Monster Girls 2

by Edward Lang

  Well, General Zalerno on the coast

  is probably the least conventionally powerful.

  “Why’s that?”

  He magically enslaves monster girls to fight for him,

  but his powers are not exactly reliable.

  The monster girls are in constant rebellion,

  which reduces his military might.

  And he has no magical powers

  beyond his abilities to coerce monster girls.

  Huh… that sounded good… freeing a bunch of monster girls at one time, and kicking another Imperium jackhole’s ass, to boot.

  “Anybody heard of a General Zalerno?” I asked the girls.

  “Oh, yes,” Alia grumbled.

  “Ugh,” Dyra said.

  “THAT asshole,” Zala muttered.

  Guess he was well-known, at least.

  “Any downsides to taking him on?” I asked Parch.

  We will have to pass through the Grim Mountains

  to reach his kingdom.

  “The Grim Mountains?”

  They are the primary obstacle

  between us and the coast.

  “Can we do it? I mean, we don’t have to use ropes and shit to climb them, do we?”

  No – it is just an inhospitable region.

  But there are plenty of winding paths to take.

  “Are we going to have to fight anybody else along the way?”

  Probably not.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa – what do you mean, ‘probably not’?”

  The Imperium is constantly recruiting

  new enforcers, who fight amongst themselves

  to enlarge their territories.

  The Dark Immortal encourages this.

  He wants the most powerful

  and brutal lieutenants possible,

  so long as the victors remain loyal to him.

  Which they all do, out of fear.

  Huh. I guess Darwin’s laws were alive and well on whatever plane of existence this was.

  As such, the roster of the Imperium’s warlords

  is continually changing.

  “How up-to-date is your information?”

  Relatively –

  in the last couple of months, anyway.

  I figured that would be good enough.

  “Alright, everybody in favor of going to take on General Zalerno, say ‘aye.’”

  All the women spoke up in a chorus.

  “Aye!”

  “Alright, then… tomorrow we pack up and leave.”

  “What do we do on our last night here?” Alia asked.

  “Oh, I’m sure we can think of a few things,” I said with a smile.

  The five of us didn’t even make it upstairs to the bedroom. Well, not until we went to sleep, anyway.

  Whoever took over the house after we left should definitely rename it from the ‘Dining Room’ to the ‘Orgy Room.’

  3

  We packed up the next morning, taking whatever supplies were still left.

  We also raided the armory for weapons. Half of our army upgraded to brand new shiny swords and shields. The rest got much better armor.

  It wasn’t just the armory that had weapons, either. Some of the more finely crafted pieces were on display throughout the manor. That’s how Zala got a better pair of knives – two wavy-bladed daggers called Ravagers.

  And Urt and Vurt went on a shopping spree.

  Make that a shoplifting spree.

  “Hey – hey Urt – lookit this great pair of Gut Slicers over here!”

  “That’s nothin’, Vurt – check out this primo Vorpal Blade! This thing’d decapitate a stone golem!”

  When the armory ran out of weapons, we checked with the bodies of the Baron’s fallen soldiers who had come back to life.

  Well… afterlife.

  The vast majority of them had gone back to the graveyard to take a literal dirt nap.

  “Sure, I don’t need it anymore,” they would always say when we asked for their swords or daggers. But they would usually decline when asked if they wanted to join our crusade.

  “I just died, man. I think I’m gonna enjoy it for a while… you know. Rest for a decade or two.”

  We bid them adieu, then put everything we could carry into leather saddle bags, took all the horses from the stables, and set out into the forest for Dyra’s Heart Tree.

  We must have looked pretty wacky: a lamia and an arachne on foot (or tail, in Alia’s case); a human male, dryad, and dead woman on horseback; and a small army of zombies both riding and walking.

  Good thing we didn’t have to pass by any villages, or the inhabitants would have freaked. They probably would have thought the world was coming to an end.

  We reached the Heart Tree after a couple of hours. It was an enormous oak on the edge of the swamp where we’d found Dyra enslaved by the monster hunters. It had to have been at least 70 feet tall with a trunk that was ten feet wide, with voluminous branches that shaded everything beneath.

  “Would you take off your helmet and your armor?” Dyra asked me shyly.

  “Uh, sure,” I said, stripping down to my boxers – the only bit of my original clothing I had kept from when I first arrived.

  “Actually, I need you naked.”

  “Um… okay…”

  I blushed and got butt-naked in front of the entire lich army.

  “Woo-woooo!” some of the female skeletons cried out appreciatively.

  “Lookit that package,” Vurt said, shaking his bony head where he sat on his horse. “Damn, if I could only get mine back…”

  Urt sighed in commiseration.

  Dyra slipped off her leaf bikini, letting it fall to the ground.

