by Lena Austin
Dragon’s Quest
Lena Austin
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2007 Lena Austin
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ISBN: 978-1-59596-541-7
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Editor: Katriena Knights
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
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Dragon’s Quest
Lena Austin
“Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons…”
The Elf Remo and the spy Quenton are former lovers on opposing missions. Remo must protect the new prince, and Quenton is there to assassinate any human who bonds with the Dragon’s Stone as Prince Jack has done. In politics all is deception, and when ugly truths are revealed, who will end up quick-fried to a crackly crunch?
Dedication
To my loving daughter Tuesday, who worked herself half to death, became my writing partner through all my medical crises, and even with her own problems helped me produce two books.
Chapter One
The morning sun, barely risen above the mountaintops outside their school, awakened the Elf Remo after a night of bedsport with the human and the dragon.
Humans. What a delightful race they were, but dragons were definitely better. Remo’s ass felt delightfully sore from the attentions of the dragon, Aneurin. He assumed the snores assaulting his pointed ears came from that same dragon, though they could have easily come from the human prince, Jack. The bonded pair of wizard prince and his dragon had been most kind to accept an Elf into their bed, but it was time for Remo to rise as his bladder demanded.
Remo rolled off the bed and stopped short with a smothered groan when he realized his hair was caught beneath the shoulder of Aneurin’s slumbering human form. Remo bit his lip and eased it out from beneath the dragon, praying he would awaken neither of his temporary bed partners. His bladder pained him insistently, and though the idea of using the human privy sickened him, Remo stepped into the alcove and pretended he was watering a tree. Elves just didn’t belong in huge, damp, musty castles.
Much relieved, Remo dressed and fished the book on humans from his pack to study more of this race he was to envoy to. What he read did not match in the slightest his observations. Where were the greed and discourtesy, the brutishness? Last night had been a delight, full of the courtesies and pleasures one normally only found among Elf-kin. Had Remo missed something in his studies of non-Elven races?
Prince Jack awakened and sat up, groaning at the sunlight streaming in from his window seat. He slid carefully from the bed, his stiff cock pointed at the ceiling, plainly betraying the same need that had awakened Remo. He looked about in confusion, clearly unaware of the privy.
Remo pointed to the alcove and grinned when Jack fled. There would be no further study in his book today, so the Elf laid a tooled leather ribbon to mark his place and waited with curiosity. His studies of non-Elven races had been his downfall, but Remo could not help being fascinated by the clever, lumbering humans.
The human wizard currently under his observation returned from the alcove with a grateful but slightly embarrassed look upon his mobile face. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so, the air shimmered.
The servant who tended their room manifested into view as a simulacrum. The vague form wavered and bowed. “Good morning, my lords. Early morning classes have been cancelled. You and your fellow students are free to socialize. The headmistress has been called to the capital, and will give her welcoming speech at tonight’s meal in the dining hall. You will find your afternoon classes listed upon the column at the end of the corridor.”
“Thanks, Casper.” Prince Jack seemed at ease with the ghostly image, more than many humans might be according to the book, causing Remo additional puzzlement. “Where are the bathrooms, pal? I need a shower.”
Casper turned to mist and then solidified. “You make me laugh, Master Jack. The bathhouse resides just before the stables and after the kitchen.” He faded from view.
“So that’s what it looks like when a simulacrum laughs, huh? Pretty cool.” Jack wandered to the bed and slapped Aneurin’s ass. “Come on, scaly butt. Let’s get clean.”
Remo jerked, fully expecting to see the royal heir singed at minimum. He would never have dared awaken his love in such a fashion. Embarrassed, Remo turned to braid his hair to keep it neat.
Aneurin flipped over and upright, with his black hair falling over one sleepy eye. He rubbed his buttocks. “You take unfair advantage of me, Jack. What has made you so cheerful, considering I smell none of that vile coffee you and my mother enjoy so much?”
Jack paused in the middle of pulling on his odd blue trews. “Hmm. I don’t know. I feel great, like I downed a whole pot of espresso, with a hearty breakfast on the side. That’s odd. I should be starving. We skipped dinner last night in lieu of our horizontal tango.”
The Elf snorted. “Foolish wizard. Your body is full of magic, not food. You have glowed with power since you chose the rock at the Trial.” Remo stopped to find his thong to tie the end of his braid. “You must eat, and soon, or you will grow as thin as your dragon and die.”
Aneurin sucked in his breath and hastened to rise and dress.
Jack blinked in astonishment and knelt on the ground to rummage beneath the chair for one of his odd white boots. “Hmph. I didn’t know I could die from wizardry. That’s odd. In the dark under this chair, I do glow. Weird. Why aren’t you glowing, Remo?”
