by Morgan Blade
Somewhere, a massive bell vibrated, struck by a log or something: a battle alert. The winter Court was under attack. The voices outside the curtains buzzed angrily. There were pounding feet as fey warriors and the court aristocracy hurried to repel invaders.
I growled deep in my throat. “Damn! Someone has lousy timing.” I reached down for the katana.
Syrah stopped me, pulling on my shoulder. “Queen Kellyn can handle this. You have a job to complete.”
Izumi moaned agreement.
I straightened, looking at her. Izumi’s eyes were closed in pleasure. Kimberley mouthed one of Izumi’s tits, pulping the other one.
The curtain moved behind them. Queen Kellyn stuck her head inside the shadowed alcove, taking in the scene. “Don’t let this disturb you. I will deal with Summer’s army.”
The Summer Court? I guess they think they’ve nothing else to lose. Stupid really. I have their tie as a hostage.
The Oracle’s face appeared through the curtain as well. “Rest assured, it has all been foreseen. This is why we hurried here, our forces lagging on purpose to flanking the other armies.”
“There’s more than one?” I asked.
“The three seasons are united against winter,” Queen Kellyn said.
Summer. Autumn. And Spring—the Phoenix Court. Talk about a quick response… There’s no way I’m missing on this fight.
Kellyn and the Oracle retreated, closing the curtain.
Kimberly pulled chilled lips off of Izumi’s nipples, trailing a strand of saliva that flash froze into a brittle thread of ice. Izumi’s flowing hands left slicks of ice on Kimberly. If I were to leave and take my dragon heat with me—and this were to continue—Kimber would soon become a popsicle. Winter’s embrace is often deadly, and it seemed Izumi was growing into even more power as a committed fey.
I increased the level of heat radiating off my body to counter the gathering cold. I pointed one hand at the central fountain. Dragon fire flared, flames leaping off my fingertips, melting the ice capping the central pistol. I pointed lower, pouring flame into the basin. The ice there became steam that hung pale, united with Syrah’s heavy darkness in the air. As I boiled away the water, the stone of the fountain soaked up my fire, becoming a heat source.
Kimberly drew Izumi around the bench with the white fur cloak on it. Izumi sat on the bench, legs splaying, an open invitation. Kimberly knelt here leaning into Izumi’s core, her tongue exploring, her back to the hot fountain.
“I’ll, uh, be right back. This will just take a few…uh….! I tried to move toward the curtains but the shadow haunting the air held me fast. Small, slow movements were allowed, but not much else.
“You’re not running off to the killing fields. You have three women to service right here.” Syrah settled at my feet, kneeling. Her hands pressed against my thighs.
“Fine.” I leaned forward on her shoulders, aiming my cock at her mouth like a gun barrel.
Intercepting me, she pressed my cock against my stomach. Her tongue slathered my balls, giving them a thrill. Her tongue-tip drew runes on my ball sack, then she planted a kiss. Her tongue slid up my length. She let my cock fall back to position, only to rim my cock’s mushroom head with the edge of her tongue. She flicked her tongue-tip across the slit I pee from, and then her mouth engulfed me.
Her head bobbed on me, warm, soft, sliding me to the back of her throat. She swallowed, and pushed her face against me, taking my full length down her throat—a daunting challenge she made look easy. For a woman primarily interested in other women, she was not inexperienced with male anatomy, then again, the widow had three kids. Her fertility had been why I’d chosen her to rule the Shadow Lands. A fertile ruler, a fertile land. If more rulers were chosen by this method, Fairy wouldn’t be sliding into decay and dissolution.
Distantly, I heard the full-throated roar of armies, the threatening clash of enemy swords on their shields. The keep’s warning bells went silent, having done their job. I couldn’t say I wasn’t enjoying myself, but my palm itched for my katana, my warrior’s soul thirsted for blood, my dry throat hungered to scream a dragon’s scalding wrath. I missed the adrenaline jolt brought by savage combat.
If only I could fuck and kill at the same time…twice the pleasure.
My inner dragon stared at me from the shadows of my mind. You can. We have a spell for that.
I smiled. That’s right, we do.
