The Dragon's Lover (11 page)

“My heart,” she said simply, “is owned entirely by
another.”

It was a breathtakingly romantic expression,
unexpected yet somehow perfectly consistent coming from Raine.
Although it was deeply disappointing to Dagna personally, the words
were so expressive, the tone so matter-of-fact yet filled with such
great longing, it touched Dagna to her core. She was, after all, a
bard, and love is love even when it belongs to someone else.

The admission seemed to affect Raine and she stood.
Without a word or backward glance, she walked from the circle of
light and disappeared into the darkness. All watched her go and
Bristol was reminded of his earlier thoughts. Apparently there was
something that could affect this one deeply.

Raine walked through the forest, willing the
tightness in her chest to go away. Her longing for her lover was
like something alive, twisting inside of her, causing her to ache
with need.

“It seems you have many suitors.”

Raine caught her breath and her eyes went instantly
to a deep violet. The voice behind her was low, sensual, gently
mocking but with no malice towards her.

“No,” she replied, “I have only one.”

Warm breath whispered over her neck and into her ear.
“She must be very fortunate.”

“No,” Raine said, shaking her head, “she deserves no
less. I worship her.”

And with that, Raine turned, fearful that she was
imagining the whole thing. But Weynild, was there, her golden eyes
gleaming in the night, her silver hair reflecting the moonlight,
her full lips parting as she pulled her young lover to her. Raine
kissed her desperately, hungrily, gasping from the desire and need
that this one inspired in her. But reality intruded, and Raine
grasped her arms, pushing away just enough to look into her
eyes.

“But you are here!”

Weynild understood. “Yes, but we are not in any
danger.”

“But how?”

Weynild pulled her close. “Your band is at the
crossroads of meridians.”

“Meridians?”

“Yes,” Weynild continued, adjusting her hands about
Raine's hips so there was no space between them. “The lines of
power that crisscross the world, invisible to all but the birds
that migrate by them.”

Understanding dawned in Raine's eyes. “And visible to
dragons as well?”

“Yes,” Weynild said, smiling so that her teeth
gleamed in the moonlight. “To dragons as well. And where the lines
cross, the light is so bright that I cannot be seen within it.”

Raine clutched her close, drinking in her beautiful
face, the breasts framed so perfectly in the fire-red scaled armor
that hugged the curves of her body. “Is there a meridian line I can
walk all the way to my destination?” she asked.

“If only your path were that straight, my love,”
Weynild replied. “But you will pass meridian crossroads several
times, and each time I will come to you. And tonight, you are
mine.”

They went to the ground together, unmindful of the
damp earth. Raine tore her own clothing from her body as the
magical armor that encased Weynild retracted, revealing the
suppleness beneath. Weynild kissed her everywhere, her hair, her
ears, her throat, her breasts, her stomach, her inner thighs. She
settled on the softness between her legs, expressing pleasure at
the warmth and wetness.

“I see you missed me,” she murmured.

Raine moaned and twisted beneath the onslaught, but
the dragon held her tight, the strength of her lover exciting her
to an even greater height. Her climax came quickly, her need and
desire for the one holding her too overwhelming for her to toy with
the idea of restraint. Weynild held her hips, pushing her passion
beyond the physical so that it encompassed all of the longing of
their separation. Although the beginning of the climax came quickly
the end did not as waves of pleasure shook Raine's slender
frame.

Finally, Raine collapsed, her body trembling and her
breath coming in ragged gasps. Weynild pulled herself atop her,
gazing down into her violet eyes with great pleasure. Raine touched
her cheek, tracing the cheek bone that defined her beautiful
features. Weynild's breasts were pressed against her, creating a
warm and wondrous sensation. Slowly, Raine's breathing returned to
normal although her heart still pounded in her chest.

Weynild sensed her companion's recovery. She shifted
her weight, causing another groan of pleasure as she contacted
still-sensitive areas. She smiled, knowing that they still had
hours and that the stamina of her Arlanian would consume them
all.

“Let's try that again,” Weynild said, her golden eyes
gleaming, “this time with me inside you.”

