Nioral's Quest

by Cameo Brown

  Her village thought her odd she’d not remarried or partnered with anyone, but she assumed it had something to do with her special gift. She probably should have never married in the first place given she simply had more desire to heal and care for others than to mate with any of the barbarians left in her village.

  Until now.

  Now she desperately wanted a man to touch her and please her. To do things to her others only dreamed of. A bit of moisture between her legs drew Merigone’s attentions. She didn’t know what amazed her most, the dripping signs of her desire coating her thighs or the fact she no longer inhabited the body of a snake. Merigone gasped.

  Free!

  Human again, but how? Merigone touched her side, still sore from the candy thorn, and the memories of captivity in a reptilian body flooded her overwhelmed brain. She remembered slithering from the two boys who wanted to skin her and steal her sapphire eyes, and then the viper, Fudalon he’d called himself, set about to woo and mate with her. Merigone shuddered. How close she’d come to an eternity as an adder.

  The realization she lay in the middle of the forest, naked for all to see, quickly replaced her relief. Suddenly vulnerable, Merigone forced her weighted limbs to move, stumbling toward the gypsilius tree, the closest available protection. She fell against it, hugging its smooth bark in an effort to hide herself from any prying eyes. She couldn’t imagine who’d saved her, and didn’t know if he’d spared her life for his own nefarious purposes. She shouldn’t be alone in the forest. She knew that. It’s what got her into trouble in the first place.

  Weariness threatened to overtake her again, and she murmured almost incoherently, her fear and the shock of the day’s events weighing her down. She pushed herself away from the tree, intending to grab some huge tali leaves to cover herself, when she noticed part of the gypsilius tree didn’t match the rest of it.

  The brownish swirls of color, like those in amberilia, and its transparent depth matched nothing she’d ever seen -- shiny and clear, yet somehow thick and shaded with various browns like the earth. Mesmerized, she reached out to touch it, surprised to find it solid and warm. As she watched, it moved up and down, as if breathing.

  “I must be completely wrapped in dream images now,” she said to herself, bemused. She drew her hand across the unexplainable smooth, nearly glassy texture, forgetting her nakedness and her fear.

  “I think not,” a deep voice rumbled.

  It came from the enigma she caressed. Merigone pulled her hand back with a start and let her gaze travel upward. The countenance of a mighty dragon instantly came into view, its large brown eyes scrutinizing her with the greatest intensity.

  “Healer dragon!” she exclaimed, the memory of its rescue now reaching Merigone’s full awareness. She must have conjured the other man in her sick dreams. She dropped to her knees and bowed her head. “My Healer, my Lord.”

  “My Lord? Oh, no…” the dragon said. It shifted uncomfortably, though a certain amount of unexpected gracefulness characterized its movements.

  “My Lady?” Merigone tried to correct herself, but the instant she did so, she realized the dragon’s gender could not be in question. A rather large, impressive phallus, which she’d thought a branch of the tree, stood out from his body. Merigone tried not to giggle, but as one not accustomed to such sights, it was a challenge. “It is my Lord then,” she said, mirth edging her words.

  Merigone glanced up, torn between trying to show her reverence to the great beast who saved her life and trying to figure out how she’d heard him speak. His expression indicated he wrestled with a similar predicament.

  “You can hear my sounds as human words?” the dragon asked, tilting his head and reaching down with his long, sinewy neck.

  Merigone sat in awe, muted by the majesty of the amazing creature. Every motion exuded the magnificent power of his kind, paying homage to their deeds and apologizing for their misdeeds. Mourning their dead and rejoicing in their births. Offering advice and hinting at secrets.

  The villagers said a dragon’s scales contained the legends of its brood, and she’d spent many an hour in her younger years hunting for one while searching for herbs for her remedies.

  She’d never found one then, but now it appeared she’d found a whole dragon full of them. Merigone had heard so many stories of dragons as a child, but to see one up close… to have her life saved by one…

  “My Lord, I am your humble servant. Yes, I can hear your words as my own, and I willingly follow your commands. I am yours now, as you have saved my life. It is yours.” Overcome with gratitude, Merigone finally found her voice.

