The Murder Stroke

Purgatory Wars: Book One

Dragon Cobolt

Uruk Press

Uruk Press

Great Britain

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© Dragon Cobolt 2017

All rights reserved.

The right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Cover by Remy Malara.

Also from Dragon Cobolt

Purgatory Wars

The Murder Stroke

Riposte (forthcoming)

Other works

A Fetch Job

"The Last Mage" in Sex & Sorcery 3

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The Murder Stroke

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Five

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The Murder Stroke

One

Sun glinted off steel and sticky-sweet humidity choked the visor of Liam's helmet as he looked through sweat and thin metal bars at his enemy. The day had been a long, punishing one, and he carried bruises and aches from earlier clashes. The sword in his grasp felt heavier than it had any right to. He lifted the point up, then stood in a higher stance. The flat of the blade pressed to his shoulder and he watched and waited to see if his enemy shifted.

He did.

The other man stepped forward – hand on the middle of his longsword – and tried a quick jab at Liam's gut. Liam stepped to the side and turned to present a thinner target to the enemy. He brought his own sword swinging down – aiming for the joint of helmet and shoulder. The enemy lifted his sword, palm bracing it on hilt and at the halfway mark. The two swords clacked together. Liam put his whole weight into a forward step and shoulder check. The other guy went clattering to the dew-flecked grass. Liam – holding his blade two-handed – brought the tip down to press to the other man's throat.

“Match!”

The referee stepped out from the copse of trees that shadowed the people waiting for their next bout. The steel bleachers filled with cheers as Liam grabbed his plastic and metal helmet and tugged it off. What felt like a gallon of sweat dropped down his back as the other guy sat up and laughed.

“That was fookin' great,” he said, his accent a thick English burr. He was one of the many actual Europeans who had flown across the big pond to come to the Atlanta chapter of the Historical European Martial Arts Society for their yearly competition. This year's prize had been something remarkable and part of the HEMA-S attempt to catch more attention in a year of skyrocketing prominence of social media: a popular YouTube show had handcrafted a historically accurate, battle-tested longsword.

Yes, buying said sword would have cost only a tiny fraction more than the plane tickets and hotel bookings. But, as Liam had said to his mom, that wouldn't be very sportsmanlike, now would it?

The referee helped the man Liam had knocked out up and the two of them retreated off the field as another pair of fighters stepped out. One of them had opted for a shield and an arming sword – the sword that most people thought of as a 'longsword'. The actual terminology was a bit confused by centuries of slowly shifting European naming conventions and decades of Dungeons & Dragons manuals written with more eagerness than factual research. Most people in HEMA didn't get too bent out of shape if a layperson called a longsword a two-handed sword or a claymore or whatever.

No, Liam thought. We save that for people who try and tell us how great katanas are.

When he got under the shade, the temperature dropped from ungodly to merely unpleasant and he was joined by his friend Greg. Greg had gotten into HEMA at the same time Liam had, but for far different reasons. A childhood spent struggling with a genetic predisposition to be overweight and a personality predisposed to overindulge had left Greg facing a point blank, double barreled ultimatum from his pediatrician: Lose weight or start buying insulin in bulk. Liam – blessed with the infuriating kind of metabolism that turned sugars and sweets into endless energy without a single gain in poundage – had been drawn to HEMA thanks to a half-remembered youth with a dead father. Before the fire, Dad had taken a wide eyed Liam into the garage built smithy. He had shown him the thundering pounding of the hydraulic hammers, the searing plasma-bright flare of the furnace. The sizzle of the computer-driven laser cutter.

Born with a silver spoon in his ass, Dad had been able to play with toys like that and indulge in his fascination with the crafting of swords from the past – and from places that had never been. The entire school had been gobsmacked by Liam's Halloween outfit: Sora from Kingdom Hearts with an actual keyblade made of metal so heavy and sturdy that the Principal had called his parents up to ask them – politely but firmly – what the ever-loving-fuck was wrong with them.

So, when the fire had consumed both his home and all future memories of his father, Liam had found solace in one thing: taking wooden boken and replica longswords and beating the ever loving shit out of an uncaring cosmos, one body bag and sparring partner at a time. With Greg to support him through the first grueling months and with Liam to support Greg through the horrifying third and fifth months where the training regimes had pushed them both to new and more painful plateaus of skill, the two teens had stuck to HEMA into college. Now, Greg would never be skinny, but he wore his weight well and grew his hair and his beard long enough to conceal the curves that his cheeks still had and Liam had gotten a pretty hefty string of girls who had, at the very least, gone out on at least one date.

Too bad that the second date never seemed to come up.

“You kicked his ass, dude,” Greg said, slapping Liam's shoulder.

“Ah, he had kind of shitty fundamentals,” Liam said, rolling his shoulder under the slight ache that Greg had left him.

The next bout was between two of the people from the NorCal HEMA-S chapter. The man with the shield and the arming sword faced off against a woman with the same kind of longsword that Liam preferred. These bouts were held in full practice armor, with the refs calling it as if it was unarmored. The reason was simple: unarmored combat with even blunted weapons was too dangerous to play as a sport, and judging who won in an armored bout by who keeled over first was considered too dull for the onlookers. There's also the fact that any bout that goes that long in this weather will kill us. By drowning if nothing else, Liam thought, holding up his hand as some of the sun broke through the willow strands to smack him in the face.

The two fighters smashed together. Shield hit chest and the girl staggered backwards. She swung her blade – it clattered off the shield. But a shield could be a downside as well as an advantage –  not often, but sometimes. Say, for instance, when someone uses their smaller size to shoulder into your guard and smash their pommel into your chest. It wasn't the most elegant take-down, but the ref rewarded the girl the win.

“If she'd been slower,” Greg said, then made an exaggerated gurgling noise – drawing a gloved thumb across his throat.

The girl tugged her helmet off as she walked back to the shade, panting. She was gorgeous – chocolate brown skin with freckles highlighting a pair of hazel eyes, which danced with the delight of victory. She grinned broadly as one of her friends tossed her a disposable water bottle, which she splashed over her face, then into her mouth.

“Nicely done,” Liam said.

“That sword is going over my mantlepiece, dude,” she said – her Californian drawl as thick as the syrupy accents of the people that Liam had met in Georgia.

“I was planning to stick it into a rock, myself,” Liam said. “Then see if anyone in my neighborhood can get it out. Figure it'd be a more sane way to pick a HOA community manager than the way we've got going in Beverly Hills.”

“You're from Beverly Hills?” the girl asked.

“That's us,” Greg said, pressing his thumb to his chest. “Water-sucking vampires.”

“So-Cal for life,” Liam said, nodding.

The girl frowned at the two boys. Then, reaching up, she grabbed onto the edge of the willow branch that was providing shade and tugged it aside. Greg just laughed, but Liam threw himself to the ground, hissing and clutching at his face. “Augh, no!”

The girl grinned. “That's, like, for the drought, dude.”

Liam laughed.

***

The day ground its way forward as people were removed from the bouts. Liam fought twice more – once against the girl (Chelsea was her name). He beat her by remembering her aggressive style and playing defensive. A few minutes of batting her sword aside then bringing down a perfectly timed stroke and she was disqualified. She retreated to hang with Greg – who had been taken out earlier that day by a trip and throat stroke – and cheered Liam on. Liam tried to remain calm, but that got harder and harder as he climbed up the ranks until late in the afternoon.

The sky was painted in the colors of autumn – orange and red and white streaks of cloud – and the sun had vanished behind the nearby trees and distant skyscrapers. The temperature had finally reached 'bearable' and the cicadas started to screech from the surrounding countryside. Lights were brought out by the HEMA-S teamsters and the YouTube webcameras and the local news stations started to set up for the final bout. Liam suddenly realized that what had started off as a lark was becoming far more serious.

He hadn't really thought he'd get this far. But just by sticking with what he had learned, what he had drilled in since he had been thirteen, and by remembering what he saw in the other bouts, he had gotten here, to the last fight of the day.

And things were shifted.

“Our views are skyrocketing,” a nervous looking man named Steven Merkle said, adjusting the collar on his official HEMA-S tee with one finger. “And those guys from Armmaster are ecstatic. They've pulled down a few dozen extra commissions just from this. So, we were thinking of changing the bout up a bit.”

Liam looked at his opponent. Samiya El-Amin was dressed in a white polo tee that had become streaked with sweat through the day. He was the kind of fantastically beautiful men that always left Liam – himself slightly too skinny and sharply featured to be considered classically attractive – feeling as if he shouldn't be jealous...but he was. I mean, Liam thought. I'm thin, I'm fit, I don't have a hairlip. I should feel fine. But then someone like Sami shows up and he reminds you that in a world of popstars, you're just college radio.

But more than just being a fantastically beautiful Pakistani immigrant, Sami was also a stone cold badass. He pushed at the very edge of what was acceptable under HEMA – it was historical European martial arts, after all. Including styles and moves from, say, Kendo was frowned on – but when you reached the level that Sami (and, Liam supposed, himself) were at, you had to start inventing your own spins on the style.

For Sami, it was embracing a broad, sweeping, cutting style that befitted sabers and cutlasses, as well as footwork that was distinctly different from what Liam was used too – he had seen trips and throws that seemed almost like eastern martial arts mixed in there. But he hadn't been quite sure. He wasn't versed in Akido or Ju Jitsu or whatever it was that Sami was using.

“Well,” Sami said. “How do you want to change the bout?”

God, even his accent is cooler than mine! Liam thought.

“Simple. We want to judge this as if you were wearing the armor – you can pick what you want to wear. That means you don't go down until you decide to go down.”

So, instead of losing because of points, I'll lose because he beat my brains out, Liam thought. He looked at Sami. Sami was looking at him – and those dark, perfect eyes looked as if they were trying to judge Liam. And Liam reacted, like all nineteen year old men do when they faced other nineteen year old men and the question hung in the air: Are you chicken?

“I'm down,” he said, before thinking

“Me too,” Sami said, at the same time.

“All right then,” Merkle said.

Liam nodded his head to Sami, then turned and walked over to the trailers that contained the extra armor and weapons for people who hadn't been able to bring their own gear. There, he met a boisterous and bubbly girl named Jenny, who showed him all the armor that they had brought purely for filming purposes – “Ya see, Ell, we're tryin' ta get us some ratin's, see?” she slapped a chain cuirass. “Looks great on ta cameras!”

Liam, in the end, chose to not go full plate. The last thing he wanted to do was having Sami trip him, flip him, and stick a dagger in his hands. He stuck with gauntlets so he could half-sword if he wanted, a chain surcoat, and some guards for his shoulders and thighs. He picked up his trusty padded longsword and looked at Jenny – who gave him a huge thumbs up and a gap toothed smile.

“Knock em dead, slugga!”

By now, the night had fallen. The people who had been removed from the tournament no longer  lounged in the copse of trees off the arena. Instead, they were sitting in the bleachers. Greg, Chelsea, the Scot (not English, he had furiously told Liam, not English at all) he had defeated earlier, all of them were sitting on the third row. Greg cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted loud enough that Liam could hear it over his pounding heartbeat.

“Get him a body bag, Johnny! Yeahhhhh!”

“Sweep the leg!” Chelsea shouted.

“Fook 'im up, ya mad bastard!” The Scot chimed in – less pop culture references, but certainly a lot more language that was causing the news coverage teams to look pained. Liam hoped they had been on a five second delay. Bright light shone down from tall poles and cast the night surrounding the tournament area into even starker darkness, blotting out the stars. It was a shame – Liam loved the stars. He looked up to them, then closed his eyes.

God, he thought. I know that the clashing of swords means very little to you. I mean, shit, I doubt you're even going to glance up from your job. But please, grant me the grace to not be a sore ass loser. I really want to accept this with grace. Like, a lot.

He touched his throat – his armor covered his crucifix. It wasn't just a symbol of Jesus and his sacrifice.

It was a reminder of Dad.

It had been the last thing he had sculpted – with tungsten and lasers. There was something delightful about that melange of things. Materials that literally couldn't have been imagined centuries ago, tools that had been pure science fiction years ago, all to create a symbol of a device that had transcended its original use as Iron Age execution tool to become an icon of hope and salvation and goodness to more than a billion people.

If that didn't represent the world as it should be, then Liam didn't know what would.

Well, a schematic for perfect cold fusion? A time machine pre-loaded with the coordinates of Hitler's house when he was a little kid complete with child psychologist? A functioning Galaxy class starship captained by Geordi LaForge? Liam's brain suggested the beats off – nervously, jittery. Like his knees, it quivered as Sami emerged from his trailer. The other warrior had also gone for chain.

And in the end, that turned out to make the entire combat infinitely duller than anyone had any right to hope.

Sami fought hard and well – but he had made the mistake the instant he had chosen his style of slashing sword. It was highly effective in bouts that were judged by points – by the blows landed and their effectiveness against an imaginary unarmored or lightly armored enemy. In fact, the curved cavalry saber had been the standard for centuries because the armies of the fifteenth to nineteenth centuries had worn progressively less and less armor as armor technology lagged ever farther behind the technologies of cannon and gunpowder.

When your foe didn't wear armor, you wanted huge, cutting wounds.

When your foe did wear armor, you wanted something that could actually be felt beneath the chain. Liam and Sami exchanged a few blows – then both realized the same thing at the same time. Their chain stopped cutting blows dead.

So, Liam casually switched his longsword to a reverse grip and beat Sami senseless with the cross guard.

***

“To the longsword!” Greg said, lifting up a glass of rootbeer.

“To the longsword!” Everyone else at the table – a bruised, battered, but all around happy-to-be there Sami, Chelsea, Jenny and the Scott – lifted their drinks and Liam ducked his head forward. His cheeks felt incandescent, but he was having a hard time containing his huge smile. The longsword was cradled in his lap, sheathed in a scabbard of hard leather with a beautiful dragon detail that coiled around the edges and added a wonderful golden decoration to the black body. It felt lighter than Liam's practice or dueling sword, which didn't make sense – but Liam figured that the day was allowed to not make sense. He had won an international HEMA-S championship.

Him.

Like, he wasn't that good of a swordsman, it still felt like any moment now, the walls would fall away and he'd be standing naked before his math class with Professor Martinez snidely telling him that if he wanted to show off, he might as well have the good graces to be hung like Ron Jeremy. Life persisted in not being a dream as the celebratory meal was laid out – everyone had agreed to split the check as the wait staff of the restaurant acted like they weren't entirely sure how they should handle several heavily armed and armored people.

Yes, the weapons were out of date – and fake – but still, they had swords.

“So, I say,” Sami said, “That we all agree never to play to the knockout again.”

“Agreed,” Liam said. “Of course, I am never ever going to fight in a tournament again. I want to go down on record as being completely undefeated.”

Greg cupped his mouth and booed – quietly.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Liam stuck his finger out, pointing at his friend. “Do you know why Admiral Thrawn is considered the greatest leader in galactic history?”

“Because he's blue space Belisarius?” Greg asked.

“Thrawn?” Sami asked. The Scot looked equally as baffled.

“Because Thrawn never fought a battle he knew he couldn't win,” Liam said, seriously. “Except for that last time with the clone of Palpatine.”

“Wait, Star Wars?” Chelsea asked. “Wasn't Palpatine the Emperor? Didn't he die?”

“Yeah, that's why he was cloned,” Liam said.

“I thought that his name was Snoak or something,” Chelsea said.

“God, that is an awful name for a Star Wars villain,” Greg said, putting his head in his hands.

“I liked it,” Chelsea spoke into her glass as she tipped it backwards and drank from it. She, unlike everyone else at the table (and observable universe as far as Liam could tell) abstained from using a straw, a fact that the wait staff hadn't seemed to grasp as evidenced by the increasing pile of unused straws stacked on the napkin beside her plate.

Sami, though, waved his hand – trying to banish this talk of the space-future. “There is one thing we need to decide on before we head out: what are you going to call her?”

Chelsea leaned slowly forward – catching Sami's eye. “Her?”

“I am sorry. It is the tradition: ships, swords and very large guns are named her.” Sami nodded seriously – as he wasn't the designated driver, he had been quietly knocking down a few of the very fruity, slightly alcoholic drinks that the restaurant served. He did check an iPod app that looked like it was designed to calculate the duration of a drunk every other sip, though. The end result was that he was beginning to pronounce everything with the seriousness and earnest focus of the slightly drunk. “And all proper swords are named.”

“Foebiter,” Greg said.

“Excalibur,” Chelsea pitched in.

“Colada,” the Scot said, nodding. “And Tizona.”

“Fine!” Liam said, holding up his hands. “Fine, I need to name the sword. Just give me a bit of time, okay?”

“If you don't have it before we hit the museum tomorrow,” Greg said, leaning forward. “I will kill you.”

Everyone but Liam looked at Greg nervously – the large man had pronounced this with utter seriousness. Liam pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Don't worry,” he said. “Greg considers casual murder to be an effective carrot.”

“It got you through trig, didn't it?”

***

The carpeted hallways of the Hilton sucked up sound as effectively as a sponge. Liam hated it. He liked houses that creaked and groaned and were alive. This kind of near perfect soundproofing reminded him too much of morgues and sensory isolation chambers and recording rooms – the kind of places where the mind started making up noises just to be doing something. Fortunately, the company he was keeping made it easier to ignore his own dislike of the place. Chelsea walked with him, her shoulders shaking. “He didn't,” she said, her hand covering her mouth.

“He did,” Liam said, pausing at the door leading to his room. Greg had gone with Sami and the Scot to the gym in the Hilton. Apparently, there was a full sized pool-table tucked somewhere in there, and they were going to enjoy hitting balls with sticks. Liam's slightly sleepy brain tried to find a good pun to make but couldn't come up with anything. He leaned against the door and smiled at Chelsea. “And that is why, when Greg says that he will bring the firepower, you believe him.”

Chelsea smiled at him, her hands on the curve of her cheek. Liam paused – uncertain about how to say goodnight.

So, instead, he said: “Want to come in?”

The door opened behind him and Liam felt his skin tingle with an excitement more intense and more focused than that he had felt when he had faced off across the field from Sami. Gooseflesh rose along his forearms as Chelsea put her fingers against her skin and stepped into the room after him. The entrance hall to the room was tighter and closer than the rest of the room – and they both stayed there, taking advantage of the closeness. For the life of him, Liam had no idea who went for the first kiss – it was like, one moment, they were close. The next, their tongues were locked as they pressed against one another. Her dark hands grabbed at his ass and she squeezed and Liam heard a quiet, cat-like growl at the base of her throat.

And his knees almost melted.

She thinks I'm sexy, he thought, his eyes closed tight as Chelsea pressed him – back first – against the wall. The wall wasn't a wall, it was the sliding door of a closet and Liam felt it give under him weight and pressure ever so slightly. His hands grabbed her hips and shoved her back as he came up for breath. Pant. Pant. Pant.

“S-So, uh, sock?” she murmured.

“Sock?” he asked, dazed.

“Y-You know, like, on the door?”

“Sock!” His eyes widened. He blinked. “C-Chelsea, I, uh, w-wait, are-”

“We're not going to see each other again tomorrow, and Jesus Christ, you are fucking hot,” Chelsea whispered in his ear. Her hands slipped from his ass to the crotch of his jeans. A single, warm, coffee-brown palm cupped his cock and Liam groaned under his breath. “Let's have fun before real life comes back.”

Liam gulped. “Condom?”

“In my wallet,” she murmured. Then, seeing his look, she smirked. “You, like, going to get judgmental or something?”

“No! Christ, no!” he grinned at her. “Besides, uh, never really was down with St. Augustine.”

“Hmm?” Chelsea asked, lifting up one foot and tugging off her sneaker. She wriggled her pink sock off a moment later, opening the door and tugging it over the knob. Once she had it shut, she kicked off her other shoe.

“Uh, obscure theological argument about free love and it's relation to the immortal souuuuuuuuahhhhhh!” Liam's breathless tirade turned into a yelp as Chelsea grabbed his hand and dragged him to the closer of the twin beds in the room. They both landed – Chelsa on her side, Liam on his back. Before he could sit up, the NorCal girl slung one hip over his and then straddled him. She leaned back and for a moment, he couldn't see her face thanks to the back lightning from the ceiling lamp.

Then he couldn't see her face because her shirt covered it.

Then she sat there, bright white sports bra against cream dark skin and Liam breathed slowly out.

Is this really happening? He thought.

Her bra hit his chest.

Yes, yes, this is really happening. W-Well, don't just lay there like an idiot. Do all those things boys are supposed to do! His brain had the sharp voice of his first swords-trainer, Mr. Ro.

The first thing Liam did was lean up and cup her breasts in his hands. They were firm and yet soft – her skin silky smooth. His fingers found her nipples and he gently teased them as he kissed her neck. Chelsea made a sound somewhere between a groan, a moan, and the word 'fuck' and kissed the top of his head. His fingers slipped under her breasts, then to her back as he kissed at the tips of one breast, then the other. He sucked on her nipple as his hands gripped her ass. Then, experimentally, he slapped her jean-clad cheek.

Chelsea squeaked – then, after a single heart-stopping moment, laughed.

Emboldened, Liam rolled her onto her back – and now the light provided a perfect view of her body rather than shrouding it. Her skin gleamed faintly with sweat even in the air conditioned hotel room, and her nipples were dark, almost black nubs that drew his eye and made his mouth water. But the freckles on her cheek extended along her shoulders and down her arms, like the spotting on a fawn. She spread her arms, writhing sensually. Her muscles were finely defined – she definitely worked for a living.

“Like what you see, Mr. Vanderbilt?” she asked, coyly.

“Mmmmhmmm,” Liam said, tugging his own shirt off.

The tiny gasp that escaped Chelsea's mouth at the sight of him was extremely gratifying. Nothing like impressing a gorgeous girl to make a boy feel ten feet tall and capable of breaking Darth Vader over one knee while punching out the entire Borg Collective with his free hand at the same time. Then all thoughts beyond the practical physicality of the moment escaped him as her strong, lithe fingers hooked under the hem of his jeans and his shorts and tugged desperately, too desperate to even undo the button. His fingers did that job – and with the release of the button and the pressure keeping the jeans on his pants, his cock sprang free.

He had never been harder in his life.

Chelsea's hand closed around his cock and she cooed.

Okay, no, correction now was when he had never been harder before.

“Fuck, I can't wait,” Chelsea murmured. She was fishing in her wallet one handed. “I want this in me.”

“Uh, don't we need more, uh, foreplay?” Liam asked.

