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

by Ryan Erin

  "I'm not going to be able to..."

  "Put your cock in my hands," she said into his mind, not taking her eyes off the king. "Do it."

  His soft manhood slid into her bound hands and she began to work it between her fingers.

  "Now listen carefully, Jayden. The reason I can speak into your mind is because you've started down the path of a ranger. That makes you a child of the forest, and despite these men’s influence, you have a good heart. Because of that, I can communicate to you directly through my connection to the trees. We couldn't speak like this if you really wanted to hurt me, which is why I'm going to save you..."

  "Save me?"

  "But in order to do that, we have to keep this up until your Lord notices what's at his feet."

  "I don't understand..."

  "Put your hand on my ass."

  "What?"

  "Do it."

  His hand touched her.

  "Now feel it."

  He rubbed his palm across the smooth curve.

  "Now squeeze it."

  He dug his fingers in gently, and she felt his cock start to stiffen in her hands.

  "Reach your other hand around and grab my breast."

  Reluctantly, he reached over the wall and found it, soft and large, her nipple pressing into his palm as he wrapped is hand around it.

  He stiffened more.

  "Squeeze it."

  He squeezed gently.

  "Play with it."

  He moved the substantial mound around, weakly.

  "Now isn't the time to be gentle with me, boy! If you don't make this look convincing, we'll both die before help arrives. Now you have an elven warrior of the line of Illyndyl bent over in front of you, and she's telling you to fuck her!"

  Chyra guided the boy's cock inside her, and he gasped.

  "Now fuck her!" she yelled into his brain.

  Jayden gritted his teeth and thrusted.

  Chyra let out a carefully dramatized gasp of pain.

  The dark rangers laughed. One of them applauded.

  "I'm sorry!" he said through their connection.

  "Quit worrying about me, and make this happen!"

  He thrust harder.

  "Again!"

  Still harder.

  "Again!"

  Even harder.

  "I am not going to break, human! Pound my elven pussy like our lives depended..."

  He yelled in frustration and rammed against her.

  "That's it!"

  She groaned, mimicking pain as Jayden ground his teeth, forcing himself into a rhythm.

  The other hoods shouted obscenities at him, and she could feel his anguish and self-loathing grow. The jeering turned to cheering, and Chyra refused to take her eyes off the king's face.

  The hooded man was growing uncomfortable. Her stare was eating away at him.

  Humans were most vulnerable at the moment when they felt like they'd won.

  That moment finally came.

  The king was just about to look away, when Chyra glanced toward the sword lying at his feet.

  He noticed.

  His expression changed, and he looked down at the weapon.

  It was too large for an elf to wield effectively.

  Why would she be carrying it?

  He used the stick to pull away a section of the heavy gray linen. That's when he caught the glint of rubies inlaid into the handle.

  "Get ready, Jayden," she said through their connection as the bearded king reached down to wrap a hand around the naked metal.

  The air changed.

  Darkness fell across the ruins, and the king of the hoods stood, raising the sword.

  "Get ready..."

  The man's eyes began to glow with a white fire as he grabbed the heavy scabbard and ripped the blade from its sheath.

  The metal ignited, the sword instantly consumed in thundering flames.

  "Dinadri!" Chyra screamed, kicking the boy away from her.

  The dark rangers, shocked by the sudden inferno, all turned to see their lord's head burst into fire as he grew a foot taller.

  Chyra caught the frightened eyes of the nymph, crouched in shadow over the mossy trickle of water.

  "I task you to grab Jayden and get him to safety! The fountain in the clearing of Westpitch Downs! GO!"

  The nymph leapt over the wall, never taking her frightened eyes off the man wielding the flaming blade. Though she was just a stick of a creature covered in shiny green scales, she grabbed Jayden by the cloak and hauled him forcibly back over the wall.

  "Elf!" the boy screamed as Dinadri drug him to the wet stones. "What are you doing?!"

  Chyra turned to him. "Forget these men, Jayden. The demon takes no prisoners."

  The last look she caught on Jayden's face was one of confusion. A splash erupted from the puddle, and both he and the nymph were gone.

  Chyra stood to her full height, turning toward the unfolding spectacle. She flexed her muscles as the man, who was no longer the king of the hoods, leapt into the air, swinging the massive weapon around in an arc of fire.

  Four dark rangers were cut in half as he landed, the flailing pieces of their bodies tumbling across the stone in flames.

  The rest of the hooded men screamed in terror, scattering in all directions.

  The sword burned through the air, chopping its way through ranger after ranger as Chyra walked among the smoke and embers.

  She caught Garlock out of the corner of her eye as he raced toward her, sword swinging. She ducked, tumbling across the floor with elven agility, even with her hands still tied behind her back. He changed direction and charged her again as she leapt to her feet and broke into a run.

  Her light body cleared the distance to the throne, and she rolled across the steps, dodging another over-handed chop from Garlock's blade.

  "What have you brought here?!" the man screamed, bringing his sword down again.

  Chyra rolled the other direction, her hands grabbing the fighting knives that were still sheathed in her belt, and in a single move, cut her wrists free of the ropes.