I willed the shadow power in my body to slide across my back, drawing in the pattern for my bi-location spell. My physical form would stay here, engaged, while a projection, a clone of my soul, floated free to seek out violent mayhem and bloody excess. As I felt the last lines of shadow fall in place, I flooded the design with golden dragon magic.
Again, Syrah’s shadows flinched back from me, then returned.
Holding my cock in her fist, she pulled her mouth away and looked up at me. “What did you do?”
“A spell to make me more potent.”
“There’s a spell for that?”
“There’s a spell for everything.”
I knelt and rolled her backwards, easing myself on top of her. I kissed her full breasts while sliding a hand between us, probing the velvet folds of her vagina. Her clit was out of its hood, stiff, and her depths were moist with lubrication. “Ah, ready for me, I see.”
“Go slowly. I haven’t had a man in quite a while.”
I eased my cock into her channel. It had been a while. She felt wonderfully tight?
What a delight.
Watching myself slowly filling Syrah, the rest of me hovered in the air, finding no resistance from the shadows anymore. Izumi’s head rolled back so she stared at the ceiling with unfocused eyes, not seeing my spirit-form at all. Between her legs, Kimberly continued giving her a furious tongue lashing.
Things here would coast on, probably lasting quite a while. Usually, when bi-located, my physical body was just stashed someplace to wait. That gave little feed back to my drifting self. The input of a distant, halved mind under these circumstances would be disorienting, but I’d manage somehow.
I flew across the room and through the curtain, moving beyond without producing even a ripple. The outer banqueting room was abandoned except for a pair of guards left behind to keep us revelers from being disturbed.
Thoughtful of Queen Kellyn.
Kellyn didn’t need to keep roving patrols in the keep to protect from magical intrusion. She’d feel such an event, and use the keep itself against such a threat. An intruder was still possible, but they’d need something as effective as my cloaking spell. A monarch bonded to a tie could easily see through common fey glamour.
No one saw me as I floated on into the hallway, and back to the throne room. From there, I made my way to the front gates. I ghosted through them. Kellyn and the Oracle would probably be higher, watching developments from the battlements. Kellyn would probably be rolling back the storm to get a look at who was attacking. While the Oracle had foreseen this attack, troop deployment and the way the separate armies were supporting each other would probably need real-time surveillance.
A fast-moving army wouldn’t have delayed with siege engines. And cavalry wouldn’t be charging the walls. That was the work of infantry with tall ladders. The greater threat would come from archers giving covering fire. And somewhere out there, hiding from view, the royal magic users would have gathered to pool their power. The battle mages would be the greatest threat. I decided to make them my prey. Without magical support, the whole attack might be reconsidered.
I flew over the enemy troops, using my sensitivity to magic to feel my way.
The phantom sensation of female teeth on my shoulder and long-nailed hands with a death-grip on my ass barely slowed me down.
THIRTEEN
“When enemies get too close, strike
before they realize their stupidity.”
—Caine Deathwalker
Despite the thinning of the storm, big fluffy flakes still leisurely swirled in an evening sky,
taking their time to fall. I couldn’t feel the wind, but the nearly blue faces of the attacking army told me it was damn cold, especially to fey pampered by eternal summer back home. The enemy would be coming at us with all they had—just get into shelter. They seemed to have loosened their armor so they could pad it with blankets.
A number of bonfires provided light for battle, the fire ready to be used as a weapon as well as a source of heat. I knew there would be servants out chopping wood, hauling it in. There were covered wagons like those used in the Old West back on earth, and others that looked like gypsies might live in them. These last had bowed roofs of solid wood. The horses harnessed to them looked miserable. No one had spared any blankets for them.
The wagons had probably carried weapons and supplies, freeing the foot soldiers to make good time on a forced march through the border lands I’d claimed. They’d tried to pull some of their own territories along with them, but that corridor had slipped out from under them and now lay miles back. This was all Winter Court wilderness, so even the land would fight them here.