“I've been revved all day,” Chelsea said, her voice the model of practicality. “Fighting rubs my button, Ell. I need cock.”

Part of Liam felt...oddly uncertain.

Then Chelsea put the condom into her mouth and leaned forward. Her lips caressed Liam's cock – a warm, soft, enfolding sensation that contrasted with the slick, hot, tight feeling of the condom as she pushed herself forward and forward and forward and in a single, smooth motion, deepthroated him. Her tongue – almost dainty in its movements – pressed the base down and then she smoothly slid back with a faint glug noise. Coughing, she grinned at him.

“I had to, like, practice to get that right, dude,” she said. “I hope you are impressed.”

“Wow,” Liam whispered.

Part of Liam still felt oddly uncertain.

The rest of Liam was already frantically unbuttoning Chelsea's pants. They slipped off – revealing her wild tuft of pubic hair – and she rolled onto her back and then thrust her ass into the air. She grinned over her shoulder and spread her knees wide. Liam grabbed his cock, his brow furrowing as he focused on the pure physicality of the moment. His crucifix bounced against his chest as he reared backwards. His sheathed cock slipped up, then down, then pressed forward. She groaned into a pillow, arching her back to make it easier.

And Liam pressed into her.

Her sex squeezed him – tight and fierce – and Chelsea threw her head back, leaving a damp mark where she had bitten down on the pillow. She pushed back against him and Liam grabbed her hips. His hands slid to her shoulders, then squeezed as he started to find a natural, casual rhythm. Chelsea gasped and moaned and then said: “Ah...you can reach around, you know!” She grinned. “Find, ah, fuck, that cute little clitty of -nnh- mine and rub it good.”

“Right!” Liam shifted a bit, putting more of his weight on his right hand. His shoulders tensed and he reached around. Fortunately, Chelsea's vocalizations remained as frank and practical as ever.

“Left, right, up a bit – thaaaaaar it is!” She gasped. “Ah yes! Ah yes! H-Harder, it won't fucking break, oh Jesus, oh fuck yes!”

Liam ducked his head forward and saw his crucifix jounce and bounce around his neck as he drove into her faster and faster – and tried to ignore the vestigial guilt that the Gnostic had snuck into the early Christian church.  He could hear the distant voice of St. Augustine of Hippo – sounding weirdly like the old grandfather in some sitcom.

How dare you enjoy the physical world, boy! It is sin!

Shut up, St. Augustine.

“Oh Godddddddd!” Chelsea groaned happily and Liam felt her sex constrict around him – tightening and drawing a jolt of pleasure through him. Before he even realized it, he was cumming and cumming hard. He felt the burst of heat and tightness around the condom that contained his dick. Then he felt like a cut guitar string – suddenly loose and noodley. He leaned forward, his head ducking forward. He panted, hearing Chelsea breath.

“Man,” she whispered. “That was, like, exactly the fuck I needed. Thanks, Ell.”

“Any time.”

Chelsea wriggled under him. She sighed. “I'd normally enjoy the feeling of your dick in me for a few more,” she said, squirming and slipping under his cock pulled out of her. “But that sock isn't a guarantee to keep that six foot tall ogre of your friend out.” She flashed a grin at him. “So, sorry to fuck and run, but-”

“No, no, it makes sense,” Liam said, smiling at her. “Besides. Just for fun, right?”

Chelsea cupped his cheek, then leaned in. The kiss caught a flicker of the earlier feeling of the night – a feeling of tingling excitement that had become washed out by the practicality and the realities of the moment. Then, in what felt like a few short heartbeats, she was gone. Liam knew that she had said things -  things like “sleep tight” and “that was, like, fucking great” and “see you tomorrow morning” - but they had felt transitory.

Liam lay in bed, still naked, still sweating, and blinked.

“That's one way to lose your virginity,” he said. “I, uh, kinda expected more fanfare.”

Instead, all he heard was the faint squeak of the ceiling fan.

***

The Atlanta History Center – locked in one of the nicer parts of the Buckhead District in Atlanta – was a delightful place if you wanted to learn about the deadliest war in American history. But that wasn't why Liam, Sami, Chelsea – who acted exactly the same as she had yesterday, which for Liam was honestly a relief – Greg and the Scot had come there. No, the reason they had come was only going to be present for another month and a half. The fact that next to no one had actually come to check it out just made it better for the lot of them.

The Early Christian History exhibit was filled with the relics and history of a part of Christian history that was lost and ignored by modern Americans. Liam knew a few bits here and there – mostly stuff picked up by researching the history of Rome and Byzantium. He recognized names that popped up here and there – names like Monophysite, and Gnostic, and Apollinarians and others. But the details were a mass of ecumenical councils and debates that had long since been settled (or, at the very least, tucked into a corner and labeled with “do not open, will cause holy war.”)

The center of the exhibit, though, were some ancient relics of the early Church. These were objects on loan from the museums of Istanbul in a Turkey/America BFF gesture that was part of the myriad of subtle connections that wedded the NATO nations together into a tight, comforting blanket of nuclear deterrence.

“So, did you come up with a name?” Sami asked.

“What?” Liam asked, his backpack and his scabbard bouncing against his back as he walked with his friends through the corridors of the museum.

“For your sword?” Sami grinned.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Liam said, coughing slightly. His hand went back to the hilt of his sword, wrapped in leather and cloth. He closed his eyes, steeled himself, and said: “Delenn.”

“Who?” Sami asked.

“That bone-headed chick from Babylon 5?” Greg asked.

Liam scowled at Greg. “She's beautiful, a mixture of old and new, and can kick immense amount of ass if she needs too!”

“That, honestly, sounds like a really good name for a sword,” Chelsea said.

“What is that?” Greg asked, his voice sounding shocked as he looked away from the group and pointed.

They had walked past a few early paintings of Church leaders and were into the actual artifacts themselves – some examples of early worry beads and other religious paraphernalia that hadn't made it to the western branches of Christianity.

“I have no idea,” Liam said.

Together, the lot of them walked up to the central exhibit. It was hard to describe. Just looking at it made Liam want to rub his nose and blink a lot. It looked like a box made of solid iron, with crossbars that connected to one another, forming a perfect cube. There was nothing inside, and yet the angles of the structure all conspired to make the interior seem smaller than it could possibly be. Despite there being absolutely nothing odd about the center, looking into it made Liam feel queasy. The rest of his friends all looked uncertain too.

“It says,” Sami said, reading carefully off the placard set out before the box, “The Manichean Solution. Found in 1989 in a secret chamber in the Hagia Sophia by archeologist Amir Hussain, it was found with a scroll dating to the year 300 CE. Described as being a blasphemous tool used by the Manichean heresy, this box was said to be used to spread their creed into Europe and China.” He humphed. “What is a Manichean?”

Liam already had his iPod out, grinning as he checked the battery. Still ninety eight percent. “Manichean,” he read. “A major religious movement founded by Iranian prophet – Mani – in the year 216.” He nodded. “Blah blah blah, dualistic cosmology. Oh.” He shook his head. “They're one of those people who think the spiritual world is all good and the material world is all bad.” He frowned slightly. “I wonder what they used it for?”

“Creeping people out?” Chelsea asked.

“Maybe it was like those old temples to Zeus, where the priests used illusions and tricks to seem impressive?” Liam asked. “Like, you stick your arm through and the perspective makes-”

He put his arm forward, sticking his hand and his iPod through the box.

The resulting release of energy – caused by feedback and physical processes unknown to modern Earth – caused an explosion that shattered the box and the wall behind it into rubble. The others were, fortunately, protected from the blast by the directional nature of the energy release. The bigger danger was from the shrapnel that blew outwards. If Greg had been half an inch taller, he'd have stopped a chunk of metal the size of his thumb with his forehead, rather than earning a nasty scar. If Chelsea hadn't been leaning forward to watch Liam's demonstration, she'd have taken the chunk of concrete in the throat rather than her shoulder.

As it was, she still spent a month in the hospital so she had time to dwell on many questions.

If it was a terror attack, why hit an almost abandoned chunk of the museum?

And if Liam was dead, where the fuck was his body?

Two

It felt a bit like being turned inside out, toenails first.

It felt a bit like having his nerves lit on fire.

It felt like an eternity.

It lasted less than five seconds – which, all things considered, was a good thing. If it had lasted longer, Liam might have gone completely mad.

A crack-boom as loud as a cannon filled his ears and his eyes were blinded by blazing white light. It felt like he had been dropped back into the Atlanta day – and so, for a moment, Liam lay on the ground and thought that he might be picked up by EMTs any minute now. He'd hear sirens and cars and people screaming about the bomb that had gone off and flung him from the museum. Instead, the low sounds that he heard never got higher or more sophisticated than the buzz of insects and the rustling of leaves and the creak of branches.

Liam refused to move. To move would be to admit that his body existed – and he still hurt too much for that to be something he wanted on the record.

Aha! he thought, his ears twitching as he heard the faint crunch crunch crunch of leaves and twigs underneath a heavy footfall. Someone has come to rescue me. Good. I can remain on the ground. Ow.

Something large and thick and bulbous slapped against Liam's face. He might have been able to accept that if it hadn't also been wet and sticky and slimy. He opened one eye and groaned as he saw two vertical slits that whuffed out thick streams of air into his face. A long, purplish tongue was smearing across the right side of his face and leaving a numb, tingling feeling that spread from his jaw to his ear. What was worse, the tongue went into a maw big enough to swallow his head and shoulders in a single, flat-toothed bite.

Later, Liam would chide himself for panicking. Flat teeth meant herbivores, not predators.

But at the moment, Liam made a noise between 'aaaugh' and 'eeugh' and 'oh Jesus Christ!' and jerked himself away from the monster. Something didn't work right in his legs – he tried to get them under him but instead he ended up flailing along the ground. As he had appeared at the top of what seemed like an infinitely tall hill, that turned out to be the less than ideal option for moving around. His arms cartwheeled as he tilted backwards, then thumped head first onto a hard, stone step. He rolled, hit his shoulder on the jam of another step and slapped out his left arm, catching at the steps under him. He stopped his spin, but his back continued to skid and bounce along the steps, the edges of the platforms butting at his spine, his ass, and the base of his neck.

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!” He finally stopped. Thank you friction, thank you Jesus for making sure friction did it's fucking job.

A low, groaning noise from the top of the hill made Liam roll his head back. The first thing he noticed wasn't the creature waddling towards him. No, it was the fact that the steps that he had been rolling down were ancient. The faint weathering on the stone, the curious geometric patterns worked into the stonework, and the fact that the inlaid patterns had long ago lost whatever had been laid within them save for a few scraps of glittering crystal that stuck out like the gaped teeth of old beggars. All of it screamed age to Liam.

Also, he was definitely not in any part of Atlanta. Atlanta might have been as hot and humid as a rainforest, but it wasn't a rainforest. This definitely was – and the most exotic rainforest he had ever seen. His mind didn't go to thoughts of the Amazon or the depths of Guatemala or the nameless tract of land the main characters of Predator stomped through. No, this kind of bio-luminescent bounty made him think of a half dozen dime store sci-fi novels or the verdant CGI beauty of James Cameron's Avatar. Broad, circular flowers with deep 'wells' in their centers grew along the paths, while trees were coated in fungus and mold that shimmered brightly even during the day. The leaves were edged with emerald luminescence and long, trailing vines hung from every branch.

The monster itself drew his attention again by lowing like a pig and stepping onto the path. It had two stumpy little legs that looked as if they could barely support its weight and a wicked array of glowing crystals that sprouted from its back. The crystals looked as if they had grown in open wounds – but the scales and the armor plates that the creature sported on its back had fused around the crystals. No sign of infection that Liam could see.

Not that he was an expert on alien creatures and crystals.

“Okay,” Liam said, his voice raspy as he rolled onto his back and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. He felt something bump against his back and panicked chest until he realized that the thing looped around him was the curved strap of his scabbard. Delenn was still strapped to his back.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

But then a strange whirring noise filling the air. Liam saw that the crystals on the creature's back were starting to glow brighter and brighter as it shook itself from side to side.

“Oh fuck me,” he whispered.

The whirr got louder.

Liam flung himself off the side of the stone steps, crashing into the underbrush a moment before a lightning bolt sprang off the creature's back and smashed into the steps he had been unsteadily standing on a moment before. He scrambled onto his belly and grabbed a rock. He stood and threw it at the creature – it hit the ground to the left of the creature's foot. The creature started to shake back and forth. The whirr started up again. Liam's heart pounded and he charged forward, grabbing his scabbard. He yanked it over his shoulders, got the blade free, then smashed his shoulder into the monster's side. The monster lowed plaintively as it fell onto its side and sent off a surge of lightning – bright blue and strangely cold – into the air, harmlessly.

Liam plunged the tip of his sword into the monster's side and put his weight on the cross guard and shoved as hard as he could. The sensation of blade parting flesh was one that would stick in his mind and stay there – a hideous give that came with an iron scent of blood and a red that no movie or video game could possibly match. It was brighter and more clearly real than anything that he had ever seen before in his life.

But it did the trick. The creature gurgled, spat up blood, and died.

Liam stood above it, panting and jerking his blade free. He looked at his bloodied sword and whistled. “N-Nicely done, Dee.” He blinked. “Panic later. Figure out where you are first.”

The first thing that that required was looking at the sky. His brain was whirling in a dozen different directions. One was screaming that he was dead. Super dead. Like, so incredibly dead that he might as well just start asking God nicely for a ticket straight up to heaven. He was stuck in a rainforest – and even on Earth, a world where man had essentially kicked Mother Nature's ass unrelentingly for the better part of two thousand years, being in a rainforest was a fast way to become fertilizer for some uncaring, evil tree.

And he was in an alien rainforest.

An alien rainforest with lightning rhinos.

Liam looked at the sky.

After a few moments of silence, he whispered: “Okay. Maybe you can panic a little.”

The sky was not the sky. Oh, there was a sun up there, yes. But the sun hung between him and the sky, clearly interposed between the tops of the trees and the rest of the sky – and the rest of the sky was green and brown and blue and gold. The colors of Earth from space. He could see drifting clouds over vast oceans that shimmered and winked with that familiar pattern of distant water – the waves rendered into nothing but minor pixelation effects. He could see vast rainforests that sprawled between mountains that pointed towards him. He could see cities. They were large, sprawling places that hugged along the coast, their presence visible by how they impacted the wilderness around them. He tried to judge the distance – and figured that he had to be dozens of mines away from them.

That couldn't be right.

“I'm inside of a bubble world,” he whispered. “But the sky is too close.”

Liam started up the stairs, wanting to figure out where he had arrived – trying to grapple with the reality of the situation. He was alone, with nothing but his longsword, his wallet, his fanny pack, two granola bars and a bag of trail mix, his clothes, his 21st Century spread of vaccinations (fuck you, Jenny McCarthy, he thought) and his brain. Good. He was in a world that was enclosed. Got it.  His body had been put through a serious ringer – because just walking up the stairs left him drenched in sweat.

“That might have something to do with the fact this place is a bake-oven,” Liam said, panting as he put his hands on his knees and looked around the clearing at the top of the hill. Trees grew around it – jutting up from the hill and thus preventing him from getting any sense of the landscape immediately around the place. However, the hilltop itself was clear – barring a few strange statues built. The first one that he noticed was of a gorgeous woman with firm, jutting breasts capped by rock hard nipples.

Liam paused and slapped his cheek gently. “Bad, Liam. You are going to hell for that pun. Right into God's personal murder dungeon.”

What made the statue strange was the immense pair of feathered wings spreading from her shoulders. And even that was comfortingly familiar. Yes, she was wearing considerably less clothing than the angelic statues that he had seen in graveyards – but she was still comfortingly familiar. There were other statue bases in the clearing – forming a half circle. All but the winged one had been smashed or dragged off ages before, leaving nothing but rusted... no, that wasn't rust. Liam knelt down and frowned at the placards that were mounted on the bases: They were all bronze, and they had tarnished with age. The etchings were still clear.

“Greek?” he whispered. “I'm on alien planet that leaves behind statues in Greek?”

He turned back away from the statues and his heart leapt into his throat. Something gleamed in the center of the clearing. Springing forward, Liam held it up with shaking hands. Battered, yes. Worn? Yes. But his iPod was intact and functioning in the hardened plastic sheath that he had purchased to keep it safe through his rough and tumble lifestyle.

“Sweet,” he said, then touched down on the top button, waiting until the whole thing shut down. Then, carefully, he rooted through his pockets and his fannypack. He found a spare ziplock bag – one that he hadn't used for trail mix - dumped his iPod inside and packed it into his fannypack, zipping it up with a fierce jerk.

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “We're good for now. Wherever this is, there are cities. We just need to find one.”

He started down the stairs, taking them one at a time. The temperature dropped slowly as he moved deeper and deeper under the canopy. He knew that every right thinking xenobiologist on the Earth – of which there were probably, like, five – had to be screaming at him. Here he was, walking through an alien ecosystem and he wasn't taking any notes, or any samples. But all Liam was focused on was finding some kind of water. Now, he didn't have his water bottle with him – he had given it to Chelsea during the trip to the museum so she could get a drink – but he was sure he could figure something out.

But he knew he'd need water bad soon.

“Hell,” he said. “I need water bad now.”

The bottom of the stairs did not lead into a trail – at least, not one that had been used recently. The trees grew thick and fast around the base of the hill, and there was no sign of any civilization that had been there in centuries, if not longer. Liam looked around slowly and perked his ears. He didn't hear any water.

But he did hear screaming.

“Close enough,” Liam whispered and started to run through the jungle. He ducked round vines, and hoped that nothing that he was running through was toxic. He pushed around a branch and almost ran smack bang into a clearing that was bisected by a small pond that seemed to grow out of the ground. The pond was surrounded by thick stones that were covered with scrawling runic script. Standing at the edge of the pond was the most fantastically beautiful woman that Liam had ever seen. Her hair was a brilliant blonde that caught the sunlight that streamed into the clearing and glowed. Her eyes were pure, ice blue without any whites. They literally fluoresced. Her shoulders were slender and toned, with pale pink skin that was almost entirely exposed. She was dressed in nothing but a breast band that wrapped over her full chest – and considering how she gleamed with sweat, the band molded to her like a second skin – and a kind of pleated kilt that seemed to have been pulled straight from Ancient Egypt. At her left hip was a scabbard, and in her right hand she held a short, gleaming bronze sword that wouldn't have been out of place in a Roman Legion.

She was also winged.

The wings were huge – easily three feet long each – and fanned to either side of her, making her seem even larger than life. They twitched slightly with every motion as she looked left and right and glared at the people surrounding her. Those people were the ones who were screaming – well, one of them was. He was on the ground, clutching his wrist, blood pouring from the stump that had been his hand. The blood poured into the water of the pool – but the pool never became tainted or discolored. It was as if the water was too pure to be sullied.

The other men were dressed in bronze armor – chest pieces that protected their torsos – and helmets with horse hair mohawks that made them seem taller and more impressive. Two of them held short spears and had wooden shields on their arms, while the other three held swords similar to the woman's.

She glared at the men, then flicked her sword down to the wounded – no, the dead – man at her feet. He looked ashen faced now, all the blood drained out of his body. She spoke and her voice was musical and alien. Her language seemed to be fast moving and faintly familiar, but Liam couldn't make hide nor hair of it. The men, though, had been waiting for her to be distracted. One of them had dropped his sword and yanked something off his belt. He tossed it and the winged woman beat her wings – a massive wind blowing through the clearing, catching dust and kicking up small bits of detritus. But the object the man had thrown looked like a lead dart tipped with something that glowed. It thudded into the woman's thigh and bright red blood splashed along her skin.

Her wings shuddered, then flapped again – but this time, they barely slowed her down. She hit the ground and staggered. One of the swordmen charged forward and she slashed at him. Her blow was artless and slow and he batted it aside as easily as if she had been an untrained child. He lifted his sword, ready to bring the pommel crashing down onto her head – and then blinked. His arm seemed to be on the ground. Liam stood behind him, panting softly, his hands on the hilt of his sword.

“Sorry!” Liam exclaimed – the first, stupid thing that came into his mind. Part of him half expected a ref to spring out of the woods and shout: Foul! Foul! Improper dismemberment! You're disqualified, Vanderbilt!

The man missing his arm opened his mouth, then dropped to the ground in shock. The four remaining men charged at Liam. That turned out to be a mistake. The woman, weakened or not, wasn't out yet. She shoulder checked one of the spearmen. He flailed and went tumbling into the pool and the woman grabbed onto him and held him down, the two vanishing under the water. One of the swordsmen got to Liam first. He slashed at Liam – a quick, brutal chop. Liam stepped to the side, wishing he had a shield. Parrying was all well and good, but it was a great way to get your weapon ruined in an actual fight. Then Liam brought his sword up in a counter stroke, completely forgetting that this was, in fact, a real battle.

And rather than the unmusical clang followed by death that he expected, Delenn struck the armor that the man wore and smashed through it. Liam felt ribs grate under his hands and he kicked the corpse off and into the path of the last swordman who had faced him. He held Delenn up – hoping that he hadn't damaged the blade beyond repair. The two remaining man gaped at him... and he realized that one of them was a woman.

She said something and the other man nodded. They backed away in a hurry, then turned and ran.

It had all been so fast, so stunning that Liam barely had time to think about what had happened. Now, it stuck him with the force of a nuclear bomb. He had just killed two people. There was blood everywhere. The man he had disarmed – ugh – had sprayed blood over his chest and his pants and his fannypack. The woman whose chest piece he had smashed through had died instantly. It looked like she was shocked, and her helmet had been knocked off.

Underneath, she had ears that came to long, thin, tapering points.

“H-Holy fuck,” Liam whispered. “I killed an elf.”

He was being violently sick when the winged woman burst out of the water, gasping, and heaved the corpse of the man she had tackled into the pool out.

The winged woman grinned at him as she tugged herself out of the pool. Liam wiped his mouth clean with one hand and coughed as he saw that the pool water had turned the scanty clothes that the winged woman wore into parodies of clothes – clothes that did far more to accentuate the puffy hardness of her nipples, or the smooth, muscular curve of her thighs. She put her hands on her hips – then grabbed the dart still stuck into her. She yanked it free and hissed as she tossed it to the ground. Liam walked towards her, staggering as he knelt beside the pool.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that her wound was closing – the skin was knitting together. By the time he had finished wiping his face off and cleaning some of the blood off his hands, it was closed. He yanked his shirt off, dunking it into the water, then tugged it free. He had expected to need a good five or six dunkings to try and clean the blood off.

Instead, his shirt was already clean.