  Garlock swung down again and she ducked to the side, shooting past him and carving a knife across his ribs. The Ranger groaned in pain, and spun toward her. Chyra stood to her full height, flexing her arms and shoulders, the knives twirling as she loosened up her wrists.

  "What have you done to him?!" the man screamed again as the two began circling each other.

  "Nothing," she replied. "He drew the blade of his own free will. Your king is dead, and the demon has taken his body."

  A blast of fire erupted behind her as more bodies went flying.

  Garlock charged in.

  Chyra met him on light feet, her knives clanging against his sword. They danced back and forth, Chyra using her speed and agility to keep her naked body away from the strength of his swings.

  She parried the blade away, following it with a well-placed slice from each of her knives - one across his abdomen, and the other under his left flank. But as she turned to get out of the maneuver, a heavy fist caught her full force in the temple.

  She staggered backward, dazed for a moment, and Garlock rushed in despite his wounds, wrenching the cloak from his shoulders, and throwing it around Chyra's body.

  Black fabric covered her face, reeking of human sweat, as strong arms wrapped around her, picking her up off her feet. She kicked, but the man was holding her from behind and she couldn't get a good angle on him. His arms squeezed and all the breath went out of her lungs. Bones pressed against each other, her ribs compressing from the constriction.

  Flares of orange filtered through the black cloth as she fought to break his hold.

  "I will crush you from this forest!" he growled into her ear. That was the moment when she managed to dig the tip of her knife through the fabric and into his forearm.

  Garlock shouted in pain as the blade cut through muscle, then hit bone. His arm let go, and she gasped in, swinging the knife backward. It stabbed through the fabric, and into his
gut.

  The man screamed again, releasing her completely as she tore through the cloak, and spun around, delivering a crisscross of wet butchering to Garlock's torso, and punctuating it with a hard stab into the man's neck.

  The dark ranger gurgled unceremoniously and collapsed backward, bleeding onto the stone floor.

  Chyra gasped heavily, her skin sprayed in human blood, and the taste of ash filling her mouth as she bent over to catch her breath. It was getting hotter. She realized she was sweating as the last of the rangers was impaled behind her.

  Chyra turned toward the waning scream.

  The demon turned to her as the corpse burned away from its blade.

  He stood at over ten feet tall now, his face black against a mane of fire where hair once was. Horns grew from his temples, and embers trailed out of his burning eyes. Very little remained of the hooded king to be recognizable, aside from the smoldering black cloak.

  "I've seen you before..." he said in a voice that sounded equal parts charming, and echoed up from hell.

  Chyra ran a hand through her hair. "Have you?"

  The demon took a step forward, his hide boot crumbling away to reveal a cloven foot. "You were there the last time someone drew me...at the tomb of the Black Conqueror."

  "You have a good memory. So many people died that day trying to fight you, I'm surprised you remember just one elf."

  "Don't be surprised. Your face is impossible to forget."

  Chyra tried to suppress any reaction to the compliment, but it wasn't easy to hide anything from a being like him.

  The demon's own face began to crack and split, carving lines of orange light across his skin. "This isn't a coincidence, our meeting a second time?"

  "No."

  He straightened, staring down at her. "I am Uzael," he said, as rocks of charred flesh began to crumble off his body. "And you are...?"

  "Not that naive," she replied with a smile.

  The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "You know I cannot be destroyed?"

  "I had heard that."

  "So then where, if I may ask, are you taking us?"

  She raised her chin just a little bit. "I think I'd like to keep that a surprise, if you don't mind."

  Fire leapt from the crevices of his blackened skin. "This mortal body burns so quickly. We could enjoy a real conversation if I were in the hands of, say...an elf."

  She just smiled at him. "That could be difficult. My people tend to stay away from me."

  "Pity," he said, "I thought elves were drawn to beautiful souls..."

  The demon's body crumbled into ash, and the sword clanged to the ground.

  The fires on the mountain began to die, and Chyra was alone again.

  Denham was dressed in full combat field attire, the same as every other man in camp. He carried a helmet in his hand as two younger soldiers; both dressed in red tabards, clashed swords under his watchful eye.

  They fought ferociously, until one landed a blow that shattered the sword of the other.

  Denham shook his head at the outcome.

  "The dwarven steel is still stronger, Sir" the losing fighter remarked, tossing his broken blade to the ground.

  "Alright, you two, back to your posts," Denham said, rubbing his thinning hair.

  A page emerged from behind a line of soldiers and ran up to him. "Captain Denham?"

  Denham was still dealing with the result of their weapons test. "Yes, what is it?" he said at last.

  "There's someone here to see you, sir."

  The page pointed up the incline, and Denham saw Chyra standing beside the post of his tent.

  She smiled at him.

  His whole mood brightened on seeing her.

  "It can't be," he said, handing his helmet to the page before walking up the hill. "Chyra of Illyndyl, slayer of the Moondale Wyrm..."

  She chuckled at him.

  "...Tempter of men, enemy of pants..."

  She laughed out loud as he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the ground, sword and all. "...And thief of the last bottle of wine at whatever that tavern in Bledsoe was called!"

  She kissed him on the mouth and ran a hand over his head, her smile matching his. "You said you'd never come back here."

