. The rest of the troop ground to a halt, standing at ease.

Finally, I could see them drawing near, coming up fast as they crested a hill. There must have been more than a thousand of them, having marched across the kingdom to intersect us. Footmen, spearmen, cavalry, and a contingent armed with crossbows came into view, headed directly towards us. Eldag continued playing, interposing his mare between himself and the oncoming army.

“The bulk of the main army,“ the young Alfar maiden beside me said. “This should be fun.”

Unbidden, my untamed sexual fury enveloped my essence. I could feel the heat burning my inner thighs, the tingling in my clit and nipples. My heart beat faster, not in fear, but with the impassioned joy of physical, lusty fury.

A quintet of riders broke off from the main force and sped towards us. We watched their approach as time slowed. The massive opposing army spread out, nearly spanning the horizon.

“Mondo take shiny man’s head and use helmet for teacup.”

I heard elvish snickering around me. While not known for their sense of humor, the Alfar do have a keen and dry sense of amusement. While I felt confident and relaxed, the minstrel’s magical, musical spell heightening my resolve, I did not feel as confident as the Alfar.

“With the God-sun high and big, your powers should work well,” the armored female Alfar said to me.

“What?”

“The red sun makes magic,” she replied. “The bigger the sun, the more potent your magic. Yellow sun, what is word, kills magic. They come. Fun comes.”

Thundering hooves, gleaming plate armor, weapons at the ready, their leader, wearing a colorful cape that rivaled Eldag’s absurd clothing, condescendingly addressed the group as a whole. I saw the mercenary, Alfarian queen raise her right hand. Her mouth was twisted upwards in an almost-human smile.

He spoke with authority, reminding me of a fanatic convinced of his righteousness. “The Alfar are forbidden from traveling in the Empire of Valencia. Furthermore, you are harboring a wanted criminal, Kyrie the Red,” he pointed with his drawn sword.

“Surrender the fugitive, drop your weapons, go back from whence you came, and we’ll let you live.” He added an authoritarian chin-thrust and demeaning nod to his words.

Meanwhile, the vast army had spread out, blocking our passage and cutting off all escape, save for turning back. They were some yards away, out of reach but close enough that they could cut us all down with their archers. Saerwen lowered her arm with a dramatic flourish, chaos erupted.

Suddenly materializing, the main bulk of the Alfarian force appeared on both flanks of the imperial troops. The sky above the army darkened, Alfarian arrows whistling through the air. With perfect coordination, half of the elvish archers fired, reloading their bows as the other half fired. Agonizing human screams erupted; many of their ranks broke, fleeing certain death raining down upon them. In the few-second span of multiple volleys, their ranks had nearly been broken. Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the Alfarian soldiers blinked out into nothingness once more.

“Attack,” their commander screamed.

Aruemondo must have decided that the command was addressed to him. Expelling a beastly roar, he charged towards the metal-clad captain, slamming into the horse, felling both man and horse.

Splinter was reflexively in my hand, my battle-lust, the power of the Untamed Duel-dancer, taking control of my reflexes. Noting, but ignoring it in the heat of battle, I saw Thunder Hoof spring into action of his own accord. His hooves kicked and trampled foes, his muscular neck slammed others to the ground.

Though initially greatly outnumbered, the deadly aim of the Alfarian archers more than evened the odds. My stalwart, fey companions fought with courage and skill. I felt not only the all-consuming sexual fervor but also a strange enhancement that made me feel braver, more powerful, almost foolhardy.

This time, my Trance came almost automatically. For every attack any of my foes could enact, I could plan, time, ponder, and place several. My companions were making quick work of the five on horseback, only one between me and the remnants of the main army. A single chopping slash, before my opponent had even brought the point of his sword in line, left a headless body in the saddle.

With blurring speed, I raced towards the panicked soldiers, needing blood and passion to sate my lust. As I charged into them with the clashing of steel and pounding of blows, the rest of the elvish mercenaries appeared once more, amid the human soldiers. I had only slain a few before the troop was routed. The few-score survivors fled to the north. Not counting myself, only three others were wounded. I received some minor gashes and a nice bruise above my right eye, nothing to be concerned about.