The woman said something to him. Liam looked at her, then shook his head. “No, sorry. No universal translator on me.” He took off his fannypack, then dunked his feet into the pool, then sloshed himself into it. His whole body tingled and he pulled himself out a short moment later. When he stood, the blood was gone – and more, he felt better than he had since he had arrived. He looked at his dripping hands, grinning. “Nice poooooooo...” He trailed off, never finding that L.

Turning to look at the winged woman showed that she had taken a hold of her kilt and tugged it casually off. The curve of her thighs lead his eyes straight to her sex – it was utterly hairless, but that didn't mean she was shaved. No. Instead of pubic hair, she had a small tuft of feathers, right above the cleft of her sex. She tugged her breastband off, and her tits didn't even sag. The sheer impossibility of her beauty made Liam feel entirely lightheaded.

She smiled at him, then said a word.

Liam blinked at her.

The winged woman rolled her eyes, then said something very long and complex.

Liam blinked at her again, unable to look away from those blue-blue eyes.

The winged woman grabbed Liam's wrist, then dragged it to her breast. His fingers involuntarily squeezed, sinking in just slightly against her skin. He felt her nipple – a hard pebble against his palm. Liam's heart raced and he blinked at her, trying to find something to say. Then the winged woman stepped forward and grabbed his back with her free hand. Her wings closed around them, creating a cocoon of warmth and she kissed him. Her tongue slid into his mouth and Liam felt energy surge through his body.

He needed her.

He needed to be balls deep in her feathered pussy. His hands grabbed her ass and he kissed her back, panting as he broke the kiss a moment later to growl. “Fuck,” he said. She murmured something that sounded very similar and for a moment, Liam was worried. Was this a reward? Or something she felt she owed him? But then she grabbed his wrists and forced his hands into the places she wanted – one hand on her breast, the other between her thighs. He felt her smoldering hot cunt and rubbed against her clit with his thumb and she cooed and nodded.

Yes, good. I will keep you, she seemed to be saying.

Liam stopped worrying about the why and started worrying about the how. As in how to fuck this woman properly. He kissed her neck, then kissed her breasts. He sucked on one nipple, then the other, teasing her with his teeth. He found that he could use quite a bit of pressure before she hissed – and even when he looked up at her worried, she nodded down at him.

Yes, I won't break. I am tough, can't you tell?

He kissed her belly, and then she was sitting down. Her rump settled on the rock that made the edge of the pool and she spread her thighs. Her fingers caressed the back of Liam's head – he felt one tease and tug on his hair and he grinned as he kissed first one thigh, then the other. He teased her, licking and nuzzling at her belly, not quite touching her pussy. He caught one of her pussy feathers in between his lips and was tugging it gently when it seemed that her patience for teasing  had come to an end. Her fingers stroked through his hair and she shoved him forward.

Liam was glad to oblige. His tongue delved into her sex as his fingers caressed the undersides of her breasts. He was noticing something now – she was short. He could easily grope her tits while eating her out – he didn't even need to stretch. She had been looking up at him the whole time; it was just her presence that had made him feel as if she was on the same height as him. It was heady and strange to think.

Then she moaned and came and gush of juices filled his mouth. That was shocking enough for someone who had never eaten someone out who squirted before, but what was far more shocking was her taste. Maybe he shouldn't have been so surprised that she should taste like some kind of sugary candy. She was a winged angel with glowing blue eyes. He should have just been happy she didn't ejaculate hydraulic acid.

But it was still enough to cause him to jerk back, spluttering and wheezing.

The angel laughed, throwing her head back. She had a beautiful laugh – and when she gently bumped his nose with her big toe, Liam saw that she wasn't just flexible. She was incredibly flexible. Her feet moved as adroitly as her hands, though they weren't quite the right shape. He blushed and murmured, “Man, I feel like Quentin Tarantino.”

“I do not know what race a Tarantino is,” the woman said, her voice turning English into the most beautiful poetry that Liam had ever heard, “But if they eat girls out like you, then I must acquaint myself with them.”

“You can speak English!?” Liam jerked his head back.

The angel chortled. “No, you can speak Latin,” she said, grinning as she sat up.

“Latin?” Liam spluttered. “I've heard Latin, and that's not Latin.”

The woman shrugged. “I can assure you this is Latin. I speak fluent Latin, Coptic and Greek. I'd be barely worth my name if I couldn't. I also do a passable job in asking for directions to the whorehouse in Elvish.”

Liam tried to parse all of that. “Wait, how do-” He blinked. “Okay, firstly, there's a word for whore in Elvish?”

“Yeah, I know, right?” The woman snorted. “They seem so much better than that, but they're just as ready to buy love when they need too.” She made a remarkably familiar 'jerking off' gesture while rolling her eyes.

Liam blinked. “Well, uh, my name is Liam Vanderbilt.”

“Megaera the Messenger,” the angel said, bowing her head.

“That is by far the most logical name I could have hoped for,” Liam said, rubbing his face.

“So,” Megaera – though Liam immediately started thinking of her as Meg – spread her thighs and arched her back. “Going to finish what you started, conquering hero?”

She spoke the words with just enough sardonic amusement that Liam had to grin, even as he unbuttoned his jeans. He felt a surge of passion that made what happened in the hotel room feel like a candle compared to a nuclear bomb. Turned out almost dying was a great aphrodisiac? Another great aphrodisiac? The woman you were about to fuck being this stupidly beautiful. His hands grabbed his shirt and he tugged it up and over his shoulders, tossing it aside. His crucifix caught the light and shone – and Meg's eyes widened.

“What the fuck?” she hissed, shoving herself back.

“What?” Liam blinked, looking down at his naked body – his hard abs and his hard cock. Then he saw where Meg's eyes were pointed. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes.

“Why are you wearing a godsdamned crucifix on your neck?” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you some kind of executioner? Is that why your God gave you a magic blade?” Her finger caressed the necklace.

“What?” Liam asked, feeling like he was a good two or three steps behind the times. “I, no. No, this is...” He shook his head. “It's an icon of my God.” He paused. “You're not an angel are you?”

Meg cocked her head. “I'm a Valkyrie.”

She said it like she expected Liam to start drooling and eating his own boogers.

“I think that we should really go over some basic cultural knowledge,” Liam said, nodding.

“...after you fuck me?”

“After. Definitely after.” Liam grabbed her ankles, tugging her off the rock and onto the soft grass. Meg writhed delightfully under him as he found that she was athletic enough and flexible enough to be easily spread wide. Her ankles almost hooked behind her neck as she cooed quietly, and Liam found his cock pressing to her sex. He ground against her, teasing her sex slowly as he whispered. “Want this bad, huh?”

“So bad,” she purred.

“Want to say please?”

“Oh just fuck me, Liam.” She closed her eyes and rolled her head back, her whole body quivering.

Liam plunged into her. He grunted, low and deep in his throat, as her sex clenched his shaft. His balls slapped her ass and her hands grabbed his shoulders. She squeezed him firmly as she moaned – her voice pure and beautiful. Liam ducked his head forward and started to thrust into her faster and faster. She was smaller than him – it made it easy for him to find the right position, to put his hands on her shoulders and just focus on pounding her. She was tough enough too – she growled and grunted as her wings pressed to the ground underneath her back.

“Ah fuck,” she gasped. “Ah fuck fuck fu-huk.”

That last word was delivered the same time her sex clenched around his cock. Her juices burst against his hips and he felt her wetness frothing along his belly as her hands squeezed him. Liam didn't wait – didn't even pause - he plunged deep into her and let himself go. At another time, in another world, he might have worried about STIs or unwanted pregnancies. But then again, maybe not.

For now, underneath an alien sun, beside a magical pool, he focused purely on the hot lust that blazed through his every pore and emptied himself deep inside of Meg's pussy. He swore he could feel her womb sloshing with his cum as he remained hilted inside of her. The two of them trembled – and then Meg relaxed onto the ground with a sigh. Her legs uncrossed from behind her neck and she wrapped those wonderfully nimble limbs around his back, drawing him into an embrace.

They kissed, softly, and Liam lay there, breathing slowly and steadily.

“Where are we?” he whispered.

“Mmm.” Meg's fingers teased his hair. “The Farstone Jungle, the lands between New Athens and Faiyum Falls. The underbelly.” She paused. “Or, if you wanted somewhere more general: Purgatory.”

Three

Cleaning up the battlefield took less time than Liam had expected. Meg had simply knelt down and placed her palm on the back of each corpse. They had then glowed a pale blue, sunk into the ground and dissolved away, leaving nothing but their armor and their weapons. Meg disdained to pick any up but Liam did grab one of the swords to cast an eye over it.

“This is shitty bronze,” he said, frowning. His Dad had worked with bronze from time to time and this was definitely shitty bronze. Something in the mixture wasn't quite right – it seemed to hold an edge, but it looked as if it would bent or break after a short time. That explained why each soldier had carried three weapons – their primary, a backup primary, and each had some kind of stone club or cudgel on their person.

“It's the finest in Purgatory,” Meg said, stepping over and snatching the sword from his hand. “You won't get better without magic.” She shrugged and then snapped the blade in half with her hands. She dropped the two halves and grinned at him. “Fortunately, I am magic.”

“So, why did you need my help?” Liam asked, trying to not show just how unnerved he was. The girl who had been clawing at his back as he filled her sex with blast after blast of cum could snap metal with her bare hands. He was trying, very hard, to not think of all the crass jokes about why Lois Lane would never get to bang Superman.

“The nulldart,” she said, shrugging. “Aries men have them to take me down.” She frowned and looked at the sky. “I judge flying to be a very poor idea right about now. If they have dartcasters—” she shook her head. “The air is the worst place to have your strength drained from you.”

“I can imagine,” Liam said. “So, why is the God of War trying to kill you?” He grinned. “Are you more of a Kratos fan?”

Meg looked at him quizzically.

“I am going to have to get used to that expression,” Liam said, picking some grit from his eye.

Meg shook her head. “The message is why.” She reached into her belt pouch and pulled free a small crystal the size of Liam's thumb. She wiggled it. “This is a sworn oath of peace between Apollo – my patron – and Sobek.”

“Sobek?” Liam asked.

“The Crocodile God,” Meg said, then frowned. “So, I don't mean to be rude, but are you sure you didn't hit your head? I mean, usually, when people say they are going to fuck someone's brains out, they are referring to the fuckee not the fucker.”

Liam snorted. “I am new to Purgatory. Uh, basically, I was on Earth and I found this box and—”

Meg's eyes widened and she stepped forward, growling. Her hand grabbed Liam's throat and she picked him up one handed. Picking someone else up one handed was a trick used by TV shows and movies to make someone seem very scary but Liam knew for a fact that in real life, no one was that strong. Except she can snap metal with her bare hands, you idiot!

“Christian,” she snarled.

“Urk!” Liam clutched at her wrist. He tried to speak – usually, in movies, people could get a single word out. Like, say, gurgling something about how you had no idea where the Death Star plans where. Turns out, when someone with the strength of a superhero was strangling you, you couldn't say anything. Because you couldn't breathe.

At...least...trip...education...al… Liam thought, his vision going dark.

Then, suddenly, breath returned. His knees hit the ground and Meg drew her hand back, shaking her head. “No,” she said. “I won't kill you in cold blood. That's for the tribunals to decide. Sobek, or Apollo, or someone else.” She shook her head, her voice bitter. “I can't believe I had sex with you.”

Liam coughed. “S-Sorry but I have no idea what the fuck is going on!” He looked up at her. “On my world, on Earth, those gods don't exist.”

“Of course they don't!” Meg snarled down at him, her eyes flashing. “They were banished here. To Purgatory! By your Christian cult and their Slave God. They cast the gods and their followers here and started the Wars of the Caretakers. Uncounted numbers of humans, elves, goblins, saurians, all of them died. Gods died.” Her hands clenched and she glared down at him. “The only good thing to come of the whole affair is the valkyrie but we all share in the Father's promise: any Christian we find, we shall teach the meaning of regret.”

Liam rubbed his throat. “I'm not the same breed,” he said, voice raspy.

Meg's brow furrowed. “What?”

“It's been, uh, I don't know?” Liam coughed again. “Seventeen centuries. The Christian sect that banished you here-” The Manichean Solution, the name of the box makes sense now! “-we abolished over a millennium ago. Hell, the Church that spawned them fragmented. Then fragmented again.” He laughed, softly. “I'm the follower of an offshoot of a fragment of the heterodoxy variant of the heretical cabal that banished you here.”

Meg blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Liam said.

“I shouldn't have just strangled you then,” she said, sounding somewhat uncertain – the kind of voice that Liam would have used if he had gone off at a friend for a misunderstanding. “Uh, sorry?”

Liam closed his eyes.

What would Jesus do?

“Apology accepted,” he said and stood. “Now, why don't you start from the top?”

***

The jungles of Purgatory got surprisingly cool once one got below the secondary canopy and started to walk among the strangely jagged landscape that dwelt beneath the darkness of the trees. The breeze, though, was gone – leaving Liam feeling the same kind of 'cloth against the face' suffocation that he remembered from the classrooms that his school had placed (for some unfathomable reason) underground. And yet, as if the jungle was caught in a no-holds-barred poker championship with him, it upped the ante with every discomfort removed.

Make things a bit more cool?

Okay. I'll add insects.

The insects were mostly bio-luminescent and Liam mistakenly thought that that would make them easier to swat before they bit him. Instead, they merely ended up drawing streaks of light through the air after his hand crashed down against his skin – exclamation points that all said: Hah! Next time try aiming, fucker.

“So, the top,” Meg said, her wings ruffling slightly as she pushed aside a branch and ducking beneath it. Her hand slapped out, cracking against her bared shoulder with a sound more similar to a whip breaking the land speed record than a human hand hitting human flesh. Once again, Liam was forcibly reminded of her immense strength. He mentally added it to the immense list of questions that he was keeping.

“Purgatory was settled when your ancestors banished the true gods and their followers here,” she said, turning back to look at him as she held aside some vines. “Be careful, these are toxic for non-valks.”

“Appreciated,” Liam said, quietly.

Meg smiled at him, then let the vines drop down, walking behind him. “But Purgatory had races that lived here for years uncounted before humanity and their gods arrived. The elves, the goblins, the lizardfolk...” she shrugged. “Others.”

“How many?” Liam asked.

“Their numbers were beyond counting. The numbers that died in the War of the Caretakers were also beyond counting. Those that followed the Caretaker – the winged God of Purgatory, who was the only God – tried to keep the invaders back. But they died. They died from plagues and from the magics of the Dodekatheon, the Pesdjeti, the Aesir. But there were losses from the invaders. Zeus, Odin, Ra. All dead.”

“How does a god die?” Liam boggled. The very idea just felt wrong.

“The legends vary,” Meg said, chuckling. “Now, the gods are no longer aligned in their old pantheons. Instead, they each control a series of city states, like the Hellenic League of Earth.”

“Ah, yes, the Hellenic League. A stable and entirely orderly way to organize a civilization,” Liam said, his voice as dry as the jungle was wet.

Meg glared at him, her wings ruffling. “Hey,” she said. “We didn't go to your planet and look around at your weird Christian pain-cult and start bitching about your cannibalism.”

Liam opened his mouth to respond. But, looking past the misinformation and the stereotypes, she had a point. He nodded and spread his hands in a placating gesture.

“Point taken.”

Meg frowned down at him. “You are an extremely odd man.” She cocked her head. “I think I like it. Though, if you hadn't been balls deep in me just a few hours ago, I'd be wondering if you're a eunuch.”

Liam frowned at her, his arms crossed over his chest. “I beg your pardon?”

“Among the Apollites – the children of-”

“Apollo worshipers, I got that much.” Liam waved his hand to try and get one of the bugs away from his face. His precious, unbitten face.

Meg snorted. “Fair enough. They tend to be a bit unwilling to listen to a woman's perspective. If the woman's not a valk, of course.”

“The whole being able to bend steel – er, bronze – with your bare hands has to have something to do with it, yes?”

“Now that you mention it,” Meg said, smiling wickedly, “Yes.”

She turned and pushed another clump of bushes aside. They made their way through the depths, though Liam felt increasingly apprehensive. The soldiers that they had killed must have had friends and he occasionally heard the distant sound of other people in the woods. The crash of trees being knocked aside. The crack and snap of branches. Distant calls. Distant horns. On hearing that for the second time he coughed.

“Why, exactly, is Aries trying to kill you?” Liam asked. “You say you have a message of peace between Apollo and Sobek – is Aries a third party in the war?”

“No, he's Apollo's ally.” Meg looked back, her teeth flashing white in the darkness that surrounded them as they ducked beneath a thick sprawl of branches for a moment. “Aries and Apollo, arranged against Sobek's forces for the control of the lands between two cities – New Athens and  Faiyum Falls. Sobek controls Faiyum, while New Athens is split in control between Aries, Athena and Apollo.” She shook her head. “Despite New Athens being the larger, Sobek is a touch better at leading his forces.”

Liam nodded.

“So,” Meg said. “Any more questions?”

Liam shook his head. “So far it's making a weird level of sense. I mean, once you get past the surreal as all hell idea of the ancient gods being still around. And fighting each other. Back on Earth, they're all thought to be just myths and stories, you know?” He shrugged. “It's taking a bit to really sink in. But, um, I think I got the gist. Now how do we get to Faiyum without Aries' men finding us and butchering us?”

“Well,” Meg said, then trailed off. She was looking left and right at two different pathways in the deep jungle. The one heading to the right looked as if it started to go uphill in a few dozen yards – though past that, it was hard to tell, thanks to the thick haze of vines and the dim lighting. The one heading off to the left almost immediately became impossible to see beyond – vines hung low, and flowers bloomed from their every side, making it look like a curtain-door at some cheesy nature-themed restaurant.

“Well?” Liam asked.

“Part of the problem may be that I'm completely lost.”

“Great,” Liam said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, uh, you have wings – maybe we're past their dartcasters?”

A low, mournful horn blew to the west. It sounded fairly close to where they stood.

“Or not,” Liam said.

The crashing sounds of other people moving through the underbrush filled the air and Meg grabbed Liam's wrist and turned – taking neither route, but instead shouldering her way through the underbrush. Once they got about ten feet off the trail, she slowed her progress, ducking and moving gingerly through the branches and the growths. Liam saw why almost immediately and started trying to ape her. He knew that he was still leaving behind a trail – but he hoped that it might be missed in the darkness.

Suddenly they emerged out of the jungle into a clearing. The sun shone through the open air above them and Liam saw that they had been tricked: a half a dozen soldiers of Aries stood in a loose half circle. They held shields and short stabbing spears in their hands and looked quite serious underneath their horse-hair helmets. Behind them were two devices that looked as if they had stepped simultaneously out of history and out of Liam's short lived high school career of playing Warhammer 40,000 tabletop war games. The immense crossbow artillery pieces that the troops had behind them floated on crystal platforms that were so similar to Eldar grav-platforms that he felt like Games Workshop should sue.

Those platforms, though, let a small force of infantry – without wagons and without being slowed down by terrain or vegetation – cart around pre-gunpowder artillery at a somewhat reasonable pace.

Dicks.

A woman stepped out from the center of the half-circle. She went without armor and without helmet – instead of such silly things like that, she merely wore a simple kilt around her hips and a leather strap that wound between her small, tight breasts. Her nipples were painted bright gold to contrast with her pale white skin, and she had the kind of electric blue hair that might shame an anime character. None of that distracted Liam from the ears that thrust out from her head – almost a foot long each, both ending in a tapering point.

She reached back and drew a short blade that looked like a xiphos – the Greek short sword. It was bronze that had turned green with age, and yet she held it as if it was an actual weapon, not a museum piece. Looking closer, Liam saw it shimmer with a kind of heat-wave, as if it was hotter than asphalt under a hundred degree sun. If it was that hot, the woman definitely didn't look like she felt it.

“Surrender and die,” she said.

“Isn't that or die?” Liam asked, his hand going to the hilt of Delenn.

The woman shrugged. “I wasn't speaking to you, human. The valk is all we want.”

“Go to Hades,” Meg said but Liam was standing close enough to see her gulp. Her eyes were focused on those artillery pieces. They weren't loaded with the immense spears that would have been used in a standard pitched battle of the ancient past – rather, they were bundled with what looked like sabot containers that held dozens of those crystal-tipped nulldarts. If just one of them hit Meg, her super-strength would go bye-bye.

“Just to check,” Liam whispered. “If a bunch of those nulldarts hit you, you'd also, like, die from bloodloss, right?”

“That is the idea.” Meg managed to speak while barely moving her lips.

“Goodie.”

The elven woman cocked her head. “Five.”

“Okay, Meg,” Liam whispered. “I think now is a time to risk flying.”

“That was what I was thinking,” she whispered back.

“Four,” the elven woman said. She was looking at her fingernails now – the picture of an arrogant warrior in her prime. Liam tried to bite back any smart quip that might give the game away as Meg slowly reached back. She tugged off her belt and held it over her head – drawing the attention of the soldiers and the elven woman.

“Here's the message. You can take it and I can leave with my pet, okay?” Meg asked.

“Or, alternatively,” the elven woman said, sneering. “You-”

Meg grabbed onto the back of Liam's shirt and sprang into the air. Liam had thought he was tensed and ready for the impact and the jarring motion of the launch. He had thought he would know what it would have felt like. He was wrong. The sensation was as if bands of iron had wrapped around his chest and squeezed – his armpits wrenched and his own lovely longsword bashed her hilt into the back of his head hard enough for him to see a flash of white light and stars. There was a horrifying ripping noise and panic flared, before Liam realized it wasn't his clothes tearing.

It was the pair of scorpios  – the artillery pieces – going off.

Liam looked down and saw that the jungle was a dizzying distance below him. With a single leap, Meg had reached the crest of what would have been a skyscraper. Her wings spread and she gasped and swore.

“Fuck!”

Liam looked around desperately – his head still ringing – and saw the nulldart. It had struck her left foot and pierced between the bones that connected to the toes. Blood dripped through the air and even with her wings spread wide, they were still starting to fall. And worse, they were falling towards an-

Liam's eyes bugged. “Why is there an immense canyon right there!?”

“Ancient battlefield!” Meg gasped. “Dart! Now!”

Liam reached but felt his own shirt strain at him. He groaned, then forced his arm forward. He heard something tear. He grabbed for the dart as below him, he heard a shout.

“Fire!”

“Oh come on,” he whispered, his fingers closing tightly around the blood slick metal and crystal.

The scorpios went off again. The air below them filled with a haze of nulldarts.

