Coven Master
Far Kings Harem: Book Four
Nick Storming
Fractured Press
Copyright © 2021 Fractured Press
All right reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher.
Any reference to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and locations are products of the author's imagination.
First printing edition 2021.
Fractured Press
www.nickstorming.org
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Authors Note
ALSO BY NICK STORMING
Chapter 1
“Fate is a cruel mistress, but have faith in her, and your Goddess, Sir Darioush.” Mordrek’s words had been oily smooth as he spoke in the throne room. “I’ve dreamt of terrible conflict. The golden towers burning, and your people homeless. At the center of it stands, Logan Pendrake.”
Commander of the White Knights, Darioush Helgarth III, strode through the training grounds, the words still echoing in his mind. His thoughts returning again to the words his Queen had spoken to him upon their ignoble return. None spoke of it where he or his brothers could hear, but he’d seen them whispering.
In the nine centuries Darioush held a blade, he’d never known the taste of defeat. Not in combat, duel, or even on the training grounds. To be defeated by Fate wasn’t a loss, per se, but what did it mean if the twins moved against you? Could he still claim to righteous purpose?
Troubled anew, Darioush paused his marching stride as a pair of squires faced off, their cohort in a loose circle about them. Motioning over the trainer, he nodded towards the lads.
“Is Galavant still the favorite in this class?”
“Aye, sir,” Captain Iyllia said with a nod of her golden-haired head, “the lad’s got the stuff, just needs to temper that enthusiasm a bit. A few others are coming around to the discipline, but it’s a sorry lot for the most part. Elbows in boys, show the Commander what you’ve learned!”
The young elves grew a touch nervous when they noticed Darioush watching, but the commander knew the stress of a superior could simulate the pressure of a duel, or even combat, so he remained where he was, even letting a frown work its way onto his lips when the squires hesitated.
The frown was enough and soon the staccato beat of wooden blades rose, and Darioush let himself relax as he sank into the beauty and simplicity of his first love, the blade.
“That Logan Pendrake… did he really make common cause with our cousins in the Darkened?” Captain Iyllia asked, unable to mask her curiosity, but blessedly whispering the question.
“So it would seem,” Darioush growled, but the excited Iyllia, watching the combatants before her, missed the dangerous edge to her Commanders tone.
“And doesn’t he wear the lost crown? And carry Excalibur?”
“Reports can be faulty,” Darioush ground out between clenched jaws.
“If he finds the grail, and gathers together the pieces of the Broken Throne… We could be made whole again.”
“Our Queen has spoken, Captain Iyllia,” Darioush said, a touch of asperity in the Commanders tone that he struggled to modulate, “This human has usurped his powers from better men. I’ve seen the man and his skills of manipulation and deceit are second to none. It was clear at our confrontation that he’s twisted the minds of lesser races into becoming thrall to his dark ends. Mordrek is certain of the man’s aims, and if not demon’s, then devils are in his heart.”
“Sir… do you trust the man? The stories I’ve heard from the servants… They’re only halflings… but still.”
Darioush was silent as one of the combatants struck the other. The Commander had heard a few rumors himself upon his return from being washed down a river. They couldn’t be true, of course, no man could act in such fashion and live with himself, but he couldn’t forget the fear in his tiny maidservants’ eyes as she told a girl she’d be turning down Mordrek’s sheets.
“The human will leave tomorrow evening,” Darioush said, “He and the squad are seeking some weapon.”
“Weapon?”
“The Shackles of something or other. An artifact that’s supposed to force two combatants into a duel to the death. The Sages have never heard of such a thing, but Mordrek swore to the Queen it would end the Black Dragon.”
“Maguffins are dangerous things to put your faith in,” Iyllia said.
“Hmm,” Darioush grunted in reply. “Perhaps you’ve given me a way to slip someone in close to Mordrek. After all, who better to duel the Black Dragon, than our best duelist?”
Iyllia blushed, but Darioush failed to notice the woman’s red cheeks. Nor would the elf who’d practiced celibacy for centuries have understood the females’ emotions if he’d been aware of them.
The Commander had been furious when the Queen agreed to the human’s proposal. Not only did it involve using magic to do what should be done with a blade, but the whole affair felt… wrong.
The Garboyles were a peaceful, if aloof race. They’d lived for centuries on the farthest fringes of Fae, turning their thoughts inwards. Little was known of the rock skinned, flying creatures, but if a traveler found themselves stranded in the mountains, a Garboyle would often come to their rescue, flying them down to safer climates.
The item Mordrek spoke of was the center of the Garboyles faith. It didn’t sit right with Darioush, stealing something of spiritual significance, even if it was the pagan faith of a lesser race. The whole affair felt tawdry, and he’d said as much to his Queen. His words had kept him from going on the quest, and he hadn’t even been able to slip one of his confidants in with Mordrek’s men.
