The Vanishing Isle

He had come abruptly to the gorge, and the earth fell away just in front of his feet. A hundred feet below, white water rushed through a twisting riverbed clogged with fallen branches and boulders. Imre skidded to a halt next to him, and Pyet shot past him. With a panicked cry, Bromm reached out after his friend and snagged him by the coat. The weight in his outstretched hand bore him down, and Bromm feared they would both plummet to their deaths. Yet Imre grabbed on in time, and though they both fell to their stomachs on the rocky lip, Pyet remained in their grasp.

One man did not stop in time and plunged screaming into the gorge. He crashed against the far wall and bounced into the river, disappearing beneath the water with a splash. The water foamed white, then red, and the man was gone. Bromm groaned, as much from witnessing the man's fate as from his exacerbated bruises from the fall in the tower, and he and Imre hauled Pyet back to solid ground.

"Now what?" one of the sailors asked. They stood at the lip of the gorge, with the far side tantalizingly close, but too far for a comfortable jump to reach.

"Look for a bridge!" Imre cried, but there was no such escape. Bromm thought to fell a tree and use it to cross the gap, but he could hear the hunting cries of the minotaurs drawing ever nearer and they had no time.

"Run," he cried in panic, "I'll draw them off!" He did not know why he volunteered for such a task, but he felt that it was his duty as captain. Most of his sailors ran as ordered, but Imre and Pyet hesitated. "Go on," Bromm urged, casting a frightened eye toward the source of the minotaurs' cries, "I'll evade them more easily on my own and meet you on the beach."

"They'll kill you!" Imre protested, "They'll eat you alive!"

"Better me than all of us, now go!"

They turned and fled as the crashing of the minotaurs in the brush grew louder. Bromm watched from the lip of the gorge as they ran off down its windy course, quickly disappearing around a bend. No sooner had they gone than the minotaurs appeared, the white one supported on the shoulder of a companion, his left knee a bloody mess. Ten pairs of blood red eyes fixed themselves on him, ten bestial mouths seethed with voracious rage.

Bromm turned to face them, his back to the gorge and a saber in his hand. At least I got to fuck a dryad before I died, he told himself. How many other sailors can say that? He drew his empty pistol in his free hand and held it like a club. Bromm felt his knees go weak as the white-furred minotaur shoved off its supporting companions to stand on its own. It teetered a moment, then stood tall. Bile dripped from its growling maw. Bromm clutched his weapons tighter.

The other minotaurs looked up and down the gorge for his companions, snorting in annoyance. One bent to the ground and sniffed the dirt. With a terrible smile, he pointed in the direction they had fled. The others lumbered forward to join him.

Bromm spurred himself into action. Pistol raised high and saber couched low, he charged the white minotaur with a warcry that he hoped was frightening, even as it sounded pitiful to his own ears. The brute bellowed in answer, clashing its two axes together in anticipation. As Bromm had hoped, the other minotaurs turned back to watch the duel.

The twin axes flashed, and Bromm darted aside. He did not know where he found the speed to do so but thanked the gods for sparing him the grisly death that the axes promised. Bromm feinted with his club and stabbed at the minotaur's wounded knee with his saber. The beast hopped backwards to avoid the blow and teetered precariously. It snarled in fury, axes chopping at him again. Bromm scuttled away just in time for the heavy overhead blows to crash into the dirt. A shower of dirt and grass rained down on him, but Bromm was already moving to attack from another side.

The beast turned quickly to meet him, and Bromm's slash was batted aside by an axe. The other axe came rushing forward and Bromm scurried away. He was uncomfortably close to the lip of the gorge now and, despite its wounded leg, the minotaur held the initiative. It snarled with fury and hobbled forward, axes at the ready should Bromm dart to either side. The yellowed skulls around its waist stared at Bromm with empty eye sockets, pleading with him to join them.

Bromm lunged forward, saber outstretched, hoping against hope for a killing blow. The minotaur lurched to the side, but just too late, and caught the thrust in its shoulder. The blade sank in a hand's length and the monster bellowed with pain. Bromm felt his spirits soar, and threw his weight behind the blade, driving it deeper. The wounded arm fell limp by the minotaur's side, its axe dropping to the ground.