  The dragon recoiled, shaking its massive head as if disgusted. Merigone’s heart sank. She’d offended the dragon, when she only wished to honor it. Was she so detestable to him? Did he not like humans?

  “Woman, what’s your name?” the dragon asked, his talons clacking against each other as if he pondered something important.

  “Merigone,” she responded, shy now that he asked her such a direct question.

  “As in the wildflower, Merigone’s Slipper?”

  “The same. My father named me for the one flower said to heal all maladies related to the heart.” The dragon nodded, apparently pleased at her answer. For some reason, this pleased her also. Her cheeks heated.

  “I am Nioral. Healer dragon of the Kilsh Brood. I do not want or need a slave. I work alone. I live alone. I’ve no need for company, period. And do not call me ‘my Lord.’ It makes me sound old and addled. Do you understand?”

  “But the tradition states…”

  “Hang the tradition,” Nioral said, much louder than he meant to.

  Nioral’s nostrils flared and his ears pricked. He inwardly growled at his cock, which seemed to have taken on a life of its own. A few more minutes and it would ask the lovely for a tankard of ale and a tumble in the darlan bushes. Before Nioral could slap it -- he couldn’t think of anything else to do to make it behave -- it at last acquiesced and allowed Nioral to tuck it between his haunches. If a dragon could blush, Nioral would have, at that moment, been that dragon.

  Merigone hustled to her feet, still somewhat unsteady, and trembled. Suddenly, Nioral regretted the harshness in his words. For the first time in his life, he knew what it meant to be grumpy, sullen and crotchety, and he knew very well the cause of his misery.

  The thought of having Merigone around him all the time brought with it equal amounts of joy and sorrow. The beauty with eyes the color of the deepest blue ocean had awakened in him urges he’d waited years to feel, yet a great pain squeezed his heart. He couldn’t share the dragon secret with her, and he couldn’t have her unless he remained human. He’d have to find another way to sate his lust and ease the tiny break in his heart perpetuated by the lyrical sounds she produced the moment she called him her healer and “my Lord.”

  Oh, how he’d like to be her lord. How he’d like to press her against a hard wall and take her from behind, her wetness easing the way for his large cock. And from her woman’s scent, she wanted the same. He couldn’t read her thoughts, as was the gift of the Kilsh Brood, but he could sense feelings. Merigone’s faint, but very evident, mating scent drove him beyond madness. He’d heard the wild stories the humans told, but he’d never understood the appeal of their sexual escapades in their huts and manor houses. Now he understood all too well, and it made him absolutely, positively cranky.

  Merigone cowering against his favorite tree didn’t help anything either. A streak of dried blood marred her otherwise perfect face with its perky nose, big eyes, and full lips, and dirt and debris covered her delicate skin. Nioral knew his first priority should be to take care of his patient, but he just didn’t know if he could without losing his sanity.

  His own boorish behavior upset him more than anything. Nioral leaned his head back and belched a puff of black smoke, hoping it would clear his mind just enough to get this woman to safety and be on his way to find some relief.

  Merigone wanted to cry,
but didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of the monstrous being. The image her father painted of the dragon kind didn’t match up to her current reality. This dragon acted downright annoyed with her, and she’d done nothing but try to show him respect and gratitude. At least she needn’t worry about being naked anymore. A dragon would have no use for a simple human woman, especially not one covered in filth and blood, with a screaming red scar on her side.

  A little tear did escape at the thought he found her somehow repugnant, though she had no idea why. The tear’s appearance seemed to upset Nioral immensely. He rose up on his haunches and came down on all fours, letting out a strange bellow.

  “No tears, Merigone,” he commanded, which made Merigone cry full out.

  Nioral stomped off toward the opening to the clearing and took flight, leaving Merigone alone, scared and cold from the blast of air his wings caused as he lifted into the sky. At least that’s the excuse she made for her nipples puckering and pointing straight outward. A strange throb between her legs had haunted her since she’d woken from her sleep, and she wondered when the effects of the healing drug would wear off. They had to be the cause of her body vibrating with desire and her mind replaying pictures of the handsome naked man in her dreams. What else could it be?

