Meg lashed the bowl to her hand with the bandages that Athena had donated from her injured form, rapped her knuckles against it, then glared at the bars of the nullcage. Sunlight shone through the window of the prison, causing the crystal to glow faintly. She grinned as she shifted her feet from side to side, her wings clasped as tightly against her back as she could make them.
“Wait,” Athena rasped. “Wait, wrap this around your mouth.”
She held out another one of her bandages. By this point, the injured goddess was showing a great deal of her wounds – fortunately, despite the draining influence of the nullcage, Athena had mostly scabbed over. This bandage was one of the cleaner ones, but it was still yellowed by sweat and stained by blood and the vital fluids. Meg took it with her free hand and tried to not think about what she might be breathing in. But she saw Athena’s point: better to have pus press to her lips than…
Well, inhaling a crystal that sapped her strength and numbed her flesh and might even kill her.
She went back to her position. She was currently buck naked. Her breasts were bared, her ass was flapping in the wind. All of her clothes had been piled under her feet, creating a thin insulating sheet between her and the nullcage. Liam had told her about electricity, comparing what he knew about lightning to what she had learned from a lifetime of flying. The ideas of conduction and insulation had been quite easy to grasp.
The trick had been finding the right time. It was just after the guard came in to give them their breakfast. That gave them a good two hours by Meg’s count, and it took at least an hour for the draining effect of the nullcage to fade with the insulation she was using. The only problem had been the fact that any blow she struck against the cage would immediately bring her into contact with the cage.
Athena had had the idea of the bowl.
Meg felt the last bits of her power return. She felt as fit as she had since she had been captured.
Now was the time to see if this worked.
She knelt down, tensed her legs, lifted up her arm as if she were a hoplite. The bowl was no aspis though…
Meg leaped. Legs that normally could send her hurtling dozens of feet into the air to let her get aloft sent her flying at the far edge of the cage. The bowl impacted the crystal. The cage was tough but lateral force – the same lateral force that had destroyed so many test muskets, so many test cannons – could shatter it. The air filled with crystal haze and Meg hoped the bandage wrapped around her mouth kept any from getting into her lungs. Her face felt numb, her shoulders felt numb, but then she was skidding along the ground.
And then she was glad they felt numb.
Meg scrambled to her feet.
A guard was coming into the room, and he was damn fast. His nulldart was already in his hand, and he underhanded it right at her. Meg snapped her arm down and the first dart thunked into the wooden bowl. She came to her feet and in the same, smooth motion, slammed her leg into his gut with all of her weight, all of her strength, put into it. Bronze armor dented and the lizardman flew outwards and hit the wall.
The Citadel had been forged from a single piece of stone using magic, and so the wall didn’t explode outwards, like a brick wall might have. Instead, it merely made a tiny dent.
A dent filled with blood and viscera.
The bloody sack of pulped organs and scales hit the floor. Meg yanked the bandage off her mouth and used it to brush crystal from her shoulders. She sprang over and grabbed the sword that the guard had on his hip, turning to the door. The sounds of footsteps and the calls of alarm filled the air.
“Fly,” Athena rasped.
Meg looked at her.
“Fly now,” she hissed. “Get to Babylon!”
Meg looked at the cage. At the goddess. Her brain buzzed through the possibilities and she quickly came to the same conclusion as the Goddess of Wisdom.
Meg bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”
She turned and leaped for the window. This room hadn’t been built to be a prison. It had merely been large enough for the lizardfolk to cram in their nullcages. The window was more than wide enough for her to get through and only lose a few feathers. She spread her wings and beat hard – sailing up into the air, leaving Olimurias behind. A few arrows shot after her. Meg didn’t even bother to stick her tongue out.
But she did keep her eyes open.
Where the fuck is the rest of the tribe? she thought, winging her way over the ocean, her wings buzzing with the delight of flight.
She spotted them when she looked forward. They were already halfway across the Platonic sea, tiny flecks glinting on the horizon.
Meg growled and put on speed.
***
Liam lowered his telescope.
“They’re really dumb,” he said, quietly.
“What makes you say that?” Laurentinus asked.
The goblin had recovered nicely since the battered and limping Cross Guard fleet arrived at Babylon harbor. The priests that had remained within the city had been whipped into a ferocious amount of efficiency by Mary – who had seemed to be in several dozen places at once during the hours it took to unload the wounded and the dying.
Liam turned to his second in command. “They’re flying towards the most defended city in the world in the open. After tasting our guns.” He shook his head. “With only five hundred. A valk’s strong, but still...”
“A single victory isn’t enough to hammer some truths home,” Laurentinus said. “Still, they’ll be here by the next kindling at the earliest, longer if they rest in the Mistwalker Islands. Which they will.”
Liam nodded. “Go to the crystalwights, work on making cannons. I want to show these valkyrie why siding with Sysminor is a really bad idea.”
