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Three Kingdoms
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ISBN-10: 1-55404-728-5
ISBN-13: 
Genre: Romance/Medieval
eBook Length: 130 Pages
Published: March 2013



From inside the flap

In a distant medieval land, a lascivious, evil faerie Princess plots to gain the throne of the human kingdom. Fate decrees that two faerie soul mates must change the destiny of the three kingdoms. Obeying the decree, Ellewyn lies with a mortal king and becomes pregnant with his child. Tragically, Ellewyn dies in childbirth, although her spirit lives on. Her soul mate Merwyn raises her son Talaesyn as his own, and then assists the boy in his quest to unite all three kingdoms under his rule.

In a world where faerie powers are potent but remain disguised in human forms, sexual desires burn hotly. Talaesyn travels with Merwyn to the human kingdom of Aedalon, where they both gather information as invisible witnesses to the uninhibited sexual activities of three separate pivotal women in the court. In so doing, the two faeries learn the shocking truth regarding the nature of the Queen's evil reign.

Will Talaesyn succeed in uniting and then governing the three kingdoms?

Three Kingdoms (Excerpt)


Part One: Sacrifice

Chapter One: Garath

Garath was in hot pursuit. He urged his stallion onward by pressing the heels of both of his boots firmly into the horse's powerful flanks. Ferehar knew this command, and his sprint accelerated. The gap between horse and rider and the vigorous stag sprinting frantically one hundred yards ahead of them started to close rapidly. Garath leaned forward, to minimize the resistance of his muscular frame against the rush of wind caused by Ferehar's inspired chase. He stroked his horse's neck and whispered encouragement into his ear, as they moved as one entity, propelled like a missile by Ferehar's eager charge towards their escaping quarry.

The buck veered to the left, heading toward the safety of the dense forest. He leaped with surprising agility over the rocks and shallow gullies of the heath at the border of the woodlands, expertly maneuvering his massive antlers as counterbalance for his bulky hindquarters as he jumped. Garath gazed with admiration as the beast somehow managed to leave the obstacle course behind him and disappear into the dark embrace of the hardwood sanctuary.

The rugged terrain at the forest boundary slowed Ferehar's progress, but he would not be denied his prize. Although the horse slowed his gallop in order to navigate the uneven ground, he soon reached the forest edge with his rider still firmly in the saddle. He hesitated, waiting impatiently for his Master's signal: permission to proceed into the woods in order to continue their hunt.

Without a second thought, Garath pointed his horse towards the buck's entry point, answering his steed's request with the firm reply of both spurs. Ferehar eagerly bolted into the forest with renewed purpose. Garath laughed to himself. Although most would consider his bold penetration into the mysterious faerie domain to be a foolhardy act of youthful arrogance, others would undeniably consider his incursion to be a brave and daring undertaking, most befitting to his royal status as the kingdom's ruler.

The mystical territory of the dryads, he thought to himself. Tales about the forest inhabitants were plentiful and, in Garath's opinion, greatly exaggerated. Although he did not doubt the magical attributes of the dryads, he was skeptical about the specifics that were detailed in the various stories. Supposedly, there were first-hand reports of shape transfiguration, ethereal body concealment, thought transference, spell casting, levitation and flight, inordinate strength, and hypnotic entrancement. These wild stories of sightings and encounters, however, were all based on very brief interactions between mortal and faerie, and Garath suspected that much of the content was confabulated. Any fleeting exchange between mortal and dryad invariably engendered feelings of panic in the human eyewitness, which usually led to an adrenaline-fueled truncation of the impromptu conference. After a successful flight to safety, these cowards were miraculously transformed into heroes with more than ample opportunity to recount their embellished faerie tales, the validity of which were rarely if ever questioned, except of course by others who may have had similar experiences.

Gareth had ventured into the forest alone, on many previous occasions, and he had never encountered any dryads, enchanters, or mystical beings. He did not doubt their existence, despite the lack of personal confirmation, but he held a firm belief that the forest beings were not dangerous or malevolent. If given the opportunity, Garath resolved that he would stand his ground and face his unpredictable magical opponent, rather than flee. After all, no less would be expected of him as King of the human dominion of Aedalon, but beyond this expectation was the true reason for his brave determination. Garath held a secret hope that he might someday forge an alliance between his kingdom and theirs, and in so doing unite mortals and immortals in a single shared, peaceful domain.

He was unescorted, and this was his preference. Not only did he thoroughly enjoy the solitude of his frequent solo excursions, but it also pleased him to exert his kingly prerogative by ignoring the pleas of his counselors that he be attended by men at arms when he hunted or wandered. He would never agree to submit to these limitations on his freedom, and he forcefully resisted all well-intentioned efforts to shield him from the dangers that surrounded him as the ruler of a large kingdom. His advisors had long since learned to refrain from initiating futile efforts to protect him.

Naturally, they were concerned for his welfare, since Garath as yet had no successor. His mother had died while giving him life, and his father had been killed in battle when Garath was merely a boy. Their only child, Garath became the precocious Ruler of Aedalon at the tender age of fourteen. Now twenty-five, he had refused thus far to take a wife, which was yet another source of frustration and consternation for his advisors.