  Another cool breeze and the sound of flapping wings startled her, and she turned to find Nioral standing behind her, linens of different colors in his jaws. He stared at her for a moment, finally dropping the material in a mound at her feet and turning his back to her with a swish of his plated tail.

  Keeping her eye on the moody dragon, Merigone sifted through the pile. To her surprise, she found a deep blue work dress, old, but in good enough condition to wear. The other items included wet cloths wrapped in a large dry cloth and a pair of worn foot coverings.

  Merigone smiled. So the great and mighty healer Nioral was also a resourceful thief, was he? From the style of the clothing, the garment could have only come from the Walo village, not far from her own living place. She’d healed many there in her short years working with medicines. Her mother hated the simple people who inhabited the area and always sent Merigone in her place if someone fell ill. Merigone, on the other hand, found it charming.

  From the looks of it, Nioral had raided someone’s wash. She made a mental note to find the owner once she returned home to care for her father -- if she could convince the dragon to take her with him.

  She’d decided the last part when she saw vulnerability flicker through the dragon’s expression earlier when he’d dropped the misappropriated necessities in front of her and turned away. He liked her, she could tell, and she, for some reason, liked him. She sensed a loneliness about him, one matching her own. The healer life was usually one of singularity, of quiet moments and too much thinking.

  Tired of thinking, Merigone gave into an impulse to be impish, to bring the dragon to life, to the life he’d saved her for. She could at least repay him by giving him a bit of adventure. Why, he probably never dealt with humans hardly at all, which would explain his temperament. The more she thought of the idea, the more she liked it.

  “Nioral,” Merigone called, picking up a wet cloth and wiping her face. The dragon turned just enough to cast a disapproving glance down his nose at her. “Will you wash my back? I can’t reach it, and it’s really dirty.”

  “No,” Nioral spat, and returned to glaring at the copse of trees on the other side of the clearing.

  But Merigone didn’t give up. “Please, mighty dragon?”

  “No.”

  “Pretty please, with Lady Fungus and demetria codan on top?”

  Nioral snorted, frustration building in his every fiber. “No!”

  Then he heard it. A soft, sobbing sound. It echoed through his heart chamber and crashed around his befuddled brain like rocks tumbling down a mountain. She was crying? Crying because he wouldn’t wash her back? He was a healer dragon, for the love of the gods! An intellectual. A thinker. A solitary creature who’d known nothing but contentment before he rescued the blasted silver snake.

  Okay, mostly contentment and a little loneliness.

  Okay, equal parts contentment and loneliness, but still, contentment figured into his life nonetheless. He couldn’t say the same was true right now.

  Certain she played a trick on him, Nioral turned to face the weeping maiden, ready to glower at her. One look at her, though, even using only one eye -- the other he’d intended to keep closed to appear more menacing -- and he lost all will to be as intimidating as possible. Instead, he felt as ridiculous as possible.

  Merigone had cleaned herself completely and held a fresh wet cloth to her injured side, wincing with the effort. “I’m sorry, Nioral, but I stretched my wound when I tried to reach my back,” she sniveled. “It hurts terribly.”

  Nioral’s heart broke a little more. Not only had he been behaving like a brute, he’d forgotten his calling completely. Was he or was he not a healer?

  Drat!

  Sheepish, and careful not to scratch her with his talons, Nioral took the cloth from Merigone’s side and examined the damage left by the candy thorn. It did appear to have stretched some, but time would heal it soon enough. Until then, a bit of lime wax mixed with olantrum would ease the sting and redness. He carried such ingredients in his medicine sack.

  “You’ll love… er, live,” he groused, trying to remain detached. It didn’t work.

  Being so close to Merigone made Nioral dizzy and, he noted, oddly euphoric. He persevered, calling to the inner strength he usually reserved for treating the wounded on the battlefield. A good soldier, he scrubbed Merigone’s back clean before finding his medicine sack at the root of the gypsilius tree and creating a remedy to ease her discomfort.