Liam's shirt tore and he found himself suddenly learning the difference between gliding and falling. He tumbled backwards through the air, his arms cartwheeling as he felt the nulldart slip from his fingers. He gritted his teeth.

Oh Jesus, he thought. Please please please have Meg save my life.

Meg's wings flared above him and for a moment he saw her, backlit by the sun of Purgatory and she was the single most luminously beautiful thing that he had ever seen. His body seemed to forget it was falling and blood rushed to his cock, which became achingly hard – and Liam smiled. Even if he was about to die, at least he had seen her. Her golden brown tanned skin, her flaming gold-blonde hair. Her electric blue eyes. Her wings. Those wings. He felt his heart squeeze with a rush of emotions that he couldn't quite understand.

I've seen an angel. A real angel. That's got to be worth something, huh?

Then Meg's wings slammed backwards. Wind rippled around her and she shot forward, her shoulder catching Liam's belly, then flinging him in a fireman's carry. The upside to this was that he was no longer plunging to his death. The downside was that he was now being smacked in the face by her wing with every beat. She shot forward and then grunted again.

“Oh come on!” Liam shouted, already learning what that feeling was.

Meg's wings cupped the air and Liam felt the wind rushing past his body. Then, behind her feet, he saw the edge of the canyon reaching up to clasp them. Liam readied to try and roll with the impact. At a time like this, he felt that his mind should flash through his entire life. Instead, the only thing that swept through his mind was an intense, intimate memory of every inch of Meg's body – the feel of her nipple in his mouth, the taste of her pussy on his finger. The way she tightened around him when she came.

Impact.

In a merciful world, told by a God that wanted merely happy pets rather than good humans, the impact would instantly have knocked Liam out and he could have woken up after the hard work was done. Instead, he felt the slap of the water against his back like particularly unfriendly concrete and then was torn away from Meg. He flipped, rolled, tumbled and then skipped out of the water and smashed into a collection of branches and bushes. He felt something snap inside of his arm and for a few moments, didn't feel anything but disorientation as he tumbled out of the bush and onto the ground.

Then the horse that had clearly kicked him coughed politely and his brain realized that he had just fractured his arm.

Liam screamed and rolled onto his back. He grabbed at his arm and felt the grotesque sensation of something bulging against his skin and knew, quite suddenly, that he wasn't just dead. He was extremely dead. His mind flashed through the horrifying stories that he had pored over while studying histories about the earlier wars of his bloody planet. Gangrene. Sepsis. Leprosy. Yes, that last one wasn't actually going to rot him from the inside out because he had an untreated blood infection, but it still popped into his mind as he tried to find something to focus on other than the intense, breath stealing, tear bringing, sob wringing pain.

“Fuck oh fuck fuck fuck!” he shouted, just to be heard. “Fuuuuuuuuck.”

Nothing came to help him.

But he did feel better.

The pain ebbed from agonizing to merely horrifying – but Liam didn't have time for it. He forced himself to sit up and look around. He saw his sword on the ground about ten feet off. His fanny pack was still on his body. But Meg, she he saw in the river, face down, her wings spread. And that was why Liam had no time for this bullshit. He staggered forward, holding his arm close to his body and trying to ignore the faint click of his bone shifting around. He grabbed onto her wing with one hand and dragged her out of the river – more through his body weight than his strength. Once she was face down on the grass, Liam dropped to his knees and rolled her onto her back.

It didn't look good. She had a nulldart in her shoulder – tugging it free brought with it a small spurt of blood, but no immense gush. Good. However, it didn't immediately wake her up. He gingerly felt at her breasts with his fingers and there was no sign of pain and no immediately obvious fractures in her ribs. Okay. Fine.

Liam closed his eyes. He had taken first aid – a requirement for his dojo – and he knew how to check for a pulse and do CPR. Touching her throat, he felt around. No pulse.

Of course, she's a freaking angel with superstrength in a magical bubble world populated by the ancient Greek fucking Pantheon and we just got shot fucking down with Roman artillery used by fucking elves following fucking Aries. She may have a fucking artery in a different fucking place. Fuck!

Still, she had been face down in a river and wasn't breathing.

He put his good hand on her chest and tried to do chest compressions. He shoved, putting his entire weight into the motion, then leaned forward. He pushed her mouth open with his chin, then fastened his mouth over her lips, held her nose shut, and breathed. When he drew back, Meg coughed, turned her head, and vomited out water onto the ground. She gasped, coughed again, then fluttered her eyes open.

“Why,” she asked, her voice raspy, “Do I feel like someone punched me in the fucking chest?”

“It's supposed to feel like that,” Liam asked.

Meg groaned. “Don't replace your clerics with that trick.”

Liam was silent for a long time. “You have healing magic?”

Meg sat up, wincing as she touched her chest. “Of course we have healing magic,” she said, her tone irritated. Her shoulder wound had closed up tight by now, and her foot wound was similarly healed. “What kind of civilization doesn't?”

Liam blinked a few times.

“Do you know any clerical magic?” he asked, quietly.

Meg laughed. “Gods no,” she said, sounding amused. “I'm a valkyrie – we have inherent regeneration. Why would I ever need cleric- oh.” Her eyes widened as Liam, wincing all the while, lifted up his arm to show her the break.

***

Liviana, daughter of Aries and hero of the Hellenic Elves, looked over the edge of the canyon. One of her hoplites stepped up to stand beside her, gently tapping his spear against his shield as a way of saluting.

“Ma'am,” he said, gruffly. “We've searched the area around this canyon. No sign of the messenger or the human in the exotic clothes.”

Liviana nodded, then closed her eyes.

Father, she thought. Are they…

No.

Liviana frowned. “They're still alive.” She turned to face them. “Post men at the exits to the canyon. Go.”

“Ma'am.” The hoplite bowed.

***

Liam screamed.

“Sorry,” Meg said, quietly.

“No, no, it's okay,” Liam said, his entire body slumping back onto the ground as he panted. He felt as if his muscles had been wrung out and replaced by noodles – wet noodles that had been overcooked to boot. His skin gleamed with sweat that had nothing to do with the intense heat of Purgatory. He looked down at the binding that Meg had lashed around his arm. A branch pruned from a tree and a bit of cloth torn from his now quite tattered shirt made a reasonable brace. He started to stand and then felt dizzy. The moment passed and he shook his head a bit, smiling ruefully.

“There goes our sex life,” he said.

“Pff,” Meg said, grinning. “I can still sit on your face. Or does that offend your Slave God's sensibilities?”

“God has nothing against face sitting. Depending on the translation and the book, I'm not even sure it counts as actual sex.” Liam chuckled. “Besides, you taste like fruit. How could I not want you on my face?”

“If you're offering,” Meg said, her hand going to her kilt.

“Sadly, I think we're still being hunted by spear wielding psychopaths,” Liam said.

Meg snorted, quietly, but didn't complain as she slid her arm around his shoulders and gently pushed him forward. They walked along the canyon's bed and Liam took some time to actually check the place. It really did look as if the canyon had been cut – not with the slow erosion of water or the gentle pressure of tectonics – but in a single fierce blast of some immense energy. The walls were perfectly smooth and glassy, even however many centuries after it had been cut into the ground. And the walls showed none of the striations that one might expect from natural erosion.

Furthermore, the canyon was as straight as if it had been cut with a laser and a ruler.

“Does the phrase orbital ion cannon mean anything to you?” Liam asked.

“No,” Meg said, frowning. “My translation spell didn't grab it.”

“Uh, big beamy burny thing,” Liam said. “Cut this whole area out, right?”

“Ah, no. This one was caused by the Eye of Ra.” Meg shook her head. “The largest of them – it was destroyed five centuries later by Asig the Magnificent.”

“Sounds like a swell guy,” Liam said.

“He was a pig,” Meg said, her voice deadpan. Liam closed his eyes to ignore the faint ache that suffused his entire body – it echoed from his arm like the ringing of a gong.

“Literally a pig?”

“No, figuratively,” Meg said, sounding amused. “Didn't think we had walking pig-men in this world, did you?”

“Honestly?” Liam opened his eyes and resumed walking. “I wouldn't be shocked.”

They made good time as they walked through the canyon, though the sheer walls and the relatively sparse underground left things relatively uninteresting for the walk. At the moment, Liam was more than happy to have an uninteresting, boring place to walk through. Interesting meant plants to shove past, or hills to crest, or bad guys to fight, all with an arm shattered into uselessness. He tried to not think of gangrene – instead, he thought of clerical magic. He remembered several games of tabletop roleplaying games. He had always wondered what, exactly, healing a handful of dice of “hit points” would feel like. He wondered if it would be pleasant, unpleasant, or something in between. Maybe it'd be like drinking Pepto Bismol?  Unpleasant but also exactly what you needed at the time.

Fear struck Liam, making him stop and swear. “Fuck.”

“What?” Meg asked.

Liam was too busy yanking on the zipper of his fanny pack. The smoothly machined metal answered well to his fingers and his grip, and soon, he had his iPod out. Despite being splashed with water and bashed around, the hardened case and the fanny pack and the zip lock bag had all done exactly what they had been designed to do. His iPod was safe.

“What is that?” Meg asked, frowning as she prodded at it with her finger. “Some kind of idol? Fetish? Sex toy?”

“It is the Library of Alexandria,” Liam said.

“The Great Library? That holds the entirety of Aristotle? Plato? Socrates?”

Meg looked skeptical, and Liam figured that he couldn’t blame her. He tapped the iPod on and waited for it to boot up. Part of his brain was gibbering about wasting batteries - but she needed to know how vital this was. He brought up his Kindle app with a tap or two, then showed her words. He flipped past page after page of historical textbooks, showing her maps and diagrams and formula. Liam had books on metallurgy and history and science. And, well, more than a few dozen space operas, alternate histories, and fantasy epics.

But even those were useful - his mind went to After the Downfall by Harry Turtledove. In it, a man cast into a fantasy world recreated gunpowder. Those passages would come in handy...

Meg looked from his iPod to his face. In those electric blue eyes, Liam saw awe. It wasn't the worshipful awe that came from a good hard fuck, or the awe that he was sure he felt when faced with God and his majesty. It was an awe that was, in some ways, a bit more intimidating. Meg was in awe of what his people could do – and she was jealous. She stepped closer and whispered.

“You carry in your hands something more important than any message of peace,” she said. “We cannot let this be destroyed.” Her hand went to the iPod, gently touching it with her fingers. “I'm a messenger, but – as you may have noticed – I also do enjoy a debate or two.” Her lips quirked in a slight smile, her awe vanishing under her normal attitude.

“I've been completely oblivious,” Liam said, wryly. He quickly turned the iPod off. Batteries and all that.

“Well, then, we should at the very least begin talking about the Platonic Forms,” she said, coughing and assuming a lecturing tone of voice. She reached up and adjusted the lines of her toga. “I believe that when the Great Philosopher posits that the entire universe is nothing but a Shadow, he is in truth referring to—”

Liam groaned audibly. “Please, kill me.”

Meg grinned at him and spent the next hour grinding him into philosophical dirt.

Four

The sun did not set. In retrospect, this shouldn't have been quite as shocking as it was, but Liam still found himself stumbling as the sun blinked on, then off, then plunged into near total blackness. He clutched at Meg's arm with his good arm, his broken arm bouncing against his chest as he tottered on his feet.

“Whoa, whoa, calm down!” Meg said, her hand on his shoulder.

Liam gasped quietly, the fear from the sudden darkness replaced by the intense pain of joggling his arm. He closed his eyes and shook his head until he could speak without screaming.

“What happened?”

“Night?” Meg said, sounding confused. Then, chagrined. “Ah, right. You're from Earth, where the sun sets, right?”

Liam nodded. He looked up at the sky then – and for the first time since he had arrived on Purgatory, looking up at that vastness didn't make him feel a faint tug of vertigo. It no longer looked like distant mountains and forests and oceans about to fall on his head. Instead, he could see a smattering of splotches of light – the light of thousands of campfires, burning up there. It was almost like a starry night sky. And then, over the course of a minute, the sun started to glow again. Now, it was a silvery white orb, providing a pale luminescence that made the entire world look as if it had been bathed in moonlight.

“I like it,” Liam said, smiling. “You know, you have a very pretty planet here, Meg.”

Meg chuckled. “I am fond of it.” She sighed. “We're nowhere near one of the exits. I think we should set up camp.” She scratched the bottom of her chin, looking thoughtful. “Or, alternatively, we can keep going.”

Liam closed his eyes and took a moment to just catalog his aches and his pains. He wasn't unused to long hikes, nor even to the dull throb of having a broken bone. But Purgatory took everything that he was used too and cranked it up to the next level. He shook his head.

“I'm ready to rest.”

The two of them worked together to set up the camp. Meg used her knowledge of local plantlife to gather up a few flowers that glowed brightly when they were snapped off their stems and set them around the camp, while Liam carefully propped his sword against his shoulder, braced, and then started to hold up rocks that might be flint. He wasn't feeling confident enough in any of his choices – and the last thing he wanted to do was damage the biggest and best tool he had in this savage, violent world – so when Meg walked over and asked him what he was doing, Liam felt honestly relieved when he explained that he wasn't entirely sure.

Meg solved the situation by spreading her arms. “Do we need a fire? It is a warm night and the glowplants are providing enough light.”

Liam blinked slowly. His brain crunched through the rational, and he felt like ten kinds of idiot when fatigue parted before the obvious answer: We're not in Europe. We can survive without a fire just fine. He laid slowly on his unwounded side, then rolled onto his back and enjoyed the softness of the grass as he closed his eyes.

“See?” he said. “Told you I needed a rest.”

Meg chuckled throatily. Her finger traced his hair and she sighed quietly. “You complain less than most men I've had to travel with. I do like that you at least try and set up the camp. Next, you're going to try and cook breakfast for me in the morning, aren't you?”

Liam snorted. “We don't have breakfast to cook. And if you want to go hunting, find someone armed with something better than a longsword.”

Meg laughed quietly. “Don't worry. I used to sling hunt when I was younger – I can get some tasties on the head. Or we can just pick and forage. Finding food won't be hard.” She paused for a moment. “But you would, wouldn't you?”

Liam groaned, opening one eye. “What?”

“Make me breakfast,” Meg said, smiling. “And not once complain about it being woman's work?”

Liam snorted and closed his eye again. “According to the histories I've read, the idea of woman's work and man's work is not nearly as universal as some societies assume.”

“True,” Meg said, and he could tell that she was smiling by the tone of her voice. “In the lands of the Pesdjeti, women are required by law to be paid the same as men.”

“Better than America.”

Meg leaned forward. She pressed her cheek against Liam's belly and despite the way that this jarred his arm, he felt comfort radiate from the contact point of her cheek and his belly. He sighed and reached up with his good hand to pet her hair slowly. He worked his fingers through her curls and felt her lips kiss against his belly. Her tongue darted out and he felt her trace the line of his abs. Liam squirmed ever so slightly – and managed to not jar his broken arm against anything. For that, he felt fortunate.

“Tell me about your world, Liam,” she said, quietly.

“You're the same kind of tired as I am, aren't you?” Liam asked, opening his eyes to look at the silvery night-time-sun that hung overhead. He swore that, beyond it, he could see an entire fleet on sail, their prows lit by flickering torches on their decks. It looked like a triangular swarm of fireflies pressed against the ocean that was plastered onto the roof of the sky. “Too tired to move. Too tired to sleep.”

“Mmhmm,” Meg said. “Bore me with kings and emperors and begets until I pass out.”

“All right then,” Liam said, stroking her hair. “I come from a place called the United States of America. We're a confederation of states that is held underneath a federal government, ruled by an elected representative republic.”

“Ah, like Athens?” Meg asked.

“Yeah.” Liam tweaked her hair gently. “But women can vote. And non-land-owners. And our last President was black. So that's kind of cool.”

“Ah, he was an urr-elf?”

“No, he was human. Just darker skinned.”

Meg snorted quietly. “In New Athens, they claim a democracy. Really, it's more of a pentacosiomedimnioism.” She chuckled. “My grammar tutor would whip my ass for that neologism. But basically, the landowners run everything – and the landowners have the best land, so they give the best sacrifices to Apollo, so Apollo makes sure that they have the best land. Vicious cycle.”

“Funny.” Liam shook his head. “Seems like the more things change, the more they stay the same.”

“Mmmhmm.” Meg kissed his belly. Then she kissed him again. And again. Her lips started to trace a smoldering, moist trail along his belly, moving closer and closer to the hem of his jeans. Liam shifted – but was unwilling to try and stop her. Stop this near literal angel from giving him a blowjob? He'd have to have been out of his mind. And that was even before considering she could bend bronze with her bare hands. Instead, Liam gently shifted his arm to try and keep his broken bone from getting jostled.

Meg's teeth found the button that fastened Liam's jeans shut. She popped it open with a jerk of her head and coohed, breathing in. “You're so clean,” she murmured – a shocking thing to hear after a day of stamping through the jungles. “And I forgot to mention...” She pushed his pants down now – using her hands and her teeth at the same time. “Mmm!” She released the band of his underwear. “I love the shaving. Only the followers of the Pesedjeti shave – and usually just their heads.” She chortled, then kissed the area right above his cock. His member thrust into the air, curving to touch her cheek. Pre welled from his tip and Liam groaned softly.

Meg pressed her nose to him and breathed in his smell. “Mmm!”

She opened her mouth and, with a single motion, took him into her throat. Her lips caressed his cock and then pressed to his hips as her hand reached around to fondle and squeeze his balls – her fingers were gentle, and yet still quite firm. She bobbed her head immediately, her head slipping up and down in the slowly fading light of the glowplants – it shone off her golden hair and made Liam's heart skip almost as much as the pleasure that tingled through him. He panted softly, his hand squeezing her hair, fingers tugging. She groaned and the vibrations buzzed through his cock.

“Fuck.” His hand clenched tighter and Meg slid her mouth back, panting. She shifted forward and Liam had no idea what she was doing until he saw her toga slipping aside. Her bare, milky white flesh gleamed under the fading light. She looked as if she had been oiled and Liam felt himself almost paralyzed with eroticism. Then she planted her elbows on the grass beside his hip and pressed her breasts together – the soft mounds closing around his cock and squeezing it in a tunnel of flesh. She leaned forward and kissed the head of his cock messily. Her spittle and her sweat and his own arousal mixed as she rocked forward, then back, tightening her hands around her breasts as she jerked him off with her tits.

“Like that?” she murmured.

“Oh God!” Liam gasped. “Oh Jesus.”

“That will never not be weird to hear,” Meg said, her voice amused, electric blue eyes dancing as she leaned forward to suck on the tip of his cock, slurping on him every time her breasts slipped down to reveal more of him. The wet noise of it rang in Liam's ear as he tensed and tried to not buck. If he bucked, his elbow hit the ground. If his elbow hit the ground, well…

Meg hummed. The vibration buzzed through him and Liam bucked his hips.

Pleasure.

His elbow smashed into the ground. Bone clicked.

Pain.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!” he screamed, even as cum spurted from the tip of his cock. It splashed against Meg's face and coated the upper cleft of her breasts. She, though, looked anything but pleased. She jerked back, her eyes wide as she looked down at Liam.

“By the gods,” she whispered. “A-Are you okay?” Her eyes were wide as saucers.

Liam panted.

He got his heart under control.

He closed his eyes and he counted till ten.

Finally, when he felt like he could speak, he opened his mouth and said: “Worth it.”

***

The next morning did not dawn – another thing that Liam would need to get used to. Rather than being woken by the slow shading of darkness to light, he was slapped in the face by the brightness of the sun, blazing into full noon with a single furious moment. He grunted and started to sit up but then a powerful wing smacked him in the face and he jerked back to the ground. His arm didn't get whacked against anything.

Thank God for small mercies.

Meg slipped into the river to wash off the night's sweat – and any cum she'd failed to lick off her own skin – and Liam took stock of the situation. His arm didn't feel particularly worse or better than it had yesterday. He was still not sure what they would do if they ran into more soldiers. His stomach growled, and he did the first thing that he had been taught while hiking. If you don't know when your next meal would be, fill up on water. He cupped his palm in the water and drank and drank.

Meg burst from under the blue water, her hair flipping back behind her head – darkened to a near brunette by the water – and lifting her hands to brush them through her mane. Her wings spread behind her as her full, perky breasts bounced above the water. The sunlight glittered as it bounced off the water droplets that clung to her skin. A single droplet dripped from her left nipple, accentuating its puffy hardness. It gleamed like a diamond as it dropped into the water.

Liam knelt there, his broken arm held to his chest, his other palm cupped before his mouth, every bit of water he had scooped up already fading into the grass beneath him.

Meg smirked and walked towards him, surging out of her water. She stood so the cleft of her feathered pussy was right before his nose then reached down. She caressed her head and murmured something in the Latin that they spoke on Purgatory. Liam didn't understand a word of it and for the moment, he didn't care. Instead, he grabbed her heart shaped ass with one hand, slapping it and dragging her close. He pressed his tongue to her sex and just licked her, from base to clit. Meg moaned sweetly, her wings fanning out as she hooked one leg over his shoulder, the ball of her foot caressing his back. She stood mostly on her own weight and took this as her due by everything Liam could tell.

His tongue delved into her sex and coiled up to caress her G-spot. Meg moaned loudly and spoke in her flowing Latin – and Liam felt like he knew what she was saying. If it wasn't: And I didn't even need to ask you to eat me out, then he would eat his own hat. After buying a new hat, as he owned no hats on Purgatory.

He wasn't entirely sure how men on Purgatory could resist doing this, if every woman tasted like Meg did.

But misogyny never seemed to need to make sense.

“-eus' cock, you're good at this!” Meg gasped, her voice becoming English part-way through her exclamation. “Oh gods, how do women on your world get anything done.”

Liam slapped her ass in lieu of taking his tongue out of her sex. Meg gasped, bucking her hips against his face. The foot pressed to his back tensed and he felt her toes spreading against his back ever so slightly as she went slack, her wings beating once to keep her from falling flat on her ass – or knocking him ass over tip. Her juices bust in his mouth and Liam drank his fill. When Meg stepped away, she was panting shakily.

“Needed to refresh the spell?” Liam asked, wiping his mouth one handed then licking his fingers clean with a wicked smile.

“What? No,” Meg said, her breath coming in slow, steady gasps. “I just figured that if you couldn't understand me, you wouldn't try and stop me from making you eat me out.”

Liam blinked. “I like eating girls out.”

