index


Message-ID: <53891asstr$1148181001@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
DomainKey-Signature: a=rsa-sha1; q=dns; c=nofws;
        s=beta; d=gmail.com;
        h=received:message-id:date:from:to:subject:mime-version:content-type;
        b=WaBuZWOUb31OZICjSGe6yZSN0rDZ1LFy1bfIu9X5H3bCyryHEVkH5dSZhgGSTYCRTo3VLdkvwWlQ07tnNwBWFerxTKsQ1pTkccRIx7XgRrvYINeGRV/L2mQCpKFbT7iNgiC/qpoGEcCC1I4jq//dP7SEh4RzLWsJHwvskirtsLw=
From: "Lord God Pantokrator" <lordgodpantokrator@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} The Moons of Yothis, Part 4: Respite in Tilnabar (m/f, voy., fantasy)
Lines: 701
Date: Sat, 20 May 2006 23:10:01 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


<1st attachment, "Part 4, Respite in Tilnabar.txt" begin>

Part 4: Respite in Tilnabar

   (m/f, voy., fantasy)

   Aaron Connell rode east in the shadow of the mountains.  He had survived
transport to another world, a battle of wizards, the slaughter of his
caravan, and the death of the bandit-queen who had taken him under his
wing, but the boy from Earth was not out of danger yet.

   As the sun set, Aaron spared a glance behind him.  His two companions
followed him, riding a single horse: Hurik, the young tailor, and Wenet,
his lover, picked their way along the bleak terrain.  They were both
Nazhaki, a people despised in the city of Ptella where they had fled, their
olive-colored skin tanned by the days spent beneath the sun.  They wore
rough bandit's clothes, good for the heat of the dry season: one-piece
sleeveless tunics that hung down to their knees.  Hurik wore a cudgel at
his belt and his horse carried a bow and quiver.

   Aaron was similarly attired.  The days in the sun had turned his
once-fair skin a rich bronze, and steely blue eyes glared from beneath wavy
black hair.  He had gained confidence in his travels, though his face was
drawn and anxious.  He kept one hand on a curved iron sword.  The other
held the horse's reins.

   "I can see them!" Aaron said, twisting around to squint into the fading
light.  Four soldiers rode through the scrubland.  They were Ptellan
regulars armed with swords and axes, bucklers on their wrists, wearing
flexible studded armor.  They closed distance fast, intent on finishing the
survivors from Lady Miacla's bandit fort.  They were led by a man in a
flowing green cape, his face hidden by a golden mask framed with horns and
claws: Viskar, Wizard of Ptella.  His staff glowed unnaturally, throwing
shadows on the rock faces.
"We can't outrun them," Wenet called.  Her tunic had ridden up to the
tops of her thighs, revealing thin, elegant legs.  Sweat plastered the rest
of her tunic to her large breasts.  She was not a warrior, but she had kept
them hidden from pursuit in caves for two nights.  Both nights, Aaron had
stood guard while Hurik had fucked the girl.  He was an unsophisticated
lover, but he genuinely loved the girl and Aaron did not begrudge him.  He

only wanted a turn, but it had not come.

   Aaron pulled himself back to the present as the riders rapidly closed
range.  "We can't fight them," he said.  "We'll have to outrun them."

   "Up the hillside," Wenet called.  "Maybe they won't be able to follow."

   Aaron spurred his horse forward.  He was still no more than an average
rider, and a single horse bore both his companions.  The riders closed
fast. Viskar raised his staff and a wall of fire leapt in front of Aaron.
It was not hot, but the flash terrified his horse.  The creature kicked
frantically and Aaron fell.  He grabbed the side of the saddle, but the
horse bolted, leaving him on his knees flanked by large, broken rocks.

   Hurik slowed and reached for his bow.

   "Keep going!" Aaron cried.  "Go, dammit!" He drew his sword and hid
behind one of the rocks.  Hurik, after a moment's hesitation, raced up the
hill.

   The riders quickly spotted Aaron.  Two broke off to pick him up while
the other three, including the wizard, forced their tired mounts up the
mountainside.  Aaron dodged and weaved, hoping to escape, but the riders
quickly surrounded him.  They approached on either side, both armed with
long cavalry swords.

   Aaron raised his blade, expecting to meet a quick end.  But as the
riders closed in a strange blue light spread across his body and he felt a
terrible wrench.  The blue light surrounded him, blinded him, and he felt
himself falling as if the ground had given out.