  Once he’d applied it, he turned his back again. “Dress,” he commanded, his tone more gentle this time -- but not by much.

  Something grabbed his back, taking him by surprise. He couldn’t imagine anyone attacking a dragon this way. And what of Merigone -- had harm come to her as she stood just behind him?

  Nioral twisted around, alarm making his heart race. For an instant, he could not believe his own vision. Merigone hugged him at a place just above his tail, her face pressed into scales. He inhaled sharply, doing a double take. Her sanity must have suffered from her bewitchment earlier in the day.

  “Thank you, my healer dragon. Thank you again for saving my life,” Merigone whispered against him.

  Just as quickly as she grabbed him, she let go, and Nioral took the opportunity to ponder his talons, not trusting himself to speak.

  Merigone’s smile helped not at all. There she stood, incredibly and wonderfully naked, her pink lips curved upward and her eyes crinkling at the edges. She didn’t try to hide herself in any way, and the brownish nipples on her full breasts puckered under his perusal. Slight dampness glistened at the juncture of her thighs -- at least he thought he saw it glisten. After all that happened today, he couldn’t be sure of anything.

  Nioral got the distinct impression Merigone toyed with him, and it angered him to no end, at least when it didn’t thrill him. Humans could be so fickle, silly, and cruel. Mayhap she didn’t understand the effect she had on him. He glanced at her, and she batted her eyelashes.

  Mayhap she did.

  Aah, the young lady chooses to play with fire, does she? Nioral thought, his snout breaking into a grin. Let us see what she does when the fire plays back.

  Nioral narrowed his eyes at the beauty who’d tied him in knots since he’d healed her, and she shrunk back. His grin widened. Finally, he might be able to regain control of the situation, if not of his cock, which hammered incessantly at the bony plates covering his genitals. If his cock wouldn’t listen, Nioral had decided, other parts of his body would, and he concentrated on keeping the bony plates together to restrict the movements of his overzealous pecker. So far it worked, but the challenge had been palpable. Soon, though, if his plan succeeded, he would drop his lovely patient at her home and be on
his way to find a release somewhere.

  Anywhere.

  With a slight change to his original strategy, he would again become the fierce dragon of the legends, even though technically his brood carried the blood of the healing kind, not the blood of the warrior. He would become the pursuer instead of the pursued, and he would make sure Merigone left him to suffer in silence…

  As he always did.

  Chapter Four

  Nioral’s snout broke into a huge, wicked grin. Toothy and crooked, it unbalanced Merigone. She should have been alarmed, but instead, more moisture threatened to trickle down her thighs and her breasts swelled. Mischief glimmered in Nioral’s deep brown eyes, and he spoke with unexpected charm. It delighted her. He did feel passion after all.

  “My dearest Merigone,” he started, a seductive edge to his tone. He stretched his neck down to her, sniffing her throat and sending delightful shivers up her spine. He ran a talon across her shoulder, grunting in a most feral way. “Do you wish to experience the desire of the dragon? I can arrange it if you do,” Nioral goaded. “You’ve seen the evidence of my need for a woman, any woman,” he added, emphasizing “any woman.”

  She didn’t believe for one second he wanted just “any woman.” His trying to scare her off only meant one thing: The dragon who’d saved her wanted her, and she wanted him. Merigone needed to fan herself. Heat pulsed through her entire body, and her blood surged through her veins, totally afire.

  Did the dragon expect her to run screaming from the clearing? Well, she had no intention of doing that. Merigone accepted his challenge, grabbing his snout and planting a kiss on his upper lip. Everything on the dragon’s body shot up -- his ears, his tail, his wings.

  Merigone’s cheeks flushed and words tumbled out of her more quickly than she imagined possible. “Oh, Nioral, there’s a concoction. It can transform one of us. Only for a brief period, but it can. I can become a dragon or you a human, and we can mate. You can fill me with your glorious, hot seed, and I can take you deep inside of me and let you ride me like the wild beast you are!”