Drake laughed and came forward, hugging her. “Come with me. We need to speak in private.”
Sahrendrake let Drake lead her up to his room. “How long have you been human, Sahren?”
“An hour or so of your human time. I landed down the road to avoid making a fuss,” she replied, looking about. “Which of those human females are you mating with? Or do you mate with all of them?” she asked, looking at him sideways from under lowered eyelashes.
“None of those, Sahren,” Drake answered, grinning. Female dragons do not get jealous of their favored males mating with other females. Sure, and the sky is purple! “They are mine, under the customs of this place, but they are not what I am interested in. I have become bored with hunting bandits lately, so I decided to try something else.”
She looked at him, a slight smile crossing her lips. In Drake’s room she turned and dropped her robe. “What do you think of me as a human?”
Drake simply stared as his eyes devoured her. “Magnificent,” he whispered, meaning it. She was wearing the body of a woman in her mid-twenties, and her proportions would set the pulse of a dead man racing. “You are magnificent, Sahrendrake.”
She grinned, and a gesture stripped his clothes away. “I want to try this human mating that you find so compelling.”
Drake eagerly complied, leading her to his bed. Sahren was new to the experience, and he took his time with her. Kisses and caresses had her sighing as she experienced the sensation of his fingers tracing the contours of her body. Then he maneuvered so that he was behind and above her, much as he would in the air, and entered her slowly.
Sahren’s roaring scream of pleasure echoed through the inn, drawing grins and wide eyes from the men and women in the main room. This is incredible! Her body was so sensitive that his lightest touch sent shivers up her spine. Drake was driving her mad, and a part of her yearned for the madness. Another roar of pleasure escaped her throat as her entire body convulsed under the force of what she was feeling. Then Amberdrake also roared, and together they collapsed onto the soft pad under them.
Drake grinned, running his fingers down to circle her nipples. “Well? I said it was something you should try.”
Sahren turned wide, lust filled eyes on him and grinned. “I thought you were just teasing me. That was wonderful. You said that it only takes you a little while to be ready again?”
Drake grinned and kissed her, surprising her both by the action and the tingle that ran up her spine at the same time. The feel of her in his arms had him ready again very soon, and Sahren began to understand what he found so appealing about the whole process.
The inn staff and guests did not see Drake or Sahren until the sun was high the next day. Sahren awakened to the unusual sensation of needing to relieve herself, and Drake provided instruction for those most basic of human bodily functions. “Strange. Do you have to do that often?”
“Two or three times a day. It depends on how much you eat and drink. Are you hungry?” he asked, smiling at her as she wandered the room wearing nothing but that magnificent skin.
“What is human hunger like? I feel a hollowness that I have never felt before. Is that hunger for this species?”
“It is,” Drake answered. “Come, let’s get dressed and go get some food.”
“The temperature is comfortable enough. Why dress?” she asked, and frowned when he laughed.
“Custom, more than anything else.” He explained, standing and clothing himself in gold and amber cloth that reflected the colors of his scales. “Clothing shows status among humans. The finer the clothes, the higher the status. There is also the fact that I don’t want to share you with anyone out there. I told you a long time ago that humans, like dragons, are possessive of their females.”
Sahren laughed, then flared briefly, only to reappear dressed in the green and gold she had worn the day before. “Then let us eat. What do we hunt?”
“We do not hunt. The food is prepared in a kitchen, and served on plates and bowls. It is cooked because these bodies have a hard time digesting some foods. It also makes some things taste better.” He explained, leading her down the steps to the main room, and to a table.
Melinda was at his shoulder immediately. “Yes, Master Drake?”
“Melinda, this is Mistress Sahren,” Drake said, grinning at Sahren’s eyes as she surveyed the girl. “She and I are old and dear friends. Bring us two plates of sliced bison, potatoes, and some ale.” When Melinda had gone, he explained the concept of knives, forks and spoons to an incredulous Sahren.