“Yes, sir.”
Laurentinus started off, limping only slightly as he headed for one of the stairs that took one from the top of the walls to the bottom. Liam patted the stone walls. If he had ten years of peace, he’d tear them down. Thanks to him, Purgatory had left the era where tall, proud walls were of any use. He could see the star-fort expanding around the city. Cannons on every bastion, making a lethal crossfire. The seas diverted to make a moat to stymie every attack.
It’d work, so long as no one invented tanks and airplanes and heavier artillery. But by then, well…
He had stories from the Soviets and the Americans. He was pretty sure he could teach his people how to deal with a blitzkrieg.
“What are you thinking about?”
The voice caused Liam to start. He turned and saw Loki. The goddess was leaning against the matriculations that ringed the far side of the wall, her flaming hair spilling around her shoulders.
“The future,” Liam said. He paused. “Do you think I did the right thing?”
Loki chuckled. “You’re going to need to be more specific, Godkiller.”
“Christ, I forgot people call me that here,” Liam groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think Sysminor is a god. So, calling me Liam Godkiller is, at the very least, inaccurate. And a bit impolitic, considering.”
Loki chuckled. “If it helps, I’ve got a foolproof plan to avoid you killing me.” She walked past him to lean against the far side of the wall, thrusting her rump invitingly into the air.
“Stabbing me in the back if you think I’m a threat?” Liam asked.
“Please,” Loki said. “I’ve already got agents who will murder your friends if you try anything funny.”
Liam pursed his lips. “Agents...”
Loki nodded. “For years, I’ve been Odin’s spymaster. After a thousand years underneath Skadi’s snake, tied to a rock by the entrails of my own son.” Her voice grew bitter. “I’ve spied, assassinated, blackmailed, bribed...” She shrugged slightly. “Honestly, if I were you, I’d be more shocked if I hadn’t put agents in Babylon.”
Liam looked out at the sea, at the curve of the world. The approaching army was only faintly visible without a telescope, tiny glints against the wall of water that made up the eastern horizon.
“Fizit is Brax’s spymaster. She’s managed to kill one of my friends, and I am pretty sure her spies are half of why Brax has conquered the Aesir realm and Olimurias so quickly. Have your agents had any luck in finding her? Her agents?”
Loki was silent for a time.
“No,” she said. “I had a fantastic network in my homeland. I had spies around the world of Purgatory. But with the capture of Odin, they’ve evaporated. Maybe they believe the bastards who think that I sold out my brother. Maybe they simply don’t think paying heed to a dying pantheon is worth it.”
Liam put his hand on the goddess’ shoulder. He squeezed her, gently. Loki put her hand over his.
“Well, I know something we can do,” Liam said. “You’re a shapeshifter. If you grow wings, can you fly?”
Loki beamed. “It’s been ages since I flew.”
“I’d have thought you’d fly all the time!” Liam said.
“You’d think,” Loki said, grinning. “But Odin is oddly opposed to be taking the form of a race who can bend bronze with their bare hands. Do you think he might still not trust me?” She shook her head, clucking her tongue – all good humor restored, as far as Liam could tell. “No, it can’t be that.”
Liam stepped back and bowed to her. “Go and find out what that army thinks it's doing, if you’d be so kind.”
“For you, Godkiller? Anything.” Loki grinned. “I may even take that form you like so much. Though, I still want to know her name.”
“Something something Hasbro copyright,” Liam said, waving his hand, his cheeks bright red.
With a flash of white light, Loki spun in place. Pure midnight wings spread, her skin becoming a few notches more pale. Her hair had turned raven black and straight as if it had been drawn by a razor. Then she leaped backwards, let herself plummet towards the ground, then snapped her wings out. She caught the air and shot off towards the harbor. As she beat through the air, her body shimmered, then turned into an optical blur like Predator.
Then she was gone.
Liam sighed.
Babylon felt oddly empty without her. Meg was gone. Liv was gone. Tethis was dead. Liam shook his head and turned back to the stairs.
When he came to the bottom, he heard the crackle of gunfire.
No matter what the news Loki brought, the Cross Guard would be ready.
“Hey!”
The voice made Liam start all over again. A finely honed instinct for hearing footsteps didn’t matter when half the people who were walking up behind you were gods. Liam spun around and saw a robed figure leaning against the wall. But the fact that she wore a robe did nothing to disguise the supernaturally booming sound of Artemis’ voice.
“I hear we have lizards to kill soon,” she said, her teeth flashing underneath her hood.
“No, just valks,” Liam said. “But remember what we agreed on? You. Stay. In. The. Manor.” He grabbed her arm, starting to haul her away from the wall. “The last thing we need are Fizit’s spies learning that you’re here.”
“I saw them and snuck around them...” Artemis grumbled, sounding sulky.
Liam sighed. “Listen, you don’t want to waste your time on valks. We can handle valks. If every valk drops dead because you shot them from five miles away-”
Artemis puffed up her chest.
