Korzan and the Sea Nymph - Nixie Fairfax - ebook

During a visit to the coast, Korzan rescues a beautiful aqua-skinned sea nymph from the clutches of a hulking slime-monster, which she claims was sent by an evil tyrant who desires to enslave her. Warrior and nymph share a passionate and very wet interlude before the monster’s master appears…and Korzan learns the situation is not quite what he had been led to believe. Adults only.

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Korzan and the Sea Nymph

by Nixie Fairfax

Copyright 2017 by Nixie Fairfax

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This work contains explicit sexual content and is intended for adults only. All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

Korzan stood on the beach and looked out at the sunlit expanse of the Western Ocean. A yard from his sandaled feet the waves rhythmically lapped at the shore. Above him seagulls wheeled and cried, looking like crooked white crosses against the empty blue sky. The line where that pale-blue sky met the deeper, richer blue of the ocean was crisp and straight, the elements at peace.

He hadn't seen the ocean in nearly twenty moons, and it was good to stand upon its shore again, to smell the briny air and feel the shell-littered sand shifting and sliding under his feet. It was a pleasant respite from his recent battles: first Igwindish the ogre, who had been terrorizing the village of Gowama, and then—and more worryingly—another incursion by those vile Tretchers farther south. Those pink-skinned villains were becoming a problem too great for Korzan and his fellow Guardians to cope with. The Great Council needed to urge the king to take action.

But that was a matter for another day. For now, those who dared to prey upon the Uzundi had been repulsed or killed. The Tretchers had slunk away like beaten hyenas, sailing off over the horizon in one of their big wooden ships. And Igwindish’s head now graced the village square whose encircling huts he had so recently razed, while his uneaten captives had been returned safely home. For now, Korzan could rest and enjoy this blessed and beautiful day.


The scream was a woman's, her voice high and lilting even in its terror. It was distant, and the sound of it echoed strangely, making it difficult to tell where it had come from.

Muscles braced and ready for action, Korzan turned, his gaze sweeping the terrain around him—the beach, the rugged cliff that stood a few dozen yards from the shore, the high grass and scattered acacia trees at the cliff's top.

At first he saw nothing and no one. But then far down the beach to the north, amid the jumbled boulders and rocky outcroppings at the foot of the cliff, he spied quick movement. Something small and bluish-green was racing along the beach toward him. And behind it came something much larger, a massive dark shape that glistened wetly in the sunshine.

Korzan reached over his shoulder and drew his sword from the leather sheath strapped to his back. Gripping the sword's dragon-horn hilt tight in one beefy fist, its steel blade glinting almost blindingly white in the high, bright sun, he peered into the distance at the fast-approaching figures. It soon became clear that the smaller, lighter figure was a young woman of remarkable appearance, her lissome aqua-colored body stark naked, her green tresses streaming out behind her as she strove to outrun her pursuer, whose form was even more shocking than the girl’s.

It was a grotesquerie the like of which Korzan had never seen: a hulking, ten-foot-tall humanoid composed of some thick, slimy substance so dark green it was almost black, its almost featureless form reminding him of the crude figures children mold from mud or clay. Its head was a neckless hump atop its broad shoulders and was devoid of hair, nose, ears, mouth, and everything else save a pair of blank blood-red eyes. Its torso and limbs were as stocky as an elephant's, and the four blunt digits on each of its huge hands and feet were the girth of Korzan's forearm.

“Help!” the girl repeated, the sound of her voice once again echoing strangely in his mind. It sounded far too crisp and clear given the distance. Korzan thought he heard a faint chirp or trill accompanying each word. “Please!”