  I, ahem, had an entirely predictable reaction below the waist.

  “WOO-WOOOO!” the female skeletons cried out even louder.

  “GODS DAMN IT!” Vurt yelled, gesturing at my junk like a guy who’d just bought a new Mercedes to keep up with the neighbors, only to see them bring home a brand new Porsche.

  “Hey, do we get to join in this ceremony?” Alia joked.

  “Maybe the reception afterwards,” Dyra teased her.

  Just as I was getting very uncomfortable at all the attention, Dyra took my hand and led me to the tree trunk, like a green-skinned Eve leading Adam.

  “Come. This part we must do in private.”

  I wondered how we were going to do anything in private in front of a lich army numbering close to a hundred, when Dyra put her hand on the bark – and the tree suddenly opened up.

  It was a magical sight, the bark seemingly melting away to reveal a hollow space within. Dyra stepped inside and pulled me after her. As soon as we entered, the trunk sealed up behind us.

  I wondered how we would see, but Dyra’s skin began to glow a soft green like bioluminescent algae in ocean waves. I could see her clearly.

  She put her soft hands on my cheeks and began to speak in a foreign language. Now that she was no longer using English, her voice really did sound like the wind blowing through reeds and branches.

  Parch translated.

  I, Dyra, daughter of the Aerwood dryads,

  take thee, Scott, as my mate

  and new Heart Tree.

  Into thee I put my soul

  and the seedling of all that I am.

  I bind my roots with thine,

  and my branches with thine,

  that we may become one.

  “That’s beautiful,” I whispered.

  She smiled happily and produced a small knife she must have gotten from the liches.

  “Uh…”

  “It will only hurt for a second, I promise.”

  She held the knife to my chest, right over my heart, and nicked my skin about a fourth an inch deep.

  I winced at the pain – until I saw her slice her own chest several inches across her left breast.

  Suddenly I didn’t feel like I should complain anymore.

  She pried open her wound – which didn’t bleed, so much as i
t seeped light green moisture – and withdrew a smooth, tiny green shape no bigger than a kernel of unpopped popcorn.

  She placed the seed in the bleeding cut on my chest and pressed it into my flesh.

  I expected it to hurt – and was amazed that instead I felt an almost tangible feeling of joy and love emanating outwards from the tiny shape.

  Dyra’s glowing fingers traced over the bleeding cut…

  And as she wiped away the blood, the cut was magically healed. There was only the tiniest bump where the seed was beneath the surface of my skin – and there was no more pain, only the sensation of love and joy like a warmth that spread throughout my body.

  Parch suddenly appeared.

  Congratulations!

  You have completed Reseeding

  with the dryad Dyra!

  As a result, you now have a 100% chance

  of rallying all dryads to your cause!

  As always, Dyra can heal you completely

  if she is physically next to you.

  In addition, she can heal you up to 50%

  from a distance of 100 feet!

  Not only that, but the power

  of Dryad’s Gift is increased.

  You can now heal most magical injuries

  in addition to poisons.

  Physical wounds heal 800% faster.

  “What’s the cooldown?” I asked.

  I could almost hear the annoyance in Parch’s ‘voice.’

  You’re never going to let me live that down,

  are you?

  “No, I’m not.”

  He was talking about when I’d had Spirella paralyze me with spider poison so that the Baron’s men would think I was dead and take me out of the dungeon. The plan was to use Dryad’s Gift to neutralize the poison, defeat the guards, and go rescue the girls.

  Only problem was, I’d tested my ability to heal myself with Dryad’s Gift while I was still in the dungeon, in case it didn’t work and I needed Dyra to revive me. Spirella had to paralyze me again. When the soldiers took me out back and dug my grave, I couldn’t heal myself immediately because there was an hour between uses of Dryad’s Gift… which Parch had neglected to mention. That little slip had almost cost me my life.

  You now have 45 minutes between uses

  of Dryad’s Gift, versus an hour before.

  Also, the seed acts as a soul link

  between you and Dyra.

  If you become physically separated,

  you can home in on her no matter where she is,

  and she can find you no matter where you are.

  Your life is now linked with Dyra’s.

  Although you will not be affected if SHE dies,

  she will most definitely die if YOU do.

  “Then let’s not let that happen.”

  I will do my best to help.

  I turned back to my new – bride? We were already bonded mates, so I wasn’t sure what the correct term was. All I knew was how protective and loving I felt towards her.

  Dyra’s eyes brimmed with tears as she smiled and kissed me.

  I felt her soft breasts against my chest, and her taught belly against my stomach.

  I kissed her back passionately, then stopped. “Um… can we, uh… you know…”

  She laughed and nodded. “That is the culmination of the ceremony.”

  Hot damn.

  I clasped my hands on her firm, round ass, and lifted her into the air.