Raine returned to the camp at first light and
although she was still quiet, she seemed in a better mood than when
she had left. Idonea examined her suspiciously, because to her eye,
more accustomed to the subtleties of Raine's behavior, the woman
seemed in a much better mood than when she departed. And that could
have only one explanation.

“So how is my mother?” she said under breath, sidling
up next to Raine.

A grin tugged at the corner of Raine's mouth. “She
sends her love.”

The sardonic response was all the confirmation Idonea
needed. It made her wonder all the more at her mother's
motivations. Obviously there was some larger reason why Weynild
would not accompany them because clearly she could not keep herself
from her little toy. And Idonea wondered at the significance of the
location, knowing they were at a meridian crossroads. This thought
angered her for reasons that had nothing to do with Raine. Her
ability to see the meridian lines was truly useless since she had
inherited nothing else of value from her mother. Raine began a
quiet little hum, the pleasant tune aggravating Idonea even
further. She moved up in the band to Bristol's side, who welcomed
her company.

After a while, Lorifal engaged Gunnar in quiet
conversation.

“My people, the Dvergar have always been bitter
enemies of the Hyr'rok'kin, but why have you chosen this
quest?”

Gunnar was sober for a moment, then lightened. “I
think we will all have to fight the Hyr'rok'kin sooner or later,
but personally, I am the fourth son of a tradesman.”

“Ah,” Lorifal said, nodding his understanding. “Your
father has his heir and his spare, and your other brother is
clergy?”

“Yes,” Gunnar said, “so I joined the military and
have been far more successful than I ever dreamed.”

“And you, Bristol?” Lorifal asked.

“I am a first son,” Bristol said self-consciously,
“but my father, and his father, and his father, all were
soldiers.”

Lorifal had already noticed a certain awkwardness in
the giant of a man and surmised that Gunnar and Bristol served each
other well as friends. Bristol probably had numerous connections
within the imperial army and Gunnar probably made up for some of
Bristol's weaknesses that were gradually becoming apparent.

“And you, Dagna?”

Dagna laughed merrily. She seemed in perennial good
humor, even under the worst of circumstances. “I hope to write an
epic ballad from this adventure.” She nudged Elyara in the
ribs.

“And you?”

“Our shaman had a vision, and our tribal chieftain
determined that I should go.” Elyara shrugged. “I didn't quite
understand any of it.” She turned to Feyden.

“And how about you?”

A grim look settled on Feyden's features and he did
not at first reply. As the silence lengthened, several glanced in
his direction until finally he spoke. His tone was quietly
bitter.

“My people were attacked by Hyr'rok'kin and my
youngest sister was killed by them.”

“I'm sorry,” Elyara stammered.

“Don't be,” Feyden said, “I was a child and my days
of mourning are long over.”

The group again fell into silence, although now it
was heavy and uncomfortable. It was Idonea that broke it.

“And how about you, Raine? Why did you agree to come
on this quest?”

The question seemed loaded with significance but
Raine's answer was mild, as if the answer was self-evident.

“Because you asked for help.”

That seemed to end the conversation although one
question remained unasked. Raine did not think Idonea would answer
truthfully, so she did not bother asking her why she had come.

They were descending from one mountain range into a
valley which would give them a brief respite before they began
ascending through another, steeper set of cliffs. There was a
fair-sized village at the base of the mountain and they determined
to spend a day in the town before continuing. The band was evenly
divided, with the four humans wishing to sleep in real beds at the
lodge, and the two elves and Raine wishing to camp on the outskirts
of the village. Lorifal determined he would begin drinking at the
tavern and wherever he ended up was fine.

Gunnar set about visiting with the village elders,
trying to find any news of the Hyr'rok'kin or the empire's response
to the growing threat. Elyara sought out the local healer, seeking
to trade for herbs or recipes. Bristol followed Idonea about, in
his mind protecting her from the lustful looks of the male
townfolk, in her mind, annoying her endlessly. She was not
interested in any of these bumpkins and could likely fry them from
the inside out were they to attempt anything. She thought perhaps
she should just sleep with Bristol and get it over with, but was
afraid he would then declare his undying love for her and
complicate the entire mission.

