Futanari Legends: The Frozen Queen (Book 2: Astrid) (6 page)

The Dwarves, long lost to this world, worked with the gods to put the lid on this coffin a long time ago, and put the memory of the Elemental Lords deep into the ground where it belonged. The elements serve mankind now, and they cannot take form and rise against us. This is the legacy of the Gods, and this is why we can cook with fire, sail upon the seas, and breathe the fresh air of spring.

There is only one way in, a gate made of Dwarven stone in a holy sanctuary to the North, the Black Gate. Even the Empire knows to leave this legacy alone, and the monastery around the gate is left to itself to follow the old ways, and to keep those who would pry into things they should not know far away from this place.

Yet there it is said there are other ways in. There have always been rumors of Dwarven cities built into long-lost valleys, caves which weave their way through mountains, and secret passages concealed in deep crevasses and trails on these peaks. Treasure hunting parties never return from expeditions here, and I wonder if this is because they die on the way here, or they die once inside.

No one has ever returned from this place, ever since mankind came to these lands.

This close, and because I’m a mage, I could probably sense paths through.

But should I?

Others do.

And in the mistakes of others our fates are sealed.

While I search for a way into this place, my companion, Frost Songweaver, follows the trail of others heading this way. Two souls flee from a group of bandits, one of which is a girl in a yellow dress. What we know about these two is scarce, almost nothing, only that they flee and the girl in the yellow dress is somehow important for Imperial Legionnaires from the hold of Garl Greyrock to wander the lands on a secret mission dressed as bandits. Why they do so when Imperial Legions can travel freely here is beyond me, these are conquered lands.

I suppose they wish for their actions not to be questioned, but by whom?

The closest garrison in is the city of Dragon’s Reach. The only reason for Greyrock’s involvement is Garl’s son Thane could have sent these men, and wished for other-

-for other
Imperials
not to question their mission. Infighting between earls, perhaps, or someone wishing to conceal something from the Empire?

Treachery.

Southern
treachery.

Leave your backstabbing ways at home, conquerors.

Sighing only lets the warmth escape from my lungs, yet I can’t resist, and I suck in a bitter chill breath full of air.

The conquerers you can live with, and the ones you can’t, I suppose.

When will this turn?

When have we had enough?

The North can little afford another war, as we lost the last one, and the blood and hatred has not yet died for the God-King and his men.

There are others, Daugr Stormpeak and his Iceblade rebels, who wander the land whipping up speak of freedom and revolt. Hundreds, if not thousands of Imperial lives have been lost to that man’s zealous preachings. The North lives on paying tacit approval to his actions, while ‘supporting’ the efforts by the Legionnaires to wipe him out. Blood does not change once spilled, and it stains a people red.

The wind whips colder around me as I feel out the barrier’s location somewhere along this ridge. I extend my hand as I feel for the presence of the magical barrier sealing this valley off from the rest of the world. It’s here, some forty paces down the far slope, and I feel its god-like magic pulse and warm my hand with the strange power of the wards contained within it. It is said this barrier is the same sort that seals off the world of the dead, the hells below, and other realms gods do not wish to ever rise again.

And why would those two be heading here? To flee, to find a place to hide, or are they coming this direction by design? Could the other leading the girl in the yellow dress be heading this way by purpose, with some sort of malicious intent? Perhaps the person leading the girl knows of a way in here, and perhaps she cannot be trusted.

And the bandits chase them?

Do I worry about my companion? Frost can hold her own, for she is a bard who knows magic just as well as I, though a different kind. She knows the magic of music, and her sweet, beautiful lips are the ones I wish to place mine upon someday and make her mine. I can’t help to be lost in her beauty, her charm, and her soft voice and beautiful grace. She is
not
a half-woman Sister of Gundir as I, but she is a normal woman cursed by magic.

I feel my cock stir just at the thought of her, and I curse myself. I can’t be walking out on a mountaintop sporting an erection. It’s cold up here! Still, the thought of her warms my heart as well as my loins, and I feel my lady-parts join in as well, the wetness seeping from inside me only to give my cunt a cold awakening as the liquid hits the whipping cold air under my robes. The slickness of lust makes me uncomfortable more, and I curse my cock as it slides past my panties and into the colder places between my legs.