I ghosted past the Summer King’s people, and found Autumn Court forces mingling freely with the Phoenix Court troops. Autumn magic is about corruption and dying, withering, rot, and rust. Phoenix Court is the court of Spring, their magic centered on rebirth, the magic of life and regeneration. These two courts cancelled each other out, which explained why they fought together, and had never made war upon one another.
I’d fought the Autumn Court before. In fact, there’d been a time when they’d sent fey assassins into the human world to try to kill me. Their forces seemed to endure the weather better. Autumn Court territory is a cold land, too. As for the Phoenix soldiers, their mana level blazed so high, they were quickly healing damage dealt them by the climate.
That’s hardly fair.
The Lord of the Autumn Court was easy to pick out; he wore full-plate armor, highly ornate, etched with patterns of wind-blown leaves. His horse was a massive russet beast with a thick coat of hair. The lord brandished a sword with a scythe-like blade. Next to him rode the Lord of the Summer Court, dressed in golden mail with a heavy yellow wool cloak. A haze of heat shimmered over him and his horse as well. Tufts of flame sprouted around the horse’s hooves, making quick puddles in the snow. They were leading with their warriors, not hanging back with the court mages.
I moved on. I had one lead. The Autumn King didn’t have his tie on him. My body—back in the keep—still wore the agate crown. My mental link with my body let me use the relic. I concentrated on opening my senses a little more to my body, to tap that guide.
The sensation of spurting hit me so strong, I had to look down at my spirit form. Oddly, my phantom cock was stiff, swollen, and spurting golden streamers of dragon magic. My magical cum evaporated from the air before hitting the snow.
Damn! That’s never happened before.
Pleasure rolled in waves through me. It was a good thing I couldn’t be heard in phantom form; everyone would know a literally fucking ghost was around.
For a moment, I was fully back in the shadowed banquet room with the burning fountain. Kimberly walked up behind Syrah and slid down, embracing her from behind, cupping the Shadow Queen’s breasts. My body lay face up. Syrah convulsed on my cock, her head thrown back as she clenched me in a vise. Izumi lowered herself over my face, and I lost visuals. I felt the grinding of wet pussy on my lips, and hands pressing into my stomach for support. My hands gripped Izumi’s icy ass, holding her where I needed her to remain for best access.
Acquiring a mental lock on the Autumn Court’s tie, I dampened down on the sensory feed so my wandering spirit could better see the battlefield. The tang of female excitement lingered on my tongue. I felt Syrah dismount me, and Kimberly’s mouth descend on my cock to sample the mixed juices left on me, giving encouragement for another erection.
Ummmm. Yes. Keep doing that.
I flew on toward the back of the armies and found several sturdy tents, a blazing pyre between them. Guards circled the tents, an invitation to attack; you only guard what’s valuable. I also tasted and felt magic energies building like ozone in the air. My magically projected spirit seemed sensitive to these emissions.
The tents were broad-striped, left and right. I sensed ties in both. I descended for a silent, unseen invasion—and was stopped cold by a green magical barrier that became visible as I touched it. A jazz of emerald lightning drove me back and the shell went invisible again.
Ah, fuck! That hurt.
Back in the alcove, I felt my body jolt from the magical shock, drawing complaints from the women. The ghostly sensation of Kimberly licking my balls, then sucking one of them into her soft mouth was a solace I appreciated.
I had two options: retreat for now, or try to force my way through. I went with both. I retreated, for the moment, rising high, speeding toward the front battlements of the keep. From past experience, I knew Colt could see and hear me even in spirit form. He was my son and a demigod as well. I’d reengage the battle mages with Colt in dragon form for back up.
I found him in human form, standing between Kellyn and the Oracle, looking down on the gathered forces. The white skull on his black hoodie seemed to be smiling. Colt certainly did. As I hovered in front of them, the Oracle’s face turned my way. In phantom form, I saw with my mind, not human eyes. This let me see her normally milky eyes were actually wells of pearlescent light, alight with magic.
Her sharp gaze centered on me. She mouthed words I couldn’t hear, but I could read lips. She said: Right on time. Then she turned her face away to speak to Kellyn.
Colt looked my way, his eyes copper-red stars. He spoke, and his matching thought appeared in my head: Dad! There you are. This is so cool.