   Sight returned with a jolt and Aaron found himself lying on the ground.
It looked and felt much like the ground he had left: parched, rocky, with
the occasional bit of dry grass sticking up out of it.  Aaron looked up a
little more and saw runes on the ground, intricate swirling designs that
formed a circle.  He groaned.  Not another one!  Looking up more he saw a
robe.  He groaned again, then slowly stood up.  This time, at least, he had
retained his clothes, not to mention his sword.

   The man who stood across from him entirely failed to impress.  He wore a
long red jacket and dirty white sandals.  A hat, entirely un-wizardlike,
was plastered on his head, a flat shapeless thing like a fisherman's cap.
His skin was tanned and weathered, and a corncob pipe hung from his
half-open mouth.

   "About damn time," the man muttered.  His eyes seemed a bit unfocused.
His pipe bobbed on his lip.

   "Why am I here and what do you want?" Aaron said.  He stood up, his eyes
cold.

   "What do I want?" the man mumbled.  "Well, that's a hard question to
answer.  A saner world, maybe a city or two not ruled by madmen, crazy gods
and tyrants.  But right now, I want you, buckaroo." The man smiled, which
made his pipe fall to the ground.  He absently retrieved it.  "Now, my name
is Turvis and I represent certain parties interested in you, first, and the
world not falling into chaos, third.  No, second."

   "In case you don't know," Aaron said through gritted teeth, "right now
my friends are being captured, maybe killed, by a wizard from Ptella."

   "Viskar?" the man said.  "Nah, I don't think so.  Anyway, I've got a
reason for bringing you here.  Hey, you get to bang that Nazhaki number
yet? You know, whassername?"

   "Uh...no," Aaron said.

   "Well, keep at it, lad!  Anyway, I have a job for you."

   "And why should I help you?" Aaron asked.  He touched the ill-defined
edge of the summoning circle and his hand stopped.

   "'Cause if you don't, your world and this one are both fucked," Turvis
said.  That got Aaron's attention and the old wizard continued.  "The moons
of Yothis work like gates, each one leading to a different world.  There
are dozens of them, and we discover more every now and then.  Without them,
summoning is a lot harder, let me tell ya.  You're from Earth, right?"

   "Right," Aaron said.

   "Ah, Earth.  I've been there.  Nice place.  I was there years ago, back
in the...1920s, I think they called it.  A glorious time, full of wonders
and wealth.  I suppose things stayed on, mm?"

   "I...don't think so," Aaron said.  "There was a depression, and then a
war, some genocide.  Nuclear bombs."

   "Aw, fuck," Turvis said.  "But anyway, the same thing could happen to
both our worlds, and worse, and that's where you come in.  Uxalan is
spreading in the south.  He's a force of Degeneration.  Earth-critters
represent Order, or something close enough.  That means you can stand
against him.  I need you to head north to find a fellow demon of Order
called Lord Ruby.  I figure, you know, you're both Order demons, so you
can...uh...talk.  And stuff."

   "I don't understand any of this," Aaron said.  He rubbed his sweaty
face, which only served to smear dust across it.

   "Alright, son, here's the dealy.  We wizards have a theory, if you will.
We used to call it the Net of Pearls theory, but then 'Net of Pearls'
became slang for gettin' fella-juice all over your gob, so now we call it
the Linked Worlds Idea.  Every world--Earth, Yothis, Monko--represents a
single unique principle.  These principles link up to one-another to create
the universe."

   "And Earth represents Order?" Aaron asked.

   "No, it represents...well, there's no word in Low Quist.  Or English. 
Let's call it 'Progress' or 'Evolution.' Purposeful change.  Monko
represents Order.  Expect to be mistaken for a Monkoid a lot, since the
principles are kind of similar, if you're stupid.  But Shankar, Uxalan's
world, represents Degeneration, and he's finally found his cosmic opposite:
Earth.  He's got grand ambitions.  First, he's going to take over Yothis,
and then he's going to use summoning magic to wipe out Earth.  With Earth
gone, Degeneracy conquers Progress and the whole fucking universe blows
up."

   "That sucks," Aaron said.

   "Shit yeah, it sucks," Turvis said.  "Which is why I need you to get to
Lord Ruby, real fast."

   "Then magic me there."