I knew I should have worn pants up here. My legs are freezing, and now my cock will freeze. I pull my scarf around my face higher, shielding my eyes of blue, and I keep my hood tightly tied against my head, covering my hair of gold.

Just a few moments longer up here, let me feel out this barrier, sense its power, and figure out the paths which those trying to gain access to this place might slip through. Then, I shall travel to the place which we agreed to meet, and I shall apologize to my sweet musical friend. She will fill me in on what the bandits are up to and where those two are, and hopefully, with the Goddess’ blessing, we will make love.

Oh I pray we will make love.

I will watch her face turn from pain to lust as I take her. I will kiss every part of her sweet body, and cup her breasts to my hands. She will flick her soft tongue across my lady parts, my cock towering above her like a castle’s tower. She will learn to pleasure a woman, and then I will take her as a man.

I will take her wondrous ass in my hands and grasp it. I have always had a thing for a woman’s behind, ever since my days in college in the city of Magetower. I had a young teacher with silver-blond hair by the name of Lune Silvermoon who would wear the shortest skirts in class, and I would end the day fantasizing about her. She was the first fantasy I ever had about another woman, and she began my fascination with the backside of the female form, and all of the interesting sensations and intricacies of this part of the female anatomy.

To this day I never knew if she ever spied my raging erection during that class, how I waited for a while before got up, or how I carried my books a certain way after I left the classroom. I wonder if I somehow wished she would discover my secret.

How I imagined running my tongue up her ass. Kissing it. Sucking it. Probing her depths. How I imagined her wrapping her sweet teacher’s lips around my cock. And her ass. How I wanted to kiss it, to taste it, to probe my tongue into my sweet teacher’s perky ass.

Before I slid my cock deep inside.

I sigh, feeling myself stirring and my erection coming to life again. Curse my thoughts!

Yet, now, Frost is my secret crush, and Frost’s ass is remarkable indeed. I suppose part of my attraction to her is that she looks a lot like my teacher, Lune. Frost’s ass is curved, sweet, and with an incredible amount of see under. Every time she turns around I cannot resist looking under her and…imagining things.

I will do things to her I could only imagine I could do with my divination teacher. To slide inside her ass, to kiss it, to probe its depths with my fingers. And I shall go farther with her.

I will plant my spurting seed inside my sweet bard’s cunt so deeply I shall give her child.

And I will wed her, and make her my lady-wife.

Somewhere far away we shall go, and I shall hear her sweet musical voice each night rise as we make love, her sweet gasps of pleasure the only music to my ears I would ever wish to hear.

And child after child we will have.

I sense a weak presence off to the east where Frost said the bandits were headed, a deep cut between mountains only visible from up here and not outside this place. I sense a power’s presence to the north where the Black Gate stands, and nothing but shield to the west. If there were weak spots, they would be to the east, where the dragon’s claws scarred the lands the hardest. Perhaps there is land so broken the barrier cannot seal it?

I sense another weakness, this one closer, and beneath me to the west, along the switchback trail where I came up here. There had been a gorge not too far back with several caves, and I wonder if this isn’t also a way through.

A sudden shadow above grips me in fear. I must have been spotted by a predator on these peaks, for I stand out on this bank of rock and snow like a bright blue spot on a field of white.

A griffon, or a roc?

Worse.

In the spare moments I recognize the shape, and my mind makes out the terrible silhouette. The shadow hits me before my eyes make out the sudden shape sailing an arm’s length above my head.

A dragon.

The beast sails above me, I feel the heat from its body as the wind catches my robes, and the dark shape flies directly into the barrier in front of me. Like a god falling from Heaven, the explosion of blue light blinds me when it hits, and the thunder echoes above the mountains around. The impact, the shockwave, knocks me from my feet, and slams me deep into a pile of snow. I can see nothing and hear nothing and the barrier takes the full impact of the beast, and my cold body goes numb from shock.

