Chapter 8: Necromantic Dangers

Thrak – Ruins of Murathi, The Federation of Larg

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Faoril asked as she rubbed at my shoulders. “That stone looked heavy.”

“Fine,” I sighed, savoring the way her fingers massaged into my shoulders, easing the tension. “It was only a glancing blow. The bruise hardly throbs at all.”

“You need to be careful,” Faoril continued.

Her fingers dug deep into the muscles of my neck, easing the pain of the dislodged stone that struck me. I leaned back into her naked breasts while she worked, my legs stretched out towards the fire. After our first full day searching the ruins, we still hadn’t found the sword. But there were still four more temples in need of searching before we branched out.

“It’s the orc in him, Faoril,” Serisia said. The phantom of my wife knelt between my thighs, her cool hand stroking up and down my cock. Every time she reached the tip, she would play with my bone cock piercing.

I savored the pleasure shooting through my body when she did that.

“Yes, you’re such a big, strong, mighty orc warrior,” Faoril said. Her nipples were hard against my broad back. “But that doesn’t mean you can take a half-ton rock caving your skull in.”

“But it’s such a thick skull,” giggled Serisia. Her pale face stared up at me, framed by her soft-brown hair. The bone piercings dotting my dead wife’s face turned her gentle, feminine expression into something both mischievous and ferocious.

What an amazing woman she was.

I stroked her brown hair as Faoril’s fingers dug deeper. Even without the loose rock glancing off my right shoulder and back, searching the ruins was weary work. But the touch of the two women helped to ease the strain.

“Where did you learn to do that with your fingers?” I asked.

“Xera taught me.”

My dick throbbed, picturing the tall and busty elf running her hands over Faoril’s body. Xera’s ears twitched when she was enjoying herself. I would love to fuck her, but the elf always laughed when I brought it up, boasting that her cock was bigger than mine.

It sounded like quite the boast. When she went in heat next, I would love to see if it was true. Maybe while watching her fuck Faoril or Serisia. I groaned, closing my eyes and trying to imagine the elf with that cock.

“What are you thinking of?” Serisia asked. “Because your dick feels like it’s made of Valyan steel.”

“He’s thinking of Xera massaging me,” Faoril purred. “Does she have a dick in your fantasy?”

“A dick,” I groaned, unable to banish the image of Xera and her dick

“How naughty,” Serisia giggled, then she leaned down and took a long, slow lick around the crown of my cock. Her hand might be cool, but her tongue was hot. I groaned as the spirit finished her lick at the crown of my cock, her tongue digging into my slit to gather up salty precum. “Why does a woman with a dick make you so hard?”

“I’ve heard that a scholar named Ersaz dubbed it the Erotical Illusion,” Faoril answered. “We seek novel experiences, and there is nothing more novel to us dual-sex races than one of the hermaphroditic. Lush, female bodies sporting the most male of body part. It’s a powerful, contrasting, impossible image.”

“Maybe,” I groaned, the idea burning in my head.

“It’s a hot idea for women, too,” giggled Faoril. “Trust me. Xera was popular in the Magery when she was in heat. And when she massaged me, she had her cock.”

I groaned, my dick throbbing as Serisia sucked it into her mouth. Her mouth bobbed up and down, her tongue swirling as she sucked. I closed my eyes, running my hand through her brown hair as I pictured Xera standing tall, her ears twitching as they poked out of her green hair, while a massive cock thrust from her groin.

“Gewin’s mighty cock,” I growled.

My dick erupted into Serisia’s mouth. The phantom gasped in shock. I never exploded so easily. Her mouth sucked hard, drinking down all my cum while I shuddered in Faoril’s embrace. She hugged me, her lips nibbling on my neck while her soft hands rubbed at my scarred chest.

“Someone is excited,” Faoril purred as the last blast of my cum flooded Serisia’s sucking mouth.

“Yes,” I growled.

Serisia lifted up her mouth. She straddled my body, her hot pussy rubbing on my still hard shaft, and kissed Faoril over my shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I witnessed their pink tongues caressing, passing my salty cum back and forth between them.

It was another hot sight.

