The Dragon's Lover Page 10

  “I suggest that you two burn all that remains to eliminate any potential necromancy. It was bad enough fighting 'flaming' hell hounds,” she said wryly, “I don't want to fight them as the undead.”

  Idonea reddened slightly. The wall of flame had seemed like a good idea at the time.

  Raine jogged across the open expanse, weaving in and out of the blood hound corpses. She slowed as she approached Fenrir. Elyara watched curiously as Raine went to one knee before the wolf king, then was astonished to see the king return the bow. She had never heard of deities bowing to anyone. And it was clear there was great affection between the two as the woman took the beast’s great head in her hands. There seemed to be some communication passing between the two, but Elyara was too far away to hear anything. She was greatly disappointed; she would have loved to hear the forest god speak.

  “Thank you, my friend,” Raine said.

  “It was my pleasure,” Fenrir replied in his deep rumble. He glanced disdainfully at the dead abominations strewn on the field. “I despise the hell hounds more than any other type of Shard.” He turned his wise gaze back to her. “But that which was most powerful on the field today did not attack.”

  “I know,” Raine said. “I smelled it. It was very near.”

  “First a Marrow Shard, and now…” The great wolf's words drifted off. “Your journey will only get more difficult.”

  “Yes. Which only convinces me of its importance.”

  The wolf bowed his great head. “I am at your service if you need me.”

  “And I am at yours,” Raine replied, “as always.”

  The wolf bounded off, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared. The smoke was getting thick in the cave and they were not quite through the pass. The others joined her, Elyara coughing slightly from the smoke.

  “We should get going,” Raine said.

  They settled just outside the mountain pass on a small plateau. It was still early but they were tired after the fierce battle. Raine's ever-present wolf pack had scouted the immediate area and determined that the Hyr'rok'kin had fully retreated. So they decided to tend their minor wounds and rest for the remainder of the day.

  The camp was nearly set up and Lorifal had already sprawled in front of the fire when an enormous shadow passed over the group, blocking out the entire sun. It startled them all, causing Elyara to stumble over her pack. All looked upward, but whatever had created the shadow was already gone, having veered around the mountain.

  Actually, all had looked upward except Raine, who merely smiled to herself as she went through her simple belongings. Idonea looked over at her suspiciously. They were close to the meridians.

  “Was that a bird?” Bristol asked.

  Gunnar examined the now empty sky. “That was far too large for a bird.” He looked over at Raine, having learned to trust her instincts. She appeared completely unconcerned, which reassured him.

  “Perhaps it was a harpy,” Dagna suggested. “They are supposed to inhabit this part of the land.”

  Elyara did not think it was a harpy. But she, too, trusted Raine's instincts.

  Idonea thought to make some additional comment regarding the appropriateness of the “harpy hypothesis,” but held her tongue.

  Raine stood up. “I think we are safe here for the moment. I am going to go find some water to cleanse myself.”

  Lorifal watched the lithe figure leave. “She sure bathes a lot,” he commented, taking some mead from his pack. She didn't seem that dirty to him.

  “You should try it sometime,” Feyden said drily. When Raine returned, he would ask her where she had found water.

  Idonea watched the woman's exit with narrowed eyes. She sifted through her things with a degree of agitation. Finally, she stood upright and left the camp in Raine's direction.

  “Hmph,” Dagna said, watching the dark-haired beauty leave. And Idonea had taunted her for her interest in Raine. Obviously the mage had sought to discourage her for personal reasons. Feyden watched Idonea's departure as well, taking a long draw on his pipe. It wouldn't matter. Although several in their band were intrigued by the temptress, Raine was not one of them.

  Raine picked her way through the sparse forest. The side of the mountain was rocky and only the hardiest vegetation could root deep enough to survive. She could hear a waterfall nearby and the vegetation grew lusher the closer she got to the water. The waterfall had worn a deep groove into the side of the mountain, creating a beautiful circular pool at its base. The sun was at an angle to light the surface of the pond, which was otherwise surrounded on all sides. It was a beautiful, secluded spot and it reminded Raine of the mountain keep where she had met Weynild. She removed her clothing and moved waist deep into the water, dipping beneath the surface to wet her hair. The water was icy cold and a marvelous contrast to the sunbeam filtering down into the cove.