“Yours are a wise people,” Meg said, her lips twisted in a wry smile. “You have much to teach us.”

Liam and Meg dressed – with only a few additional kisses and gropes and the occasional spank exchanged between them – and were on the way. Meg used a chunk of Liam's belt – his jeans were tight enough that he didn't miss it – and some string fished out of her own belt pouch to craft a rudimentary sling. She tested it a few times, slinging rocks against the river as they walked.

“Now,” she said, loosing her sling and sending a rock thudding into the water with the same sound as a bullet striking some ballistic jello. “We just need to find something worth using it on.”

Liam nodded and was about to respond when an ear piercing scream echoed from the canyon wall – not that far ahead. Liam broke into a run – then slowed to a careful jog, wincing as his arm bounced against his chest. Meg matched his pace as they found, at long last, one of the exits that they had been looking for.

And, because life was never easy in Purgatory, it happened to be occupied by two of Aries' soldiers.

The two men were both dressed in significantly less armor than they had worn yesterday. It seemed easy access to shade had led to them taking off their horse hair helmets and their legging and shoulder pads. Instead, all they wore were their bronze breastplates and leather kilts, leaving the rest of their bodies exposed. One of them was an elf and the other looked like a human, but for all Liam knew, he was some kind of near-human species that could bleed acid.

The two had taken shelter in a cleft that had been cut into the side of the perfectly straight canyon, sculpted and shaped into a switch-back set of stairs, narrow enough that two men could stand abreast and protect the whole place. The vegetation that grew along the walls of the canyon had concealed the narrow entrance until Liam and Meg were right on it – and they had concealed the small, green figure that the elf was holding up with both hands, his spear leaned against the wall. His hands cupped and squeezed the green figure's chest and Liam realized that wasn't a child.

Because no child had tits that big.

The girl – the gobliness as Liam now identified her – was about three feet tall. Her skin was a pale green color, darkening to a near jade-black along the edges of her long, pointed ears. Her hair was jet black and poofed out around her head like an afro, though she had shaved it down to something closer to a mohawk. She was clad in a linen wrap that essentially covered the underside of her breasts and the bare upper edge of her thighs, leaving her shoulders, her legs, her feet and her head entirely exposed. Her wrists both had golden bangles wrapped around them, and she had sandals – though one had gone flying as she kicked and squirmed.

“Let me go!” she shouted. “We have a treaty, you brutes! Sobek-”

“Shut up, bitch,” the elf holding her said, sneering as his hand grabbed her linen dress and tore. The gobliness' breasts bounced free and to Liam's shock, her nipples were both pierced with golden rings, connected by a slender chain.

Then, suddenly, the most interesting thing about her skin was that it was flecked with blood and bits of brain. The elf who was manhandling her tottered backwards – the upper half of his head clipped off like he was the shock-death that announces a sniper in a World War 2 movie. Meg casually stepped out of cover, another rock in her hand. She slipped the rock into the sling, twirling it at the same rate that she had twirled the first. Her immense strength caused the rope to strain and creak and she released just before her sling came apart. The stone smashed into the other soldier's chest-piece. The bronze dented and he was flung backwards, clattering onto the ground. He choked, and reached for the horn he had at his belt.

Liam ran forward, adrenaline pushing the pain from his arm backwards as he jerked his longsword from the hilt on his back. He plunged it into the soldier's throat – he might have felt guilt at doing that before seeing the man casually stand aside in preparation for committing rape.

Now, he felt exactly nothing but a brutal sense of deep, deep satisfaction.

He jerked Delenn out of the man's throat and looked back, his arm starting to throb enough to draw attention to itself.

The gobliness had gotten her clothing back to rights, her finger glowing with magic as she ran it along the tears. Her eyes were wide, but they rapidly hardened as she stood and spat down on the nearly headless body of her attacker.

“Wander for eternity,” she hissed down at him. “I hope your family never learns you died. I hope Ammut devours your heart! Slowly! I hope-” she shook her head, her entire body quivering. Then her glare shifted to Liam and Meg. Meg was rubbing her wrist with one hand, looking as if she hadn't expected using a sling at full strength to tax her wrist so painfully. Liam smiled at the gobliness.

“Hey,” he said.

She slowly smiled. “T-Thanks,” she said, her knees shaking slightly as she stepped away from the corpse. “I-, um, that is, ah. My name is, um.” She stopped short, then turned and vomited. She vomited and choked and coughed up a bit more, then held up her finger, panting. She looked down at the puddle of bile between her feet, then vomited again. She coughed a few more times and then stepped away, shakily. “Tethis.”

“Liam,” Liam said, holding out his good hand, wincing slightly. “Let's get you to the river, huh?”

Tethis, Meg and Liam came to the river. There, Liam sat and watched as the young girl splashed water in her mouth. No, he thought. Not young. Seriously, look at those tits.

If Tethis had been the same height and stature as Meg, she would have been easily twice as curvaceous as the valkyrie – and Meg was no flat chested beauty. The fact that their breasts were only of slightly different size didn't change the fact that Tethis was three feet shorter than Meg. Her belly, too, had just enough of a curve to be called 'cushy', and her thighs were just as plump. She looked like she belonged in one of those 'plus sized' magazine pinups.

Just, minus sized plus sized.

Liam felt like he was going cross-eyed trying to keep that straight.

Tethis wiped her lips on the back of her hand and smiled. Then her smile vanished. “You're injured!” she said, pointing at Liam's arm.

“Oh, I-” Liam started.

But then Tethis spread her hands. She closed her eyes, breathed in, then brought her palms together. A shimmering light flared into the air. Circular shapes and triangular tessellations that formed into a grid-work of white lines flashed into existence. She opened her eyes and for a moment, Liam saw what looked like gears spinning in their purple depths. Then the white lines flashed forward and wrapped around Liam's forearm. He felt a coldness wash through his arm. Pain followed it as bone crunched into bone. Then nothing. He blinked and wiggled his fingers. He reached around and undid his splint, tugging the makeshift thing off his arm. He stretched his arm out, then drew it back.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “Was that, did you, I, what-”

“That is what I'm wondering!” Meg said, her wings spreading wide in shock. “What was that?”

Tethis chuckled softly. She looked like she was trying quite hard to seem mysterious as she smiled. “Well, I may tell you – if you tell me what is going on! I thought that New Athens and Faiyum had a treaty—”

“Treaty?” Meg looked at Liam, then at the girl. “How long have you been in the wilderness? The last treaty between the cities was broken, uh, three months ago, when the war started.”

Tethis lifted her hand to her mouth. “My family!” She exclaimed. “My brothers, they are part of the Faiyum militia. Has there been any- I mean, I, that is, I...I...” she trailed off, her eyes glimmering and filling with tears. Meg gently reached down and squeezed her shoulder with one hand.

“There were no major disastrous defeats suffered by Sobek's forces.” She smiled. “In fact, they were kicking Apollo and Aries' asses. That's why Apollo sent me on a peace mission. Unfortunately, Aries is Aries and he's decided to send one of his bastard children to make sure the message doesn't arrive.”

Tethis sniffed and reached up to wipe tears from her eyes. She frowned slightly. “We can head out of the canyon, then. The city is only a few days on foot!” She nodded and looked excited. “And I can bring back news of what I've found out here. You won't believe what I discovered, what this canyon conceals. It's—”

A low, mournful horn split the air. Other horns blew, answering it, coming from every part of the canyon.

Meg frowned and stood. She beat her wings once and flew to the exit from the canyon. A moment later, she returned, holding a pair of crystals that had been looped around with necklaces. They glinted in the sunlight and just looking at them made Liam's heart sink. He had a feeling he knew what Meg would say before she said it.

“Heart-talismans. They turn black when their owners die.” She shook her head and spat in disgust. “They'll be centering on this place.”

“Flight?” Tethis asked.

“Do you want to be left behind?” Meg asked. Tethis quailed under that idea, her eyes wide.

“You two can fly ahead,” Liam said, nodding and standing up and putting his hands on his hips. “Tethis is light, and—”

“No,” Meg snarled.

“But—”

“No,” Meg said, glaring at Liam. She poked his chest with her finger, snarling. “I won't leave you to those butchers. They'll torture you and they'll kill you and you're the only one who knows how to operate that library in the pocket you have!”

“I—” Liam blinked.

Meg was absolutely right. But he felt something else – something deeper. Something that made his heart skip a beat as the finger prodding against his chest flattened into a palm. Her fingers caressed him through his shirt as she leaned in.

“I won't leave you behind,” she whispered.

“Um, Meg, I think-” Liam started.

Meg shook her head and leaned in. She kissed him and Liam almost fell on his ass as her tongue swirled into his mouth. It was warm and it was gentle and it was hungry. The fact that Liam could hear distant horns and could imagine the soldiers mobilizing to hunt him didn't change the fact he needed this kiss as desperately as he needed water, breath, and God.

“Meg! Liam!” Small hands pushed them apart and Meg staggered backwards, looking down at Tethis.

“I have an alternative plan,” she said, looking between them. “Come on!”

She turned and she ran.

Meg smiled. “Told you. Not leaving you behind.” She prodded Liam's chest.

“What about after we secure the iPod?” he asked, turning to walk.

“Then I'm still going to cram you into a castle and protect you with a mercenary army. Guys who can eat muff like you? More precious than diamonds.” Meg smirked, her wings snapping shut behind her as she reached down and picked up Tethis. She put the shorter girl on her shoulders and said, “Direct me.”

***

Liviana knelt down beside the two dead men. She pushed the head of the one who had been stabbed backwards and looked at the bloody wound that was all that was left of his throat. She frowned and rubbed her chin.

“Whatever cut this was sharper than even a god-touched blade,” she said.

The clunk and clink of armor drew her gaze up. One of her hoplites appeared on the edge of the stairs, his hand resting on the wall as he panted.

“Ma'am, found their tracks – they're heading back into the canyon. The only other exit is at least a day's travel south. We've got them.”

Liviana frowned. “They have some kind of magical blade. Send a message to the forces we have down south to keep that area ready but I think we'll catch them first.”

She stood and walked down the stairs. “Come on, men! I lead the way on this hunt.”

Her men and women slammed spears into shields with a crash, their roar as eager and as bloodthirsty as any daughter of Aries could wish.

***

“So, this is the thing that will save us?” Meg asked, looking at the completely ordinary wall of the canyon.

“What?” Tethis looked back over her shoulder. “No, no, give me a second.”

Liam nodded but he could hear the faint sound of horns. The soldiers were communicating something and that made him nervous. He looked over his shoulder, trying to see if he could detect any of the people who might be coming soon to murder him with sharp, pointy sticks and beaten chunks of bronze. It was still almost too surreal to feel like a real danger to him, but the back of his neck still prickled.

Then he looked back to see what Tethis was doing and found that the curvaceous gobliness had bent forward to examine the ground. This meant that her linen robes rode up along her ass, revealing the smooth, green curve of her ass cheeks and the dark, almost black curve of her pussy lips. She was completely hairless – though Liam wasn't sure if that was a feature of her being a gobliness or part of her being from the Pesdjeti

Liam's eyes widened as he watched Tethis' ass sway from side to side as she hunted around.

“Enjoying the view?”

The voice purring in her ear was all playful kittenish but it still made Liam's heart stop. The last thing he wanted was to piss off a girl who had feelings for him and could (and Liam still had to remind himself of this) bend bronze with her bare hands. Liam gulped, then looked at Meg. He tried for a smile.

“Who wouldn't?”

“I'm not completely sapphic,” Meg murmured, “But I can see the appeal.”

“Found it!” Tethis exclaimed, jerking up as she beamed at the wall. Before Liam's eyes, the mirror smooth rockface shimmered and rippled as if it had become nothing more than water. A large swath of canyon wall – maybe ten, fifteen feet wide – vanished into a haze of light and a glow of blue sparks. What was left was a perfectly geometric door – rectangular in shape, leading straight into a narrow corridor, which itself was illuminated by half a dozen glowing blue crystals.

Tethis turned to face them, smiling. “It's an ancient temple. That's my field of study – I am a scribe of temples and worship. Normally, we study the relics of the Coptic people and the Pesdjeti gods. But, well...” She reached up to play with her hair, curling her finger through the bristles of her mohawk. “I've always been interested in the ancients, those who followed the Caretaker – the Father, if you're a valkyrie.” She nodded to Meg. “They had a practice of magic that didn't depend on gods in any way, shape or form. Rather, they were able to use crystals as foci to draw inherent magical energies via certain gestures, thoughts, and words!” She beamed. “That's how I was able to heal your arm.”

“Arcane magic doing healing?” Liam asked, shaking his head as he walked into the corridor. “Now I know your world is bullshit.”

“I've never heard of people casting without gods,” Meg said. “Is it similar to my inherent abilities?”

“Yes, actually!” Tethis said, frowning as she started to prod at the wall. “There is a device that closes off the wall. It should make it impossible for them to tell...” She touched a rune that was carved into the wall beneath one of the gems. With her touch and a strange gesture of her fingertip, the rune glowed and the entrance vanished behind the illusion once more. Turning to face them, Tethis smiled, her teeth glinting in the blue luminescence of the corridor. “But yes, valks who have been embalmed in the Coptic kingdoms, all of them contain lumps of crystal that are exactly the same kind of crystal used by foci!”

“Embalming!?” Meg sounded disgusted. “You desecrated valk bodies?”

“Valks descended from Bastet don't consider it desecration. The real desecration is just burning it like you Athenians do!” Tethis snapped, sounding furious as she put her hands on her hips, glaring up at Meg. “How do your cities not choke on the unquiet dead?”

“Guys, guys!” Liam said, quickly. “I think, I mean, yes. A Coptic ghost might be upset without a burial. Right? But Athenians aren't Coptic. Surely, then, they'd be upset if they weren't, uh, burned. Right?” He looked between them.

Meg frowned. “True.”

“That does make sense,” Tethis murmured.

Liam breathed a sigh of relief.

Tethis turned and started down the corridor. Meg followed after her, still grumbling very softly under her breath about embalming. Liam brushed his hands through his hair and then glanced back at the doorway. He frowned, then started after the two girls.

They should be safe.

***

Livana walked with her hoplites, her hand on the hilt of her sword. Her eyes were narrowed as she looked left and right, trying to miss nothing. Her every nerve felt as if it was on fire.

Some people claimed that elves had been crafted to be the fuck-toys of every race on Purgatory. They were naturally hairless meaning that they were exotic for the Aesir and a delight for the fashion conscious Coptic. Their inherently slender forms were always in high demand from the Athenians and other Hellenes, noted fans of young, nubile flesh. Lizardfolk enjoyed despoiling the innocent, and nothing was quite as doe-like and naive looking as a pouting elf. Valkyrie liked being stronger than others and elves were  never known for their great strength. And the less said about humans and their fascination with elven ears, the better.

But in truth?

Elves were born killers.

It was easy to kill when you knew that your enemy would live less than an eyeblink of your lifespan. It was easy to kill when your mind could plan ahead three steps while they were still settled on the first. And it was easiest to kill when your eye could see even the tiniest chink in armor, even the smallest twitch of indecision on the face of your enemy.

“Where are they?” One of the hoplites grumbled quietly. “I lost the trail. Ataxis, do you see anything?”

“No,” another one of the hoplites grumbled.

Liv held up her hand, fist clenched. The others stopped, looking at her.

Liv turned slowly around, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the ground, then at the wall of the canyon. Something was bothering her. Something stuck out. Something seemed ever so slightly wrong. Then she rubbed her finger together, kneeling down and picking up a rock. She tossed it at the wall. It hit and rebounded.

“Ma'am?” one of the hoplites asked.

“Shut up,” she said, not looking away. She picked up another rock, tossing it from palm to palm.

She threw again.

Again, the rock bounced off the wall.

The hoplites glanced at one another – nervously.

Liv picked up a third rock. This time, she flung at the space between where the two rocks and the rock did not bounce back. Instead, it simply vanished – leaving a rippling space in the world, looking as if the rocks had turned to water.

Liv grinned, fiercely. “Did you know,” she said, turning to look at her hoplites, “Elves can always spot a hidden door.” She smirked. “Men, form up. I think we've found them.”

***

The expanse of the inner room of the temple took Liam's breath away. He had never been to the really big temples that populated Earth – the Hagia Sophia, or the Taj Mahal, or St. Paul's Cathedral – but he was fairly sure that each of them might fit in this immenseness. What really struck him, though, was the sheer austerity of the place. He expected the temple to the Caretaker might have a representation of his majesty, of his servants. Even the most aniconic mosques or Protestant churches still had more symbolism than this emptiness. The floor was decorated with nothing but a simple triangle pattern that tessellated outwards towards the edges of the wall -  the blue lines shone brightly against obsidian black stone tiles, and the only light that pervaded the room was the pale luminescence that shone from the lines.

The center of the room held something that might have been an altar – it was certainly large and imposing enough. A slab of rectangular stone that was as white as the floor was black, polished to a mirror smoothness. It was set high on a platform of stone steps that emerged smoothly from the floor. Tethis rubbed her hands together.

“I was researching this chamber for two months,” she said. “My camp is right there.” She jerked her chin at the corner of the room. There, looking remarkably out of place, was a smallish bedroll and a chest that looked like it had been completely emptied. “And I was going to head back to Faiyum Falls to report on what I had discovered – if you manipulate the altar in the right way, any object placed on it vanishes.”

“So you found some ancient sacrificial structure?” Meg sounded skeptical. “How is this going to help us? We trick Aries' soldiers onto it and turn it on.” She paused. “That actually might work.”

“No, no, I was translating the runes in the corridor. I believe that the Coptic equivalent is far-walker.” Tethis turned to face them. “The legends of the War of the Caretaker said that those who followed the Caretaker could arrive unexpectedly – appearing in strongholds, behind enemy lines, within cities. That is how mjolnir was stolen, though, ah, the disastrous results of that foolishness are still visible.”

“Uh, what happened?” Liam asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“The entire Caretaker city was turned into crystal,” Meg said, frowning. “They call the ruins the Forest of Lost Souls.”

“Eesh,” Liam said. “See, I'd have thought Thor would have just made it impossible to pick up or something.”

“Where's the fun in that?” Meg said, grinning at him. “So. This altar is a far-stepper. That's great. Right until we vanish to appear inside of a wall.” She frowned. “Or in the void. How do you target it?”

“I'm not sure,” Tethis said. “But I believe with some magic and some trial and error, I can figure it out. And since the cover is concealed and Aries' soldiers don't know this temple is here, we have the time!”

An ear piercing shriek rang out of the corridor that they had entered by and a blindingly white flash shone from around the corner, literally burning the shadow of a humanoid figure onto the corner wall. Liam grabbed his longsword, drawing it with a quick jerk. “What was that, Teth?”

“O-One of the traps that I guided us around,” Tethis said, her voice a soft whimper.

“Get to work!” Liam said, stepping up to crouch beside the doorway. “We'll guard the entrance. You get us to Faiyum without killing us. Don't worry.” He flashed her a grin. “We've got this.”

Tethis nodded, reaching up to adjust her linen wraps, then turned and ran towards the altar, her hair bouncing behind her. Once she was out of earshot, Meg leaned over and whispered to Liam.

“You do know I only have a limited amount of ammunition, right?”

“Yup,” Liam said. “But they don't, do they?”

Meg nodded and nestled one of her sling bullets – well, weighted rocks, really – into her sling. She started to twirl it casually in one arm as they waited. The footsteps of the hoplites rang louder and clearer and then the first two came around the corner. Their shields were raised, their helmets were on, and they held their spears. They advanced like bronze statues, ready to kill absolutely everything that got in their way.

For almost all of his life, Liam had wondered: how would Alexander the Great's dreaded Macedonians have stood up to gunfire? It had been this longstanding point of contention between him and Greg. His friend had sworn up, down, left, right and sideways that the Macedonians could have replaced Napoleon at Waterloo and only lost a half hour sooner than the Corsican. Personally, Liam had believed that it didn't matter how disciplined and well lead men were when they went up against muskets and cannons. They were still going up against muskets. And cannons.

Or, in this case, a super-humanly strong angelic woman who could hardly have missed. The first rock that Meg loosed slammed into the bridge of one of the hoplite's noses. The bronze flange that hung down from his horse-hair helmet barely slowed the stone down and a spray of blood misted the front of the shield and the wall behind him as the helmet went flying. He collapsed to the ground and the other hoplite paused.

Behind him, two more hoplites were emerging from around the corner. These two had darts in their hands and loosed them with quick, overhand tossing motions. Liam dragged Meg back a moment before the darts hit the ground she had been standing on – their nullstone tips cracked and sparked against the floor.

“Charge!”

That was the demigod who was leading the troops; her voice was quite recognizable, even over the sound of bronze armor rattling. Now it was time for Liam to shine. He stepped up and into the corridor, sword in his hands. The hoplite didn't even use her spear. She simply tried to bash Liam aside with her shield. Liam stepped to the side and hewed at her legs with his sword, stroking upwards. Steel cut through her legs and thighs with hideous ease and the corridor became drenched in blood. Liam felt wind rustle his ears and saw another hoplite flung backwards, a sling-stone denting his chest piece with the same force as a sledge hammer.

The next hoplite that rushed Liam had a short sword in his hands. Liam blocked, then smashed the crossguard of his sword into the man's throat. The man – a red-skinned humanoid with a long, spade-tipped tail – staggered backwards, clutching at his throat with one hand, choking.

“Fall back! They are mine!”

The demigod's voice was stern and stolid and she emerged from around the corner. She was still nearly naked, and still held in her hand the blade that glittered and flared with what Liam now recognized as magic.

She smirked as Meg made a quiet shrugging gesture and tossed her sling aside. She was out of ammo. Great.

“I am Livana,” the demigod said. “Daughter of Aries. Victor over the forces of the Aesir in the Odinson Ocean. Champion of New Athens. I have slain dozens of men in personal combat and I hold in my hand a sword blessed and crafted by Hephaestus himself!” She lifted her sword over her head, then swung it down, aiming it at Liam. “Hear this, human: no edged weapon can cut my skin, for I am sired by the Lord of War himself. Lay down your weapon and I will show mercy.”

Liam tensed, his jaw tightening as he stood up taller and straighter. Once again, he became aware of how much taller he was than everyone in this bizarre place – he easily found himself looking down his nose at the elf.

He paused, considering what he might say.

Then he grinned and rested his blade against his shoulder, spreading his hand in a casual gesture.

“Come and take them,” he said.

That had exactly the effect he wanted. Trust an Athenian, even an elven Athenian twenty centuries after the fact, to hate Sparta.