My dick throbbed beneath my wife’s grinding pussy as she moaned into Faoril’s mouth. My cock ached. Her flesh was so warm, and it was intoxicating watching their tongue pass my cum back and forth like a tasty treat.

My hands grabbed my wife’s waist. I lifted her cool body, my dick pointing straight up, then slammed the phantom down on my cock. My wife and I both moaned as her flesh engulfed my cock. She was tight, gripping my dick while my shaft’s piercing caressed her pussy walls, adding another tingle of pleasure racing up my cock.

“Slata’s cunt,” Serisia gasped after breaking the kiss with Faoril. “He is insatiable tonight.”

“Guys always enjoy watching girls snowball cum,” Faoril grinned. “It’s something female mages learn early on in their apprenticeships. Saoria and I used to do that and make them...” Faoril sighed. “Las-damn her. Will that never go away?”

“What?” I groaned as she shifted back, allowing me to lay my head on her lap.

“Saoria was my friend. Or so I thought. But when she passed the test and I had my ... misfortunate failure, she didn’t need me anymore.” Faoril scooted more, then straddled my face. “I am too horny to waste time thinking on her. Eat my pussy, Thrak. I love it when you do. You make me cum so hard.”

“Because you taste so delicious,” I growled as she shifted forward, straddling me. I pulled down on her thighs, her pussy brushing my lips.

“Oh, you’re husband is talented,” Faoril gasped as my tongue swirled through her folds while her curly pubic hair tickled my lips. Her spicy flavor filled my mouth. “Thank you for training him.”

“He was an eager student,” Serisia gasped, her pussy clenching and relaxing on my dick as she rode up and down. “He was eager to learn everything at the University.”

Faoril giggled and then gasped as I shoved my tongue deep into her hot depths. My hands clenched her slim ass as she ground on my face. I moaned and grunted into her pussy as Serisia slid faster and faster on my cock, working her dripping pussy up and down while rolling her hips and swirling my dick through her folds.

“Mmm, yes, I love riding him,” Serisia gasped. “It’s nice to be beneath him, but here, I get to control his cock.”

“I love the way your tits bounce,” groaned Faoril. “And these nipple piercings.”

“You have to pierce yours,” insisted Serisia.

Faoril gasped. I imagined my wife’s fingers tugging on her nipple. Then Serisia let out a squeak of delight, her pussy clenching on my cock as Faoril must be returning the favor. Both women moaned as the rode my face and cock.

“They are fun to play with,” Faoril admitted.

Faoril shifted, leaning forward as she smeared her hot pussy on my face. The wet, smacking sound of kissing reached my ears. My dick ached as I pictured Serisia sliding her pussy up and down my cock while Faoril had her arms wrapped around my wife, kissing her hard.

“I love that sound,” I moaned between licks of Faoril’s pussy. My hands squeezed harder on her ass, moving her pussy on my lips until I found her clit.

I licked the nub. She moaned into Serisia’s mouth. My tongue swirled around the nub before I sucked her sensitive clit into my mouth. I sucked and nibbled on it while she squirmed, her ass flexing beneath my groping hands.

Her muffled moans grew louder. Her juices poured into my mouth as I kept nibbling and sucking. A violent shudder ran through her body. She heaved atop me as her orgasm burst inside of her. My dick throbbed in my wife’s pussy as I made Faoril cum.

“Oh, yes,” Faoril gasped, breaking the kiss with my wife. “Slata’s hairy cunt, yes. Oh, wow. Keep sucking on my clit. Oh, yes. I cumming again. Thrak, you wonderful orc. Oh, yes. Oh, damn.” Faoril squealed. “Serisia. Oh, suck my nipples. Gods, yes, that’s wonderful.”

Serisia ground her pussy on my cock, only rising a few inches. She had leaned over to suckle on Faoril’s nipples while grinding her clit against my pubic bone. Her groin slid through my wiry pubic hair as her pussy clenched and relaxed on my cock.

I moved my hands from Faoril’s ass and grasped Serisia. I clenched hard and then slid her up and down my cock, working that hot, wet sheath on my dick. I ached inside of her. My balls boiled, eager to unload into her pussy.

“Too much,” gasped Faoril, sliding off my face and shuddering beside us on the blankets.