He had innumerable suitors, and had taken even more lovers. His tall and muscular build, dark brown hair, piercing hazel eyes, and bright flashing smile would have made him irresistible to women, even if he had been a lowly peasant rather than the King. One glance from him could bring on the moisture of female desire. With closer exposure to the promise of Garath's compelling masculinity, the pull was literally irresistible. Women from far and wide were drawn to him, somehow, the way iron is drawn to a magnetized pole. The eventual physical contact that invariably resulted was both inevitable and unavoidable, even for the most virtuous of maidens.

Unfailingly, he would slide his cock into the wet pussy of a panting beauty, in the privacy of his royal quarters. His power to charm with a look or a simple gesture seemed almost supernatural. Although he may have actually been in possession of some paranormal attributes in the romance arena, the true nature of his unearthly talent was the size of his royal endowment. After being fucked by his eleven-inch cock, all of his female conquests became desperate for a repeat performance. None could resist the advances of Garath the Enchanter, and the list of available damsels requesting his hand in marriage took up countless rolls of royal parchment.

He valued the freedom of his sexual encounters as much as he valued his time alone with his equine companion, Ferehar. He did not share the concern of his advisors, who thought that he should have a wife to bear him children in order to avoid the possibility of an illegitimate heir's resulting from his sexual escapades. If one of my female companions should bear me a son, so be it, he often thought to himself. He had little concern or respect for the ridiculous, arbitrary technicalities of royal lineage. His child would have royal blood coursing through his veins, regardless of whether the issue was from his wife, his lover, or a mistress. In fact, he planned on continuing his reign as bachelor King for as many additional years as possible.

His thoughts turned back to the matter at hand. He caught sight of a blurred flash of brown, as his eyes adjusted from bright sunlight in the field to dark shadows in the forest. The buck slowed his pace, and turned to face his pursuers, so as to assess the threat they posed. Ferehar snorted with defiance, and the buck had his answer. Alarmed, he turned and fled deeper into the wooded darkness. The horse and his royal passenger responded in kind, taking up the chase again with renewed energy.

Garath reached for his crossbow, which was strapped securely to the right side of his saddle. He trusted Ferehar with the details of navigating through the dense brush, low-hanging branches, and random maze of tree trunks, while he locked an arrow into the trigger slot of the bow. His weapon was now ready, but he was too far from the stag to attempt a shot. Also, the tree trunks prevented a clean sighting at the moment. He would simply have to wait until they reached a clearing before he released the sleek, sharp missile through the heavy forest air on its whistling journey towards its mark.

He would have his opportunity within moments, it seemed. The darkness owing to the dense canopy of leaves and branches was now broken with intermittent shafts of bright sunlight, as the ceiling of interlocking deciduous fingers lost some of its integrity. The trees were now spaced more widely apart, and Ferehar was able to pick up his pace and shorten the distance between stallion and tiring stag.

They followed the buck into an enormous open clearing, whose lateral boundaries consisted of a jagged semicircular border of trees. The half circle's edge was immediately in front of them, a mere 150 feet away. Garath realized with alarm that the clearing's fast-approaching border was a deep gorge, with a span of twenty or twenty-five feet from the near side of the forest meadow to the far side, and the buck was sprinting at full speed, heading directly for the chasm as if he harbored a death wish.

With disbelief, Garath saw the stag reach the edge of the cliff while dashing at breakneck speed. Leaving a cloud of dust behind him, he vaulted from the brink of the ravine, unhesitatingly hurtling his body over the sheer drop. Having been airborne for a few brief seconds, the stag landed on the far side of the chasm, within a mere inch of the edge. Amazingly, he kept running without losing his stride, and disappeared into the forest.

Momentarily distracted by the unbelievable escape of his noble quarry, Garath suddenly recognized that he and his steed would soon plummet to their death if he did not act immediately. They were fast approaching the perilous brink, and Ferehar would never be able to leap across it successfully. There was precious little time left in which to avert a life-ending disaster.

Garath had no choice. He pulled back sharply on the reins, and Ferehar responded appropriately by stopping short. The steed slid stiff-legged towards the margin of the ledge, with his rider clinging to his horse's headstall and halters. Ferehar pawed at the earth ineffectually, in an attempt to avoid an upturned tree root directly in their path. Unable to alter his course, the equine crashed into the natural obstruction, and Garath was thrown forward through the air towards the gaping chasm. The tree root acted as a speed bump of sorts, and due to this providential interruption in the horse's momentum, Ferehar slid safely to a stop only a few feet from the lip of the gorge. But Garath was not so lucky.

The King landed on the dusty ground, but his momentum carried him over the lip of the gorge. Fortunately, however, he started to slide feet first over the edge of the cliff, which meant that his hands were free to grab frantically at a partially exposed root from the upturned tree. His effort was successful, and his grip was firm, but the root started to rip from the ground as the force and weight of Garath's sliding frame was transmitted to the deciduous savior. Wriggling, the root emerged snake-like out of the ground, but its hissing threat of impending disaster was silenced by a large rock that fortuitously blocked any further progress towards the canyon ledge.

And so Garath hung feet first over the edge of the abyss, clinging for dear life to a root that was barely an inch in diameter. He heard the roar of a mighty river, which flowed far beneath him at the bottom of the forest canyon. If he fell, he knew that he would suffer instantaneous death.