Liv charged. Her feet slapped the ground and she swung her blade in a curving arc. Liam didn't even try to parry. He simply stepped backwards and let Meg grab the woman from behind. But Liv was ready for that. She moved blindingly quick, dropping out of Meg's grip and slamming a nullstone tipped dart into the valk's thigh. Meg swore loudly and staggered backwards against the wall, clutching at the dart with both hands. Liam then focused entirely on evading Liv. But Liv fought like someone who knew they were invincible – cutting at her with the tip of his blade didn't cause her to hesitate. She threw herself against his defenses and slashed at him with her sword.

And shitty bronze was still considerably harder and sharper than a HEMA T-shirt and human skin. Soon, Liam bled from three narrow, thin cuts. Adrenaline buzzed through his body as he heard cheers from the hoplites – they were smashing their spears into their shields and hollering.

Delenn once more glanced off Liv's belly and she laughed – actually took the time to stop and laugh at him.

And Liam saw his opening.

He tossed his blade up, caught it by the flat and the front edge, holding it in a half-swording style.

There were few moments in the universe where one could use what one had learned from a textbook at exactly the right time to change everything. When these seconds came, everything stopped and Liam found himself reflecting on the curious history that had brought him here. A confluence of smiths and weaponry and training – all of it bringing to this one moment, where good, honest steel would outmatch a god.

Or, at the very least, a demigod.

And so Liam stepped forward and slammed his pommel into Livana's gut with a single, perfect murder stroke. The crossguard – weighted and given the extra torque by being at the end of the blade rather than the base – smashed home like a baseball bat. Liv's mouth opened wide in shock as she staggered backwards from the impact, spittle flying from her lips. She looked as if the whole world had gone upside down. Then Liam swung his sword around in his hands, ignoring the deep slashes he was opening in his own palms, ignoring the agony filling him, to bring the cross-guard and pommel back down onto the base of Liv's skull.

The crunch was audible and she hit the ground face first, her head turned to the side.

Liam grabbed his pommel and gasped, his mind locking onto a single, hazy thought: Next time. Next. Time. Get. Gauntlets. Jesus!

He held his sword in agonized fingers, blood dripping to the ground as he stepped backwards.

Then Meg was beside him. She still had the nulldart in her thigh, but she could still hold Liv up against her chest and press a bronze dagger to her throat. “Get back!” she shouted. “Get back, or do you want to explain to Aries that you got his daughter stuck like a pig?”

The hoplites looked at one another – but they didn't lower their spears.

Meg and Liam stepped backwards as Liam tightened his grip on his sword. Maybe, he thought, The pressure will slow the bleeding. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

They came to the stairs leading up to the far-step alter. Behind them, Liam could hear a crack of displaced air and Tethis swearing in Coptic that his translation spell didn't pick up. “Almost ready,” she said.

The hoplites were starting to spread around them. Meg looked back, then forward, then at Tethis.

“Hurry, Tethis!” she said, her voice edged with pain.

“I don't want to rush this. We might end up dead if this thing is targeted wrong,” Tethis said, her voice distracted. Liam risked tearing his gaze from the hoplites that surrounded them to look down at the gobliness. The top of the altar didn't look a thing like an altar or even like a magical artifact. It instead looked a bit like the kind of obtuse minimalist interfaces that Apple might design if they had only stone to work with. Tethis' fingers traced patterns along barely visible buttons, causing magical lights to glow and flare. She had placed a small clump of dust onto the center of the altar, though Liam noticed the dust was surrounded by a faint patina of white lines, similar to the healing spell that Tethis had cast on his arm.

“Is that a tracker?” he asked.

“Yes!”

Meg's wing flapped out, almost bowling Tethis and Liam over. A spear – a spear that would have gone straight through Liam's head – went into the wing and Meg screamed in pain, red coating her white feathers.

“Fuck testing!” She flung herself backwards onto the alter. Liam hopped back onto it, his rump pressing to the white. He grabbed Tethis with one bloody hand, smearing his gore on her rump as he dragged her up.

“Push the fucking button!” Liam shouted.

Tethis slammed her palms down on the alter.

And everything turned white.

Liam felt as if his body was being torn apart. It felt like his skin was being peeled backwards away from his flesh. It felt as if his bones were being ripped out and shredded. It felt like eternity.

Liam appeared and he felt as if he was falling. The sky overhead was a beautiful blue – but it was the blue of oceans and water and waves, not of home.

Then he hit the ground.

Five

White light.

Warm sheets.

A sound of singing in the streets.

The rattle of bells wrapped around a dancer's ankle.

A child's laughter.

And the sounds of what had to be a million cats, mewling and purring and screeching in delight and terror.

One such cat leaped onto Liam's bed and started to lick his face. He laughed quietly, thinking it was his mother's cat, Mixie. But there was two things that brought him up short. The first was the realization that there was no weight on his chest, no paws pressing to his nipples and no comforting, purring belly rubbing against his pecks. Instead, the weight was to either side of his shoulders in the bed, dimpling the sheets against him.

The second was that Mixie never had a pair of amazing double D breasts.

He opened his eyes and the woman who had been licking him drew backwards, enough for him to see that she was a perfect fusion of woman and cat. Her fur was dainty and elegantly black, pure and spotless save for a single white star around her left eye. Her slitted eyes, too, were an excellent combination of human intellect and the playful sociopathy of a good kitten. Her ears were perked up and her short, elegant whiskers twitched in a smile. She was also dressed in nothing but a white shift that contrasted sweetly with her black fur. Liam looked at her, then at the room – a place with pale limestone walls and a large slitted window.

Then Liam looked at his hands. His palms didn't even have scars.

“Normally,” the cat-girl said, her voice amused. “People go straight for these suckers. I suppose, though, you need some incentives...”

She shrugged, then took a hold of her linen shift. A single tug sent it sailing off her shoulders, her breasts slumping slightly in the open air. Hard red nipples peeked out from the black fur, accentuating the tips of her full breasts. Liam's hands closed around them in an instant. There was something about almost being killed that took the needs of a male and drove it up to eleven. His cock was hard enough to tent the blankets and he realized he was wearing nothing underneath them.

Well.

That was convenient.

He rolled the cat-girl onto her back, panting heavily as he loomed over her, spreading her thighs with his hands. Her pussy lips were surrounded by a slight muff – but her could see they were essentially human, save for their coloration.

She started purring as he rubbed at her sex. The purring got louder as Liam leaned forward, sucking desperately first on one nipple, then the other. The girl crooned and arched her back, pressing her chest against his mouth. But then Liam's common sense grabbed him by the balls and slammed his head into the wall. He jerked his head back from her and panted.

“Meg?”

“Fit as a fiddle,” she said, chuckling. “Now, come on, back to my tits.”

“Tethis?”

“Still writing her report. Now, come on,” she said, twitching her thighs and arching her back. “I figure you owe me this fucking considering how hard I worked healing you. And you don't even worship my goddess.”

Liam blinked. “You're my doctor?”

The woman smirked at him, her whiskers twitching. “I don't know what a doctor is but my name is Star-Eye, Priestess of Bastet. And spent a day and a half bathing your body and listening to Meg talk about your skill and I want my shot!”

Liam blinked again. “Meg told you?”

“She literally said that if I never rode you, I'd regret it for my whole life,” Star-Eye said, sounding annoyed. “Now. Come on. My pussy is waiting.” She reached down to spread her lips with one paw-like hand, her furred fingers tilted so that the soft pads pressed to her sex lips. But Liam could still see that her claw tips were remarkably sharp looking.

He hoped she was that dainty with everything she did in bed.

Liam ducked his head forward. He felt his cheeks brush against her thigh fur and heard the confused murr that came from her mouth, moments before his tongue slid up to caress the hooded cleft of her clit. Her juices were considerably sweeter than Meg's, lacking almost all her tang. And, fortunately, her fur cushioned the sudden pressure of her thighs closing around his head tightly, her pawed feet hooking behind his head. Liam closed his eyes and pressed against her sex, her lips sucking on her pussy, his tongue darting forward. He swirled it around then found the place that made her back arch.

“Oh goddess!” She howled, her hands grabbing his hair. He felt her claws tease along his scalp – but he tried to put it out of his mind as he reached up to slide his arms under her arms, rub his palms along her belly, then squeeze her large breasts. He found her nipples and tweaked them gently as he ate her out hungrily. Star-Eye curled to the side, rolling and lifting one leg above her head, spreading herself with her hand and her posture. This let Liam slide three fingers into her sex, crooking them up and rubbing at her G-spot.

“Bastet, oh Bastet, hear my prayers and come steal this guy!” Star-Eye moaned, then vanished into incoherence. She buried her face against the pillow and bit down on it. Feathers filled the air as she thrashed and her juices spurted against Liam's face. He drank her down and took a moment reflecting on the fact that eating out a humanoid cat who had just healed whatever had gone wrong with his body after transporting from a long forgotten temple was not that weirdest thing that happened to him this week.

Star-Eye panted and rolled onto her back again. “So, now you fuck me?” she panted.

“That's the plan,” Liam said, drawing himself up onto his knees. He gripped his dick and started to slip it up and down, grinding the broad head of his shaft against the priestess' pussy. He half closed his eyes and savored the intense tactility of life here in Purgatory. And it was here, with his cock teasing the sex of a catgirl that he barely knew, after surviving a harrowing adventure, that Liam realized that even if someone arrived and offered him a ticket right home…

He wouldn't take it.

His mind, in that instant, painted for him a picture of a life that was utterly mundane. He would enjoy it, yeah. He'd have his friends. He might even meet a girl that drove him as wild as Meg and Star-Eye and Tethis. He would be in love, and raise kids, and see the future that humanity was blindly hacking out of their world. But would he ever step into ancient temples that had survived millennium and held wonders and dangers beyond irritating local curators? Would he cross blades with villains and save damsels? Would he make a difference?

He didn't know for sure…

But he doubted it.

“Stop teasing meeeee!” Star-Eye whined.

“I'm not interrupting anything, am I?”

The voice that jerked Liam out of his poised stance was deep and male and bass. It rumbled through the room like an avalanche and caused Liam to swing his head around. There, he saw the difference between someone who was merely odd and someone who was a god. For the man who stood before him was certainly a god.

He was easily seven feet tall, with shoulders broad and muscular enough to put the most exaggerated 1980s action star to shame. His skin was lurid green and yellow. Actually, on second impression it wasn't skin at all; it was a beaded, pebbly mass of scales. They flowed smoothly along his muscles, accentuating every line and straining slightly when Liam's eyes traveled from the shoulders to the belly. Despite being amazingly strong, the scaled man was definitely going pudgy – his belly loomed outwards. But it didn't ruin the masculine figure that he cut. Instead, it simply slipped him closer to the bear end of the twink-bear scale.

Where his body was exotic, his head was downright terrifying. It was a long, snouted crocodile's head with yellow eyes that flared and glowed and regarded Liam with bemusement.

And in that instant, Liam found his faith restored and fortified.

Being face to face with an ancient Egyptian god left him a touch uncertain as to the place of Jesus and the Holy Ghost and the Father but the Bible had never said there were no other gods. If one read closely, it said that no god would be put before Jehovah. So, yes, Liam was willing to admit that there were other deities walking around. But he also knew that if God - the God, the God he worshiped - stood before him...he knew that it would be different.

For one thing, he was sure God wouldn't appear before one of his faithful wearing nothing but a loincloth. A loincloth that was already starting to tent with obvious arousal.

“No, sir,” Star-Eye said, her voice cheeky. “In fact, there is room for one-nnhh!”

Her voice trailed off into a grunt as Liam resumed his thrust. His balls slapped her ass and he sighed as he focused on the tightness of her sex around his member. He grabbed her by one knee, spread her wider, and then started to thrust into her, getting into the rhythm. Then, looking back at the God, Liam tried to sound casual as he said: “Thank you for taking care of us, honorable Sobek.”

“Honorable?” Sobek – for that was who this God had to be – asked, his eyes glinting. He stepped forward and suddenly held a cigar in his hand. The wrapped, brown object hadn't existed between steps, and Liam had been looking at those hands. One moment, it had been there. Another moment – without a glow, without a flash of light, without a change in perspective – it was there. Sobek tucked it into his muzzle and lit it with a  flash of flame that burst from one thumb.

“If you want honorable, kid, you should talk to another god.”

Liam shrugged, slowing in his thrusting as he closed his eyes. He tried to control his breath as he said: “Fair enough. Should I, ah, call you All Around Bastard Sobek, then?”

Can't let him think you're in awe, Liam thought. Got to negotiate from a position of strength. Fuck, she's tight.

Star-Eye mewed and thrust her hips back against him. “He prefers, ah, fuck, just Sobek!”

“Just Sobek? Bit on the nose, huh?” Liam asked, grinning, though really the grin was just a clench of his jaw to keep from shooting off his load right then and there.

Sobek laughed. It was, on reflection, a good laugh – deep and filled with a sense of self-amusement. He spread his arms wide and bowed his head. “All right kid. You've impressed me. I figured the first Christian I saw in seventeen centuries would shit himself and give up his Slave God on seeing me. Course, I never expected to find a Christian balls deep in one of my on-loan priests.”

“Ahhhh gods!” Star-Eye screamed. Her back arched, her breasts almost bumping against her chin as she curved herself into a perfect, inverted U, her claws digging into the bed. Her sex clenched onto Liam's cock with the tightness of a fist and despite all his attempts to remain calm and collected, Liam felt the burst of an orgasm rush through him. His balls tightened and he thrust deep into her. He felt seed burst inside of her, and he thrust once, twice more, trying to drill his cum into her.

The two of them panted and Liam ducked his head forward, letting himself soften inside of Star-Eye.

“I'm not your standard Christian,” Liam said, wiping his palm along his brow. He slid out of the priestess, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. “Thank you, Star-Eye. Was that good for you?”

“Oh wow, your lover is a lucky woman,” she said, her eyes dazed.

Sobek puffed on his cigar, filling the air with thick, aromatic scents. He tapped on the edge, ashes dropping to the limestone floor. “I see you're not. Here.” He held out his other hand and Liam's crucifix dangled from one finger. Liam looked at the golden symbol and smiled. He took it from the god's hand and nodded to him.

“Thanks, Sobek,” he said, honestly.

“I wasn't sure if I'd give it back,” Sobek said. “But you've got spunk.”

“Damn straight,” Star-Eye purred – literally and figuratively – reaching down and spreading her pussy lips with her fingers. Sobek grinned and Liam paled. Those teeth looked sharp. Reaching down, the god flipped his loincloth aside and revealed that his cock wasn't internal, as Liam expected a reptile's would be. It was still clearly inhuman: red, ridged, coming to a narrow, tapering point. He sat down on the bed and picked Star-Eye up with both hands, his cigar stuck into his muzzle. He rested his chin on her shoulder and Star-Eye spread her thighs eagerly, looking…

Liam wasn't sure.

The look on her face seemed to be an even mixture – one part veneration, one part excitement, one part nerves. Then Sobek plunged into her, his immense cock spreading her lips and filling her to the brim. Liam's cum dripped around his shaft and slipped along his green scaled balls as Sobek started to casually fuck the priestess harder - and, from the way that she started to moan and howl in pleasure, better - than Liam ever could.

Sobek clamped a single scaled palm over Star-Eye's mouth, muffling her as he spoke calmly to Liam: “I need people like you.”

Liam watched the scene, not sure if he was turned on or deeply embarrassed or really scared.

“I hope you weren't set on that – I like girls,” Liam said, holding up his hands.

“Not like that,” Sobek said, laughing and tugging his cigar out of his mouth with one hand. He blew a stream of smoke out as Star-Eye's eyes rolled back into her head, her entire body almost going limp. Her breasts were bouncing in perfect, delicious circles with every thrust, her nipples hard enough to cut glass. “You, a stranger to this world, with no armor and no knowledge of anything managed to assist a messenger through a detachment of hoplites and get them here – with a demigod of Aries in tow.”

“She's alive?” Liam asked, blinking in shock. “I'd have thought-”

“Demigods are tough, kid,” Sobek said, his scaled balls slapping against the catgirl's belly. “And we have good healing mages. She's in jail getting the standard options that most prisoners get: slavery, or death. Not like Aries is going to pay for a ransom.”

Liam's eyes widened. He remembered Tethis, screaming as her shift was ripped asunder, remembered the brutal satisfaction at sliding his sword through a would be rapist's throat. Liv had tried to butcher him and Meg and Tethis, she had led her men in a relentless hunt to try and prolong a war that no one but Aries wanted. But he still couldn't stomach the idea of her being sold to someone who would abuse her.

“Can I have her?” he asked. Then, quickly, he added: “I mean, as a reward for completing my first mission for you?”

“Cheeky.” Sobek paused in both his fucking and his conversation. He nodded. “Fine.”

Liam breathed out a sigh of relief.

Then he realized he had just gotten a slave girl.

Crap.

“Now!” Sobek thrust again and grunted. His balls tightened and Liam saw cum swelling inside of Star-Eye's belly. He wondered how much a god could cum. Was there even a limit? Star-Eye's eyes closed and she literally passed out in Sobek's arms. The god laid her down, sliding from her with a slow sigh. He flipped his loincloth down and stood, as casually as he had started to fuck. “Let's continue this discussion with your friends.”

***

“Liam!”

Meg almost tackled Liam to the ground, hugging him tightly. Liam laughed and squeezed her back – then blurted out: “I had sex with—”

“Oh good!” Meg cut him off, unwrapping her legs from his hips and hopping backwards, her wings flared wide. “I was worried you would make a liar of me. Did she cum as many times as I did?”

The inside of the room that Megara and Tethis were both roomed in definitely had more signs of Tethis' personality than Meg's. The stone tables that dominated the center of the room were covered with papyrus scrolls, and there were three copper bottles filled with ink, as well as a broad, flat knife that could be used to sharpen quills. Tethis stood from her table and ran over to eagerly hug Liam's side as well.

Sobek, standing at the door, coughed. He looked slightly offended that Liam had drawn more attention than him.

Liam, personally, was still trying to get used to the clothing that he was wearing. Rather than jeans and T-shirt, he was dressed in a white linen kilt that wrapped around his hips, leaving his back and shoulders bare. Since this finally left him feeling cool and comfortable in Purgatory's temperature, he wasn't complaining. Though his back did constantly seem to be itching.

“She came more with Sobek,” Liam said, jerking his thumb back to the god. “My iPod?”

“Yes, I'm fine, thanks for asking,” Meg said, pursing her lips, her nose scrunching up. “Your iPod is also fine. You broke its fall with your body. Good choice!”

“My—” Liam blinked.

“You don't think those cuts on your palms were what knocked you out for a day and a half?” Meg asked. She looked at Tethis, then at Sobek. “No one told him?”

Sobek frowned. “I think that Bastet's priestess might have been, ahem, distracted. What is this eye-pod?”

“Something that will change the world,” Meg said, her voice fervent. She turned and walked over to the pile of papyrus. Some digging produced Liam's fannypack. She held it out to him with a smile. Liam took it and noticed the bloodstains.

“Okay, what fall?” Liam asked.

Tethis looked embarrassed. Her ears flattened back against her head. “Welllllll, the targeting was close. But something about you caused it to drift. Fortunately, it drifted upwards, not down.”

“How far up?” Liam asked, feeling like he was currently drifting downwards. His stomach was in his throat.

“About thirty cubits,” Tethis said.

Liam took a few moments to remember how high a cubit was. He held his arm out, looking at his elbow, then furrowed his brow. “Well, damn.”

“You do owe me for the healing,” Sobek said. “It isn't cheap, and Bastet is the queen of finding the most painful places to extract favors from. There's also the simple fact that you've seriously pissed off Aries. You're not going to survive long in this world without a patron.”

“And you said you needed someone with spunk,” Liam said, wiggling his fingers. He tried to picture what a fall from that height would have done to him. Then he tried to put it out of his mind a moment later – the mental image was making his stomach roil. “But why?”

Sobek stepped past the group of them, coming to the window in the small office. The window – like all the windows in the building – was tall and narrow, and gave a commanding view of the city beyond. Liam stepped over to look past the god. The city of Faiyum Falls, now that Liam wasn't distracted by a gorgeous cat-girl, was as fascinating and as beautiful as he might have hoped. Jungle plants had been carefully placed to provide shaded areas for people walking the streets, while the buildings weren't simply white – the roofs were, and the sidewalks between them were, but the sides had been covered in gorgeous murals. They weren't as simplistic as the murals of ancient Egypt, and they were freshly painted and vibrant. He saw images of shirtless women and men tilling fields, images of crocodiles, images of what he thought might be the afterlife.

It made him think of Ancient Egypt, if they had birthed Michelangelo and Da Vinci and other Renaissance era thinkers who could come up with ideas like 'perspective' and 'realism' for their artwork.

“A storm is brewing out there, in Purgatory,” Sobek said. “This war between New Athens and Faiyum is only one of the thunder-booms. A warning, a timing count until the lightning hits.” His muzzle twisted into a very human frown. It was the kind of expression that Liam had seen before, from afar, on candid shots of presidents and prime ministers facing terror attacks and economic crisis. Seeing it on a god made him feel very odd. Like he was spying at someone changing clothes – peering in at something private.

Sobek turned so he was leaning against the windowsill, crossing his muscular arms across his chest. “Thor is mobilizing troops on the far side of Purgatory. Brigid of the Tuatha has closed down her library to all but those who offer tithes. Athena's upped her spying in my cities and the cities of Toth and Anubis.” He shook his head. “Other minor actions which, on their own, would be nothing more than the standard maneuvering. But all of them at the same time?” He tapped the back of his neck. “It is making my scales stand on their end.” 

Megara stepped forward, her wings closing behind her back. “As a Messenger of Apollo, I have the authority to say that, well, Apollo has been growing concerned as well. But he isn't sure what to do about it, beyond ready his own resources.”

Sobek chuckled. “Interesting. Still, you can see why in such times, I'd need an agent like you, Liam.”

Liam frowned. “I'm afraid I don't,” he said. “I mean, agent? Like a spy? My primary skill is using a longsword and being from a world that – no offense – is about three thousand years more advanced than yours in terms of metallurgy and other associated, um, sciences. But I'm thinking that might have more to do with your resources than your, um, intelligence. I mean, I don't think you're dumb!” Liam held up his hands.

Sobek laughed.

“Don't worry,” he said. “We were banished in an era of iron – there isn't any in Purgatory. The closest we've come are crystal-wrights and their magics. But that's a story for another time.” He brought his hand chopping down into his palm, frowning intently as he looked into Liam's eyes. “Do you know what I am the god of, Liam Vanderbilt?”