   The man rubbed his face.  "Can't, magic gets too crazy around you and
around Lord Ruby.  Can't even get you close.  But I can help you set out.
We're close to Tilnabar.  Come on and I'll give you the grand tour."

   "I can't," Aaron said.  He waved his hand at the barrier.

   "Hm?  Oh, yeah." The wizard spoke a few words and the runes faded.  "No
trouble now, ya hear, and put that sword away.  One word and poof, you're
back to Earth."

   "You can send me back?" Aaron asked, stepping out of the circle.

   "Damn straight I can," Turvis said.  "And once you're back you'll have
about five years before the whole fuckin' planet blows up, so don't get any
ideas or make any dumb requests."

   "What about my friends?"

   "Safe," the wizards said.

   "But--?"

   "Safe," Turvis said again, and said no more.  They walked east, the
wizard stumbling and chuckling occasionally--he was obviously not all
there--until the mountain they were on sloped down into a low valley.  To
the south stretched yellow savanna spotted with gnarled black trees.  The
grasses and trees grew taller and more frequent to the north, until they
melded together in a tangle of subtropical forest and jungle.  The
mountains separated two entire worlds, it seemed: looking down one slope,
Aaron saw only parched rocks; looking the other way, he saw forests wrapped
in mist.

   A city lay directly in front of Aaron, an intricate nest of towers
connected by bridges, its stone walls blood-hued in the setting sun. 
Tilnabar was a fortress-city, and it had not expanded beyond its walls, but
had instead added an outer wall and grown high into the air.  As Aaron
approached, he realized how many people must live there.  Though small by
the standards of his home, Chicago, in a medieval world it was a Rome or
Constantinople.  The savannas, he saw, were cultivated farms, and even the
jungles did not become true jungle until far from the city: nearby they
were orchards of tall fruit trees, where leopard-sized cows grazed on low
grass.

   They reached the city gates late at night and guards let the wizard in,
though Aaron felt their anxious eyes following him.  Inside the city still
bustled.  Aaron heard a relentless drumming from a building to his right,
and a glass wall to his left showed wealthy men and women in fine robes
eating.  It was the rest day, Turvis explained, refilling his pipe.  Aaron
was not allowed to linger, and Turvis practically had to spin him around
when a gaggle of young women passed him.  They wore feathered gowns that
revealed their slim arms and elegant legs, sometimes their bare bellies,
and feathers floated in their perfumed hair.

   Turvis dragged Aaron along until they reached a poorer neighborhood
where Aaron recognized the Nazhaki, who had evidently settled nicely in
Tilnabar.  It took only a few minutes to find Porot, Wenet's father, who
had set up shop in one of the lower levels of a massive commercial tower.
Porot, who had been grieving for his daughter, danced with joy when Turvis
told him she was fine and being brought to the city by one of his servants.
Aaron was also surprised, and relieved, that the old wizard actually had a
plan of rescue, and got completely taken by surprise by Porot's crushing
embrace.  Aaron, not much of a dancer under the best circumstances, found
himself whisked around the room by the ecstatic man.

   Wenet and Hurik staggered in less than a half-hour later and both
received a similar crushing embrace.  Aaron saw, for a fleeting moment, a
figure clothed all in gray, then it stepped out of the apartment and
disappeared.  Turvis laughed and raided Porot's liquor cabinet, coming back
with a mingled drink of hard liquor that filled up a beer stein.  He sat
down on a wooden chair and waved Aaron over.

   "You're smashed," the boy said.  The man had taken out another pipe and
was trying to sip between the two of them.  Smoke formed a nimbus around
him.

   "I haven't even gotten into the good stuff," Turvis said.  He admired
Wenet's ass, cocking his head at an angle and ignoring her father's annoyed
glare.

   Aaron looked around.  "So, I guess I'm not going home any time soon?" He
raised a hopeful eyebrow.

   "Oh, fuck no," Turvis said.  "We're both in this for the long-term.  So,
you up for it?"

   "For what, exactly?  Finding this 'Ruby Lord'?  Why me?"

   "I already told you: I need someone who can speak his language.  Order,
patterns, all that.  Besides, I can't exactly be here when Uxalan shows up,
and I need someone to carry my bags."

   "Shows up here?" Aaron asked.