Serisia grinned as she leaned forward, draping her breasts on my chest. Her nipple piercings rubbed on my scarred skin as we kissed. She moaned, her pussy clenching on my dick as she savored Faoril’s spicy juices.

Her tongue thrust into my mouth as she came. Her pussy massaged my cock. The hot, spasming tunnel of flesh sent jolts of pleasure down my shaft to my balls. I groaned, my hands clenching on her ass, then erupted into her hot depths.

I growled into the kiss as my hips thrust up. My cum boiled into the phantom’s cunt. Serisia shuddered atop me. She fed off the cum. It was what let her stay corporeal and with me as long as possible.

It was also what would eventually drive her mad if she stayed too long. She straddled a fine line between love and madness. I did not know how long she could keep it up, but I would treasure every moment we had until she had to pass on to the next life.

Knight-Errant Angela

We split up to explore the ruins after breaking our fast the next morning. Our second full day of searching. I was still sore from yesterday. We left our horses to graze on our hilltop camp as we descended to the temple square.

The temples of Murathi were mammoth and the square they surrounded could fit most towns in the world. The orcs that had constructed Murathi out of the huge stones they quarried had been ambitious. And the temples were works of art.

They had stacked the stone high and formed large, vaulted rooms. After the first day we searched, only for a few hours since we arrived after midday, Faoril had gushed on the architecture and she, Thrak, and Serisia had spent the evening talking about the marvels of it.

The orc was an enigma. He was better educated than Sophia, and she was raised with the finest tutors and then further instructed by the priestess of Saphique.

Of course, Sophia hated learning, so maybe that was why she didn’t know as much.

“Be safe,” Xera said as she headed off to the next temple she planned on searching.

“You, too,” Sophia said. The acolyte and I would search another temple while Thrak and Faoril, assisted by Serisia, would take the third.

The day already grew hot. The myth of the orc lands as being always locked in winter were preposterous. Summer had come and it was just as warm as it was in Secare but with the bonus of having more flies.

Big flies.

I smacked one, a big, black thing larger than the tip of my thumb. How did they survive the frigid winters?

The square before the massive temples was covered in grass peeking out of the smaller paving stones. There were parts of the square where dirt had washed down from surrounding hills, forming small rises of pure grass that spread like tentacles of a massive kraken towards the center of the square.

It was impossible to say which temple was to Pater. None had any markings that indicated which god was worshiped where. We believed the piece of the High King’s sword would be in the Temple to Pater.

“You are descended from the god Pater,” Sophia suddenly blurted out as we passed into the entrance.

“What?” I asked as I looked around. “Of course I am. All humans are descended from Pater and Slata when she birthed the duel-sexed races during creation.”

I scanned the temple. It was dark, lit by shafts of brilliant sunlight streaming through small holes in the roof. Dust danced thick in the air, illuminated by those shafts. The ground was covered in dirt washed in through various gaps in the stone walls while the air smelled stale, musky.

Dead.

“No, I mean, you’re a descendant of the High King, and he was Pater’s bastard son.”

“Pater had a lot of those,” I shrugged. “I’m sure you have some of Pater’s blood in you. He is a randy deity.” I laughed. “The god of fatherhood has to produce many offspring. Most of the gods are his children, even his wife Slata and your goddess. And he fathered angels, demons, lightning born, the muses, and dozens of heroes.”

“I know, but you have more of his blood than an average human is all,” Sophia countered. Then she sneezed. “Ooh, I hate being in here. So much dust.” She sneezed again.

I laughed.

“What?” she demanded.

“You look so cute when you sneeze. Your nose twitches and your face scrunches up.”

“Well, I’m glad my—” her words cut off as she sneezed again. Her eyes watered as she sneezed two more times. She straightened, wiping at her reddening eyes. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”

“Come on, I think that’s the altar.”

Fireeyes

The army of undead orcs I had animated stumbled before us into the ruins. I stood on the hilltop where Angela and her band had made their camp. Their horses had bolted at the first scent of the undead. Their whinnies of terror almost sounded like children screaming.

It reminded me of some of my experiments. Children had a great deal of vitality and were fascinating to vivisect.