“You must be joking!” she whispered. “These bodies are so weak that they cannot even bite off their own food? How did the species survive this long?” she asked, looking around the all but empty room.
“By using their brains. Your sire had a thing or two to do with it as well. The humans on this side of the continent are faster and stronger than my people out west. These,” he paused to gesture about the room, “are the descendants of the Luxandian Empire. Dandarshandrake’s pets.”
“Father and his experiments,” she snorted, drawing the attention of the other people in the room. “Drake, these bodies are frighteningly vulnerable. How have you survived so long?”
“By using that brain I mentioned. I don’t stay a human very long anymore, and I have other, stronger shapes that I use as needed. Like a Daemon.”
Sahren laughed at that. “I saw you in that human city, fighting yourself. Frandendrake says that fighting yourself is a sign of a weak mind.”
“You were watching me?” he asked, embarrassed and intrigued at the same time.
“Of course. A dragon of your power, with the mind of a human adolescent? I would have been a fool not to watch you. You are magnificent, Amberdrake, but you needed to grow up in a hurry. You seem to be doing quite well, for a human.” She took his hand, and seemed as surprised as he was by the contact.
Melinda returned then, and Drake demonstrated how to use the utensils. Sahren tried the bison, finding it strange, but tasty. She looked suspiciously at the potatoes, then nibbled one bite at Drake’s insistence. Her eyes flew open wide at the taste, and she ate the rest without promoting. The ale was another story entirely.
“You drink this intentionally? Drake, you must be mad,” she said, setting the mug down and pushing it away from her.
“It’s the best ale there is, Sahren,” he said, hurt by her actions. “Oh, very well. Will you try something else? There is a beverage called wine that you may like.” At her nod, he signaled Sadie for a glass of red wine.
Sahren swirled the liquid in the glass, looking at the color and smiling. “It looks like blood.” Sipping, her eyes widened, and she took another sip. “That is good! What is it?” Drake grinned and explained fermentation to her. “Grape juice? Drake, this is getting stranger by the moment.”
Drake laughed, then called the inn staff together. “People, this is Lady Sahren, an old and dear friend of mine. She will be staying with me for a time.”
“There be a goddess of old called Lady Sahren. Be you called after her, Lady?” Waite asked, bobbing his head respectfully.
“Yes,” Drake answered before she could, “she is. She is also a stranger to these parts, as I was, and will need time to adjust to the culture here.”
Sahren adjusted quickly, and found the inn and its staff intriguing. She was most intrigued by Allison and her loom. During the evenings, when the inn was quiet, Allison could be found sitting by the fireplace, her hands and knees moving in rhythm to operate the loom and produce a fine, intricately patterned cloth. Drake had allowed her to make what she wished, and through the winter she had produced a length of beautiful cloth that would fetch a fine price from any Weaver in the world.
Now she was producing a different pattern, one that would fetch an even better price. It was the royal colors of Highsterad, and in a pattern that was known to be the favorite of the crown princess, the heir presumptive of the duchy. Her husband would, of course, be the next duke, she being t
he only legitimate child of the present duke. She had offered a large reward for the weaver who could produce enough for her wedding dress. Allison had a full span finished already.
Sahren sighed as she watched the girl work. “She has a gift, Drake. She is a master of her craft.”
“I agree, but there are those here who dismiss her for her looks.”
“Her looks?” Sahren asked, and Drake found himself explaining the human concept of beauty. “And am I beautiful?”
Drake smiled and took her in his arms. “Almost as beautiful as you are as a dragon, my mate.”
Sahren stayed on, and soon winter had closed the pass and inn. She found herself becoming more and more one of the women, and they taught her the simple, time-consuming task of knitting. If the women were surprised by her lack of knowledge and skill at what they considered to be the simplest of tasks, they kept it to themselves. Sahren was quickly becoming a fixture in the inn, much as they all were. Veda found Sahren to be a kindred spirit, and together they spoke expansively of the role of women in society.