But the other axe came flashing across, and Bromm only barely managed to avoid losing his head to it. He tore his saber free and dived away, knocking loose a pebble that skittered away into the gorge. The minotaur dabbed two fingers into its fresh wound and looked to Bromm with hate. He stood up, sneaking a cautious glance toward the other minotaurs, who waited impatiently for the end of the duel.

Their leader closed with dreadful slowness, his lone axe remaining still promising a bloody end for Bromm. Bromm readied his saber to face the beast. It stood more than a head taller than him, staring down with desperate fury in its eyes. Bromm steeled himself for what he knew would be the final clash of blades. The minotaur stood panting, spittle dripping from its teeth. Above, the great birds circled and awaited the result.

The minotaur lunged forward with a roar, and Bromm darted aside. His saber slashed a red furrow across the beast's blood-soaked chest as rushed past. The minotaur roared in frustration as Bromm evaded him, then in terror as it stumbled and crashed to the rocky ground. It skidded forward toward the lip of the gorge and its companions cried out. Bromm turned on it, wasting no time. Its shoulders hung over the precipice, its axe plummeted into the gorge. Bromm raised his saber to his ear and plunged it down with all his might.

The blade pierced the minotaur's throat and buried itself up to the basket hilt. Blood spurted back onto Bromm's hand and forearm as well as into the gorge. The minotaur's dying roar turned into a strangled gurgle as its one good hand clasped itself around Bromm's arm. It stared up at him with bitter enmity, though the red was now fading fast from its eyes. Bromm allowed himself a thin smile of victory.

It would not last long. The other minotaurs surged forward in a vengeful fury, blades clashing, teeth gnashing, and throats bellowing with hatred. Bromm tore his blade from the dead beast's throat and looked upon his doom. Weapons or no weapons, the mob was fixing to tear him limb from life and devour him screaming. Without a moment of hesitation, he threw himself into the gorge.

He fell, the rocky walls rushing past him and offering a promise of the death that awaited at the bottom. Bromm closed his eyes, welcoming a quick death on the rocks. He hoped he had won enough time for his crew to escape.

But something halted his fall. Clawed hands tightened around him and his downward motion reversed. He was being pulled upward. The minotaurs had caught him

His eyes snapped open, flailing about with his saber to hack his way free and die the death he had chosen. But it was not minotaurs who held him, but women. Two women grasped him by the arms, held aloft by great black-feathered wings that beat from their backs. They were naked, tanned, and taut, with sharp features and clawed hands and feet. Harpies, Bromm thought with dread. I have escaped being eaten by minotaurs to be eaten by harpies instead. He slashed at one captor with his saber, but the attack was stifled by their control of his limbs.

"Stay your hand!" called the one holding his sword arm. "We mean you no harm, mortal." She looked down at him with a predator's eyes, but Bromm sensed no malice in them and let his sword arm fall. Behind them, more harpies circled, calling out to the minotaurs in a harsh, screeching tongue. The landbound brutes roared back, beating their chests and gnashing their teeth, but it was no use. The harpies carried Bromm higher and higher, leaving the minotaurs to vanish into the green expanse of the forest below.

High above, he had a bird's view of the island. He spied another ruin on the far beach and a jetty of tumbled stones that projected out into the sea's open blue. Looking back the way he had come, he saw the White Shepherd still sitting at anchor and the dryad's valley hidden among the crags.

It was to the crags that the harpies carried him. Instead of descending into the valley, they alit on the tallest of the buttes and set Bromm down on his own two feet. Freed of their burden, they dispersed to tall aeries made of brush and feathers. Only the harpy who had spoken to him remained. She set herself down before him, her wings folded behind her.

"Greetings, mortal. I am Rayada, queen of the aerie." Bromm considered a moment. The harpy who stood before him was at once both womanly and monstrous, with thick fingers that ended in sharp claws and feet to match. Yet at the same time, she was comely, with small breasts and long black hair that fell to her waist. She and her sisters were tanned from the sun and toned from the rigors of a hard life on the island. Far from the soft, pale women of the ports, the harpies still inspired a lust in Bromm that made his cock hard.

"Greetings. I am Bromm, captain of the White Shepherd," he replied cautiously. The other harpies watched aloofly from their aeries and Bromm began to think they might not devour him after all. He sheathed his saber and stowed the pistol in his belt. "While I thank you for your aid, why did you help me?"