  A slight wind accompanied the beating of leathery wings as an immense red dragon glided into the cove from above, hovering for a moment before Raine, then disappearing into a flash of golden light. And then Weynild was there, standing in front of her, holding her, bending slightly to kiss her deeply. One hand was about her waist, one hand cradling the back of her head, and Raine, who fainted at nothing, felt she might swoon.

  Weynild pulled back so that she could look at her lover. As she did, the red scaled armor retracted so that she could feel that strong, supple body against her own. The sensation of those perfect breasts pressing against her caused Raine’s control to slip further.

  “We are not alone,” Weynild whispered to her.

  “I know,” Raine said simply. “Do you wish me to stop?”

  Weynild smiled and her white teeth gleamed. “No,” she said, “I don't care. But you must keep your Scinterian markings hidden. That is a secret that must remain so.”

  Raine caressed the face that she loved. “Must I keep my eyes hidden?”

  The response was adamant. “No, I will never ask you to hide your eyes.”

  “Good,” Raine said, her eyes transitioning to a deep purple, “I'm not sure that I could.”

  Idonea nearly fell out of the tree she was hiding in. Out of all the secrets she thought this woman might possess, this was the most extraordinary and least expected. She had never seen the eyes of an Arlanian as the people were thought to no longer exist, but the description was so unmistakable from legend she knew instantly how this creature had captivated her mother. And leave it to Weynild to find what was probably the only remaining Arlanian in existence.

  Weynild's golden eyes softened to a deeper shade. She led Raine to the shallows and then was on top of her. Her lips were everywhere, her hands tracing the mouth's fiery path. Raine cupped a breast and took it fully in her mouth, torturing the sensitive flesh with her tongue. She turned her attention to the other and Weynild shifted to assist her pursuit, sighing with pleasure. But she was not content to let her lover take control and pinned Raine's hands above her head. Raine watched the look of fleeting concentration pass over Weynild's face, then groaned as she thrust deep inside of her with the appendage she had just created.

  “One of these times you're going to have to make me one of those,” Raine said, her hips rising in response as if they had a mind of their own. “So I can return the favor.”

  Weynild thrust deeply once more, enjoying the control she was exerting over her indestructible little companion. “I think I might like that,” Weynild said, driving into her, “but not today.”

  Weynild's insistent rhythm drove Raine to the brink. Her body moved in perfect union with the powerful strokes of the dragon on top of her. Weynild held her tightly, the restriction to her movement merely increasing both their levels of excitement. The girl writhed beneath her, completely out-of-control, and Weynild had the passing thought she was glad Raine was on her back because it was possible she could not keep her markings hidden.

  Idonea watched in horrified fascination. She knew her mother was a lusty creature, as were all dragons. Over the years s
he had caught sight of Weynild in various trysts, shocked and impressed at the woman's stamina and imagination. Nothing was beyond her, especially with the gift of her shape-shifting and an even more profound gift of utter insouciance. Weynild did exactly as she pleased without regret or shame.

  Idonea could not look away. Yes, it was her mother and that fact filled her with a combination of unease and disgust, most directed at herself. But the raw sexuality of the scene was impossible to escape, impossible to turn away from. There were kings who would sacrifice their kingdoms to experience such ecstasy even once.

  And then, with a very slow and deliberate movement, without changing her rhythm in the slightest, Weynild raised her head and looked directly into Idonea's eyes.

  The look was knowing, malevolent, amused. It communicated things far beyond voyeurism or exhibitionism and this time Idonea did fall from the tree. She fled from the scene. Weynild did not pause but rather thrust deeper into her companion, this thrust finally driving Raine over the edge into climax. Weynild held her tight, allowing only Raine's hips to move which they did with utter abandon. She kissed her, her tongue probing as deeply as the penetration of her lower body. Every ounce of energy was wrung from Raine's body and with one last shudder, she collapsed. She clutched her lover close to her and Weynild buried her face in Raine's hair, all thought of Idonea gone.