“Puny humans,” Aruemondo yelled as the others reclaimed their arrows and talked among themselves.

The devastation on the battlefield was immense, reminding me of what the Soul Dancers had done to the imperial troops when they attacked our settlement. It was a massacre.

“That made our task much easier,“ one of the men said to me. He was whistling a complex, multi-layered tune as we walked.

“How so?”

“Your Valencia employs two-thousand troops in Longvale. That was more than half of them.”

“Yes,” Saerwen replied in her sensual, lilting voice. “By luring the main bulk of their army here with our spies, we’ve decimated at least one-half of their forces, instantly. Our trap worked.”

“Lured? Trap? You planned this?”

She shrugged. “Strategy wins wars, not might.”

Other than a few small patrols, who received the same fate as the army, the rest of our journey went without event. Although I couldn’t find any trace of them, the Alfar, with their keener senses, easily followed the trail to the rebel forces.

That evening, feasting upon wild game, berries, and honeyed mead, Eldag told the tale of our journeys. In flowery prose, painting himself as the brave, sexy hero, he detailed our flight from the soldiers, our disastrous sanctuary in Cruto, and the battle with the imperial army. Calling his recounting hyperbolic would have been minimizing his narcissistic exaggeration.

Cintra humbly requested my presence in her private tent. Excusing myself from my newfound comrades in arms, the Alfar and the human rebels, all of whom had their own exploits to celebrate, I made my way to her pavilion. A soft, flickering glow showed through the canvas. Nodding at the moon, noting that the equinox of the God-sun, my birthday, was near, I knocked on a fence post near the entrance.

“Enter freely.”

I did as she bade, stunned at the scene before me. Cintra, her long blond hair falling behind her, lounged in a makeshift tub of oiled and scented water, a small fire beneath it to keep the water warm. The tent was thick with the aromas of lavender and soothing herbs.

She turned her head towards me, smiling, seemingly not concerned with her nudity, enticingly accented by the distorting effect of the perfumed water. “I owe you my life, twice over; now I owe you, anew, for guiding the Alfar here to aid us in our plight.”

The recent battle had caused my inner, Untamed, lusty passion to vibrate through my entire being. It had not subsided. My breath came in a sharp gasp as she stood, the enviable bathwater running down her nude body. I was mesmerized by the sight of her nubile, buxom body, the light blond patch of hair between her legs, the swell of her breasts, the pert nipples standing out proudly in the cold night air. She was speaking, but her words to me were heard as, “sex, love, sex, pleasure, lust.” The creamy-colored water ran down her exposed flesh in rivulets, reminding me of cum dripping down her body.

Standing nude before me, my gaze riveted on a tiny mole, a true beauty mark, just on the side of her right breast, she hugged me, tearing me out of my lusty trance.

“Without you, I would be captured or slain. What can I do to show you my gratitude.”

Looking into her deep eyes, feeling her hot flash against mine, no words came to me, no boon to ask. In unison, our lips met, hers soft and gentle, mine hard and hot. The kiss escalated from gentle to impassioned, her mouth opening, sucking in my probing tongue.

Feeling her embrace grow into a lusty caress, I moaned into Cintra’s mouth as her hands grabbed and massaged my ass under my Sky-steel, armored skirt. Returning the favor, my hands kneading her supple, round behind, her breathing came in desperate pants.

Gently guiding her to the floor, one hand holding her at the neck, the other around her waist, I broke the kiss and licked my way to her full, round breasts. Her nipples, already hardened from leaving the bath, grew wrinkly and taut beneath my lips. On my knees, forcing her smooth, alabaster thighs apart, my hands roamed over her taut stomach, delighting in the wetness just beneath her blond tuft.

“Kiss me there, please,” she begged. “Be gentle, you’re my first woman.”

I gently caressed her wet folds, my mouth feasting upon her exposed flesh. From neck to navel, my mouth wandered, bestowing kisses, nibbles, and licks. The blond empress moaned softly, her pale body growing red, her blood pumping heat.