   "Oh, he's coming up fast, don't make any mistake," Turvis said.  "But
don't worry about these folks.  The Nazhaki have weathered worse, and
Uxalan (right now) is a conqueror, not a butcher.  He's for organized
dissolution.  Speaking of which..." Turvis swallowed the rest of his drink.
"So, since you're with me, I'd might as well do you a favor." He fumbled in
the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a flat ivory carving in the shape
of a bird.

   "What's that?" Aaron said.

   "You saw those lovely girls you passed on the street?  This'll get you
into their, ha, little party.  Have a good time."

   Aaron took the token and the pouch of coins Turvis handed him.  "And why
are you giving me this?" he asked.  He couldn't help but smile, thinking of
the pretty girls he had passed earlier.

   "Because we've got a long journey ahead of us, because you might as well
get some good traveling clothes, and because I prefer to draw out trouble
now rather than later."

   The old wizard also extended the offer to Hurik and Wenet (after Porot
had gone to bed, of course), and though Hurik declined, Wenet was thrilled.
Aaron was also thrilled to get the girl away from her paramour.

   Aaron dropped some money on a quality traveling outfit, which was
apparently "in"; a flamboyant little fellow picked out an appropriate
costume while staring at Aaron's ass.  The result was a carefully worked
dark blue tunic, high-laced leather boots, an intricate belt where he could
hang a sword (which he did not; no weapons were allowed on the streets),
and a gray cloak.  The result wasn't exactly dashing, but it looked good by
local standards.

   Aaron gasped when he saw his companion.  Wenet had spent her money on a
revealing red gown that complimented her dusky skin and showed off her
impressive cleavage.  The dress was short, barely reaching mid-thigh, and
slits along the sides showed skin.  Wenet hunched into it, trying to cover
up all the exposed flesh without much luck.  She blushed and shifted
awkwardly.

   "Wenet!" Aaron said, smiling like an idiot.  "You look amazing.  Ready
for the party?"

   The girl nodded, a bit reluctantly.  Aaron took her hand and walked
toward the celebration.  He quizzed Wenet on what they could expect at the
party, but despite fucking her boyfriend for the past few nights, she was
still a "good girl" and had no insight to offer.  So they walked down
torch-lit streets until at last they reached a large mansion right along a
main drag.  Formed of massive gray blocks, it reflected neither torchlight
nor the lights of the many moons.  Aaron saw sleek, graceful figures as
shadows behind the dark windows, and heard the percussion of massive drums
and the blare of horns.  The music was like nothing he had ever heard
before, with strange half-tones and a rapidly changing beat, almost tribal
in its intensity.

   A man stood guard in front of the carved wooden door.  He wore a silver
helmet in the shape of a snarling dog, greaves, and a flexible metal skirt,
but nothing more.  He had the reek of "status symbol," Aaron thought, as he
watched the man's oiled body ripple in the moonlight.  He held a bronze
hook-staff, more than enough to clobber anyone who sought entry.

   A gaggle of young people stood around the man, shouting and pleading,
but he only shook his armored head.  Aaron approached and studied the
would-be partygoers.  They were young, a mix of boys and girls, dressed in
colorful clothes, their faces painted garishly.  Aaron's eyes fell upon one
girl in particular.  She was short and slender, with warm brown skin and
wavy black hair that spilled down her back.  She turned and held Aaron's
gaze, and he saw that she had beautiful gray eyes framed by a button nose
and full red lips.  Swirling tattoos touched her cheeks and brow.

   Wenet tugged on Aaron's shoulders and he stepped toward the intimidating
guard, brandishing the bird-shaped token.  The young people around him
parted, muttering in frustration.

   "You!" the guard said, pointing at Aaron and Wenet.  "Get in." His voice
echoed in the confines of his helmet.

   The unfamiliar girl with the tattoos stepped toward Aaron, brushing his
shoulder.  She wore a sheer orange robe that revealed her slim, toned
figure.  Aaron stepped toward the opening door of the mansion, then spared
another glance at the girl.

   "And her too," he told the guard.  The big man shrugged and waved them
forward.  The girl skipped forward and took Aaron's hand, and he walked
into the party, smiling from ear to ear, one beautiful woman on each arm.

