Vashti Valant: Slave of the Goblin

“I swear by the ancient blade of my forefathers,” said Hunter, “I will allow no goblin beast to violate Nemesis again. So witness the gods of Light to my vow! I will escort the two of you myself back to Sylvindell.”

This was the last thing Akraz wanted. Yet so strange and otherworldly a light gleamed upon Hunter in that moment, almost like a nimbus of gold, that Akraz could only bow and murmur his thanks.

Laya dreamed of flight. The wind streamed under and over her wings, buoying her aloft. She dipped and dived over a patchwork world of peasants’ fields, forests and glittering rivers. In the dream, unlike when she had flown as an eagle, she somehow still had her real body. Akraz flew beside her, also in his real body and with his true face.

Their wings—fingers—touched in the air. He grinned wickedly at her, and then soared above her, out of sight. She banked into a circle in the air, looking for him. Only clouds filled the sapphire horizon.

Skin against skin. Naked, hot flesh slid against her buttocks, settled over her back. Akraz flew over her, touching her, sealing his body on top of hers. She could feel his immense cock prodding the crevice between her ass cheeks. She arched back into him. The wind swept against her breasts, whisking her nipples. The cock pierced her. She emitted an eagle screech of carnal joy. Cock in cunt, they banked and turned together. They glided as one.

“I love you!” Laya cried from the depths of her being. I love you, I love you. Even in the darkest hours of her ordeal in the dungeons of Mount Murk, when she had been summoned naked to cater to Zathstragomal’s sadistic whims, or when she had been put on display as trophy and a toy to the hateful lords and ladies of the Dark God’s hall, Akraz had always been there with her to protect her. She had not minded submitting, if it were to him she submitted. He was the only man who had ever mastered her, and the only man who ever would. “I love you, Akraz.”

The warm body filling her and flying with her vanished. She felt empty. Bereft. Where had he gone? Why did he not answer?

Laya began to fall. She flapped her wings, but they were only arms. Horrified, she screamed in terror as she plummeted toward the earth to certain death…

She sat up in a cold sweat. For several moments, she did not know where she was or how she had come to be there. She had been asleep in a comfortable, though narrow, bed. Sunlight warmed the red canvas walls of a tent. In a rush, she remembered Strathgora’s potion, the escape from Mount Murk, the journey as birds, the landing within the armed encampment of humans.

Heat suffused her face as she recollected fucking Akraz on the marble bench in the moonlight. Unlike the rest of the evening’s sex games, he had not been obligated to satiate her. Tell me you love me , he had commanded her.

The falling sensation from her dream returned, as if someone had kicked her stomach. Only now did it dawn on her that he had asked her to vow her love for him. But never, not once, had he told her that he loved her.

A man entered the tent. He wore a human-style scarlet and gold tunic over black britches. The tunic barely fit over his bulging biceps and pecs.

“Akraz?” Laya asked in wonder. “I hardly recognized you in a color other than black.”

“I feel like a walking target practice in this garish thing, if you must know. But your friend Hunter seemed to think it would be better to wear this than the armor of a goblin soldier.”

“Hunter?” Laya gladdened. “He’s here?”

“He mistook me for an elf,” Akraz said. He grimaced.

“Ah.” Laya’s mind raced to consider the possibilities. “That must have avoided certain uncomfortable…ah…”

“It’s probably the only reason he didn’t skewer me on the spot,” Akraz said dryly. “But, Laya, you know I cannot keep up the pretence. I can only maintain my true face for half the day. While we flew here I was pondering what Strathgora said about the magic being broken by the exchange of the sun and moon. Zathstragomal’s spell over me is only half broken. I think I must make a choice. I can either wear my true face during the day, or during the night, but not both.”

He held up his palm. The wizard’s sigil curled there in a ridge of scarred flesh. “As far as I can tell, he has not spied on me since the fete. Probably he thinks I am back in my den sleeping off too much drink and debauchery. But soon he will check on me and track me here. To this camp. To you.”

He passed a hand over a furrowed brow. “I can’t let that happen. If there is no way to cancel out his spell, as you did last time, then I must leave you, for your own safety.”

“Last time, it was the Seeress’ arrow which cancelled out the wizard’s spell. But I think I may be able to come up with something to keep him from seeing you. I can use a protective shield, less elaborate but similar to the kind that hides our city. However,” she touched his hand with hers, “Akraz, I don’t think that will free you to wear your true face all the time. I’m not even sure it was the Seer’s arrow that broke the spell before. I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t believe even the Seer has magic stronger than the Deep Fire created by the hand of the Dark God himself.”

“And yet the spell was broken. Half broken, at least. If not by the Seer’s magic, and not by yours, then what accounts for it?”

“I don’t know.”

Akraz gazed down at her for a long time. She noticed that he held both his hands in both of hers, as a bridegroom would hold a bride during the handfasting of the marriage ceremony. The simple, unconscious gesture warmed her.

“It would still be best for me to leave you,” he said.

“I thought you intended to help my people counter Zathstragomal’s plan to conquer Sylvindell.”

“Ah, that.” His gaze shifted away from hers. “Yes. Of course. Will your people listen to me, though?”

“They think you are an elf. If your plan seems sound, they will listen.”

“In that case,” he said, “Would you rather I show my true face during the day, to hide that I am a goblin while we are before the eyes of men and elves? Or would you rather I showed my true face by night, when I am alone with you, but admit my goblin nature to the others?”

Laya trembled at the thought of what her own people might do to him if they knew he was the Goblin General, Akraz the Terrible. She might not be able to save his life. Even if she could, she would certainly not be allowed to be with him. How much simpler it would be if no one else knew the truth! Passing him off as an elf from a distant tribe had fallen into their laps like an ideal solution.

“You mustn’t let them suspect what you are,” Laya said. “Oh—gods—did you tell Hunter your name?”

“He didn’t ask. He was more concerned about you. He called you by your battle name, Nemesis.”

“Oh thank the gods. We must think of a proper Elven name for you. Something close to your real name, but not so obviously, uh…”

“Goblin?”

“Guttural. Goblins always sound as though they are spitting their names at one another. Elven names should roll off the tongue, like music. How about Acariel? Could you answer to that?”

His expression was strangely bleak. “Yes, Nemesis.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Isn’t that the name you would have given in Zathstragomal’s dungeon, if I had not already known your true name?”

“Yes,” she admitted. Indeed, the wizard had never learned or cared to learn her true name. All he’d wanted from her were the passwords to Sylvindell. “I see what you mean.”

For some reason, though, it bothered her. It doesn’t matter , she told herself. When he next holds me in his arms and drives his cock into me, he will call out my true name as he comes . She shivered in anticipation. Already, she hungered to feel him inside her again.