Naked Battle Elves - GOLD COMPENDIUM - Chronicles 1-5 (Naked Battle Elves Compendiums)

by Ryan Erin

...Then she realized that her feet were back in the water.

  She was losing.

  Chyra's right hand slapped onto the nymph's ass with a loud crack and her left hand grabbed the free breast that was sliding against her face. The nymph cried out in joyful surprise as Chyra tried to marshal her strength. She worked the girl's mounds into bulging shapes with her hand and face, all the while working the hard nipple with her tongue.

  The nymph moaned louder, her crystalline voice taking on a more animal quality, and Chyra began to get her sanity back. The more she was able to pleasure her attacker, the more the enchantment seemed to wane. If she could just out-fuck the Nymph, then she'd have the chance she needed to get what she came for, or at the very least, escape with her life.

  But then those slender fingers slid out of Chyra, slipping warm wetness along her crease until they found the swollen bulb of her clitoris again.

  Chyra released the breast in her mouth, screaming as she orgasmed a fifth time, her brain slipping back into the throbbing insanity of the enchantment.

  She felt heavy splashing as she kicked her legs.

  She was inching back into the water.

  It was a cold realization that hit her...Chyra didn't have the skills or magic to out-fuck the Nymph. She was losing, and it felt too good to fight against.

  So tragic to think that all of her friends - who had died because of that sword - would never be avenged...that no one would remember their passing once Chyra slid beneath the surface of that pool.

  With one final act of desperation, she threw her body against the nymph, knocking the girl over onto the rocks. Chyra immediately climbed on top of her. The elf's muscles were so spent that she almost lost her grip. Dangerously close to sliding back into the water, Chyra somehow managed to keep her purchase, planting her knees on either side of the nymph's hips.

  She slid her hand between the nymph's legs and found the slippery softness she needed. The nymph cried out at her touch and writhed with excitement.

  For the first time, Chyra could think again. She reached out and grabbed the nymph's hand...the one that had only just brought Chyra to climax, and forced it onto her firm, wet breast. The nymph arched her back at the touch of Chyra's substantial mound and reached up to grab the other one.

  Chyra worked the nymph's soft parts with as much control as she could summon while the nymph squeezed her chest in response.

  But it wasn't enough.

  Chyra's brain was one missed stroke away from slipping back into the enchantment. She needed to end it all, and end it fast...

  …But how?

  The Nymph was on her back, gasping loudly, her giant breasts pressed together between her arms…heaving back and forth…hypnotizing...inexplicably making Chyra want to plant her face between them.

  Then she noticed...

  ...The nymph had a belly ring...

  ...Offset with an emerald.

  Chyra summoned the lone thread of self control she had left and willed her fingers to keep their rhythm as she leaned down to kiss the nymph's stomach.

  A steady chorus of moaning accompanied the heaving of the nymph's chest as Chyra kissed her way to the belly ring...

  ...Secured it between her teeth...

  ...And then spoke in the ancient tongue...

  ..."I balance this spirit to my service."

  The piercing unlocked and came free.

  The nymph screamed in horror as Chyra rolled off of her, the belly ring clenched in her teeth.

  All enchantments broke at once, and exhaustion seized Chyra as the nymph cried out in abject terror behind her.

  Chyra breathed hard, panting as if she'd just finished running from a pack of Narwolves.

  How much time had passed?

  How long had the nymph been fucking her?

  She rolled over to find the girl seething at her with frightened black eyes. The nymph looked less like an elf now, with a rail-thin frame, and a body covered in shiny scales that glistened a deep green. She was on all fours, frantically skittering back and forth along the water line.

  But she couldn't go back in the pool unless Chyra commanded her to.

  Chyra just wanted to lay there, her insides sore from the unnatural succession of orgasms. Her limbs felt like jelly. Her skin was also growing cold from the continual spray of the falls.

  "Give it back, elf!" the creature cried, it's voice no longer full of wind chimes. "Give it back to me!"

  "Wait...for me here…" Chyra managed to say as she slid back into the water.