   The party was like some sort of miraculous dreamscape, unlike anything
Aaron had ever seen or imagined.  The large, high-ceilinged room rippled
with unfamiliar lights, glyphs of purple and green fire that raced up and
down walls, rhythmically pulsating.  Small, thin men, all wiry muscle and
sweat, pounded on huge drums that lined one wall.  The sound echoed over
the heads of the partygoers, who were all young people, dancing, talking,
and fooling around on low couches.  Some stood around a long, low table
where an inhuman, dwarf-like creature served drinks while eyeing the
ladies.

   Bronze cages hung from the ceiling.  Aaron saw tiny humanoid figures in
them, graceful women barely a foot high with blue, green, or silver skin
and magnificent gossamer wings.  They were naked, their tiny features
perfectly proportioned, and they danced to the strange music with a
mindless carnal energy.  Aaron felt himself growing hard just looking at
them.  He calmed himself: that was dangerous in just a tunic.

   "I'm going to go dance!" Wenet said, giddy with excitement.  She
disengaged herself and skipped over to the dance floor where men and women
writhed to the savage music.  Aaron turned to his other companion.

   "Thanks for getting me in," the girl said, batting long eyelashes.  "I'm
Ninyel."

   "I'm Aaron," the boy said, "and it's very nice to meet you."

   "You aren't from around here," Ninyel said.  She ran a finger along
Aaron's jaw, and the young man pressed closer to her.  She smelled like
cardamom and honey.  He wondered what she was willing to do, how far these
parties could go.

   "I'm from far away," Aaron said.  "I hope you can show me how
Tilnabarans celebrate."

   "Mm, I like your accent," Ninyel said.  She pressed closer to him, then
pulled away, tugging Aaron along by his hand.  "Come on, let's get a
drink."

   The drinks turned out to be weakly alcoholic fruit concoctions.  They
tasted sweet, but Aaron only sipped at his.  Glancing over, he saw Wenet
shaking on the dance floor, her arms above her head, her large breasts
swaying as people danced around her, pressing against her.  The style of
dancing looked simple.  Aaron glanced over to his new companion.

   "Care to show me how they dance here?" he asked, sliding his arm around
her slim waist.  They danced for a while, Aaron quickly figuring out the
steps.  The dancing was a cross between set-dancing and something far more
erotic.  Aaron ground against Ninyel, then found himself spinning around to
another partner, a striking girl with angular features and an intricate
headdress.  He pressed himself against her and she smiled, her thighs
wrapped around his leg, which pressed into her crotch.  He spun to another
partner, entranced by the music, and another, until he returned to Ninyel.
Sweat made the girl's face glow and pressed her orange robe against her
sleek body, revealing the outline of dark, hard nipples.

   They went into another spin, Ninyel giggling with delight.  Across the
large room Wenet danced, swinging back and forth between two young men. 
Aaron glanced beyond her and caught a glimpse of blue skin.  He stared for
a moment: was it Azha, the demoness whose violent escape had freed him from
Zamphor the summoner?  He and Ninyel spun around and Aaron looked again:
no, it was a young man wearing a plain white robe and hood, walking
purposefully through the crowd.  But he was the same sort of creature, a
mirix, with the outline of horns visible beneath his hood.

   Another swirl and he disappeared into the crowd.  Aaron had staggered
upon seeing the blue face, but recovered gracefully in time for the dance
to finish.  The skinny guys finished hammering their drums and Ninyel spun
to a halt.  Aaron, in a fit of whimsy, dipped the girl, who laughed as he
spun her around.  He pulled her close and kissed her passionately, tasting
the sweat on her lip, the sweet drink on her tongue.

   Someone shouted enthusiastically nearby, and though Aaron couldn't quite
understand the words, Ninyel perked up.

   "What is it?" the boy asked.

   "They're releasing the shinka men!" Ninyel said, tugging him through the
crowd toward a cluster of the fairy-creatures.  They had been grouped into
a single enclosure of narrow golden wires and flitted about anxiously,
tiny, naked, brightly-colored women.

   The ugly dwarf-creature stepped forward with an assistant, carrying
between them a barrel-shaped enclosure of similar golden wire.  It held the
shinka men, no larger than the women, with even more vibrantly-colored
wings and small, erect phalluses rearing to go.  People crowded all around
the enclosure, leaning against a railing that kept them about two steps
away.  Some, apparently new to this rowdy display, blushed with
embarrassment and excitement; others looked politely away, risking
surreptitious glances at the coming event.