Much to Idonea's amusement, Dagna went to visit the
local temple. Apparently habits of the church, at least those that
were easier to maintain than chastity, lingered even after the
excommunication. Idonea herself did not care much for the church as
they sought to control or exterminate most mages. And black magic
was considered a grave offense against the Divine.

Feyden and Raine sat quietly at their campsite,
Feyden smoking a long pipe and Raine smoking a short cheroot she
had made with the pungent tobacco Feyden had offered. They were
quite content, seated in a small patch of sunlight that would soon
disappear as the sun dipped below the mountains. Neither was
inclined to move or talk, and the silence, broken only by the
chirping of birds and the thrum of insects, was comfortable.

A muffled crash drifted across the fields from the
general direction of the village. Neither seemed perturbed by the
commotion, which was joined by muffled shouts that also drifted
their way. Finally, reluctantly, Raine acknowledged the fracas.

“Why am I guessing that's Lorifal?”

Feyden took a deep draw on his pipe. “Because you
have actually met the dwarf.”

“Ah,” Raine said, drawing deeply and finishing her
own smoke. She ground it into the dirt and rose from her seated
position. “I guess I should go check on him.”

Feyden tapped the remaining tobacco from his own
pipe, extinguishing it. “I will go, too,” he said without
enthusiasm.

They entered the dimly lit tavern, and it took a
moment for their eyes to adjust. Lorifal stood in the middle of a
circle of men, his fists upraised in defiance. The men surrounding
him were battered and bruised, their superior numbers offering them
no advantage over the stout little dwarf. The only thing bloodied
on Lorifal was his knuckles.

“I tell you it was a Marrow Shard,” he said
belligerently, “and killed with a single blow.”

“You're a liar, dwarf,” one man said, “Marrow Shards
t’ain't been seen outside the bowels in hundreds of years. And
armies can't bring ‘em down.”

Lorifal was seeing double, but he brightened as he
caught sight of Raine and Feyden, or in fact, the four of them.
Raine pushed her way into the circle and Feyden followed. The
striking pair gave the mob pause.

“See, she's right here. Brought down that bastard by
taking off his head.”

“Your words plop out like dung from my donkey.”

Lorifal took a swing at the one hurling the insult,
one that would have landed solidly had Raine not caught him and
redirected the blow. The crowd of men laughed but Raine sought only
to soothe the riled dwarf.

“Come now, Lorifal, let's go have a drink.”

Feyden grabbed the other arm and they led him to the
bar.

“You're going to have to pay for his damage.”

Lorifal started to protest the barkeep's decree. The
others had done as much damage as he. But Raine pulled a few coins
from her shirt and flipped them to the man, who gazed at them in
astonishment. This would have paid for the entire tavern, not just
the few tables and chairs that had been broken. A flask above the
bar caught her eye.

“Is that an amber sting that I see?”

The barkeep followed her gaze. “Yes, it is. I must
warn you though, lass, it is a dangerous drink.”

All attention was back on the trio, but this time
most prominently on the beautiful woman. “Well, if you're concerned
for my safety, according to this dwarf I have killed a Marrow
Shard. And if you're worried about the condition of your tavern, I
believe I just paid for any damage I might do.”

The barkeep shrugged. The worst that would probably
happen would be she would spew the drink across his bar, which
would be easy enough to clean up. He dusted the bottle off and
popped the cork. Feyden eyed the dirty glass the barkeep brought
forth.

“That looks none too clean,” he commented.

Raine shrugged. “An amber sting will either kill or
cure all ills. There is nothing in between.”

She swirled the amber liquid about the glass,
savoring the cinnamon fumes that wafted upward. Then she tossed the
glass back, swallowing the entire drink in one gulp. The warmth
suffused her head then spread downward, snaking throughout her
torso much like desire.

Lorifal roared with delight and grabbed a nearby
sconce from the wall. As required by tradition, Raine blew the
fumes out, creating a funnel of flame. The temperature in the
tavern went up markedly as all cheered. Feyden was watching Raine
carefully to make certain she would not suffer any ill effects, but
was not really surprised when she downed the drink without harm.
She set the glass back down on the bar with satisfaction.