  The nymph hissed in frustration as Chyra took a deep breath and went under.

  The water was colder than before, and maybe a bit darker, but the bottom of the pool was no longer rocks and brambles...

  ...It was piles of gold, and treasure, and bones.

  Chyra kicked downward, skimming the horde. The layer on top was littered with coins from the Five Kingdoms, the faces of kings in recent memory stamped into them. She dug further down, and the coins soon became unrecognizable. Jewelry dated back to older fashions, and the craftsmanship changed to older and older antiques. Judging from the sampling she saw on the one breath, it looked like the nymph had been luring travelers over the falls for several thousand years.

  Chyra pushed off from the shining piles and kicked her way to the surface.

  She splashed out of the water and collapsed back onto the rock.

  Before she could say anything, the nymph was by her side, sliding thin green fingers up Chyra's thighs again.

  "Give me the emerald back," it said, desperation in its voice. "I'll show you pleasures that elves have only forgotten about..."

  Chyra grabbed the nymph's hand before it could reach its target. "No."

  The nymph's eyes went even wider. "I know secrets! Men, dwarves, goblyns...all can be thralled to your passion if you let me teach you the secrets of their bodies - how to enslave them to your..."

  "What can I call you?" Chyra interrupted.

  The nymph's eyes narrowed in dread. "...Dinadri-al-Vyr."

  "I will give you the emerald back, Dinadri, but you and I both know that you'll kill me as soon as I do."

  A sad whine began to escape the nymph as she realized what was coming.

  Chyra continued, regardless. "The only way that I can become immune to your power is if we follow the Code of the ElderWyld, and you complete for me seven tasks..."

  The nymph cried out in wild protest.

  "And when those tasks are completed, you may have this back..." Chyra held up the belly ring. "...Along with your freedom and all of the riches you've gathered here, minus the efanwi you took from me, 100 gold talens...and the Dynasty Scroll."

  The nymph scoffed, clenching her teeth so hard the tendons in her neck began to twitch. "I...I acquiesce!"

  Chyra smiled. "I won't abuse you." She stood and climbed across the rocks. "You can stay here until I call, can't you?"

  "I can."

  "Then, Dinadri-al-Vyr, your first task is to fetch what I have asked, and bring it to me."

  The nymph was in the water before she could look back.

  Chyra stood atop the rock with an elf's balance, even if on trembling legs.

  She had done it...the first narrow victory on what was most likely her final quest.

  Chyra gazed up with elven eyes at the falls.

  Hooded men stared down at her naked body from high above.

  Chyra bit her lip.

  It must've been more than an hour.

  Chyra was led into the center of the ruins - the remains of an ancient woodland fortress, half carved into the side of a mountain. The main audience chamber was open to the sky with an old weathered throne hewn from the living rock. The wall behind it rose sharply to the top of the peak, and was patchy with yellow moss where a natural spring trickled out from the granite to drain away across the floor. The place had an almost cathedral-like feel, and the man who sat in the throne gave the impression of a woodland king.

  He was dressed the same as the me
n who had led her up the mountainside. They wore black hoods over mustard yellow shirts, and carried themselves more like woodsmen than rogues.

  She was led into the center of the broken floor, surrounded by crumbling structures and old statues, unrecognizable from the wear of ages.

  She was naked, of course, aside from her efanwi and the rope that bound her wrists. Everything else she owned had been carried by the hooded men - specifically, a younger one with tussled hair, obviously the newest to join, and consigned to the heavy lifting.

  When he reached the short stairs beneath the throne, he laid out her belongings so the man in the chair could see. After dropping the sword to the stone with a dull clang, the boy straightened his shoulders for the first time in hours.

  "Careful, lad," the man on the throne warned. "Those aren't yours." He pulled back his hood slightly, revealing a black beard, marbled with gray. His eyes were dark and deep set, and his jaw was strong. "And you didn't think to give our guest her clothes back?" He glanced over to the tall man who had been leading her captors - a man named Garlock.