  The two lie there for a while without moving and at last Weynild shifted her weight and pulled Raine to her side. She did not speak but rather silently enjoyed the slowing of Raine's breath and heartbeat as she recovered. Raine took a deep, satisfied breath, then propped herself up on her elbow.

  “Well that was interesting.”

  Weynild smiled and traced her cheekbone. “You continue to amaze me.”

  Raine began to trace the outline of Weynild's ribs, coming playfully close to her breasts as she did so. She then traced the lean muscles of her abdomen, also coming tortuously close to the softness between her legs. Weynild watched her insatiable lover with amusement, but then sobered for a moment.

  “Before we continue,” she said, grasping Raine's exploring fingers in her own, “I wish to speak of your last battle.”

  Raine obediently paused her exploration. “You mean the Reaper Shard.”

  Weynild nodded. It did not surprise her that Raine had sensed the creature's presence.

  “It was strange it did not attack,” Raine said, musing on the sudden end to the battle.

  “Not to me,” Weynild said. “I believe it was there to scout your party, or more specifically, to scout you. And whoever summoned the creature has now seen you through its eyes.”

  Raine thought back to the one time she had seen a Reaper Shard up close. They were hideous creatures, living half in this world and half in the underworld, smelling of death and corrupted flesh. It took an immensely powerful being to summon them and it led credence to Weynild's belief that someone or something was holding open the gate to the underworld.

  Raine's hand gently disentangled itself from Weynild's and she returned to her exploring. “It may have seen me,” she said, “but it has no idea who or what I am.”

  This time Weynild did not stop the hand and it fluttered downward to settle between her legs, causing a sharp intake of breath. She would not delay Raine's gently insistent probing any further; frankly, it just felt too marvelous. But she would say one last thing.

  “It may not know you now, but you will see the creature again, and possibly worse as the enemy seeks to learn who you are.”

  “Well then,” Raine said, her mouth moving to follow her hand, “I guess I will just have to deal with that when it comes.” Dark eyelashes covered deep violet eyes as she went lower. “That's a good approach in all things.”

  Idonea tried to appear composed as she entered the campsite, but it was difficult. The vivid, sexual scene was branded on her mind, but even more so was the look in Weynild's eyes as she revealed she knew full well that Idonea was there. Her mother was a monster, an unfairly beautiful, seductive monster who had found a priceless treasure. Idonea had to admit that, out of the chaotic flux of her emotions, jealousy was preeminent.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Dagna said, mockingly repeating Idonea's previous taunt directed at her.

  “That and so much more,” Idonea said, her own tone slightly mocking with a tinge of bitterness. She nearly tripped over Lorifal, who was sprawled sleeping. She sat down heavily in front of the fire, haunted by a pair of violet eyes that saw only her mother. Her expression grew distant as she thought about the ramifications of what she had seen.

  The fact that Raine was Arlanian brought more questions than answers. True, it did explain why she was so long-lived. Arlanians were rumored to live centuries, at least those who were cared for and protected, and not violated to death. It also explained her mother's fixation on the woman as Arlanians were known to be extraordinary lovers, more desirable than any other creature.

  Idonea's eyes narrowed. And that was the problem. Arlanians were not known to be good fighters. In fact, they lacked any battlefield prowess whatsoever which led to the enslavement of their people and ultimately their demise. It did not seem possible that any Arlanian could possess the skills of a warrior, let alone the near-supernatural skill that Raine possessed. Something was just not right. She wondered if Weynild was augmenting Raine's abilities with magic, but that did not seem probable, either, as she sensed no magic about Raine whatsoever. And even that fact was strange.