Liam shook his head.

“I am the god of ameliorated evil,” Sobek said. “I get things done and I prevent evil from growing out of control. Every world needs a bit of evil – some people need killing. You understand that, don't you?” He grinned, toothily. “And so, I am very used to using the tools I am given. In this world, no god really trusts another – but you still have faith to your Christian God. You bear his symbol and you take his name and he, well, protects you. Does he not?” Sobek reached out, tapping the crucifix. “Not many people can live long enough for a healing after being dropped thirty cubits.”

Liam gulped and nodded.

“This means you are unique in the world. For your knowledge. Your sword. And your neutrality. Even if you are sent under my protections, other gods will know that you do not truly serve me.”

Liam frowned slightly. It did make a kind of sense to him.

“Now,” Sobek said, rubbing his hands together. “You would not go alone. You are a stranger and merely one man. And while you may seem to be neutral, gods are a troublesome and suspicious bunch. I'd suggest bringing a bodyguard, an aide de camp, maybe a body-slave or two.”

“Uh, I—” Liam trailed off. He could practically feel Meg's grin. Turning to face her, he saw that she had her hands on her hips and was spreading her wings ever so slightly, her chin lifted. She was standing like a proud, conquering warrior. Liam frowned at her. “Let me guess. You want to be my bodyguard.”

“Give me a sword and a few javelins,” Meg said, spreading her hands. “And you will never draw your magical sword again.”

Liam snorted. “It's not magic. It's just steel.”

“Any sufficiently advanced form of artistry is indistinguishable from magic,” Meg said, taking on the tone of a philosophical debate. Liam opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Great minds think alike,” he said under his breath.

“I can be your aide-de-camp!” Tethis said, nodding eagerly. “I can write in hieroglyphics, Latin, Greek, Norse runes, Ogham-” she stopped herself from listing every single language. Liam laughed.

“And we've got a, ah, body-slave in the form of Liv,” he said. “Why do I need a body slave?”

“No nobleman and half the gods won't respect an envoy if they do all the scut work with their own hands,” Sobek said. “Status and how you show your wealth off matter, Liam.”

Liam nodded again. He was starting to feel like a bobblehead.

“Very well,” he said, holding his hand out to Sobek. “I'll take the job.”

“And as payment, I will begin searching for a way to get you home,” Sobek said. “Megara said you came from Earth – that the Via Box that banished us here was the tool that sent you home. We've never found a way, but I promise that I will make every effort.”

Liam smiled, faintly. “Thanks.”

***

Meg thumped backwards into the bed, panting as she lay beside Liam. Liam himself was still trying to catch his breath as he slid his hands behind his neck, his eyes half closed as he let the pleasure tingle through his body.

“That,” Meg said, “Was nice. How did you know olive oil would—” she stopped. “You know?”

Liam grinned. “Secrets.”

Meg snorted, slapping his chest with one hand before rolling onto her side. She sprawled half on him, half off, her wings folding to make a secondary wrap around Liam. He loved the feel of her feathers almost as much as the rest of her body – smooth and warm and downy. His fingers started to comb through them – he had learned the trick of teasing dirt and grit from them and flick it away. He half-remembered birds doing that with their beaks (or maybe it had been gryphons in some fantasy novel he had read) and from the way Meg groaned – low and deep in her throat – it was something she appreciated.

“You sure you didn't mind me screwing, uh, Star-Eye?” Liam asked.

“Mind? I encouraged it,” Meg said, her voice muffled by how she was kissing his chest.

Liam snorted. “I, uh, kinda got that. But why?”

Meg drew her head back, her brow furrowing. “What do you mean, why?”

“Where I come from, um.” Liam paused for a moment. “Lovers don't encourage their lovers to, uh, fuck other people.”

Meg snorted. “Are you Christians so small hearted that you cannot bear to see your girlfriends ride another man's dick?” She paused. “Okay, there are Dodekatheon worshipers who get just as jealous. Maybe it's a human thing?”

Liam shook his head.

“Maybe it's a people thing,” he said. “I'm sure there are some valkyrie who aren't willing to share.”

Meg pouted, then mashed her face against his chest. “Aww. Now I can't feel smug and superior.”

“Sorry, babe,” Liam said. He looked to the window – to the dim pale white sphere that was Purgatory's sun-moon, to the glinting cities that his brain kept trying to think of as stars. He smiled slightly and sprawled back with his lover as she squeezed him tighter and started to settle in for their sleep. Tomorrow, he and Tethis and Liv were going to set sail down the river that wound along Faiyum Fall's – heading north towards the only ocean that was on this half of Purgatory. From there, they were going to set out on the first of what Sobek promised to be many tasks.

But he couldn't help but think that the real danger of this world had been bested – for himself, at least.

He had faced gods and demigods, hoplites and lightning rhinos, Megara and Star-Eye. Through it all – the temptations and the dangers – he felt that he was still himself.

Liam closed his eyes, laid back in bed and prayed – the first prayer that he had really composed that hadn't been dashed off in a blind panic.

God, I don't know if you approve or disapprove of what we did to these people. It's all a bit late to fix now, what with it being seventeen centuries old and all that. But grant me the wisdom to help them. I think I owe them that – I never banished anyone, but the world I live in exists because we did. Everything I took for granted is built on that. So, please, help me help them.

Oh, he added, a moment later. Please, please, please, please, protect me from temptation. I don't care how pretty she is, I am not going to fuck a slave. Got it?

And in the silence and darkness of night, Liam felt his heart steady.

He drifted off to sleep – dreaming of travels, and battles, and Meg.

And the murder stroke.

Liam, Meg and Tethis will return in Riposte, the second book of the Purgatory Wars series. If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review.

Sneak Peak - Riposte

Vulkas Shieldbreaker took a moment to simply admire the city of Faiyum Falls as his ship nestled into dock. Even with an Aesier's born confidence and love for his homeland, he had to admit that Coptics knew what they were doing when it came to building cities. Monuments might have made them famous, but the same skills it took to erect the pyramids could be seen here. Cranes the size of buildings, with counterweights that were as elaborately decorated as their mundane purpose could allow, lifted entire ship's stores from their decks and set them down in storage yards. Men and women and beasts of burden carted the supplies away – and a bustling crowd surged back and forth throughout the wide streets. From them rose a melange of language – Coptic, Latin, Greek, Celtic – and coins of dozens of different cities were passed back and forth.

But through it all, Vulkas saw no sign of grain.

He elbowed Thu'chan with one broad arm, almost jostling the ship's scribe over the railing. “Told you,” Vulkas said, pride brimming in his voice. “Told you.”

Thu sniffed – the sound turned into an almost musical whistle by his long, narrow, curved beak. His feathers ruffled up and he hunched his shoulders forward. If someone had decided to paint Thu at this moment, the result could have been entitled: A portrait of sour grapes. Thu shook his head, sighed explosively, and then – with the air of someone having their kneecaps drawn from their broken leg – said: “Fine. You were right, Captain.”

Vulkas laughed and slapped his back.

The rumors had been that a great war was brewing between Sobek – the Pesdjeti God of Crocodiles and Ameliorated Evil – and a pair of the Dodekatheon: Aries and Athena. Apollo was officially neutral, but everyone in the mead-halls of distant Thorheilm had agreed he was going to be aiding his fellow gods. But the terrain favored Sobek. Again, everyone had agreed on that. So, while the debates had been running around and around as to who would seek peace first, Vulkas had simply gone to the landowners and purchased as much grain as he could, then set sail.

It had been a harrowing trip around the Platonic Sea. Pirates and lizardfolk raiders alike still plagued the straits not patrolled by the Tuatha mistcraft, and the lizardfolk sometimes had access to queer magic. Two of his crew had died from unnervingly accurate lightning bolts, brought down out of a clear sky by some scrawny lizardthing that had seemed more hunched muscle and robes than proper barbarian raider. It had been one of Vulkas' throwing axes that had split the thing's head – it had taken his ax to the grave before they had a chance to take the robes off and see how it had controlled lightning like the crystalbacks of the jungle.

But through it all, the grain had been kept safe and unnibbled by studious attention from the ship's cats and some simple runic enchantments laid down by a priestess of Sif.

And now, here, they were poised to make a profit – a profit worth all the danger, all the dire risk.

Vulkas nodded. “Find the master of the granaries in this city – tell them they won't need to rely on fish and meat and whatever gods be damned lean pickings they've had to deal with.”

Thu nodded. “I will, sir. What will you be doing?”

Vulkas rubbed his chin and beamed beatifically – but his eyes didn't move from a Coptic woman who was standing on a spar and tying down a ship that was coming in to dock. The woman was bronze skinned and slender, her hair shaved off leaving her utterly bald, her eyes marked by dark khol lining similar to what the Aseir had been forced to adopt since they had been banished to Purgatory. The combination was quite striking, but Vulkas was more admiring the way her bared breasts gleamed with sweat in the morning sunlight, her modesty only protected by a thin cotton skirt around her hips.

“Ah, Coptics,” he sighed, then kissed his bunched fingers.

“Ugh.” Thu didn't try to hide his disgust.

“Come now!” Vulkas looked down at his friend, scribe, and second in command.

“I prefer to not put my attentions in anything as mercurial and untrustworthy as women,” Thu said, primly.

“So, who was it who broke your heart? A pretty lad, aye, not a woman,” Vulkas said, wagging his finger underneath Thu's beak. Thu shot a glare at him as the ship finally finished tying down and Vulkas laughed as he stepped off the gangplank and into the thronging streets of Faiyum Falls. He turned back to his crew – the men and women a motley mixture of races and creeds, all of them looking at him.

“Thu is in charge until I get back,” he said, his voice pitched to carry. “But once the grain is off the ship, you are free to enjoy your coppers. Remember – any who don't get back within the day, you may be left behind.” He grinned. “And none of us want to be trapped here, in such a dreary land, eh?”

His crew laughed and he already saw that several were considering staying. This bothered Vulkas not at all.

Crew came. Crew went. So long as the soul of the ship remained – so long as his hardest hands and best warriors stuck around to carry that soul - he could happily bid farewell to most of the deckhands. With that thought in his head, he turned and started to stride through the docks. Vulkas had been a huscral – a shield bearing warrior – in the arid lands that the Norse had landed when they were banished. There, the Norse peoples had met a similarly banished tribe known as the Zapandi. They had fled a terrible god, Tchernobog, who sought to corrupt all of Purgatory with his shadow. Thor had struck him down and the two tribes had intermarried to an extent that none could say who was Norse and who was Zapandi anymore. The new folk – the Aesier – had learned to tame the arid lands. Water had been found and irrigated, and vast fields of grain now spread across the steppe.

But the ancient Norse had sailed ships of hard wood and iron shod men. The iron might be gone, and the islands of the Norse a distant, foggy memory, but there were still seas to sail.

Still a profit to be made.

And selling the grain was only half of Vulkas' aims. He walked past a stall selling charms blessed by one of the Pesdjeti pantheon and shook his head. He hadn't come so far to buy charms that his gods could have made. He walked past a warehouse that seemed to be filled with jars of tar and pitch. Again, he turned up his nose and came to a side-street that bled into the docks district. He frowned as something stuck out to him as being odd. After a moment, he saw it.

There was a giant walking up the street, heading towards the center of the city.

Vulkas started to follow the giant and took a moment to gauge him. He was definitely not Coptic – too pale by half, with hair as blond as a Aesier nobleman. But he didn't have the same facial hair of most of Vulkas' kin, nor did he bear the scars that one might expect from a huscral. And, again, he was a giant. Vulkas guessed his height to be nearly six feet – though, he did note that the man's muscles were more lean than bulky. He had a youthful face, filled with frustration and was dressed in naught but a kilt, a pair of sandals, and looped baldric that held a sword that must have been more for show than anything else.

Who'd make a sword so long with bronze?

It'd have to be three times as thick and five times as heavy as it looked to not simply bend in half – and by the time he swung it, he would have been disemboweled.

Maybe, Vulkas thought. He prefers to simply negate fights by being intimidating?

Then the giant opened his mouth and spoke – and Vulkas realized that the giant was walking with someone. In the captain's defense, the giant's companion was easily missed. She was as short as he was tall, her emerald green skin and long ears marked her as a gobliness. She was holding a clay tablet in one hand, gesturing to it as she spoke in quick Coptic: “I don't think anyone's going to be willing to sail no matter how much gold we offer – not with the tales of the pirates, not with the harpies-”

The giant responded, sounding irritated.

Vulkas' brow furrowed.

The giant spoke no tongue he had ever heard. He caught a hint of Latin, slurred and mashed in with other words that sounded like they should make sense but did not. It was a fast tongue, and from the way that the gobliness laughed, one that lent itself to humor.

The two turned around a corner, ducking into an alleyway with the casual confidence of people used to a city.

And then, detaching from shadowed nooks and emerging from behind closed, ratty doors came five hooded forms. They were clad in black linen and had crude wooden masks over their faces. They held bronze knives and clubs and one even had a lead-weighted plumbata that he tossed from palm to palm with nervous tension. They darted into the alleyway and Vulkas felt his blood chill. He had been party to many a battle – and more than a few muggings – but he had never seen an assassination before. His first instinct won out. He sprang forward, drawing his only weapon – a dagger more for cutting fruit and sharpening a stylus than anything else – and shouted: “Ware! Ware!”

The giant might not have spoken Norse, but he heard the noise. He spun around and shoved the gobliness behind him with the same smooth motion. The assassin with the plumbata hefted it and readied to loose it. Vulkas had fought Hellenes in battle and sneered. Those battle-hardened mercenaries had underhanded those murderous darts, making the throwing harder to spot and harder to defend against.

The assassin's lack of skill gave the Aesier captain time enough to hurl his dagger. The blade plunged into the man's palm and he shrieked – but not for long. A moment later, his arm hit the ground and his head followed shortly after.

The giant stood tall and proud, holding his blade in both hands. It had moved with amazing speed and it shone with a silvery light as it caught the sun. Blood stained the edge, dripping to the floor as the giant glared at the four remaining men as if daring them to make another move. Vulkas could do no more than stare in shock, his mind reeling.

That blade!

The giant stepped forward. He beat aside a dagger – and a good chunk of a man's arm – then counter-stroked upwards, sending the assassin falling backwards in a spray of blood. The assassins weren't unarmored – they wore woven cloth tunics that were tougher and harder to cut than they seemed – but they still fell as if wearing nothing at all. The giant parried a knife stroke – blocking the attacker's blade in such a way that left three severed fingers on the ground – then punched out with his own sword-hilt. Weighted and sturdy, the curious hand-guard on the blade caught the assassin in the jaw. His head jerked back in a spray of blood and teeth.

The last assassin turned to flee – but by now, the gobliness had emerged from hiding. Her palms slapped together and she spoke a word in a tongue that Vulkas didn't recognize. Her hands spread, and then she made a tossing motion. From the space between her hands came a glowing ball of fibrous tendrils that were as tightly compacted as spider silk. They exploded outwards with a crackle, then wrapped around the fleeing man. He was trussed up in an instant and toppled forward to skid along the ground for a few feet before coming to a stop.

The violence had taken less than five seconds.

The giant wiped his blade down with a cloth he drew from a belt pouch, shaking his head as he said something that sounded like: Mudder fakker.

“Thank you, sir,” the gobliness said, adjusting her shift with one hand as she looked up at Vulkas.

Vulkas blinked a few times.

Then beamed.

“I hear you need to hire a ship?” he said, cheerily.

Uruk Novellas

Uruk Press publish the best in fantasy and science fiction erotica and our Uruk Novellas range showcases the breadth of our catalogue. At approximately 30,000 words long and free on Kindle Unlimited, they are the perfect introduction for new readers. You can also follow us on Twitter and Tumblr to keep up to date on our latest titles.

A Fetch Job by Dragon Cobolt

Julianna has one simple goal: to be the best damn wizard at Forestdale Academy of Magical Sciences and Clerical Applications of Godly Powers. The only problem is the Six, a clique of mean girls led by Tabitha Sworles, "the biggest overachiever on campus and also the most frigid bitch I've ever had the displeasure of meeting", who are making her life a living hell.

So Juli does what any self-respecting wizard would do and summons a demon familiar to help her get even. But something goes wrong. Fetch is crude, rude, obnoxious, muscular, confident, hot as hell... and only three foot tall. Juli soon discovers that size isn't everything (except when it definitely is) and that revenge is a dish best served very, very hot.

A Fetch Job is a 32,000 word erotic novella featuring a teen wizard exploring her sexuality with men, women, toys, tentacles and, of course, a cocky little demon named Fetch. Expect magic, mayhem and multiple penetration. Free with Kindle Unlimited!

The Serpent's Kiss by Cyrano Johnson

Mrs Evangeline Stone is a celebrated young journalist in Victorian London. Against her family’s wishes, she sails across the Atlantic to Verderosa, the Black Zion, following rumours of White slavery. Verderosa is unique among the Dominions of the British Empire as a land where all men, White and Black, are truly equal. But this is no utopia. As Evie journeys deep into the seamy underbelly of Daltonville, she discovers dark secrets and even darker truths about herself.

The Serpent’s Kiss is a 40,000 word alt history novella inspired by classic Victorian pornography and tinged with the supernatural. Featuring self-discovery, willing submission, corporal punishment and White women being dominated by multiple Black men, it is a must for all fans of interracial erotica. Dare you taste the Serpent’s Kiss! Free with Kindle Unlimited!

Equinox by EC Revelle

Cris has everything a child of the ancient House of Vandalia could want: money, fine clothes, and a first-rate wizard’s education. There’s only one thing she lacks: the respect of her father, the richest man in Sworza. Her chance might have finally arrived when an enchanting seductress enlists her help in a dangerous quest. Dispatched to find the Dusk Crown, a relic of a bygone age, Cris might at last be able to secure her place in the family - as long as it isn’t all just a fool’s errand.

Jeza knows there’s more to life than Sted Chisa, a simple village on the Medez Plains, but he’ll never get the chance to find out if he’s going to be chief and shaman someday. That is until an alluring young witch stops by his mother’s house, recruiting him for a mission to enter the Twilit Tower, a sacred place of power. There’s just one catch: it sits on a great convergence of leylines, warded by forbidden magic. Life outside the Sted might end up being more than he bargained for.

The spring equinox swiftly approaches, and an ancient power sleeps fitfully. Cris and Jeza find themselves set to cross purposes by the oldest forces in the Realm, pushed into a conflict they don’t understand. Their paths may just lead them to a lost secret of the Early Days - if either of them survive.

Equinox is a 27,000 word erotic novella featuring forbidden romance, sexual temptation and mouthwateringly unrestrained group sex. Free with Kindle Unlimited!

Arms And Armor by FV Meyer

"Give me your strength in exchange for my beauty. Give me your strength in exchange for my beauty. Give me your strength..."

She could have settled for a usual life in her fishing village. She could have kept her name. But as the owner of an enchanted set of arms and armor, she instead went looking for glory as a wandering champion in far-off lands. However, her dreams soon dash against the hard shore of reality.

Wielding a club she knows only as "Kanabo" and wearing a set of armor with a past shrouded in mystery, she is gifted with supernatural powers in return for offering up her body. Half hero for her deeds and half heretic for dabbling with magic, she lives a hard life on the run from the white-robed inquisitors. But will her journey end in fame or infamy? Will her enchanted protectors be her salvation or her damnation? All she knows is that arms and armor are necessary to stay alive in a harsh world where corruption, zealotry and ruthlessness abound.

Arms And Armor is a 33,000 word erotic novella featuring a bisexual female protagonist caught in a destructive threesome with dominating supernatural forces. Free with Kindle Unlimited!

Uruk Press - Fantasy

For the best introduction to our fantasy range, check out our Sex & Sorcery anthology series:

Sex & Sorcery 3

"The Last Mage" by Dragon Cobolt - In the aftermath of an apocalyptic magical war, a wandering scavenger finds hope - and more - with the last surviving wizard.

"All-Mother" by Mak Long - Ancient beyond memory, the shrine of a forgotten goddess weaves together the fates of three women, who might be the salvation of their people.

"A Man Needs A Whore, So..." by Max Keith - Drinn and Cashel are on a vital mission for the Princess Raxillene, the exiled queen-in-waiting, and hundreds of lives hang in the balance. But first they need to make a quick visit to a brothel...

"The Ballard Of Little Bird" by Cyrano Johnson - Among the Faithful, those born Fae are called “Iteni”: the outcasts. For orphaned beauty Cailin this means a life of prostitution under the thumb of a sinister slumlord; a life that, with the aid of her companion bird-spirit Bana, she will risk everything to escape.

"Two Daggers" by Jaap Boekestein - A soldier and a witch cross a dozen worlds to free a backwards planet from a fearsome monster. But which of their weapons will prevail?

"Ice And Fire" by Ben Truman - A haughty female knight and a mischievous demoness set aside their differences to escape from a monster-filled dungeon.

"The Paledrake's Promise" by Nathan Ravenwood - Tael has strong feelings for his reptilian companion Janess and doesn't believe the rumors that she sleeps around. But when his marriage proposal goes awry, he'll have to come to terms with just how unfettered her sex life really is.

"The Manse Of Magister Revaine" by Jamie MacFrey - Having quelled an insurrection, the fearsome Magister Revaine is throwing a party to celebrate. Disguised as a courtesan for the party-goers entertainment, Vivean will have no problem getting close enough to kill the vicious dictator and take revenge for her home. The only problem: no one has ever seen the Magister’s face.

"Awakening" by Alana Melos - A young wizard faces her final test to awaken her powers and unlock her spiritual and sexual potential.

Sex & Sorcery 2

"Northern Oracle" by EC Revelle - Alone and near death, Varia is offered a vision of what might have been and a future that could still be. But can her body endure the Northern Oracle's price?

"A Harem Of Harpies" by Ian Saul Whitcomb - When aging mage Bron and barbarous jackal-man Chortle Bonegrinder encounter females most fowl in the badlands of a savage realm, more than feathers will be ruffled...

"The Uninvited Guest" by Elaine Rose - A beautiful widow, her mysterious guest, a first-time lesbian encounter - it's going to be one hell of a party!

"The Victor, The Spoils" by Jamie MacFrey - The Canians have always chosen their alpha males through the Dominance: ritual unarmed combat until one man is left standing. But Vel, the headstrong young leader of her tribe, is about throw tradition to the wind to make sure she gets the right man for the job.