“-then the bad guys will know you’re here and not in hiding,” Liam continued. “I want you to be an ace in the hole.”
Artemis pouted all the way back to the manor.
***
Meg landed on an island, panting. Her wings folded and she knelt on the ground. There were some major downsides to escaping from prison buck ass naked. For instance, she was pretty sure she was getting a nasty sunburn on her butt. For another, her stomach was growling and she hadn’t a chance to get a single bite to eat.
She stood up, rolling her arm to try and work out the knot in her shoulder. The island she had landed on was one of the many little islands that dotted this part of the Platonic Sea. In peace-time, it had been a haven of pirates. She was pretty sure most of the Tuatha raiders had been driven off by the increase in warships sailing about.
“Well, well, well, looks like we got ourselves a pretty,” a lilting voice rang out.
Meg turned and saw four pirates stepping around the trees that made up the inside of the island. They were painted with spiraling blue patterns, and held crude weapons that looked like they had been found off old battlefields and been beaten back into shape.
Okay, maybe not all the raiders had been driven off...
The leader leered as he walked up. Meg watched him, her arms crossed under her breasts. He licked his chapped lips as he spoke.
“Tired from your f-urk!”
Ten minutes later, Meg sat at their campfire, eating a chunk of hardtack. She chewed, then spat out a chunk of bone, shaking her head. “Man, you should kill your quartermaster,” she said, looking at the four naked, bound pirates. “This stuff is awful.”
The pirate captain glared at her.
Meg stood, adjusted her new leggings, then grabbed one of their swords from the ground. It was the best of them, and she was still pretty sure Liam could have snapped it over his knee.
“Eh,” she said, her wings spreading. “Better than nothing.”
***
Liam leaned back in his seat. Being away on a heroic adventure hadn’t stopped the titanic workload of paperwork that being the Free Lord of the largest free city of Purgatory brought. Something he hadn’t expected through were the reports that he was currently juggling in his brain. Almost five thousand men and women of every race – the majority human but a couple of thousand elves and about a quarter made up of goblins and other races – had joined the Cross Guard. The crystalwights said that they could keep up with production, and training was going well.
If he could survive for a month, he’d have a large, green army. Armed with muskets.
The question was, did he have a month? A siege would be devastating. The occupation of Babylon had badly damaged the granaries. Any army could surround them, cut off the harbor, and wait for starvation and plague to wipe them out.
“Liam?”
He blinked and sat up. Mary stood in the doorway,looking as tired as he felt.
“I’ve been speaking with the priests – they say that we’re reaching an upper limit on what their gods are willing to give without sacrifice or additional followers. The problem is, well, since this city has so many worshipers, and all of different gods, there’s no way to increase one without...” She shrugged. “A-And, ah, my Church is growing...”
She looked conflicted.
“Wishing that, just for once, the Holy Ghost would get off his spectral butt and do something?” Liam asked, his voice holding a twinge of bitterness.
Mary stuck her tongue out of the corner of her lip and her face assumed a mask of such intense thinking that it was downright comical. It was an expression Liam had never expected to see her adopt. She had been too refined, too poised for it during the last few months. Her tail lashed from side to side and she slowly shook her head.
“Now that you mention it, no,” she said.
“No?”
“The gods of Purgatory are limited,” she said. “They can influence our lives and we don’t lose our choices. But our God?” She gestured to Liam and to herself – her finger stopping on the ichthus that hung from her slender neck. “She is so big, so all encompassing, that without distance, she’d smother us. Freedom is hard. But it is worth it.”
She had come to the edge of his desk.
Liam nodded. “I... yeah.”
“Come on,” Mary said. “You’ve been working non-stop since you came back from the battle. Let some of your aids handle this.”
“It’s my job,” Liam said, frowning.
“You’re worried sick about Meg,” Mary said, putting her palms on the desk. “Don’t try to hide it.” Her face was very near his. Liam felt his skin tingle slightly with her closeness. His nose flared and he breathed in her scent. “You are worried about the valkyrie coming. None of those things can be changed by you spending all night working – and this?” She gestured to the paperwork. “Needs a Free Lord who is not about to pass out.”
Liam looked down at the papers. “Yeah,” he said, quietly. He picked up a report on gunpowder manufacture. He could remember sitting at the desk, reading and re-reading the lines about production and logistics and not registering a damn thing. He set the papers down and stood, slowly. His back popped like a gunshot. He rubbed his spine. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Mary smiled.
Together, the two of them emerged from the office. Liam kept rubbing his back.
“You shouldn’t hunch over your desk,” Mary said, quietly. “You’ll ruin your spine.” She paused. “I could help, you know?”
“No healers,” Liam said. “Not for a back ache. It’ll pass-”
“I was skilled at massaging a man’s back,” Mary said, “Before I became a nun. I think that I can find theological approval for helping a fellow Christian through some pain.”