  "Elves always have things hidden," Garlock replied in a gravelly voice. "Didn't want to take the chance."

  He was right, of course, though that was only an excuse. Mortals were inept at hiding their wants, and Garlock had enjoyed staring at her naked body the whole march. Several of his men found it absolutely inspired the way he had bound her hands behind her back so that her chest was thrust forward, her breasts on a continual bouncing display.

  "Jayden," the king of the hoods said to the younger boy. "Give her your cloak."

  Jayden had tried to do that very thing when they first took her into custody at the top of the falls, but Garlock had reprimanded him for it. Now he looked thankful to finally have the chance to show her some kindness.

  "No need," Chyra replied, and the young man stopped, surprised.

  "But you must be cold," the hooded king said.

  "I'm fine."

  The king nodded. "You are at that."

  Had he been anywhere near her age, the words would have come across as creepy, but she had been alive for almost 5 centuries, and the human before her might as well have been a two year old child compared to her. She couldn't take his leering seriously. Though his chair seemed to require some semblance of decorum from him, she could tell that he was just as infantile as the rest of his group.

  "We haven't seen many elves in this part of the world," the man said, drawing a long stick from beside his throne.

  Chyra looked around. "My people rarely leave the Sacred Grove anymore. They've lost faith in the world outside."

  "Then why did you leave?"

  "The Sacred Grove was getting crowded."

  Jayden chuckled briefly before realizing he was the only one.

  The hooded king merely stabbed at her belongings with his stick. "Your spell reagents alone are worth a small fortune," he said. "This sulphur looks pure...and I've never even seen red nightshade before."

  "It only appears during a harvest moon, and only if it's full."

  "Is it more poisonous than the black?"

  "Less, actually, but it's far more potent for spell casting."

  The king nodded, poking at her quiver of arrows, then at the massive sword in its sheath. "My men saw you leave the Nymph's pool," he said.

  Garlock approached the hooded king on cue, handing him a heavy purse and a large scroll case. Chyra hadn't been surprised when the youngest of their party had been made to carry all her gear, while Garlock had taken it upon himself to carry the loot she'd brought up from below the falls.

  The King of the Hoods dropped the purse to the steps. Gold coins exploded out, tumbling across the stone.

  The typical 'ooo's' and 'ahh's' were noticeably absent from this group, but Chyra could still feel the greed radiating from them. They were stoic, but not by virtue.

  The man on the throne opened the scroll case and eyed her suspiciously when he saw what was inside. He slid the document out, unrolling it so that all assembled could see that it was made not of paper, but of a thinly hammered metal that shimmered orange in the light.

  He read it, or at least tried to. It was doubtful that a mortal man in the middle of the forest would be educated in a language 400 years dead. "What does it say?" he asked.

  "It's a list of names," Chyra replied. "The names of 100 generations of Kings. Rulers of the Copper Empire before it fell."

  "A worthless document then, from a time too long past for the names to be of any value."

  "One of those names sat where you are now, King of the Hoods."

  The man looked down at her, interested for the first time in something other than her chest. "And how would you know?"

  "Prince Dwyr of Sunderfall had this castle built as a place to receive truage from his goblyn vassals in the south. I know because I once kissed the hand of his great grand daughter in this very room."

  The king slid the scroll back into its case. "As though there were a time when goblyns were subject to men."

  "That's the thing about you men. For all the brevity of your lives, no other race has such capacity for re-imagining themselves."

  "Thank you for the philosophy, but if there's one thing I think the elderly have in their favor, it's the ability to make up whatever they want about the past and pass it off as wisdom."

  Chyra shrugged, not denying it. "She was in love with a ranger like yourself."

  Now the man stopped, suddenly less at ease over her deduction.

  "Although not like you, I think," Chyra continued. "You prodded through my spell reagents, recognizing the herbs, but not the rest. You saw the black pearl and lavender stones, appraising them for their worth in gold instead of understanding their value as symbols of the faerie realm. You cast the coins I took from the falls across your floor, as would a true steward of the wild, but you have no intention of leaving them there. I know you now. You're a Dark Ranger of the Veiled Host - more bandit than scout, and a lesser shadow of greater men."