Spring brought surprises, with messengers traversing the pass before it was truly safe. They were close-mouthed men who would divulge nothing of their mission, and who resented any attempts to question them. The message that eventually made its way to the inn was simple.
Duke Rayburn had died from a fall while ice-skating, and the young princess had assumed the throne as duchess against all custom and precedent. Her betrothed had been summarily dismissed, and she had brought in a scholar who had been a student with her and installed him at her side. Her mother, poor woman, had taken her own life in her grief over the death of her husband.
The outrage in Highsterad was nothing compared to the reaction in Genleaf. Duke Bartram Cordan called together an army with the stated intention of unseating the “upstart wench” and installing a man of his choosing on the throne of his neighbor.
Duchess Rycca heard of the army and called together all of those who were still loyal to her house, even a house led by a woman, and formed her own force to protect her duchy. She also married her young friend, Rachaun Kinnisen, naming him to be her duke. This drew more men to her side, now that a man was also sitting on the throne. Still, her army was less than half of the size of Duke Bartram’s army.
Sebastian came running up the steps into the inn, and slammed the door behind him. “Master Drake!” he shouted, bringing Drake from the storage room where he was testing his latest batch of beer.
“Sebastian, calm down. What is it?” he asked, crossing the room quickly to grab the man’s shoulders.
“An army. Genleaf is invading Highsterad and we’re caught in the middle. I closed the gates, but they’ll breach them if they’re determined to get in here.” Sebastian was looking back out the window as he spoke, and Drake looked with him.
A loud boom sounded from the gate, and Drake sighed. “I’d better go out there.” Opening the door, he quickly made his way to the gatehouse and looked out on a sea of men. Duke Bartram had gathered a force of more than ten thousand men to his side for the conquest of Highsterad.
“This is Highsterad, Duke Cordan. You have no business bringing an army here,” he shouted down at the men, and a flight of arrows came as reply. “Well, that was unfriendly,” he muttered, then descended the steps as the gates boomed again. A gesture reinforced the gates with magic as he returned to the inn.
Sahren was in the main room with the rest when he returned. “Well, at least we are well provisioned. They can’t be much worse than the winter snow. We will simply wait them out.”
Sahren smiled at that. “What if they don’t go away? I tire of this, Drake. I long for my freedom. Also, there is a limited time that I can remain like this.”
She did not have to explain that remark to him. She had told him in the beginning that she could not remain human and properly gestate their eggs. She had to be a dragon before the snows came again, or the eggs would be deformed. Drake nodded his understanding. “Not long then,” he said in a whisper, and she smiled. The rest of the staff looked at one another, wondering what they were talking about.
The booming of a ram battering at the gates was incessant through the night, then stopped suddenly in the morning. The lack of noise woke them all, and Drake went to find out what was happening. What he saw enraged him immediately. Nicholas and Illana were tied spread-eagle against the side of a wagon.
A sentry had seen Drake, and called for his officer. Soon the duke and an assortment of noblemen were walking out into the area in front of Nicholas and Illana. “You up there! Are you the one who calls himself Drake Emverson?” a richly dressed young man shouted.
“I am. What are you doing with my cousin?” Drake shouted back.
“I am doing nothing with him. Nor am I going to. No torture. No fiery brands. No food. No water. I am not doing anything with your cousin,” the man shouted back, and the other men laughed.
“Who is Bartram Cordan?” Drake shouted, intentionally not using the duke’s title, and was rewarded by a distinguished-looking older man stepping forward and shaking a fist at him.
“You’ll die for that, you insolent bastard!” he shouted, and Drake laughed.
Drake laughed. “What do you intend, Duke Bartram? Genleaf and Highsterad have been friends and at peace for many years. Why do you bring an army onto our soil?”
“I intend to put a real man on the throne, and toss that wench into the prison barracks,” the duke shouted back, and Drake shook his head.
Drake saw movement from the Highsterad side of the pass and watched as Duke Rachaun and Duchess Rycca led their army out of the hills. “I don’t think so,” he said softly to himself. Returning to the ground, he opened the postern gate and walked out with Sahren at his side.