Liam blinked at her. His cheeks started to redden. “B-Back pain!” he said.
“Yes,” Mary said, her brow furrowing. “Back pain. What other kind of pain were you thinking of?”
Liam coughed. “I, uh-”
“If you say no because you’re concerned about propriety, I will take it as a personal insult,” Mary said, her hand going to her chest. “I’m a Hierophant now. I take my vows of chastity quite seriously.”
Liam chuckled. “All right, you talked me into it.” He rubbed his back as Mary walked with him to his room. He paused only momentarily at the door that led into the chamber where Neb Mataare was staying. The jackalgirl lay under her blankets, her arm lashed to her side, her eyes closed. She made quiet, uncertain noises as she thrashed her head from side to side. Mary put her hand on his shoulder.
“She’ll be okay,” she said. “The healers said the wound got septic, but they put a slow burn spell that will clear her body of the sickness within a week.”
Liam nodded. The maid servant sitting beside Neb snored quietly but seemed ready to wake at any sound that needed her.
Together, they came to his room. Stepping inside, Liam moved to the bed.
“Tunic off,” Mary said.
Liam looked at her, raising a single eyebrow.
Mary snorted. “I can’t massage you through that tunic.”
Liam shrugged. Silently, he reached up and undid the ties on his collar and chest. The tunic came sliding off as the mage-light of the room flickered and danced. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Mary looking at him. From the look in those golden eyes, she liked what she saw. Liam smirked and started to the bed. He winced as he slid down and laid his face against the sheets. He turned his head to the side and watched as Mary came to the side of the bed. She sat down on the bed and placed her gloved fingers on his back. Her fingertips traced the lines of his muscles.
Liam sighed and thanked God that his hard-on would be hidden by his body.
“I feel a lot of tension here,” Mary murmured. Her thumbs started to work circles into his back. Liam groaned softly. Her touch, even through the gloves, sent goosebumps along his flesh. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore it.
“Tha’ feels noice,” he mumbled against the sheet.
Those fingers pressed harder, finding and releasing knots of tension along his back and spine, working lower. They paused, momentarily, at the hem of his kilt. Liam almost felt Mary’s intake of breath. Then her hands went back to his shoulders, working and kneading at him.
Quietly, she whispered, “You’re... ah...” She gulped. “Quite strong.”
“Fanks,” Liam murmured. His eyes were closed and he just focused on the feelings that rose and crashed against his brain. His whole skin seemed to sing with the aware of where they touched. Her fingertips. Her palms. The faint press of his thigh. Then he felt a firm, snake-like grip wrap around his ankle. He grunted as Mary’s tail squeezed him. Was she even aware she was doing it?
“And what’s this?”
Her finger touched one of the furrowed burn scars that Liam almost never thought about. Touching it made him stiffen, his back tightening. Meg had asked him that question, and he had told her. His father, burning to death. He shook his head, pushing his hands underneath him to get himself up.
“Nothing,” he said.
“Liam-” Mary started.
“No, I-” Liam flushed as his kilt fell forward. If Mary looked down, she might see the hard-on he was sporting. He quickly rolled onto his side, clasping his thighs together, trapping his shaft between his thighs. It made him squirm and he hoped that she didn’t notice. “Mary, I, uh, thanks for the backruuuuuh...”
He trailed off as Mary’s gloved fingers caressed his chest.
His nipples ached.
“You’re, ah, very strong,” she murmured.
“You said that already,” Liam whispered.
“I’m still enjoying noticing it,” Mary said, her eyes glowing slightly. Her tail squeezed his ankle again, then uncoiled and lashed back, then to the side again – flicking back and forth. Back and forth. It was hypnotic. Liam found himself laying on his back as Mary’s palm pressed to his chest. “I appreciate strong men...”
“Mary, you’re a nun,” Liam said, his hand grabbing her wrist.
“Mmm, I know,” she said. “That’s why I-” she jerked her head to the side, hissing. “D-Damn it. Damn it!” She forced herself to her feet, stepping back. Her clothing – never modest – seemed all the more sheer as she stood in the mage-light. Her nipples were hard and thrust through the thin strip covering her breasts. Her tail continued to lash from side to side as she breathed in and out. Fast. Shallow breaths. “Just being near you was a mistake, I-”
Liam sat up, wanting to help her.
Instead, his movement let his cock escape.
It tented his kilt obscenely. A massive statement, primal and animalistic. The two of them froze.
Mary bit her lip, hooking her fang around her lower lip.
The silenced stretched.
Mary closed her eyes. “Fuck it,” she growled, grabbing her breast band. She yanked it up and over her head, tossing it to the side. Those perfect tits sagged ever so slightly, just enough to prove their perfection was natural. Then Mary was on him. Her black lips and his pink ones met and her tongue plunged into his mouth with a desperate voraciousness. His tongue tried to catch up, but Mary kissed him with the need of a woman grabbing a plank in a shipwreck.