  The king of the hoods stood at the insult. "How did you pass below the falls, elf? How did you survive to bring treasure back from the nymph's pool?"

  "She's been down there a long time," Chyra said with the slightest of smiles. "Her horde is bigger than you know. Big enough to afford you a castle worthy of a true king of men...one that hasn't fallen into ruin and been reclaimed by the forest..."

  "How did you beat her?!"

  "Only a true ranger would understand."

  "Tell me!"

  "No."

  The hooded king stepped down from his throne, through the gold coins, and up to Chyra. "You may be a sacred child of the wood, but I've lost too many men down those falls after a treasure which is in our territory and rightfully OURS! Now tell me how to best the nymph before we rape it out of you!"

  Chyra smiled at the man as though she weren't almost entirely naked. "No one here could pretend to fuck me as thoroughly as that nymph did."

  Fire burned in the man's eyes. "Garlock! Samhan! Terryl! Fuck every opening of this elf till she either talks or bleeds white!"

  Jayden stepped forward, horrified. "My Lord Ranger...!"

  The hooded king turned a wrathful eye. "Silence, boy!"

  "But she's one of the shining ones! This is madness...!"

  "Now you'll be the one to rape her!"

  Jayden's face went white.

  Garlock stepped forward. "My Lord, the boy's never known a woman. She's more likely to confess to him out of pity for his performance than..."

  "You can make the decisions when I'm dead, Garlock, but it's time Jayden learned who's master of this wood."

  The boy's face couldn't get any paler. He couldn't bring himself to even look at her.

  "Now, Jayden," the king commanded as he walked back to the broken throne.

  Jayden looked around the group, as if all their faces had suddenly become strangers to him. He clenched his teeth.

  Then he drew his sword in defiance of them.

>   Garlock did the same in response and several others followed his lead, circling the boy.

  "Jayden!" Chyra shouted, though not out loud.

  The young ranger turned to her, shocked that she was able to speak directly into his mind.

  "Jayden, do exactly as I say, right now. Drop your sword."

  The boy threw his sword to the ground.

  "Now, come here."

  Jayden’s brain was a storm of frustration, but he managed to form a clear thought back to her. "How can you...?"

  "Walk. To. Me."

  He walked over to her, past the drawn swords of his brethren. She could hear the rage pounding in his chest as he stopped beside her.

  "Grab me by the hair."

  He reached up and grabbed her hair as gently as he could. She made sure to wince despite not feeling any actual tug.

  "Now drag me over to that wall."

  He walked her over to a crumbling, moss-covered wall as Garlock and the others began resheathing their weapons.

  "Now bend me over it."

  "I can't do this..."

  "Bend me over, Jayden. NOW."

  He forced her over the wall, her ass prominently facing him.

  "Pull off my efanwi."

  "I can't..."

  "You have to if this is going to work. Do it."

  Reluctantly, the young ranger took hold of the garment on either side of her hips. He tugged down, and the thin strip of fabric emerged from her perfect ass, revealing the thin, youthful lips of her elven crease.

  "Now toss them over the wall, into that stream of water seeping from the stones. It's important that you hit the water."

  Jayden squinted, more than a little confused.

  "Now, Jayden."

  He gathered the tiny garment into his hand, including the emerald belly ring that dangled from the string, and tossed it into the trickling water.

  "Now, pull your cock out."

  Jayden bit his lip in frustration as Chyra turned to look back at the throne. The hooded king watched them, the long stick absently poking at the pile of her belongings under his feet. The man had no expression on his face, but she could tell by the bulge in his pants that he was ready for Jayden to commence. They all were. Whatever honorable path they had once started down, these men were symptomatic of the dark age they all lived in...where distant memory of better times was used as a roadmap to justify their selfish, loathsome, habits...and they wanted Jayden down in the muck with them. It came as no surprise to her that the boy with the noble heart was the only one not erect.