Rayada smiled slightly. "We are ever at war with our brothers the Brolkarai. They set traps for us in the forest and sometimes try to climb our aeries. They hunger for flesh and blood, and lurk always under the boughs. If they catch one of us, they ravish and devour her, so we must always be on our guard. You are our ally in that, though you may not be of much use."

Bromm bristled. "We were ambushed," he retorted. "In a fair fight, we'd slaughter them with gunfire and kill the rest with sword and pike!"

"The Brolkarai will never fight fair. This forest is their home, they know it better than you could ever hope to, even if you could spend all your life here. But that is no matter. You have slain some of them already, and for that we are grateful."

"We have paid a cost in blood. And I fear I do not yet know how high the cost will be. Many of my men are dead or lost in the forest."

"My sisters have watched over you, but we dared not venture into the forest for the Brolkarai were always near. The minotaurs chased your companions far, but many of them have escaped, though they are scattered."

"Then take me to them, I must rally them and reach the ship before the minotaurs hunt them down!"

"We do not know where they are," Rayada replied with a shake of her head. "They will be scattered all over the forest and hidden from our eyes."

"Then we must find some high point where they can see us, see me," Bromm replied.

"The Brolkarai will be able to see us as well," the harpy pointed out. "And they will come in great numbers."

"Damn it all!" Bromm kicked the covering of branches and leaves that lay over the crag's rocky face. He sighed. "What would you have us do instead?"

"Wait," the harpy replied, "though you cannot wait too long. The minotaurs will sate their hunger tonight on the bodies that have already fallen. In the meantime, bring us to your ship and arm us with the firelocks you carry. In the morning, the Brolkarai will return to the hunt. We will follow them through the woods until they find your companions for us, for no doubt they will have rallied together by then. Then, with my sisters in the air and your brothers on the ground, we will lead you to your ship before the island fades."

"Fades?" Bromm demanded, "what do you mean?"

"The dryad did not tell you?" Rayada asked curiously. "This island sits upon the face of the world only for a moon's turn, after which it fades away and will leave you adrift in the open sea."

"Where does it go?"

"To a place where no mortal can follow. You must be back aboard your ship before it fades, else you will surely drown alone out here."

Bromm frowned. The moon's phase ended on the morrow. His time was running short. "Very well, it seems we must go, though I hate to leave those ruins untouched."

"Mortals and their treasure," Rayada laughed, some of her sisters tittered from their aeries. "You would die in a minotaur's maw for a chance at a few golden coins!"

"My men rely on me to bring them fortune. Without it, they will turn on me."

"I understand as much. It merely means that they are the mortals I speak of."

"I can't leave them to drown when the island fades. If I had known that, I never would have set out again today," Bromm said, though as he spoke the words he could not convince himself of their truth.

"I am still surprised that the dryad did not tell you as much," remarked Rayada.

"No doubt she forgot to mention that while we were distracted," Bromm remarked sourly. "Once again, my cock has gotten me in trouble."

Rayada stifled a smile. Bromm looked to her in annoyance. "What is it?"

"I am just amused, that is all. When there were many of us, there was but one woman. Now that there are many women, there is only you. My sisters and I have long awaited the coming of men, but now you must leave."

"The coming of men?" Bromm asked with rising interest. "I assure you, the coming of men is never far away. What is it that you desire?"

Rayada stepped closer and her sisters sat straighter in their aeries. "We are alone here, with only ourselves and the Brolkarai's cocks for company. I would have your cock inside me, if you would spare but a moment from your quest."

Bromm considered. He had never bedded a harpy before, but then he had never bedded a dryad before landing on this strange isle. What's the harm in a short delay? he wondered. Before he knew it, he was stripping out of his clothes.

From their aeries, the other harpies crowed with delight, some hopping down to get a closer look. Rayada watched with interest as Bromm's stiffening cock spilled forth from his breeches. Her clawed hand drifted to the mass of coarse black hair between her legs and her fingers seemed to soften. Her fingers now looked like those of any other woman, sliding sensually into her wet sex as she cupped one small breast with her other hand, biting her lip.

Bromm threw aside his shirt and kicked away his boots to stand naked before her. From their tall roosts, a half dozen sharp faces peered down at him with great interest. Bromm took his cock in his hands and stroked it slowly as he watched Rayada pleasure herself.