The Commander’s mind returned to the scene that bright morning: Desert at his back, righteous anger filling his heart and across from him the tall human with those oddly mismatched eyes. The man had been surrounded by a motley crew himself, but those eyes had burned with conviction and their own righteous purpose.
The two combatants beat at one another, hands, arms and torso growing bruised and bloody, desperate for the approval of the greatest swordsman alive, but the frown only grew on Darioush’s face. It wasn’t the young squires the Commander saw before him, but a human man who didn’t fit into any box Darioush had ever known.
Logan’s sleep was plagued by vivid dreams, but whenever he woke from the restless sleep, they slipped away from his memory like sand pouring through fingers. Gritty eyed and grumbling, he slipped from his sheets and stepped over the dark elf sleeping at the foot of his bed. Shaking his head at the strangeness of his new life, he found the bathroom and relieved himself.
Pausing there to wash the sleep out of his eyes, Logan looked in the mirror and frowned at the new scars crossing his torso. The one across his face was completely healed, bu
t the silvery white flesh stood in stark contrast to the tanned skin around it.
Leaning close, he peered into the depths of the golden eye sitting where his own once had. Looking left, right, up and down, it responded just like his normal eye, but the gold of the iris seemed to extend into the eye forever and instead of being a black spot, the pupil looked like a bottomless void the more he stared into it.
Shivering, Logan hurried back to his room to try to find sleep once again and instead found Ly’Synthia sitting up on one hand, the other wiping the sleep from her eyes.
“You shouldn’t rise from bed without waking me, sire,” the woman said, her tones modulated but insistent.
“I don’t need a guard to go down the hall to the bathroom,” Logan said, with a snort of amusement, “You think I’m vulnerable inside a Witches den?”
“Perhaps not,” Ly’Synthia said with a frown, “but you might have required… other assistance. Are you having difficulty sleeping? Is it dreams?”
“Yes,” Logan said, “How did you know?”
“All powerful workers of Fae magic complain of vivid dreams, sire. I think it’s because the fabric of your minds is so thin.”
“Hmm,” Logan, slipping back beneath his comforter.
“Allow me to ease your passage into slumber, your majesty,” the dark elf purred as she slipped under the covers.
“No, Syn that’s ohhh… mmmm Jesus’ woman, you suck harder than anyone!”
“Mhmm, I pray my King approves of my service,” the dark elf purred, her voice muffled by the blanket covering her, as her lips played along the shaft of Logan’s manhood, “Lie back and relax sire… allow me to ease your burdens for a time.”
Logan lay back and felt like his soul was being sucked from the tip of his cock, all the while his muscles melted like butter into the mattress. The muffled sounds of Ly’Synthia’s sucking filled the room, and he felt her purring in contentment as she curled up atop and between his legs. The elf’s weight was shockingly light, especially when he reached down and caressed her strong shoulders and massive breasts.
Moaning softly, Logan’s eyes flashed open when the dark elf worked his cock into the back of her tight throat. As she swallowed gently, massaging and milking the tip of his cock as her tongue played along the underside, Logan thanked the god for the blessings of this new life and unloaded a massive blast of cum that Ly’Synthia struggled to swallow.
The dark elf’s moans of pleasure were joined by the sound of her long fingers working in and out of her sex and as she gripped Logan’s thighs, her body trembling in orgasm as she swallowed his magical seed, he drifted back into a fitful sleep, dreams once more plagued by vivid images he couldn’t quite make out or remember.
Chapter 2
When Logan woke next, he was greeted by the sounds of morning birds singing in the orchard outside his window. He found Syn standing at the window when he cracked his eyes open, the tall dark elf was nude, her eyes wide with wonder as she gazed out at the gardens lit in morning light.
“This world is a miracle,” Syn breathed, “so different from Fae and yet so alike at the same time.”
“It’s a world of fixed points,” Logan said, rising from bed and pulling on a pair of flannel pants over his nakedness. He found his eyes continuously straying back to the dark elf’s nudity, but she didn’t seem to notice his stares or care. “And only one sentient race.”
“Oh, there is more than one sentient race on your world,” Syn said, with a crooked smile, “You’ve all just forgotten them. Your witches are their own race, separate and apart from humans. You as well.”
Logan grimaced, not wanting to be reminded of the nature of his blood. There were too many questions swirling around about who and what he was. For a young man who’d spent the better part of his life trying not to think about the family he’d never had, the reminder was always painful.
“I’m going to grab breakfast and a shower,” Logan said, frowning at the naked elf. “If you’re planning on accompanying me to school, then we should try to find you some clothes.”
