The Light-Maiden of Gorth: A Steamy Lesbian Fantasy Adventure by Maderson Nina

Author:Maderson, Nina
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-22T00:00:00+00:00

The sun was dipping low in the sky as Tarla finally approached Dunn Lorcha, her wyvern's mighty wings casting an imposing shadow over the landscape below. She couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sight of the castle looming before them, its ancient walls a testament to the strength and resilience of the Warsisters who called it home.

As she landed in the Dunn Lorcha courtyard, a group of armoured women emerged from the main entrance, their expressions a mix of curiosity and admiration. It must have been a century or more since a wyvern landed in these castle grounds. Tarla allowed herself a smile as she handed the reins to a wide-eyed stablehand before making her way into the ancient fortress, enjoying the admiring gazes of the younger warsisters-in-training.

As Tarla entered the great hall, the older battle-scarred warrior Vesira looked up from the maps and books spread before her and smiled warmly.

"Tarla! You've returned to us safely."

Tarla bowed her head respectfully. "Indeed, Warmother. Though the road was long and fraught with peril."

"Road?" Vesira asked with a single brow raised, "So that was not you descending into Dunn Lorcha on the back of a wyvern?"

Tarla couldn't suppress a grin. "It was," she acknowledged.

"Come, sit," Vesira beckoned, clearing space at the table. "Your new mount and this silver-scale armour suggest quite the adventure since last you departed. Pray tell, did you accomplish what you set out to?"

"Aye. Lyanna is now back with her Sisters' in the protection of the white spire."

"Excellent!" Vesira exclaimed. "And did you discover the reason for her disappearance?"

Tarla nodded solemnly. "Lord Drakkon had indeed captured his daughter. He intended to marry Lyanna off to the Warlord Krom as part of a secret alliance."

"Krom?" Vesira asked, her eyes wide. "Krom of Gorth? Is Drakkon mad? That is one of the very Warlords attacking the Tynnian pass—"

"More than mere Warlord," Tarla corrected carefully. "Krom had been gathering support to become High King."

Vesira gasped. "But there hasn't been a High King of Gorth in a thousand—" Vesira stopped, her mouth still open as she searched Tarla's face, her eyes seeming to take everything in, even that which remained as yet unsaid. "'Had been'?" she asked, "but Krom no longer pursues this goal?"

"He no longer pursues any goal," Tarla responded dryly. "Krom is dead."

Vesira took a deep breath and nodded slowly, never taking her eyes from Tarla's. "By your reticence, I assume his death was at your hand?"

Tarla's expression darkened. Should she conceal Lyanna's hand in Krom's fate? She did not wish to take undue credit, but a Sister of Light should not stain her hand with blood. "In pursuit of Lyanna Drakkon, I was forced to cross the border into the Gorthian plains—" Tarla sighed and looked down, shame surging in her gut. "In truth, I rescued Lyanna in the mountains, but I did not protect her well enough. Krom's men defeated me and captured us both. It was only by luck, not skill, that either of us survived.

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