   The dwarves locked the cages together, then removed the separating
plate. The effect was immediate: people squealed with delight and surprise
as the he-shinkas swarmed the cage.  The women squealed, flying up to
escape or embrace, and in seconds the shinkas were copulating with wild,
animal-like enthusiasm.  They lay on the ground or clung to the walls or
ceilings of the cage, their wings beating, tiny penises penetrating tiny
vaginas in different positions and styles.  The creatures squeaked with
delight and an excited chatter began among the partygoers.

   "I'd always heard that the Green Hawk parties were the best," Ninyel
said, looking back at Aaron.  She stood in front of him, Aaron looking over
her shoulder, his arms around her waist.  "This is more than I expected."
They kissed and Aaron pressed his hard cock against her back, between her
buttocks.

   Everyone stared in wonderment at the copulation.  Apparently, Aaron
thought, this was impressive even for a hedonistic party, and probably a
bit taboo: many people stayed away, shocked by the proceedings.  But many
more clustered around the exotic display.  Aaron saw a girl he had danced
with, the one with the intricate headdress of hanging beads.  She had dark,
almond-shaped eyes and wore a revealing gray-green wrap that wound about
her body.  Several lengths of wrapping had come loose and hung around her
smooth brown thighs.

   As Aaron watched, the girl looked surprised, then momentarily horrified.
Then she closed her eyes and bit her lip.  Aaron realized what was
happening: a young man behind her (her boyfriend?) had unwound some of the
wrappings near her butt and taken the opportunity to penetrate her.  As
Aaron watched, his dick apparently slid all the way home, since the girl
gasped and reached back to cling to his hips.  She moaned, looking about
fearfully, then caught Aaron watching the lewd display.  Her mouth opened
wide just as her boyfriend fucked her again, eliciting a squeak, and her
eyes widened.  But Aaron only smiled, and she smiled back, then her eyes
glazed as the couple found a slow, cautious rhythm.
Aaron's hands had trailed down to Ninyel's waist, caressing her slim
hips.  He kissed her neck and cheek, moving along her swirling tattoos,
then very carefully raised the hem in the back of her short gown, exposing
her firm butt.  Ninyel looked back at him in surprise, but Aaron only

kissed her, then raised his own tunic and slid his cock between her legs.

   "You wouldn't dare," Ninyel said, half excited, half afraid, her voice
breathy.  In answer, Aaron spread her legs and penetrated her, sliding two
inches into her, where he remained, flexing his dick, biting back his own
pleasure.  Ninyel sighed and they kissed again, his tongue running over the
girl's lips.  The boy sank in all the way, until his balls pressed against
her ass, his dick buried deep in her wet pussy.  He pulled out and pushed
back in, moving with jerky, frantic motions he was so horny, as Ninyel
demurely pulled the front of her gown down to cover her thighs.  The sweat
from her body and the press of people made their lovemaking all the more
intense.  Ninyel gritted her teeth, hissing faintly so as not to scream,
while Aaron unconsciously increased his pace.

   "Let's go upstairs," Ninyel said, looking back.  Her eyes were glazed,
hungry.

   Aaron smiled and pulled out, shoving his cock back under cover. 
Together they raced up the stairs.  Aaron barely followed where they went
or how they got there, but suddenly Ninyel was closing the door and they
stood in a small room lit by hanging bronze lamps, dominated by a pile of
cushions.  Ninyel smiled, almost sweetly, leaning against the door.  Aaron
ripped his clothes off and tossed them onto a stray cushion.  Ninyel
stepped forward and stripped with a single smooth motion, pulling her
orange dress up over her shoulders.  She walked toward the boy, her hips
swaying seductively, naked except for her sandals.  Her body was everything
Aaron had hoped: slim, graceful, and naturally toned, light brown all over
with small, dark nipples atop high breasts.

   Ninyel wasted no time: she wrapped her arms around Aaron, kissed him
until she left him dizzy, and pulled him down onto the cushions.  Aaron
fumbled for only a moment, then parted her legs and, lying on his side,
entered her.  She cried out with delight and kissed him again, frantically,
hungrily.  They kept kissing as Aaron rolled on top of her.  His tongue
slid into her mouth, exploring it, while Ninyel wrapped her legs around his
waist and pulled him in as deep as they would go.