“Witch Gwen has graciously provided me with clothing,” Syn beamed, “and I think it’s a fitting uniform for the mission of learning.”
“Right,” Logan said, “well I leave in an hour. Just be ready by then.”
“As you command, my King,” The woman intoned, bowing formally, one leg sweeping back as she dipped over one arm, her massive breasts barely swaying in their firmness.
This is going to take some getting used to, Logan thought to himself as he headed towards the kitchen.
“Logan!” Eris called from the study, hopping up from her stool and waving him in, “Just the handsome young hero I wanted to see.”
“Morning,” Logan said, letting the rosy cheeked redhead steer him towards her lab table. As she pulled him along, her firm breasts pressed into his arm and she grinned up at him, her green eyes bright with excitement.
“So, I’ve been doing more experiments with your blood and it seems every time we learn something, a whole new world of possibilities opens up.”
“Possibilities?”
“For potions, fetishes, elixirs, you name it!” Releasing his arm, she stepped up to a bubbling cauldron with a swirling glass tube reaching down into it. Releasing a valve, the witch let a few drops of bubbling white liquid drop into a clean vial, then held it up for him with a triumphant look on her face.
Calling up his mage sight, Logan could see both Fae and the invisible strands of Earth magic swirling together in the liquid. He got a faint impression of golden armor as he reached out and held the vial, feeling the warmth of the magics within.
Taking the vial from him, Eris gave Logan a wink then downed the contents in a quick quaff. Logan jumped back in shock when his golden armor sprang out from the witch’s skin. The busty redhead looked like a golden god. Smooth plates of glowing armor were fitted around white and gold linked chain. He’d never seen himself in it in a mirror, so had never fully appreciated just how intimidating and commanding the armor was.
“It doesn’t last long yet,” the armor flickered weakly, “but the applications are incredible!”
“Anyone can drink this?” Logan asked, pointing to the cauldron and frowning.
“Not anyone,” Eris assured him as the armor faded into nonexistence with a last flicker, “Only those tied to you and your magic in some way. And I can’t seem to make it last for more than a few seconds. Not yet.”
“This is incredible, Eris, truly,” Logan said, thinking about Becca and Ly’Synthia, “is there anything else?”
“Oh yes, many” Eris said, turning to another experiment with a frown, “but I’ve run out of newt eye, bat wing, virgin’s tears... I’ve got a few things cooking but nothing solid yet. I’ll let you know when I find anything like the armor potion. The trick to that was using Fae Armor Beetles, perhaps there’s a clue there…” her eyes grew distant, and she tapped her chin with one long nail, “yes, even aspects of the demonic mixed in… But the calculations still don’t add up!”
Logan grew uncomfortable as the witch obviously forgot he was standing there, but when he turned to go, Eris spun and caught his shoulder.
“One more thing, and not good news I’m afraid,” the witch said, “we’ve isolated the three types in your blood but there is… another, or more. I think that’s what’s causing the issue with these other experiments.”
“Don’t look for one or two races,” Logan said, finding it harder to admit his suspicions than he’d assumed it would be, “Look for all of them.”
Evelyn was sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through a small book as a pot bubbled away on the stove. The raven-haired beauty glanced up when Logan entered and smiled, rising to fetch him a plate.
“Did you speak with Eris about her research?” Evelyn asked as he took a seat beside her spot at the table, “I know she’d love to have you for a couple hours, if you can find the spare time.”
“I’ll try to find some,”
Logan said, groaning internally at his rapidly filling schedule, “We’re still on with Jex’Amina tonight, right?’
“I hope so,” the witch said, placing a large platter of eggs and sausage in front of him, “I can’t tell you how excited I am to have a real dark elven sorceress teaching their secrets. I’ve been trying to get my hands on dark elf spell books for centuries.”
“Two hours with her and two hours with Meryl will be rough three nights a week,” Logan said, stabbing his fork into the eggs, “But I can’t wait for night to get here.”
“Don’t ignore your classes. I know there’s a lot going on, but you should try to maintain your grades as much as you can. There is more value in an education than just book work, and you never know what else you might want to study.”
“College has never really been about anything in particular. It was just the thing everyone did. I suppose though,” Logan said thoughtfully, “I could learn some of the things I really need to know.”
“Like what?”
“The Realm of Fae is fractured into isolated groups and with each passing year their fear and distrust of one another grows. I’d like to learn how to tear down those barriers, to bring the lost races together,” he shook his head, “I don’t even know where to begin.”
“History might be a good place,” Evelyn said, “and you were given a tome of incredible wisdom. You might want to start there.”
“I started on it, but it’s a puzzle. As soon as I think I have a concept or idea worked out it changes, deepens, and I find I have even more questions than when I began.”
Coven Master 4: (A Harem Fantasy) Page 1