When her cunt was drenched with lust, my fingers easily snaked up and down between her engorged petals. Each time they neared her swollen, most-sensitive button, her body would quake and shudder. As I kissed my way down her writhing torso, her own hands began squeezing her nipples, rubbing her beauty mark with abandon.

Finally placing my lips over her fleshy hood, sucking it into my mouth, I let my tongue dance over her pleasure center, receiving the reward of her crying out in passion. Holding her near orgasm, I increased pace, my tongue dancing over her clit, feeling it harden and swell in my mouth.

Thrusting a finger inside of her, bending the digit to gently cress the upper wall of her soaked canal, her hips spasmed in dripping, horny fury.

“Nnnngh, aaaah, yesss,” she cried.

Cintra’s body convulsed, her spine contorting in nearly-impossible bends, her limbs flailing about, her breathing coming in hyperventilating bursts, tears coming out her eyes.

My fingers and tongue released pressure, slowing, allowing her to ride the orgasmic stampede until her breathing evened out and I could no longer feel her pulse thundering in her thighs, which were clamped around my head.

“More, again, please, I beg of you,” she whispered.

Pulling her firmly onto my mouth, my hands groping at her ass, I held her in place, locked onto my eager mouth. This time I thrust my tongue inside of her, wriggling it while I fucked her with my hot, wet, tongue. When her breathing once more grew erratic, I lunged my mouth upwards, once more finding her clit, and attacked it with all the speed and fury my untamed nature could muster.

Once more, Cintra cried out in bliss as her orgasm, more powerful and intense than her first, wrapped her in delightful rapture. I held her to me tightly until her quivering moans subsided.

“Teach me how to do that to you.” The look in her eyes was pleading, wanting, filled with lust.

Locked in a wanton embrace, her mouth emulated my prior actions. My lust took over, my mind knowing nothing but pleasure. Her hands caressed me, gently and slowly at first, building into a crescendo of needy desire.

Moaning as her teeth gently bit into my nipples, begging her to go harder and lower as she kissed her way down my body, a loud, lusty moan bubbled forth as she clamped her lips over my hot spot, just as I had done to her.

Feeling her small finger enter me, sending ripples of pleasure throughout my body, I humped back into her inserted finger, fucking her hand as her lips sped up and increased pressure over my clit. The sloshing sounds of my pussy matched my frenetic pace as my lust built momentum and turned itself into carnal release. With all the fury of a thousand battles, my entire body exploded in pleasure.

“I’m fucking cumming,” I moaned out, unable to contain myself.

My hips bucked against her face so hard I feared that I’d break her nose; my thighs pressed so hard against her that she could barely breathe. My body exploded with one orgasmic crest after another, her tongue never ceasing.

Calming down, Cintra once more in my arms, still nude, my eyes burned her actual image into my mind. She was much more sensual, beautiful, and regal than the visage on her coin depicted. We lay together in slumber until dawn.

Kissing her on her lips, wishing her well, I left her pavilion ready to mount up. The plan was that Cintra and the rebels, reinforced by the lethal Alfarian mercenaries, would attack at dawn, the day following the next full moon. My task was to facilitate their entrance through the seldom-used North Gate. I hoped I had time to infiltrate the main fortress and extol my vengeance on Maelorn before then.

“What a lovely morning, Kyrie,” Eldag said to me as I emerged from the scrub near the empress’ pavilion. He sat on the ground, his eyes sunken, face pallid, obviously recovering from too much mead. “I see you’ve sampled the royal goods. Tell me, was she better than me?”

I chuckled. “Just a minute ago, when I was peeing behind the bushes, a leaf fell and hit my twat. The leaf was better than you.”

“Most unfair. Well played, but most unfair. Where are you headed?”

“I ride to Valencia. It is time to seek Clan vengeance.”

“Would my music lighten your heart, my magic bolster your legendary courage?”

“Why not? Mount up.”

With the rising God-sun, the source of magic, casting its warmth on our right, we headed north, towards the capital city of Valencia.

“Towards vengeance and danger, brave Kyrie doth rode,

Her passions on fire, her Sky-steel cold.

Fighting and fucking, comes Kyrie the Red,

She’ll feast on your cock,

And leave you for dead.”

I reconsidered allowing the bard to accompany me.