   Their lovemaking was desperate, almost frantic, and Aaron felt himself
quickly reaching his limit, the familiar tingle in his balls spreading
along his spine.  He gasped, savoring the slick contact between their
bodies, and tried to pull away to pleasure Ninyel manually or let her
masturbate.  But the girl would have none of it: she pulled him down,
wrapping her arms around his shoulders so they were pressed together, his
chest against her sweat-slick breasts.  Aaron let himself go, fucking fast
and hard until Ninyel's teeth rattled.  He felt the surge coming and braced
himself, hugging Ninyel tight, and with a long, slow exhalation, came
inside of her.

   Aaron rolled off of her and lay on his back, gasping for breath.  Ninyel
rolled next to him, her hand wandering over his chest.

   "Mmm, that was nice," she said, kissing him again.  Aaron felt his cock
twitch.

   "I don't think we're done yet," he said, smiling and pulling her close.

   The door flew open, slamming against the wall with a bang.  Ninyel
squeaked in surprise, while Aaron jumped unconsciously to his feet, his
recent life of danger keeping him ready for anything.  Wenet stood in the
doorway, her hair plastered to her head, her eyes wide.  She hesitated for
only a second, glancing down at Aaron's half-hard dick, then blurted out,
"Someone's following me!"

   "What?" Aaron said, stepping toward her.  "Close the door."

   Wenet closed it and brought down the bronze latch, then turned back to
Aaron, who hastily donned his tunic and cinched the belt.

   "It's a demon, a creature I don't recognize," Wenet said, her voice
shaky.  "Blue skin, horns."

   "I saw him," Aaron said.  "What does he want?"

   Before Wenet could answer, the door thumped.  Wenet shouted and stepped
away.  Ninyel, who had before lay stunned by the intrusion, shouted and
hastily tugged her gown on.  Aaron caught Ninyel glance in Wenet's
direction, a gleam in her eyes.  He put those possibilities aside for later
and concentrated on his situation.  The door thudded again and splintered,
a bronze fastener clattering to the ground.  Both girls screamed, realizing
their precarious situation.

   Aaron ran to a window and flung the shutters open.  They were above
ground, but a narrow trellis led to a place where they could drop down onto
an overhanging canopy.  It looked thick enough to support them.

   "The window, quick!" Aaron shouted, herding both girls out onto the
edge. The door split down the middle, sending fragments of hard wood
bouncing through the room.  Aaron shielded his face and reached for any
weapon he could find as the mirix entered.  He grabbed one of the hanging
bronze lamps and, as the blue-skinned demon rushed toward him, threw it
with all his strength.  It struck him the demon in the jaw, and the
creature reeled off-target, crashing against the far wall.  Aaron took the
time to grab a standing metal candlestick and lower it like a trident at
the demon.  He backed slowly toward the window and risked a glance behind
him: the girls had made it out onto the ledge.
The mirix rose and attacked again.  He had only a small knife, but it
flickered lightning-quick out at Aaron's throat.  The boy smacked it away
with the three-pronged candelabra, but the demon kept coming.  He nearly
stumbled out the window, but caught himself with his left hand.  The demon
lunged while Aaron was vulnerable, pulling the candelabra from his hand. 
The knife cut deep into his wrist as he flailed, but the boy ignored the
pain and caught the lip of the window.  He swung outside and scrambled

along the ledge, where the girls clustered, clinging to the wall.

   "Jump!" Aaron shouted, pointing to the canopy below.  They hesitated for
a moment, then dropped down, one at a time, and rolled to the ground.  The
demon shimmered and slid outside, standing on the edge at a strange,
impossible angle.  He took another step and was standing on the wall
itself, his body parallel to the ground, apparently ignored by conventional
gravity.  His robes still hung toward the ground, but he raised his
bloodied knife with ease.  Aaron ducked as he came forward, punched the
mirix hard in the shoulder, and dropped down.  He bounced off the canopy
and landed hard on the ground, but was on his feet in a second.  He looked
around: they had come out in an alley, probably on the opposite side of the
row of townhouses from where they had come in.
Above, the demon stared at them for a moment, then jumped and floated
down.  Just before his feet touched down he accelerated, as if some
magnetic force pulled him onto the slate of the road.  Aaron didn't wait to
see what else the mirix could do: he shouted to the girls and ran down the
alley as fast as he could, light-headed from the long, deep cut on his
wrist.  The blue-skinned alien followed them; when Aaron glanced back, he
saw the creature toss off his concealing robe, revealing a lean, muscled
frame touched by indigo horns.  He ran like a human, but much faster, and
when they turned took a hard right the mirix ran straight up the opposite

wall.