"The Summoning" - Lilya Loring - Apprentice wizard Ekron defies his master and uses magic to summon his perfect lover. But is true love under his nose?

"Partners" by Ian Blackwood - Gordon and Elirel have been working together for years, ever since the elf saved him from a horde of goblins. He knows everything about his friend and comrade. Oh, except he's somehow failed to notice that she's a woman.

"Queen Takes Knight" by Belinda LaPage - In an ancient land of raven-haired, bronze-skinned warriors, Rose's red hair and freckles mark her as a pariah. Impossible to love, she will never feel the touch of a man, or so she believes until a stranger is brought to the prison where she tends the cells - a warrior from an alien land, his hair and skin like her own.

"The Dark Ones" by PT Winters - The appetite of the Dark Ones for corrupting virgins is legendary. But myths can be mistaken...

"A Shade's Choice" by Guinevere A Hart - An exclusive addition to the Hells Unleashed universe that reveals the darkly erotic history of Commander Finde, head of Ardyth'tol's most elite fighting force.

"A Thimble Of Sweet Honey" by Zoe Miller - As old loves rekindle and new ones burst into spectacular flame, conscientious faery Myna, carefree runt Kless, and a very lucky surprise guest settle in to enjoy a truly wonderful spring equinox.

Sex & Sorcery 1

"Born To The Forest" by AW Freyr - Deep in the forest, Aelan encounters a woman growing in an ash tree. Has he finally found another of his kind?

"Elvish Inquisition" by Victoria Arius - Pain and pleasure blur in a world of religious persecution and unrestrained passion where a young elf must uncover a dark conspiracy.

"Norn's Cavern" by EC Revelle - A bold adventurer dares to enter Norn's cavern to slay a monster but finds all is not what it seems.

"Queen's Gambit" by Belinda LaPage - Pride comes before a fall for a rapacious nobleman bent on domination.

"Dark Wood" by DA King - The fairies of Fair Wood turn foul as the wicked Queen Morgana corrupts the land.

"The Troop" by FV Meyer - The newest recruit shows her love for her fellow troopers as they seek rest and recuperation during the war of the chase.

"Judgment's A Bitch" by Guinevere A Hart - Introducing Grand Judicar Galatea in a standalone story set in the same world as The Lady Of Dawn's Light series, for fans and newcomers alike.

“Paying Off A Contract” by John Evans - An exclusive extract from the forthcoming fifth book in the legendary Adventures Of Pervikar series.

You can also explore our whole catalogue:

Amulet – literary erotica. For those who are turned on by plot, prose and character.

Arrow – sugar and spice and all things nice. For those who want grand romance, steamy sex and happily ever afters.

Broadsword – strictly hardcore. For those who want larger than life heroes and heroines, epic escapism and lots and lots of sex.

Amulet

Dark Water by AW Freyr

Fencing Academy

Destitute and alone, Lyza Dunwall returns to the city of her birth with one thought on her mind: vengeance. But when her fortunes change and she is enrolled in the prestigious Sara Sunderland Academy of Fencing, she soon finds the world is more complicated when you’re rubbing shoulders with the likes of the Duchess Adriana, the most powerful girl in the world. Seduced by the lifestyle of the Rotham elite, Lyza must reconcile her competing desires or die trying. Meanwhile, the Weeping Maiden stalks the streets, revolution is in the air and the malevolent River Blackwater flows slowly past the living and the dead.

Fencing Academy is the darkly seductive debut from fresh talent AW Freyr. The start of a major new fantasy series, it begins the captivating Lyza Dunwall’s remarkable journey of moral, political and sexual awakening against a backdrop of murder, necromancy and swordplay. For fans of the erotic intrigue of Jacqueline Carey and the verbal cut and thrust of Scott Lynch.

Duel To The Death

Duels, assassinations attempts, political intrigue; Adriana graced front pages with fresh scandal each day.

Adriana Challette I, Duchess of Rotham, is in grave danger. Her friend and classmate Lyza Dunwall has revealed herself an enemy, and her rivals rush to take advantage. In an abandoned factory a haphazard alliance is born between new money and old magic, intent on restoring a forgotten covenant. Meanwhile, a father's rebel legacy bears rotten fruit, and a revolution is reborn.

Lyza herself is drawn into the darkest corners of the Rotham underworld in pursuit of revenge. Who are her true friends and who are those merely seeking to use her as a pawn? She must navigate these dangerous currents, whilst coming to terms with the secret of her own past.

As the restless dead seek their own restitution, uncaring for what the living pay, the city becomes a maelstrom, and in the eye lies the rivalry between Adriana and Lyza. The outcome of their enmity could put Rotham to the torch.

The Squab Fiends by Victoria Arius

A devilishly erotic blend of history and fantasy, The Squab Fiends is the tale of a sinister and perverted conspiracy which reaches the highest levels of Victorian society.

John Maginn, an aspiring writer and dilettante is exiled to India and crippled in battle as a punishment for one debauch too far. In the depths of disgrace, he is ensnared by the hypnotic Rani of Jhansi, a succubus who feeds on desire and who ties him to her ends by fuelling his addiction to opium. It is only when John faces the abyss, that salvation is offered by the mysterious Lunar Society, who offer to rebuild his leg and return his soul. Will he ever be whole again?

Elizabeth Herbert, an alluring widow with fortune and connections, is as free as any woman can be in Victorian England. While searching for her old lover Maginn, she discovers an appetite for new experiences, including adoration of the fairer sex and sado-masochism. But will she find true love and freedom, or be enslaved once more?

Damodar Rao, prepared to rule as a prince, instead finds himself indebted to a whorehouse in London. To pay his way, he learns to excel at pleasing both women and men and while honing his talents mixes with the highest in society. His love for John and Elizabeth masks the dark magic and violence running in his blood. Quick tempered but charming, where do his allegiances really lie?

Arrow

Hells Unleashed by Guinevere A. Hart

With Good Intent

As a young elf raised among humans, Céde just wanted to be normal. But when strange new powers emerge, marking her as a sorcerer, “normal” is forever beyond her reach. With her dark and sullen guardian Varrin and her stalwart half-orc companion Jorak, she journeys across forbidden lands to join others like her at the magical academy known as the Spire. There, they will learn to use their goddess-given power and prepare for war against an ancient and terrible enemy.

All the while, the demon god known as the Lord of Hordes bides his time. As celestial bodies align in convergence, a gate between worlds will open to allow his armies through to join him in plundering the world of Velith. Will Céde and her friends be strong enough to face the hordes and save their planet, or will the world of Velith be destroyed in the chaos as the Hells are unleashed? With Good Intent is the first book in the three-part Hells Unleashed series.

Bells And Buckets

Elf Céde and half-orc Jorak are young and in love and just want a normal life. But life in the magic academy known as the Spire is far from normal. Céde must come to terms with being a powerful sorceress and become the leader that is her destiny. Meanwhile Jorak must choose between becoming a master blacksmith or joining the Shades, an elite military outfit. With all these competing demands, can they find time for each other?

And time is the last thing they have. The Lord of Hordes is tightening his grip on the kingdom of Ardyth'tol. How long before he moves against the Spire and all Céde and Jorak hold dear? Bells And Buckets continues the epic fantasy romance begun in With Good Intent. The Hells Unleashed trilogy will conclude with Devil To Pay.

The Lady Of Dawn's Light by Guinevere A. Hart

A powerful, erotic adventure series for fans of romance and epic fantasy alike, now available in a single omnibus edition.

Hope's Awakening

Adri, a light-hearted and affectionate elf, is loved by everyone she meets. Even the gods are moved by the expanding radiance of her spirit. So she has no idea why someone wants to kill her. On top of that, her mother and the emperor are missing and no one seems able to do a thing about it. While those around her are tempted to despair, Adri’s faith is enough to propel her forward. Through it all, she is challenged by her love for Krellyn, a brooding dark-elf with a past darker than his flesh. Is her hope enough to save her family, the empire, and maybe even Krellyn?

Hope’s Ascension

Adri and Krellyn are now happily married and living a life of domestic bliss with their daughter Jubilee. But dark-elf Krellyn’s past won’t leave him alone. Two thousand years ago his cause was betrayed and Elelmin, the god of the high-elves, was killed by the locust-headed demon known as the Prince of Winds. The land was sundered, Elelmin’s soul was shattered and Krellyn was caught in the cross-fire. Now the Prince of Winds wants to finish what he started. Krellyn will do whatever it takes to protect his family but for them to survive, Adri must ascend to her true calling.

Broadsword

Dragon Jade Chronicle by Jamie MacFrey

The ancient Guild of Sorcerers is weakening and, at their lowest moment, their oldest enemies, the barbaric Dragon Clans, have launched an invasion of the Metropolises of the East. And this time the Clans are winning.

Pol Burr doesn't know he's a warlock until he accidentally saves the life of a knight in green armor. Lady Kiera vai Ullan was born to be noble warrior but finds herself captivated by her scoundrel saviour. Brought together through unlikely circumstances, the mismatched pair develop an equally unlikely attraction. But falling in love might be easier that staying alive, especially when they hold the key to defeating the Dragon Clans once and for all.

Dragon Jade Chronicle is a 160,000 word fantasy novel combining sorcerers and sex, princesses and passion, legends and love. With scorching sex scenes, breakneck pace and a surprising amount of heart, this erotic adventure is a must for all epic fantasy fans.

The Adventures Of Pervikar by John Evans

The classic erotic epic fantasy series from John Evans is now available for the first time in a new and definitive four volume edition.

Pervikar

Pervikar Devon is just an average farm-boy. Oh, except for the fact he is a half-ogre who stands seven and a half feet tall and has green hair. One day Per accidentally incurs the wrath of the queen by protecting two young women from the advances of a corrupt baron, and is forced to flee her assassins.

So begin Per’s adventures. Leaving his home far behind, he sets out to find fortune, fame and female companionship. As he journeys across the strange, magical world of Provost, he encounters orcs and goddesses, mages and ghosts, and even a dragon. Along the way, he learns to be a leader and a lover, and using all that nature has endowed him with, rights a lot of wrongs and beds a lot of women. Per gets his intelligence and compassion from his human mother, and his strength and… size from his ogre father.

The Rescue Of The Queen

Perikar Devon’s adventures have taken him from one side of the world to the other. He’s learned much but lost everything so, tired and weary, he returns to the Capitol in search of his friends. But before he can find them, he witnesses the kidnap of Queen Shara – the woman who tried to have him killed.

Knowing he will be unfairly blamed for her disappearance, Per resolves to rescue her. She almost murdered him, now he must save her life! Heading out of the city, he starts a long journey that takes him from a magistrate’s perverted dungeon to an orgy in a far off dwarven fortress. Will he be able to must fulfill a prophesy and overcome powerful sex magic to rescue the queen?

Karina's Quest

Karina Devon hasn’t seen her son Pervikar for over a year, ever since Queen Shara tried to have him killed. Then, out of the blue, she receives a summons from Per’s ogre father, Gar. He tells her that Per must take part in the ritual of neccar, where he must mate with every woman he has ever had sex with. If he fails to complete the ritual, the ogre god Ahhspah will take his soul. Unfortunately, Per has been a busy boy and has sown his seed across the world of Provost. So Karina must set off on a quest to reunited him with his past loves. All of them. Then there is the small matter of finding her son.

The Ritual Of Neccar

Pervikar’s adventures are almost over. Once an innocent farm-boy, the half-ogre has grown into a noble warrior. He has faced gods and ghosts, dragons and dwarves, mages and monsters. He has even taken Queen Shara, the most powerful woman in the world and once his greatest enemy, to bed. Now he has assembled her and his other lovers to take place in the ritual of neccar – the sacred ritual that will see him take on the mantle of his ogre heritage and truly become a man.

But first his mother Karina must recount how she ventured into the underworld itself to bring back a demoness and a dead woman to play their part in Per’s future. She must navigate pirates and foreign courts before entering the nine hells. Along the way, she slakes her thirst for battle with her axe and her lust for sex with her body. The end is in sight but she must confront her biggest challenge yet: being turned into a man!

Morgana by DA King

Morgana of the Black Moon. Harbinger of Hell, Ransacker of the Righteous, Violator of Virgins. Her titles number as many as her sins, her infamous cruelty only matched by her unsurpassed beauty, renowned and feared throughout the land for her mastery of sorcery and seduction.

But, dear reader, she was not always so. Before she enshrouded the kingdom in darkness, before she forged the Black Knight, before she was Morgana of the Black Moon, she was… Morgana. Simply Morgana. Born from a humble coven of simple means, named after one of the greatest witches in history, the young Morgana began her tutelage under the great Voroven, the oldest living disciple of Merlin himself! This is her story…

DA King is a writer and painter who favors pulp sci-fi and fantasy, a baroque aesthetic and erotic transformations akin to those seen in cheesy 1980s horror movies. Morgana, a tongue-in-cheek tale of evil, good and very large breasts, is his first novel.

Uruk Press - Science Fiction

Space Princess by Cyrano Johnson

The galaxy is full of wonder and adventure, but it can get cold and lonely in the depths of space. That's why the gorgeous ladies of Space Princess Entertainment are on a mission of pleasure. No challenge is too big, no planet too distant and no party too wild! Let love rule among the stars!

The Fourth Rule

Captain Titania Hollander is ecstatic to have been put in charge of the S.S. Ecstasy, spreading the Space Princess message across the galaxy. Dressed in her regulation bikini, she knows that she and her crewgirls can take anything that life throws their way. But their first mission to Kathol IV is no cakewalk. The Universal Broadcast Network seems like innocent entertainment for the planet's television loving populace but with Golden Week approaching, Tania and the rest of the S.S. Ecstasy soon discover the network is hiding dark and degrading secrets.

Ill-Met By Moonlight

Dr. Naomi Bell, Chief Medical Officer of the S.S. Ecstasy, is ecstatic to be reunited with her Academy mentor, the eminent scientist Dr. Karl Cullen. It is a reunion that promises sexual and scientific breakthrough until the sudden arrival of a nude and threateningly hot alien woman on the ship. Haughty and naive, she introduces herself as Princess Arwyn and claims to be a Faerie, the legendary creatures of Earth mythology.

But is Arwyn as naive as she seems? It is not long until she has Cullen and the rest of the men onboard the Ecstasy under her thumb. It is up to Bell, Captain Titania Hollander and the rest of the Space Princess officers to defeat Arwyn and her diabolical companion Oberon.

The Pegasus Run

Journeying to Pegasus VI to entertain the crowds at the Pegasus Run, the galaxy's greatest space race, should be a cakewalk for the girls of the S.S. Ecstasy. But Captain Hollander and her crew hadn't counted on their hated rivals, Galactic Queen Fantasia, trying to steal the contract out from under their noses. Hollander knows that Captain Mina Starks will do anything to degrade and humiliate her and the other Space Princesses so this is going to be one hell of a dance-off.

But that turns out to be the least of Hollander's worries. Soon she is enmeshed in a huge conspiracy involving the Jek, the bestial leader of Pegasus VI, Duke Khaga of the evil Khandai empire and the upper echelons of Space Princess Entertainment itself. Suddenly, losing a dance-off doesn't seem so bad. Will the crew be able to use their bodies and their minds to survive or will they end up subjugated and enslaved?

Summerland Blues

The Summerland should be a paradise - a resort planet designed by one of history's greatest world-architects, Kan “Sender” Matsuhara. No one has heard from "the Master" in decades and he was assumed dead, but now the crew of the S.S Ecstasy will be the first people to visit his masterpiece.

Time has not been kind to Matsuhara, though; and if he is hiding secrets, then even darker things lurk in the idyllic landscape of the Summerland. A world that at first seems to make dreams come true and sexual fantasies a reality soon turns into a nightmare for crew and passengers alike. But this isn't the first time Captain Titania Hollander has been in a sticky situation, and you can bet your bottom dollar the Space Princess girls are going to come out fighting.

Days Of The Bacchae

The S.S. Ecstasy is hosting a peace summit between the United Space Alliance and their old enemies, the Yalkans. When Lieutenant Nuku Vitani flies into a sexual frenzy at a formal dinner, everyone assumes it is her Ustani heritage and the catgirl has unexpectedly gone into heat. But something more sinister is afoot: Captain Titania Hollander's crew are being deliberately infected.

Soon the Space Princess crewgirls, who have so often found strength through submission, are transformed into femdom furies! Will Chief Flynn and the men of the S.S. Ecstasy make it through alive and intact? Can Captain Hollander and her girls overcome their nymphomania to unravel a conspiracy that threatens to trigger another war?

Caution: The Space Princess series contains extreme sexual content and graphic depiction of mind control and otherwise dubious consent. Never fear! The crew of the S.S. Ecstasy find strength even in submission and always triumph over adversity.

The Boys Of Colony Theta by Martin Drax

The Andrasta Y virus caused only flu-like symptoms in women but in males it was invariably fatal. By the year 2457, the population had declined from a peak of over 7 billion down to just over 2 billion people and there were just three men for every ten women. So it was that what had once been a man’s world had now become a woman’s world.

Danny, Harry and Jim were all born on 15 September 2439 in Breeding Colony Theta. Now, on their eighteenth birthday, they are about to embark on their journey to the outside world. A world in which they will be second-class citizens.

These are their stories…

Separate Ways: Danny's Story

Danny is given a government grant and told he will be sponsored to help him adjust to society. But when he is released from Colony Theta he discovers he has been sold to a business woman and her twin daughters. Kept naked in their apartment, he must serve his mistresses both domestically and sexually. Follow Danny's story as he learns about the strange and disturbing matriarchy of 25th Century Britain.

Separate Ways: Harry's Story

Most men wouldn't complain about having a larger than average penis. But Harry isn't a man, he's a male, and the size of his malehood means that when he leaves Colony Theta, he is forced to become a Consort, a Government-sponsored prostitute.

Trained for a life of sexual servitude, his virginity is put up for sale to the highest bidder and he is publicly deflowered. Follow Harry's story as he learns about the strange and disturbing matriarchy of 25th Century Britain.

The Boys Of Colony Theta features female domination, male submission, bondage, restraint, corporal punishment, clothed female nude male (CFNM), chastity, orgasm denial and CBT.

Introducing Biggest Blade Books

Biggest Blade Books have partnered with Uruk Press to bring you the best in contemporary erotica.

A Real Trouper by Court Franklin

Davey shouldn't have anything to worry about. His girlfriend Tucker is a hipster actress with feminist leanings. There is no way she'd be interested in a meathead like Mitch, one of the bros in her Crossfit class. Or so he thinks until she sees an intimate photo Mitch texts her.

Jealousy is sickening, painful, hurtful, but that passion I'd felt… That was something I needed to feel again.

Could it actually be that Davey wants to be cuckolded? Hooked on the thrill of erotic humiliation, he encourages Tucker to push the boundaries of their relationship. But after one particularly revealing performance with her comedy troupe, things start to get out of hand.

A Real Trouper is a 23,000 word erotic novella involving group sex, swinging and proof that size really does matter. Free with Kindle Unlimited!

Controlling Interest by Court Franklin

She made deals fall apart because men couldn’t keep it in their pants around her. She caused boyfriends to screw up at work because they’d do anything her pretty mouth said. She brought rich old men to the brink of a heart attack because they wanted a piece of her pretty young self so badly. And for that she needed to be punished. And she finally found herself a well-hung bully willing to give her what she so deserved.

Reagan was the belle of the ball and her fiance Brandon loved showing her off at his office Christmas party. But when he is called away on urgent business, he is forced to leave Reagan at the tender mercies of a bunch of alpha male financiers. She doesn't think she has ever met them before but they seem to know some intimate secrets about her - secrets that will ultimately unravel her self-control.

Controlling Interest is a 26,000 word novella featuring a hot young fiance cheating with multiple partners and submitting to total male dominance.

Moving In by Ashley Romero

Ambitious young Jill is so excited to be finally moving in with her laid back boyfriend Zack. But then it turns out his douchebag ex-roommate has sub-let his half of the apartment. Worse, it is being rented by Brad, the obnoxious jerk who deflowered Jill's best friend on prom night and then never called.

Jill wants Brad, his ego and his motorbike gone. But gradually his alpha male charm starts to rub her the right way. And the apartment walls are awfully thin. Perhaps Zack shouldn't have teased her about being such a prude because Jill is thinking all sorts of nasty thoughts.

Moving In is a 39,000 word erotic novella featuring a good girl indulging her inner slut with a bad boy who is bigger than her boyfriend in every respect. Is this just lust or is Jill falling in love? Free with Kindle Unlimited!

Gym Wife by Max Keith

Scott Herrick isn't a pervert; he's just a married, middle aged guy who wants to stay in shape. It's not his fault the Stair Steppers are positioned right in front of his workout area. It's not his fault that women in the gym love to wear yoga pants. And it certainly isn't his fault that Becky Lansing's ass is so goddamn irresistible.

When a wardrobe malfunction moves the pair from nodding acquaintances to gym buddies, it also lights a spark. Scott and Becky aren't getting what they need at home so they decide to embrace their inner perverts and explore each others bodies.

Gym Wife is a 31,000 word erotic novella about two people who love their spouses but satisfy their lust outside their marriage, featuring first time oral and anal. Free with Kindle Unlimited!

Fool Me Once by Max Keith

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...

Liz Lerner wishes she could get over Jason Trench. Bad enough that she's been having an affair with one of her husband's sales colleagues. Worse that she has allowed him to dominate her body, using it as his no holes barred personal plaything. But it is intolerable that he has dominated her soul as well.

When Jason moves to San Francisco, it seems like Liz might finally break free of his influence. But that is before she discovers his position is being filled by his protege, the devastatingly attractive Elliot Dolan. Is history about the repeat itself?

Fool Me Once is a 39,000 word novella featuring a mature, married woman who has succumbed to sexual domination at the hands of a well hung bully but just can't stop cheating. Free with Kindle Unlimited!

Wide Open by Max Keith

His tongue lay there in a broth of saliva, a long flaccid snake pushing nervously against his lower central incisors. His eyes stayed open just long enough to meet mine as I felt them go wide. Shit, but that was a long one! A tongue like that, I could do things with.

Kim Collins's boyfriend has been away with his hockey team for weeks and she is horny as hell. So when new patient Mike Tawney walks in and opens wide for his dental appointment, she knows it is only a matter of time before she opens wide for him, regardless of little details like his pregnant wife. Kim is about to get her itch well and truly scratched.

Open Wide is a 39,000 word erotic novella featuring an aggressive female protagonist who gets what she wants. Repeatedly. Free with Kindle Unlimited!