The simulacrum knelt nearby as I readied my spell. She watched as I drew a five-pointed magic circle in a flat spot, furrowing the hard ground. Then I scratched in the arcane markings, focusing on life, with air and earth for binding the spirit to my will.

My circle ready, I stepped into it and drank a vial of pussy juices. Magical energy boiled inside of me and unleashed my magic. It flowed out of me into the circle. Black light glowed around me. The circle would project my spell farther and enhance it.

The magic lashed out into the ruins to find the phantom, racing past the slow march of the undead orcs who only now had reached the large square before the ruined temples. My magic quested, searching for the ripple in reality the phantom left behind—a trail.

My magic found it and veered to a temple on the east side of the square. It penetrated the stone. The phantom ghosted alongside her husband and Faoril. The mage would have to be the first target of the phantom’s rampage. She was too dangerous.

My spell slammed into the spirit. She could not resist. Necromancy was my specialty. Her pure screams of fear and pain echoing through my spell were so satisfying as I stripped away her humanity and let out the true nature of a phantom—anger at those who still lived.

I smiled as I ended my spell. She would rampage now. The woman’s soul was a fool for ever becoming a phantom.

My cock was hard. I left the circle, eager to see the carnage I had unleashed.

Xerathalasia

I studied the temple, my eyes looking for anything that might lead to a concealed passage. I had worked carefully through the temple for the last hour, ignoring the dust filling the air and coating my naked body.

I bent down at the altar, a massive stone slab hewn from the same dark rock. My fingers caressed the tool marks hammered into the surface. The place was a mix of the crude and the remarkable. The stones were rough hewn and maneuvered in place by brute strength, but the construction was refined and advanced, forming a structure that seemed as well built as the cities I had witnessed in the Magery.

My finger ran along the bottom of the stone where it met the floor. I felt no gap or movement of air.

I sighed as I straightened up. My ears twitched. I froze. Had I heard a man speaking on the wind.

I slowed my heart and focused on my ears. The sound was faint, a murmur making unintelligent sound. Magic was on the air. A mage worked spells. I didn’t recognize the voice. It was not Faoril and it didn’t have the gravelly growl of an orc. The cadence of the speech reminded me of Fireeyes, but this voice was deeper than the dead warlock.

I glanced around. Light streamed through a hole in the wall over my head. I nimbly climbed up the stones, clutching my unstrung bow in one hand. My quiver of arrows clattered together as I worked my way up the wall, my fingers and toes digging into cracks and indentations in the stone.

I reached the top. The sunlight was bright to my eyes and I winced as they adjusted. A foul scent of death washed over me. I grimaced and breathed through my mouth as I climbed higher up the temple’s walls, my eyes scanning for the source of the reek and the magic.

Halfway up, the shambling corpse of an orc stumbled beneath me, followed by another. My stomach wanted to revolt. Necromancy danced in the air. No wonder the voice reminded me of Fireeyes. This was sort of thing that foul man would have done.

I was glad my arrow had killed him.

I quickly strung my bow as the corpses stumbled beneath me. The wood creaked as I bent it to attached the string. Then I drew an arrow and fired it at the first zombified orc. The arrow embedded in his shoulder.

The corpse didn’t even feel it as it stumbled forward.

My weapon would be useless against this. But I could raise an alarm and alert my companions. I drew in a breath and shouted.

Acolyte Sophia

“Did you hear that?” I asked Angela as she knelt before the altar.

“Hear what?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I thought I heard a yell.” I frowned, glancing at the entrance to the temple. “Should we check it out?”

“I think I found something,” Angela gasped. “There’s a tunnel beneath the altar. I just need to pry up this stone.”

I turned back from the entrance and peered at Angela as she grasped a large floor stone. It ground against its neighboring stones as she pried it up and heaved it to the side. A hole opened below. It was dark and an earthy musk rose from the depths.

“There’s a tunnel,” Angela grinned. “I think we’ve found it.”

“What about light?” I asked as Angela dropped into the tunnel.

“Can’t you make a light with your magic?” Angela asked as she stood in the tunnel. It was narrow and the roots of plants poked through the side.

“Umm... ?” I frowned. Could I make a light? Was there a spell that did that? I think there was. I slipped my hand in my robe and rubbed at my nipple. I could control my breast and make my milk flow at will. I shuddered as my finger grew sticky with my breast milk. I held my hand up. “Saphique, let my blessed milk shine the way.”