She broke the kiss. Liam might have tasted blood, from the way her fangs had grazed his lips.
Her tail slithered under his kilt, then whipped to the side. Quite suddenly, Liam was naked. His cock pressed to his belly as Mary dropped to her knees – still mostly in her nun outfit. Her breasts were free, and she used this to great effect. She cupped her breasts, squeezing them together as she leaned forward, closing the soft, pillowy flesh of her ruby red titties around his cock. Liam – frozen – couldn’t do anything but groan.
“Mary!”
“Mmm,” she whispered. “I’ve wanted to do this since the orgy...”
She leaned forward. He felt the edges of her fangs graze the thick head of his shaft as her mouth closed around the tip of his cock. Mary slurped and sucked, her spittle slipping along the thick shaft of his member – she was an eager, almost sloppy cocksucker and Liam loved it. He grabbed her wimple, squeezing it. The black fabric rumpled under his fingers and his palm could feel the blunted tip of one of Mary’s horns.
She worked her tits up and down his shaft, sucking his cock into her mouth with every rocking motion. Mary drew her lips back just enough to moan: “God, your cock is fucking amazing, Liam. It’s so fucking big...”
“A-Ah,” Liam gasped. “You, ah, like big?”
“Lizardmen ruined me,” Mary said, flicking her tongue out and sliding it along his foreskin. Liam sucked in a shallow breath. “That orgy, ah, I felt so free. Then that fucking beast of a lizardman took me. And another. And another. And their cocks were so huge.” She shivered slightly. “You’re the only one who can even stand close to them.”
“Thanks?” Liam sounded slightly unsure of how to take it.
“God, I’m such a fuck up,” Mary whispered, leaning forward. Her mouth closed around his cock. She slurped, sucked, then drew her mouth back. Her hands continued to move, squeezing and sliding her tits up and down his shaft. The gentle pressure drove Liam crazy. He squirmed and bucked his hips gently, but it wasn’t like getting a handjob or wanking off. If she didn’t suck him, he’d go insane before he came.
“You are not,” he managed to hiss through clenched teeth.
She licked his cocktip again, tasting his pre-cum with clear relish. Leaving her head hanging forward, her habit brushing against Liam’s thighs, she whispered. “I’m supposed to be married to God. To be beyond this. But...” She shivered. “Touching you. Seeing you. Hearing you fuck Meg.”
“You listen to us?” Liam stammered.
“Fingering myself every time that gorgeous girl climaxes on this cock,” Mary purred, her eyes half closed. “I tailfuck myself every time you and her...” She shivered again, the motion of her tits going faster and faster.
Liam grunted. The pressure against him, the need to feel more was only getting worse. But he forced it back – trying to think clearly. “Mary,” he whispered. “No faith should make you, ah, hate yourself.”
Mary paused in her movements. She looked up at him, her eyes shining.
“There’s, ah, ways to, fuck,” Liam swore as a tiny dribble of pre-cum dripped from the tip of his shaft, his balls clenching. He had almost cum right and there, at the look in her eyes. But he forced the desire down through sheer force of will. “There’s ways to be Christian and to love and be loved physically.”
Mary closed her eyes. “I want to believe that,” she whispered. “I’m... I’m lilin. I thought I could be something different.”
“I don’t know about lilin,” Liam said. “Ignore what other people say about lilin and-” He closed his eyes. Clenched his jaw. Tried to do the equations to figure out how much mass a rocket could push. He could only remember a quarter of the equation – he knew Delta V was in there somewhere. But it still kept his shaft from spurting cum all over Mary’s face while they were having this heart to heart.
Gasping, he managed to continue: “Ignore others and focus, right now, on what you feel. Do you want to fuck every day?”
Mary nodded. Her lips planted a feathery kiss on the tip of his cock.
“Suck?” Liam hissed.
“Oh yes,” Mary purred.
“Feel my hot fucking cum all over your face?” Liam hissed.
“God yes.”
Liam let go. His balls clenched and his climax – held back so long – smashed into him like a battering ram. Cum splashed against Mary’s cheek and she opened her mouth wide. Cum hit the roof of her mouth, filling it and going down her throat with an eager bob of her neck. She closed her mouth and giggled, her eyes closing as more cum splashed her face. She seemed to revele in the feeling of Liam cumming over her face. Some of his seed splashed down onto her breasts. Mary laughed, her mouth completely clean of any cum. Her tongue darted out, licking her lips clean as well.
Liam fell back onto the bed, panting.
Mary, meanwhile, was far from done. She scrambled onto the bed, her thighs spreading. “We’re being bad, might as well go all the way,” she purred.
“Not bad...” Liam mumbled, feeling utterly spent.