  She wrapped her legs around me and looped her hands around my neck.

  And then I slowly eased her down on my hard, throbbing shaft.

  She was even wetter than any of the previous times I’d had sex with her.

  “Oh SCOTT,” she moaned loudly as I sank deep inside her.

  I’d never made love standing up inside a tree before – but with the mystical bond between us now, I have to say, it was pretty incredible.

  The honeymoon was enjoyed by all, for sure.

  And the reception later, with Alia, Zala, and Spirella?

  Daaaaaaaamn.

  Let’s just say it got pretty crowded inside that oak tree.

  4

  After the ‘Orgy In The Oak,’ as I like to call it, we all got dressed and set out after General Zalerno.

  As our horses clopped slowly along the forest trail, I asked Parch, “What’s the name of where we’re headed, anyway?”

  The region General Zalerno controls

  is known as Harlandia.

  “Does this planet have a name, by the way? I keep meaning to ask that.”

  Yes. Atras.

  “Do you have a map of the world?”

  Yes.

  Of the known world, anyway.

  A new map appeared on Parch’s surface.

  There was a collection of different lands with dotted lines for borders, with our position marked as a red dot. It sort of reminded me of Europe, with lots of different countries butting up against each other.

  To the west were the Grim Mountains, and past that Harlandia.

  Harlandia sat on the Derian Sea, which bordered at least ten different countries on the map.

  “What’s west of the Derian Sea?” I asked.

  No one knows.

  There are various chains of islands

  about a five days’ sail from the coast…

  …but no one who has sailed

  more than three days beyond them

  has ever returned.

  Huh.

  There were also undifferentiated parts of the map to the far east, to the far north, and to the south.

  The north was labeled ‘The Frozen Lands.’

  The east was labeled ‘Barbaria.’

  And the south was labeled ‘Mysterios.’

  “Tell me about the Frozen Lands, Barbaria, and Mysterios.”

  The Frozen Lands are barren, icy plains.

  “Are they ruled by Elsa?” I joked.

  Who?

  “Never mind. What’s beyond them?”

  No one knows.

  Anyone who has journeyed

  more than three days beyond their borders

  has never returned.

  “And Barbaria?”

  A land of barbarian tribes.

  “That’s a pretty big area for barbarian tribes.”

  It was sort of like Russia next to all the small countries of Europe, and it extended north to the Frozen Lands and south to Mysterios.

  Very large.

  “But there aren’t any lines for countries in Barbaria.”

  That is because the barbarian tribes

  have no set boundaries.

  Warlords rule over small areas

  that are continually shifting.

  “What’s beyond Barbaria?”

  No one knows,

  because anyone who has traveled

  more than three days’ journey

  into the barbarian lands

  has never returned.

  I was beginning to sense a recurring theme here.

  “And Mysterios?” I asked.

  The realm of the ancients, and beyond that,

  the deadly jungles of the south.

  “There’s no borders in Mysterios, either.”

  Because the land is so inhospitable

  that all attempts at colonization have failed.

  “Let me guess – anybody who’s ventured more than three days into Mysterios has never returned, right?”

  Exactly.

  So I was living in a world with plenty of unexplored territory and unknown lands beyond what was on Parch’s map – sort of analogous to the known Western world during Roman times, or maybe the early Dark Ages.

  Interesting.

  Parch and I talked some more, and then I talked with the girls, asking them what they knew about Atras and all its lands.

  There was a lot of time for talking, because we marched for two days.

  We slept in the woods at night. I was never afraid, because the lich army kept watch the entire time.

&nb
sp; “We don’t need sleep,” Urt explained.

  “Yeah, we got enough of that for 25 years before you showed up,” Vurt added.

  We didn’t sleep in inns because we largely avoided the villages. And we did that because of the first experience we had shortly after leaving the manor.

  Small children on the outskirts of a town saw us, got wide-eyed, and then ran off. I thought it was pretty funny – nothing like the sight of a bunch of dead guys marching down the road to scare the wee ones.

  Nothing much happened for a few minutes. I figured the kids probably went blathering to their parents, who reacted like, Dead guys and monster girls? Go do your chores before I spank you for lying.

  Then one girl came back with an older boy, probably just a few years younger than me. He saw us and immediately turned tail, too.

  Ten minutes later, what I assumed were all the men in the village showed up with torches and pitchforks, and they barred us from continuing down the road.

  “Leave, foul sorcerer!” a guy with a neckbeard at the front of the group yelled.

  “I’m not a sorcerer,” I protested.

  “You consort with the risen dead! If you are not a sorcerer, what are you?!”

  “I’m a – ” I said, then caught myself. “I’m just a guy.”

  I’d been about to say what I really was, but I wasn’t too sure how my job description would go over.