   "Where do we run?" Wenet asked, panting for breath.

   "A public place," Aaron said, hoping the demon would not resort to
public murder.  He took a hard left turn, skidding down another avenue, and
only realized too late that it was a dead end: a baked-mud wall rose twenty
feet high.  He ran to the door of one building, but it was locked.  The
demon slowed his pace and approached leisurely, his knife flicking out like
a snake tasting the air.  Aaron clutched his wounded arm, waving the girls
behind him.  The edge of his vision grew dark.  He squeezed his wrist, but
the bleeding would not stop, and the mirix swaggered forward, his eyes
glowing like embers.

   The creature suddenly stopped, no more than three strides from Aaron,
and looked up.  Aaron tensed, ready to make a desperate charge, but the
mirix staggered back, the easy confidence gone from his expression.

   "Hm," a voice above and behind Aaron said, "I don't think so." Aaron
inched back and to the side and risked a glance up: it was the wizard,
Turvis, looking about the same as when Aaron had last seen him.  He looked
confidently, even contemptuously, down at the alien.

   Aaron looked back to the alien, who spun his knife lazily around. 
"Fancy meeting you here," he said, not quite meeting the wizard's gaze. 
His eyes darted about, to Aaron, to the two girls, and back away from the
confrontation.  "But I don't think you can fight me, old man." Ignoring
Aaron and the two girls, he hopped onto the wall and again tricked gravity.
He walked toward the wizard, parallel to the ground, moving up and along
the side wall.

   "Enough of your tricks, mirix," Turvis said.  Then he spoke a single
word that burned Aaron's ears and seemed to cut across worlds, and with a
scream the mirix fell as gravity suddenly reasserted its normal course. 
Aaron jumped out of the way to avoid the fall, and the demon slammed
against the ground, his shins snapping like matches.

   "Sorry, demon," Turvis said over the mirix's horrible screams.  "Walls
don't work that way in my world." As the demon whimpered, Turvis pulled a
long throwing dart, almost a javelin, from his robe, took careful aim, and
hurled it through his neck.  The mirix expired with a pitiful wheeze.

   Aaron looked up at Turvis and immediately lost his balance as a wave of
dizziness overtook him.  Ninyel was sobbing quietly, and Wenet only stared.

   Then the wizard was standing next to him, holding him up.  "Hard day,
hm?"

   "Fun, actually," Aaron said.  "Except for the blue fellow.  Help me up?"

   "Up you go," the wizard said, pulling Aaron to his feet and quickly
wrapping his wound.  "Can you walk?" When Aaron nodded, the wizard stepped
toward the girls and reassured them.  As Turvis calmed them down, Aaron was
content to lean against the wall, waiting for things to stop spinning.

   "We need to go," Turvis said, pulling him along.  "Someone will have
heard that thing's screams." When Aaron looked back, there was no body,
only the mirix's clothes.

   "Who sent that thing?" Aaron asked, walking quickly.

   "Viskar, almost certainly.  And he has more like him, much nastier."
Turvis glanced toward Ninyel.  "You'll need to come with us to Porot's
house.  It's not safe if you've been seen."

   "I can't!" Ninyel said.  "If I don't get home soon my father we'll kill
me.  He'll...imagine I've been up to all sorts of nasty things." She
glanced toward Aaron and blushed.

   "Uh....huh," Turvis said, following her gaze.  Then he propped Aaron up
more.  "But anyway, girl, you're coming with us or you'll be dead by
morning--real dead, not in-trouble-with-dad dead, and Aaron, you have a
purpose to fulfill in this world."

   "He's right," Aaron said.  "We should get back to Porot's.  When do I
set out?"

   "As soon as possible," Turvis said.  "The mirix was only a scout. 
There's an army coming."

   ***

   You can look forward to more exciting adventures on Yothis in "The Moons
of Yothis, Part 5: Soul of the Wild." If you have any thoughts, comments,
reviews, or critiques, please send them to lordgodpantokrator@gmail.com.

	----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
	This post has been reformatted by ASSTR's
	Smart Text Enhancement Processor (STEP)
	system due to inadequate formatting.
	----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

	
<1st attachment end>


----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+