“I-” Mary stopped herself, her thighs spread to either side of Liam’s chest, the bed squeaking with her weight. She shook her head. “I know. And I think I might even agree. But right now? Right now, I’m a bad nun, who's doing wicked, sinful, naughty things.”
Liam grinned. “Like sitting on my face?”
Mary nodded. “Oh yes.”
Her thighs closed to either side of Liam’s head and he had a moment to reflect on the fact that his life, in some ways, was blessed. For all the danger, for all the grief, for all the pain, he was still a man who regularly had fantastically beautiful women sitting on his face. Liam’s nose rubbed against her clit as he leaned up and into her sex. His tongue darted out and he tasted her juices again. And he didn’t even need to lick a lizardman’s spunk out of her sex.
Not that he had hated that experience. But that was a thought he had never gotten around to examining.
It was for later.
When he wasn’t devouring forbidden fruit. His palms cupped and squeezed Mary’s rump, fingers sinking into her asscheeks as his tongue darted into her sex. His lips sucked on her pussy lips as her slightly spicy juices dripped into his mouth. His throat bobbed as he drank her with the same wild eagerness.
Mary provided all the encouragement Liam needed.
“Oh god, fucking yes. Oh Mary, oh Jesus, oh fuck!” she gasped, rocking her hips in time with every moan. Her juices flowed faster still as Liam tongued her, his palm slapped her rump. As if ordered by his hand to action, her tail wrapped around his cock. Squeezed the base. Liam felt his shaft hardening again as his tongue drew out of her sex. Panting, Mary lifted her thighs up, grinning down at him.
“Think you can just fuck my virgin pussy, Godkiller?”
Liam licked his lips. “You’re not a virgin,” he said.
“My followers don’t know that,” Mary said, sticking her tongue out at him. “The orgy’s a secret.”
“Bad nun!” Liam slapped her rump again.
“I know. And I love it,” Mary said, then sat back down. Once more, darkness surrounded Liam and all he could do was focus on the pussy before him. His other hand dipped down and caressed his own balls, squeezing them as he made sure his cock was as hard as could be. Mary moaned and mewled and even squeaked as she bucked her hips against his face. She didn’t seem to cum; rather, the pleasure she was feeling sounded as if it was getting more and more intense, but never hitting anything that Liam recognized as a climax.
Then Mary was falling forward. She slapped her palms into the wall, bending forward, her whole body screaming one thing: fuck me!
“Now,” Mary growled, looking over her shoulder. Still mostly in her nun outfit, her tail flicking up, revealing her sopping wet cunt. Liam didn’t wait. He pounced on her, his hands grabbing her hips. His cock touched her sex, making her squirm further. Then he plunged into her, right down to his balls. His shaft slapped against her belly and he knew he wouldn’t last more than a few minutes with this feeling.
Her cunt clenched on him like Meg’s – with an extra edge of fluttering skill that Meg simply didn’t have. Her tail wrapped around his throat, jerking him forward. It was as if the tail was saying something that Mary’s mouth couldn’t.
Fuck me.
Liam obliged. He didn’t try to hold back. He merely plowed into Mary, rocking the other girl against the wall. Her breasts bounced in a perfect circle as she was railed hard against the wall. Her gasping, moaning voice broke into a wail after the first few thrusts, her sex clenching on him again. Then, her fingernails digging into the wall, she said something that put Liam over the edge.
“Don’t - oh god - don’t pull out,” she gasped out.
Liam couldn’t have stopped himself if he wanted to. He plunged into her, thrusting so deeply that there was no way for either of them to be closer together physically. His hands wrapped around her belly and her breasts, holding her to him. He shuddered and pumped blast after blast of cum into her quivering, twitching pussy.
Slowly, the two of them fell backwards.
Mary panted, her palm spread across Liam’s chest.
“Oops,” she said, sounding oddly not guilty. Liam laughed, quietly.
“That’s one way to raise morale.”
“Ahem,” Loki said.
Mary squeaked and grabbed the thin sheet, yanking it over her body – if she hadn’t been born ruby red, Liam was fairly sure she’d have turned the same shade she was naturally. Thanks to the sweat that sheened along her skin, using a silken sheet to cover her modesty did less to protect her than anything Liam could have thought with. The material clung to her every curve, and was soon nearly translucent. Her nipples thrust through – dark black and inviting.
“I’ve come back with intelligence,” Loki said. “But, ah, by all means, don’t stop on my account.”
“You waited till we were done, didn’t you?” Liam asked, trying to sound blasé.
“Well, how could I interrupt ‘oh god, Liam, I want to feel your cum fill my pussy’?” Loki said with a grin. As she spoke, she shifted from her valkyrie form to her normal human one. “And besides. Once you hear what I have to say, you...” She paused. “Won’t be in the mood anymore.”
“Why?” Liam asked.
Loki’s voice was soft. “They’re bearing a weapon that I’ve only read about in your works. Something even your people say is impossible to recreate.” She paused. “Greek fire.”