The harpy queen did not wait long. Her wings unfurled and she lifted herself off the ground, fluttering forward toward Bromm, who caught her in his arms. She threw her arms around his shoulders and positioned her sex above his hard cock.

"What are you waiting for?" she demanded. Bromm did not hesitate. Steadying her with a hand on her taut buttocks, he seized his cock and thrust it inside her. Rayada's mouth dropped open as he penetrated her, revealing a mouth of razor-sharp teeth. Suddenly concerned, he managed a weak smile. The harpy paid him little mind, giddily sliding down his cock.

On their aeries, her harpy sisters leaned forward with hungry smiles on their sharp-featured faces. Bromm swallowed. He was not unaccustomed to audiences, but all the previous audiences had been mortals, not flesh-eating monsters. He did his best to banish the thought from his mind and focused his attention on his cock and the woman he was inside.

Rayada's wings flapped, lifting her up on his cock before she let herself slide back down. Her wings pumped again, and Bromm felt himself losing sight of anything but her. Rayada's fingers dug into his back, leaving him grateful that they were no longer the ferocious talons they once were. An unbidden image of her sucking his cock leapt into his mind, leading him to fear losing his cock.

But the harpy queen would not allow it. Her legs wrapped around him tighter, her arms coiled about his neck, and her fingers dug deeper into his back. Bromm fucked harder, fears of a messy end disappearing in the throes of lust. His hips slapped against hers, the claps echoing off the stony ground beneath them. The other harpies were enraptured, hungrily eyeing their queen and her lover.

Bromm could contain himself no longer. His toes curled and he spasmed, spurting a load of cum into her nethers. He groaned and she crowed in delight, slowing her wingbeats until she hung off him, motionless.

"Well done, though I've had longer," she teased. "But you will have to do."

"My apologies, queen," Bromm managed through heavy breaths. "I could only contain myself so long."

"Perhaps there will be time later," she replied before her wings flapped again and she lifted herself off his cock. A line of cum trailed her as she rose into the air and the queen laughed with delight. She brought herself down to the stony ground and touched the wetness between her legs with two fingers. Bringing it to her lips, she tasted it and smiled. Bromm managed a bashful smile in return.

"Find yourself a place to rest," she commanded, "my sisters will go in search of your companions. But the island is large and darkly forested, so this man take some time.

Nodding, he seated himself at the edge of the crags, legs dangling over the edge, and settled in for the wait. Rayada's harpies went out to circle over one place, then another. After several hours, they came back, rested and went out again. All the while, Bromm waited impatiently for word of his friends. Far away, he could make out his ship waiting unawares at anchor.

The day was dying when Rayada approached him again.

"Have they found them yet?" Bromm asked as the last rays of the sun retreated over the horizon."

"They will," Rayada replied with determination. "Get some rest, sailor. Tomorrow will be a long day."

Bromm was awoken shortly after dawn by the prodding of Rayada's foot.

"Wake up. My sisters have spotted a Brolkarai war party leaving their camp. We must get moving."

Bromm rose from the ground and dressed himself, then reloaded his pistol. The other harpies readied themselves, collecting javelins and bows from compartments hidden within their aeries.

"Time to go to war," Rayada said, and Bromm could only nod.

Rayada and another of her sisters unfurled their wings and lifted themselves into the air. Their hands closed about Bromm's shoulders and they pulled him from the ground. Looking down, he watched the crag-top aerie shrink below him as the harpies carried him out to sea. All around the base of the crags, the island was a rich carpet of green. Looking to the dryad's valley, he imagined for a moment that he saw Oromeia one last time, floating naked in the tarn as he passed overhead.

He looked for his crewmates as well, but the thick forest canopy obscured whatever roamed below. With a squawk and a pointed finger, Rayada ordered two of her sisters to head off in search of survivors. They took wing toward the gorge where he had last seen them, rapidly diminishing to tiny dots in the wide blue sky.

Looking in the other direction, Bromm spotted another set of dots approaching. They grew in size quickly until he saw that they were more harpies, approaching from another aerie on the far side of the island.

"I have called out all my sisters for this battle," Rayada called over the whipping winds, "We stand poised to win a great victory over our enemies today."