Even my teeth hurt from the power of the blast, and my ears ring like the clang of swords.

I taste blood in my mouth, and I lie in the snow too sore to care about getting up. My world remains on fire as I vaguely sense the echoes and vibrations of the explosion coming back to haunt me.

I’m trying to blink the spots out of my eyes, but ice and snow fall into them, and I struggle and flail to avoid suffocating in the snowbank. A large rock hits my arm, and the snow around me fractures and breaks away. How could this be?

I feel like I am moving.

No, I am definitely moving.

Impossible, I am stuck deep in a snow bank.

Unless the entire snow bank is sliding down the mountain towards the cliff?

Avalanche.

The snow around me breaks, and I roll to my stomach. The snow strips my hood back, and the scraping sound of ice and snow filling my ears and a small river of snow and ice rushes by me. I hold onto the rock with fingers too numb to feel, my body pressing against the ice-covered stone as a mass of ice-cold snow slides across my body, breaks apart, and falls away from my legs. My boots hang over the edge of this cliff I almost fell off.

In moments, what remains of the heavy torrent of snow passes, and I push my knees under me to right myself. I’m too numb, too cold to care, but I must live. I must survive. I must stand up and not fall asleep to die.

I look behind me and see a thousand feet of dizzying nothingness.

That was close.

I crawl up the exposed ice and rock, patches of snow still sliding past me, and the air and breath of the ice giant as uncaring and bitter as ever. My ears feel frozen solid. My hands are sore and numb. I pull myself to the exposed jagged peak of rock on the top of this bastard mountain.

I see the barrier of blue hanging in the air, scarred by magic and the impact, and the dragon nowhere to be seen. The barrier itself is damaged, a crackling hole hanging in the air where nothing should be, and the loud pops and lightning arcs stirring up a storm of destruction around the hole. The magic from the power of the gods is vaporizing stone and ice alike as the power’s flow is interrupted at this point. The flashing and great arcs of blue magic bolts impress me with their raw and chaotic power.

Nothing near that hole could live.

No magic could protect against that.

And then my eyes focus to the valley beyond, in the air above the Valley of Lost Souls.

A dragon soars above this place in the sky as well as a dragon could be, wings arced out like a bird’s, its tail steadying itself, and its long graceful neck sweeping from one side to the next.

As if it were looking for something.

It lived.

It doesn’t surprise me, since dragons are as old as time, but in a way, it does surprise me.

Because I have never seen anything of the sort.

And then a shape of pure blackness stands, pushing herself away from the violent tear in the barrier. Rocks explode around her as lightning from the rip impacts to each side of this woman in black. I fear she will be vaporized, but she keeps struggling to stand and moving forward.

Towards me.

Where did she-?

She must have been riding the beast.

She’s cursing, shaking her fist, and looking back at the same dragon I’m staring at. My ears ring too loud for me to hear the words, but I can tell her anger is overcoming her senses. She is shielding herself with black magic fields, only to have those black shields destroyed by the bright bolts of lightning from the tear in the barrier.

She knows magic.

But it is nothing like mine.

Wisely, she scrambles away before she herself is destroyed. The ground behind her is pulverized, the black shadows she summoned to protect herself instantly vaporized by wild lightning from the rip.

And her eyes meet mine, and she stands. She climbs towards me, and I weakly push myself to my knees. My eyes aren’t as blurry now, and I can focus on this woman.

She is clad in black leather, with skin as white as bone. Her boots reach mid-thigh, and her dress is cut up each side, exposing her legs. Around her waist a corset of black leather cinches in, and her dress covers two large and very white breasts above that. Her lips and hair match the same shade of blood red, and her green eyes shine with unholy fire.

I know of these things.

She is a darklord, servant of the Lich Kings and death itself.

I would have been lucky to die from the fall.

She gains strength as she approaches me, her lips curling into a smile as she reaches down and pulls me up by my blond hair. The air behind her flashes with the lightning of blue magic.