I gasped in delight as the beads of milk staining my fingers glowed with a soft, pink light. I dropped down into the tunnel, the light spilling around us. I held my finger up high as we pressed through the tunnel.

It was tight and narrow. Thrak would have had a hard time squeezing through here. Even Angela and I had to duck. I bet an orc would have to crawl to fit through here. The sides of the wall were earth with paving stones over our head.

“There’s something ahead,” Angela gasped in awe. “It’s reflective.”

I peered past her. There was a stone block at the end of the passage, an altar with something glinting atop it. I frowned, struggling to see. The piece wasn’t that large, forming a T. It was made of a silvery metal and set with a large ruby.

“Is that it?” I asked. “That doesn’t look like a sword.”

Angela picked it up and shuddered. It nestled in the palm of her hand. Awe filled her eyes and her red hair flashed with fire for a moment. The energy washed around me and mixed with my light. For a moment, the pink burned red before the energy passed us by.

“It’s a piece,” Angela whispered. “The handle and the hilt.” She touched the ruby then the branching arms of the crossguard. “The pommel is missing, and the blade, but we’ve found the first piece.”

“Only four more to go.” Excitement beat in my heart. If this small fragment held such power, what would the entire sword contain? “You can kill Dominari with this. You’re going to succeed, Angela.”

Angela hugged me.

Journeyman Mage Faoril

A shiver ran across my skin. I lifted my head and swept my gaze around. My hand shot for my robe pocket and seized a vial of cum. My senses came alive. I felt magic. Had an orc shaman found us? Was it a survivor of the Ghost Wolves seeking revenge?

Serisia screamed, “No!”

The phantom convulsed. Her flesh became translucent for a moment, then flicked back to solid as she screamed. She fell to her knees, her back arching. Thrak, on the other side of the ruined temple, whirled around, his hand going to his ax.

“Mine!” Serisia snarled, her voice twisted and gravely. “My husband. He’s mine.”

I downed my cum as the phantom swelled. Her face grew ugly, twisted, with only vestiges of Serisia buried in there. Her hair turned black and brittle. Her breasts sagged and grew wrinkly as her long limbs became as twisted as I spider.

“That is my husband you are stealing!” Serisia snarled as she swung a clawed hand at me.

I sent out my magic, swirling air to grip her and lifting paving stones to shield me. The magic rushed out of my body, commanding the elements as the crazed phantom shrieked her rage. Her hand went translucent and phased through the wind and rocks.

Then became solid and struck me.

Pain exploded across my side. I tumbled through the air screaming. The rock wall of the temple rushed at me and—

Thrak

Faoril slammed into the wall with a loud, meaty thump then fell limp to the ground. Blood matted her head and hair, pouring out to pool half-exposed stone floor. The twisted phantom of my wife turned on me, her eyes blazing red.

“Do you think I would let her usurp me!” she raged, her voice echoing through the temple as she stalked towards me. “You are my husband. She cannot have you. No one can.”

“Serisia,” I shouted, my heart screaming in my chest. “Please, what are you doing?”

Her hand swept out at me. I dived to the right, rolling across the paving stones and came up in a crouch. She swung again. I dashed to the right, ignoring the flare of pain as her sharp claws tore at my flesh.

She swelled, growing to easily twice my height. “No woman can have you. You’re mine! You belong with me! You do not deserve life without me.”

My heart sunk. She had succumbed to her madness. I never knew it would happen so swiftly. I thought there would be warning signs. Time for Serisia to realize her danger and move on before she became a monster bent on killing those she loved.

My heart broke as her swiping hands ripped at the ground behind me as I raced to Faoril. My wife was truly gone. She would never recover from this. All I could hope for was an exorcism, to drive her back to the Astral Plane where she might find peace. She stayed too long. I held onto to her too tightly. I brought this upon her. I destroyed my wife with my selfish grief. I kept her tied to this world, anchored here. The dead didn’t belong in the world of the living. I never should have let her become a phantom.

“I’m sorry, Serisia,” I yelled as I bent down and scooped up Faoril’s limp body. She still bled, so she was still alive.