“Shit,” Liam hissed.
“What’s Greek fire?” Mary asked. As she spoke, she grabbed a pillow and used it to try and give herself more modesty.
“Uh, we’re not sure,” Liam said. “It was a state secret of the Byzantium empire. It was such a good state secret that we don’t know how to make it or even what it is. We have a lot of ‘it might be this,’ but nothing definite as far as I know.” He shook his head. “It burns on water. In fact, splashing water on it might actually just make the situation worse.”
“Well, they have it by the cartloads,” Loki said. “They said that the best artisans of Olimurias worked around the clock for three days to make it, using spells and the threat of Sysminor’s swords to keep them at it.”
Liam nodded, his mind buzzing.
“Okay,” he said. “Mary. I need you to get dressed and get to work. We have to be ready.”
Mary blushed, her cheeks turning almost black. She forced herself up, her head held high. She looked as dignified as she could, considering she was dressed in a sheet and nothing else.
“I want you to get the city training. Any fire they drop needs to be doused not in water, but in sand. We need buckets of the stuff,” he said. “On every corner. Every house, even. Extra people near the gunpowder factory. We need tarps over the gunpowder factory, shields doused in water to keep from catching, so we have time to throw sand on them.”
“Got it,” Mary said. She paused, then glared at Loki. Loki was clearly leering at her. “Do you mind?”
“No, the view is-”
“Loki,” Liam said, his voice flat.
Loki pouted, then turned and left.
Mary blushed. Her tail lashed from side to side. “Do you mean what you said?” she asked.
“About this being okay?” Liam asked. “Yes. I...” he paused. “Thanks, Mary. I needed that.”
Mary blushed. “I need to think about the theological implications. But, ah, speaking right now?” She bit her lip, sharp fangs glinting. “I fucking loved it.” She grinned at him.
Then she turned and left.
Liam smiled.
They had work to do. But…
He had a good feeling.
***
The sun kindled.
And the valkyrie swept forward. They had been in just the right position, readied and hidden by the darkness. Their wings spread and shot forward, hundreds of them. Their formation was quite clever: they had people at the front with shields up to ward off arrows, while other pairs were holding large canisters of Greek fire on rope.
The only problem was Babylon was ready for them.
Cannons. Muskets. Spears. All of them aimed skywards, gleaming in colors of blue and bronze.
“Fire!” the sergeants bellowed. Muskets and cannons spoke, filling the air with smoke and fire and shot. And the valkyrie flapped upwards, their wings beating, their voices crying out in alarm. Several dropped into the water before the harbor, and one canister of Greek fire struck the water and started to burn, spreading a smear of orange across the water. But most of the tribe had been far enough that the canister and the Minié balls missed entirely.
They soared up and over the wall, circling overhead. Liam shouted.
“Reload!”
The valkyrie started to drop their canisters. They tumbled down. One smashed into a house. Flames exploded outwards and started to burn. Screams rose. Others fell nearer to the gunpowder works. None struck. Driven by desperation, the Cross Guard started to fire in a ragged pattern. A few valks dropped but most of them continued to circle. More Greek fire slammed into the ground. More fires.
Liam scowled. “Volley fire! Volley fire!”
He watched as people ran along the street, dragging buckets of sand. They were flung forward and the sand rushed over the fire. Smoke continued to trail into the air.
“Grandfather!”
Liam spun around. A Cross Guard was taking aim at the valkyrie winging towards the city. Liam shoved himself forward and elbowed the crystal musket to the ground. It discharged and the air filled with smoke – but despite the smoke, Liam was cheering.
Meg pumped her wings as she shot towards the city. She carried herself upwards to be on the same level as the other valks, and leveled her sword at the circling tribe.
“I, Proudfeather of the Olympus Tribe, call upon the rites of combat. You are a fool, a traitor, and a fiend, Grandfather Skyheart, and I swear by the name of my mother and my father and by the gods themselves, I will see your head mounted above my bed tonight!” she grinned. “And then you can watch me make love to my husband from the gates of Hades itself!”
It seemed as if the entire city had gone silent. Even the fires were holding their breath. Liam had never heard Meg shout quite so loudly before. I guess that’s what a flier’s lung capacity is.
A blond figure detached itself from the formation as Liam did a double take.
“Did she say-”
“You. Don’t. Know. What. You. Are. Doing!” the leader of the valk tribe bellowed. His wings beat erratically, as if he was barely able to contain his rage. “Cease this foolishness immediately, Proudfeather!”
“So, you refuse my challenge, then?” Meg asked, sneering.
Liam yanked his telescope off his belt. He extended it and looked up. The valk leader definitely looked like an older, more male form of Meg, though his chin was broader, and his hair was closer to white than blond. He also looked like he was chewing crystal.