I thought at him: Want to help me out with something? I’ve found the battle mages and want to make a preemptive strike, but they have a barrier up. Did you see that green flash in the back of the armies?
His brow furrowed. Yeah, I wondered what that was.
There are two tents there with a fire between them. I need to infiltrate the right one. I want you to attack the barrier and the mages in the left tent. Can you do that?
His lips moved. Easy peasy.
Kellyn looked at him, then out toward me. If not for the Oracle’s confirmation, she’d have thought Colt touched in the head, or child enough to still have an imaginary friend. The Oracle spoke to her so she didn’t object as Colt clambered up the battlement wall to stand exposed to enemy archers.
From a distance, the enemy might have thought him a dwarf. A suicidal dwarf as he leaned out and let himself fall toward the ground. Unlike my transformations into dragon, his were instantaneous, and never destroyed his wardrobe.
I swooped after him, watching as he became the size of a small bus, sprouting leathery wings and a lashing tail. His neck lengthened and his body grew hard, protective scales. His color went crimson red but there were yellow flames down his sides, a genetic change he’d implemented on himself. It gave him a hot-rod look.
Tutored by his goddess mother for years, aiding her in various dungeon experiments, he had a mental advancement superior to many adults. Only his emotional develop was normal. And being a demi-god, he could usually take care of himself, otherwise, I’d never have let him come within a mile of a battlefield.
He followed me in flight over the rough terrain occupied by the enemy. All eyes were on him. Horses reared, neighing in fear. Soldiers struggled to control them. The animals weren’t stupid; they knew better than to be anywhere close to a dragon. And they didn’t seem to admire the yellow flames either. As panic stirred those below, I saw the Summer King shake a fist at the dragon, probably assuming it was me.
A flight of arrows arced toward Colt. He put on a burst of speed and the arrows fell down on the enemy army, taking out many of their own with friendly fire. Could have been worse; they could have been flaming arrows.
We reached the tents, each with double-peaked roofs and anchoring ropes and
stakes. I pointed at the left tent, reminding Colt of his target.
A ghost, I dropped near the right tent. Grazing its defensive barrier, a half shell of emerald light appeared. The guards could have inferred my presence from that, but they were all drawn toward the other tent, running with enchanted, silver swords in hand.
Dragons always get all the attention.
Colt wasn’t yet good with dragon fire. A dragon’s killing breath is tied to his rage. Colt was driven more by excitement than anything else, forcing anger wasn’t his strength. He couldn’t summon it at will. He dropped to the ground and briefly returned to being a nine-year-old boy so he could generate a fire-storm of red-copper lightning that webbed him, fried the guards, and moved on to smash at a rusty-mauve barrier of light on the left tent. The autumn Court mages were in there, imagining they were safe.
Leaving Colt to work, I returned my attention to my target. I’d invested my new titanium katana with a piece of my soul, bonding it to me so I could pull it to me with the same armory spell I used to get arms from my Malibu mansion. Unfortunately, I didn’t have material hands to hold the sword, or a spell to animate it, making it float according to my will.
I therefore improvised, making a sword out of my own shadow magic, infusing it with the golden fire of my dragon’s lifeforce. I’d killed a dragon in Las Vegas this way. Now, I’d see how a tent with a magic barrier stood up.
A sword-shaped shadow darkened into being, dense enough to pass for smoke quartz. Its core filled with pulsing flashes of golden fire. More of the raw dragon magic bled off the edge like tears of sunlight. I held the hilt in spectral hands, swung it behind me, whipping through a turn, and brought it over my head, slashing down onto the barrier. The barrier tore like raw silk, tattering away from my blade’s mixed energies. There was a heavy flash of emerald, and the whole barrier fell.
I sprang forward, sweeping the sword into the side of the tent. I made a diagonal rent and followed my sword inside. There were three wizened men, all fierce-eyed with bristly white beards. They wore green-white robes covered in gilt-brushed patterns. The gold runes caught the light of yellow lanterns hanging from the roof of the tent. Behind the mages were two slender youths, gold haired with similar faces: twins, one male, one female.