  Feyden watched the conflicting emotions pass over Idonea's face, taking a deep draw on his pipe. He was curious how Idonea knew Raine. It was clear when Raine had joined their band that Idonea knew little of the woman, and she had explained off-handedly that Raine had come “recommended” to her. There was an interesting tension between the two, or at least on Idonea's side. Raine did not seem much bothered by anything and the barbs tossed her way did not stick, or in fact even brush her skin.

  Elyara approached him with a poultice. He had an ugly wound on his arm where the blood hound had knocked his sword from him before taking him to the ground. It was not deep, but all wounds from the Hyr'rok'kin quickly grew infected and could kill as surely as a death blow on the battle field. Elyara's skill with herbal remedies was invaluable. She had mixed a potion and applied it directly after the battle, and had changed the dressing every few hours since. Feyden was grateful. He had been skeptical of Elyara's worth to the band, but he was beginning to see the wisdom of her inclusion.

  “I think Dagna had a bit of a wound on her shoulder,” Feyden said, nodding off to the small tent at the edge of the plateau. “She would probably welcome your skill.”

  Elyara blushed profusely. Upon realizing that Raine was completely unobtainable, her interest had shifted to the buxom bard. She nodded to Feyden, appreciative of his subtle encouragement. Even Idonea's derisive snort did not affect her as she made her way to the shadows. Lorifal chose that moment to let loose a great wind from his backside, nearly waking himself, and Feyden laughed quietly to himself.

  Raine reappeared at first light, looking remarkably refreshed for someone who had not slept at all. She gave Idonea a single look from beneath lowered brows, a look as knowing as Weynild's. It told Idonea that she knew she had been watched, that she knew that Idonea was now aware of her Arlanian ancestry, and that she cared nothing about either. She set off jauntily, whistling a little tune.

  The band was approaching flatter lands, more forest than mountains. Lorifal was happy because it meant he would soon be on horseback and not trying to keep up with his long-legged companions. They would only be walking for another day or so.

  Gunnar and Bristol led the band, as usual. Dagna, Lorifal, and Elyara generally walked in the middle, and Raine brought up the rear. She was content with this arrangement because she could protect their rear flank and her lycan scouts were actually far ahead of the two knights. Idonea moved about depending on her mood, and today her mood was testy. She brought herself abreast of D
agna, well within ear-shot of Raine.

  “So, bard, since you are a historian of sorts, who do you think were the most beautiful creatures in all of history?”

  Dagna was surprised that Idonea addressed her. They talked little, especially of such frivolous matters. And it seemed there was something beneath the surface of Idonea's question. But it also happened to be one of her favorite subjects, being such a romantic at heart, so she seriously pondered her response.

  “Well, the Alfar of course. They are known for their beauty and grace. And there are the sprites, those lovely little fairies that hover about the ponds in the forest. Oh,” Dagna exclaimed, “and don’t forget the Ha’kan.”

  “I was thinking of a more tragic race,” Idonea said, “one known for both beauty and a dangerous desirability.”

  “Ah,” Dagna said sadly, “you are referring to the Arlanians.”

  “Yes,” Idonea said, glancing over her shoulder, “that is who I was thinking of.”

  “I don't know that the Arlanians ever actually existed,” Dagna said, “although there is considerable historical record to indicate they did. But theirs is a very sad tale.”

  Lorifal was interested in all things historical, seemingly at odds with his propensity towards all things bacchanal. But like all dwarves, the past, especially that of his ancestors, was greatly treasured. He had never heard of this particular myth.

  “Who were the Arlanians?” he asked.

  Dagna was happy to share the tales of her craft. “The Arlanians were the most beautiful creatures in all the world. Mostly dark-haired, they had the most incredible violet eyes, a color that would make the flowers envious. They were supposedly renowned for their artistic and musical contributions. It is said that they were neither male nor female until they came of age, adding to the gentleness of both sexes.”

  “And what happened to them?” Lorifal asked curiously.

  “Legend has it that the Arlanians lived joyfully and peacefully while their society was self-contained and undiscovered. But once found by others, they were destroyed.”