“I am offering you-”
“I’m sorry, I don’t accept mercy from someone who lights children on fire,” Meg snarled.
The valks hovered overhead. A single musket shot went off – and Liam didn’t even have to bellow an order. One of his sergeants cuffed the Cross Guard in question.
Skyheart trembled.
“Fine,” he bellowed. “What is your weapon of choice?”
“A landling’s sword,” Meg said.
“You want to match a landling’s sword against my eight-sided blade?” Skyheart sounded incredulous. “My granddaughter, I don’t-”
“My choice is final,” Meg said, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Fine!” Skyheart bellowed. “It breaks my heart to do this, Proudfeather.”
Meg chuckled. Then she casually tossed her sword to the side. It flipped and spun through the air, the bronze blade glinting in the sunlight that shone down from overhead. The entire valk tribe seemed to draw in their breath as Skyheart pulled a hilt from his belt. A moment later, a blade made of pure light leaped from his hilt.
Was that... a lightsabre? Liam thought. I really need to ask Meg more about her culture...
Then Meg snapped her wings shut and dove. Liam’s hand moved before he had processed the thought, closing around his longsword. His blade flashed with magical light, the enchantment that Brigid had placed on it still strong and true.
He tossed it up, handle first, and whooped as Meg caught it from his hand.
Her wings fanned open and she darted upwards, spinning around.
Steel met sunlight and sparks filled the air. The two valks shot away from one another with a resounding boom. A ripple rushed through the air and sent up a spray of dust. Liam lifted his hand to keep grit from his eyes, his heart in his throat. Meg’s arm moved with unerring speed and precision, her wings beating in a pattern that counterpointed the movement of her blade. Delenn sang with the impact and the eight-sided blade crackled and snarled like water being dumped onto a hot frying pan.
Skyheart beat backwards to evade a strike and cried out. His shin dripped blood.
The Cross Guard cheered.
“Meg! Meg! Meg! Meg!” several people started chanting.
Skyheart bellowed in inarticulate rage. He beat his wings hard, his blade whirring as he hacked and slashed at Meg. His motions were uncontrolled – and yet still graceful as he used his momentum and the fact that he and Meg were technically in free fall to bring his blade in directions that no human swordsman could match.
Meg, meanwhile, matched blow for blow, parry for parry. The two broke away. Their wings beat and they banked around one another. Liam brought his telescope up again and looked closer at Skyheart. It was hard to track the valk, but he could see that the asshole was definitely looking wary. Then the two valkyrie shot together again. Liam had to lower his telescope just to watch. Their blades met again and again and again.
They looked perfectly matched. Meg might be stronger and faster and younger, but her opponent seemed to have enough skill to make up for it. Liam felt his heart clench.
Meg was starting to look tired. Even at a distance, even moving with blinding speed, he knew her well enough to spot the signs that she was getting to the edge of her energy. He had fucked her to that point often enough. How far had she flown, without rest, without food, to catch up with her tribe?
Meg seemed to realize that at the same time. But rather than look desperate or angry... Meg looked overjoyed. She was positively beaming. She darted forward again and then rebounded away from Proudfeather’s parry. Her wings half folded and she skimmed to the side, swooping over the wall. Several guards cried out and hit the deck.
Meg arrowed her wings down, then plunged into the water, vanishing under the waves. Skyheart flapped backwards in surprise, blood dripping down his ankle. Everyone tensed, leaning forward. Skyheart looked left, then right, his eyes wide. Liam felt his heart leap into his throat. He had never felt more powerless.
What was Meg doing?
More red dripped into the harbor.
A shuffling sound from behind him drew Liam’s attention for a moment. He saw Artemis walking forward, her bow in one hand. Liam was too nervous, too on edge, to even care.
“Where is she?”
Liam shook his head. “Can you see her?”
A fin broke the surface, swimming through the bloody water. Skyheart shook his head and snorted. “It seems she over-estimated her-”
The water fountained upwards. Meg burst out of the sea holding a very confused shark above her head. With a grunt, she beat her wings, sending herself up with a spray of water. The momentum gave her a perfect chance to throw.Skyheart looked so shocked that it was almost comical.
Then the shark slammed into him, mouth first.
To his credit, Skyheart got his sword up and the shark fell back into the sea in huge chunks, but gore caked Skyheart, covering his eyes. His wings were out of position and he started to lose altitude. Meg pumped her wings once, shooting forward, sword tip first.
The stone of the harbour walls crunched with the impact. Skyheart gaped, transfixed. Right below where Liam was standing.
Meg grinned and jerked the eight-sided blade from her grandfather's twitching hand Then, with a single stroke, she beheaded him.
Meg rose into the air, panting, her grandfather’s head in her hand.
“I am now the queen of this fucking tribe and my first order is,” she said, her voice ragged and filled with pants, “Stand the fuck down.”
Liam slowly relaxed against the wall.
And with that, the battle for Babylon was over.