The two opposing armies faced one another on the rocky ground of the plateau. Sound, like the sighing of the surf at the distant sea, flowed over the two armies as they each surveyed the opposing force. Drake and Sahren stood in the middle, each contemplating the situation and coming to the same conclusion.
Drake sighed. “I really liked it here, Sahrendrake. This was turning into something that could have occupied me until the next season.”
“I could do it, Amberdrake. I am a goddess here. Or I was,” she offered, but he shook his head.
“I can just imagine my reputation after that revelation. Drake Emverson, the lover of the Goddess Lady Sahren. I would never hear the end of it.” Drake’s sour expression set Sahren laughing. They both quieted as the rival dukes face one another.
“Are you prepared to die, upstart?” Duke Bartram shouted, making his men cheer.
“No. Are you, you old oath-breaker?” Duchess Rycca shouted back, enraging the duke. “You swore that you would never again attack Highsterad.”
“Silence, you wench! This is between men!” Bartram shouted again.
Sahren sighed. “It is always like this. First they yell, then they threaten, then they die. Human war was why I stopped playing at being a goddess.”
“I am not going to allow that, Sahrendrake.” Turning, he grinned broadly. “Besides, I have a long-standing dislike of the Cordan family.”
“Then let’s stop this before blood is shed,” she said, stepping away from him and walking toward Highsterad’s army. Drake nodded and walked in the opposite direction.
Both armies saw the man and woman emerge from the inn and then part, each headed toward one of the armies. Then they began to glow. Sahrendrake whirled and swirled her clothes about herself as she transformed, returning to her true form in seconds. Amberdrake simply raised his arms and changed, his clothes shredding and falling away from his brightly shining body. The leaders of the two armies suddenly found two full-grown dragons between them.
Amberdrake looked down on the suddenly frightened duke. “So, you are a descendant of Manrel Cordan. I never liked him.”
Duke Bartram Cordan, ruler of Genleaf for twenty years, wet himself as the great golden dragon spoke. The story of
the loss of Lady Lissette was a favorite of the family. That the dragon in that story and this dragon seemed to be one and the same frightened him so badly that he was unable to do or say anything.
Amberdrake looked over to where Nicholas and Illana were tied and freed them with a blink of power. “Go in peace, my children,” he said in what passed for a soft tone of voice, though the hills echoed his words. “The inn is yours, but the servants are free to pursue the life they choose.”
Nicholas stared in awe at his clan’s patron and bowed deeply. “We thank you, Lord Amberdrake. It is an honor beyond words to have met you.”
Sahrendrake had gone to face off with the duchess of Highsterad. “I am Lady Sahren, children. This war is unnecessary. Amberdrake and I are here to ensure the peace.”
Duchess Rycca had shrunk behind her husband, hiding in trembling fear. Rachaun had been just as frightened as well until she spoke her name. Lady Sahren had been a mother goddess more than two thousand years before, and had been known as the Nurturer. Bowing deeply, he walked forward to face the dragon.
“Were you the goddess of legend?” he shouted, and Sahrendrake nodded. “Are you returning to us?”
Sahrendrake sighed. “No. My time among you was long ago. It is time for younger gods now.”
Amberdrake had been listening and snaked his head over beside hers. “The time for blind obedience to ancient custom is also gone. Duke Rachaun, Duchess Rycca, do away with this barbaric custom of placing women in servitude. Make your spouse your partner, not your slave, and you will see that neither intelligence nor worth is determined by gender.”
“As you taught our ancestors, mighty Amberdrake?” Duchess Rycca shouted, emboldened by this familiar, if legendary, creature. “The stories of Lady Lissette and her servants who became yours have survived through the ages. There are other places, other duchies, where your way is accepted.”
Duke Rachaun nodded. “And perhaps it is time for those ways to be accepted here as well.”
The Chronicles of Amberdrake Page 45