  "Oh, I know," he replied, dropping her back to her feet. "But twenty-two years is a long time to live out of a backpack and sleep on the ground. Come in!"

  He opened the flap of his tent, and she ducked inside.

  The interior was large enough for about four men to stand comfortably. The trappings were military, but there were a few personal touches. The pillows looked far more comfortable than standard soldier issue.

  "Wine?" he asked.

  "Please," she replied, lifting the strap of the sword over her head.

  "It's local," he said, pouring two cups. "Made from a vineyard in Ivydown. It's nothing like what we had at Shadowguard Keep, but it beats the hell out of the stuff they give the enlisted men around here." He stoppared the bottle and picked up the cups, hesitating for a minute as he looked at her.

  Chyra smiled and extended her arms as if to say, 'It's me...'

  "You haven't changed," he said.

  Chyra smiled, dropping her eyes, modestly.

  "I mean, I knew that you wouldn't, but...". He walked over and handed her a cup. "...I've just been so accustomed to seeing everyone else in my life get older. Including that grey head in the mirror over there."

  He pointed to the small mirror hanging from the central post.

  Chyra smiled again and raised her cup. "I like it," she said, looking his head over. "Suits your soul."

  "It had better," he replied, and tapped his cup against hers.

  They each drank.

  "Please, sit," he said, offering her the bed.

  "Thank you." She pulled the bow and arrows off her shoulder. "So, let me guess," she said, turning back to where he leaned against a table, "Captain at Arms?"

  "Heh, no. Can you imagine me with the patience to train a bunch of farm boys? No, I'm handling intelligence for the Eastern Front."

  She raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

  "Don't sound so shocked."

  She laughed.

  He smiled. "No, it's coordinating scouts, gathering information on enemy deployment, setting up dummy camps to fool the reptilians on our movements..."

  "Are these lizardmen anything like the ones we fought in Kur?"

  "If only. No, these are far more organized. They have no problem fighting in daylight, and they're fucking tenacious at tunneling up captured territory to reinforce their position." He poured himself another cup of wine. "And now they've dug up some forgotten dwarf hole that no one knew was under the Crescent Downs, and found a whole armory inside it."

  "Is that what was going on outside just now?"

  "Yes. Our steel just isn't as strong...as if I didn't have enough to worry about. Two of my best scouts were eaten last month, and the new ones I hired are a week late showing up.".

  "What do you think's keeping them?"

  "No idea. It's a group of Dark Rangers who moved into the old ruins up in the high forest."

  "Ah..." She bit her lip. "They won't be coming."

  He turned a questioning glance her way. "How do you know?"

  "I...saw the ruins on fire on my way here. It looked bad."

  "Shit." He pounded the stopper back in the bottle and took another drink. Chyra could see the responsibilities weighing on him. Her old traveling companion was still in there, but he had aged.

  "Come to help us fight?" he asked.

  Chyra smiled again. "I'm afraid not." She finished off the wine. "I'm here because I need a favor."

  "Name it."

  "Mind if I use your wash basin?"

  "That's the favor?"

  She smiled again, taking off her belt. "No, that's just the first part."

  "Help yourself," he said, motioning to the tureen on the far table. "I'll give you some privacy."

  "No need. It's nothing you
haven't seen before." She peeled her shirt off of her torso, tying it around her waist.

  Denham took another long drink as she walked over to the basin her breasts rounding firmly from the top of her halter.

  "I need to get across the line," she said, picking up a large sponge and squeezing the water out.

  "Why?" he replied. "The Crescent to the Backlands is all reptile territory. There isn't a warm-blooded man or woman for miles inside there. And elf is a delicacy to those scaly bastards."

  "And I don't want to be eaten." She began rubbing the sponge up and down her arms. "I'm headed for the back country."

  "Amberwood Forest borders on the Backlands. Why not just go through there?"

  She squeezed the sponge over her shoulder, water running down her back. "Not really an option," she replied.

  Denham laughed. "Is there an elven kingdom you haven't pissed off?"

  Chyra smiled. "Was I always this transparent to you?"

  "Why the Backlands? There's nothing there."

  "Teewinot Spire is there."

  "You're joking, I assume?"

  Chyra undid her halter and dropped it to the floor. "I need to see the Sage who lives at the top."

  Denham couldn't help staring at her naked back. "You do realize how impossible that is, don't you?"

  "I do. That's why I'm here.". Her breasts slid around under the wet sponge as she washed her chest. "Think you can help me?"

  Denham set his cup down on the table. "I'd be lying if I said that body of yours hasn't haunted my dreams since we parted ways."

  She smiled and turned to face him, moving the sponge down to wash her flat stomach. "You never touched me like I was fragile. I appreciated that...especially back then."

  He nodded, an honest smile coming back to his face. "Yes, well...I'm not the same young stallion you knew back in the Span. And I know that trying to talk you out of climbing the battlements of a fortress you've set your mind on will work about as well as it did the last time. So I won't. Instead, I'm going to leave my chivalry in the past where it belongs, and call someone in here who may be able to help you...after I selfishly watch you wash the rest of that elven figure."