Remo politely handed Aneurin his jerkin from the floor. The Elf dared not reveal all, but the prince’s innocent honesty compelled Remo to answer as truthfully as possible. “I chose an object of lesser power, a small dagger. Your stone radiated much more, like the sun. I’m surprised the others missed it.” Remo strangled on his next words, fearful to say the name. “Especially Quenton.”
Aneurin snorted and pulled on his boot. “He smelled of garlic, as if he’d bathed in it.”
Remo bit his lip. As much as he wished to defend Quenton, the Elf knew he must not. Quenton had been foolish to try to send Remo home, and then revealed Remo’s nature as if it were a crime. The Elf sighed and hid his private pain. Quenton could not know Remo was an exile and could never go home again. The Elf also knew why he’d bathed in garlic, but it was not his place to say why.
Remo changed the subject. “I saw your dragon form, Jack. After the Trial, I needed to spend but one last bit of time in the open air before shutting myself in this -- forgive me -- dark place. I lingered in a tree, and saw Aneurin in the sky with a black dragon. I knew it had to be you, transformed. Congratulations.”
Jack’s jaw fell open and he held the white boot poised over his foot. “Uh, well, I’m not sure… well, I think I did it by accident.”
Aneurin nodded his agreement.
Remo was so disappointed his ears drooped. “What a shame. I was hoping you’d impart a little wisdom so I might learn to transform more easily. I’d prefer a winged form myself, but I will be content with w
hat I can manage, even if it is little more than a sparrow.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “By the way, nice subject change. Why do I get the impression both of you want to make me into a mushroom, keep me in the dark, and feed me nothing but bullshit?”
Aneurin jumped up and announced, “I’m starved. Let’s eat before you start grilling us.”
Thoroughly confused, Remo’s glance darted between the human and the dragon. “Mushrooms? Grilling?”
Jack opened the door and waited for them to leave. He bent and muttered in Remo’s ear. “I know you and Aneurin are hiding information from me. I want you to tell me the truth.”
Remo looked up into those oddly dark moss eyes of Jack’s. The Elf monarch got that same look in his eyes when he would not be denied. Remo nodded, feeling much like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf, though the human had no way of knowing this rabbit had sharp claws. “Very well, then. Perhaps you will allow them to take our food out into the sunlight and air while I tell you what I know?” Remo waited for his nod. “Your dragon’s secrets are his own. Those, you must pry from him.” The Elf turned and walked with as much dignity as he could muster toward the stairs.
The scents of breakfast wafted up, teasing like a whore. Their mouths watered. They studied the schedule, posted on a column, and to his shame, envy twisted within Remo. “Shifting and transfiguration, then you have flight lessons. I will have swordplay.”
Oblivious to Remo’s misery, Jack relaxed and clapped Aneurin on the shoulder. “I’ll look forward to lessons with DeAngelo.”
Finding the dining hall was easy with the noise of many men shouting and laughing. They each took what they wished from the serving tables and fled the assault on their ears. A bench under an oak provided all they needed.
Aneurin and Remo sat upon the grass, while Jack made himself comfortable on the bench. Remo was amused to note how he and Aneurin took the supplicant positions, with their heads lower than the prince.
Jack bit into his meat-stuffed bread roll and raised an eyebrow at Remo.
The Elf took this as a signal to begin and took a deep breath. “I meant no true deception, Prince Jack.” Remo smiled thinly at his gasp. “Yes, we -- the Elves -- are aware of who you truly are. Be at peace. We do not mean to expose you to danger. Part of my presence here is to act as your protection, now that we are sure you are not like your sire.”
Jack’s teeth ground together and his brow creased. “No, I’m nothing like him, and I don’t want to be heir. Or king.”
Aneurin hissed a warning. In Remo’s opinion, Aneurin’s bonded had spoken a bit too loudly.
Remo smiled a bit. “That is to your credit.” He paused, not sure how to word his reassurances. Prince Jack was likeable and good-hearted. He did not deserve to be kept ignorant, but Remo could not reveal all. “I do not think you will be forced to ascend the throne, if that provides your heart with ease.”
The wizard prince drew a shaky breath. His growl was almost inaudible. “Unless you Elves have a spare human royal heir lying around somewhere, I’m sort of stuck with the job.”
There was no way to answer that, so they finished their meal in silence, for it seemed Prince Jack had lost his appetite for questions.
Jack regained enough aplomb to thank Remo for his guardianship and the Elves’ interest in him while they bathed. Then he seemed to forget his despair. The Elf breathed a sigh of relief while Jack simmered with energy and barely contained excitement as they straggled into one of the many cavernous rooms on the second floor of the mountain castle. His leather robe, worn like a long black coat, matched the rest of his oddly elegant clothes.
Quenton sneered when they entered the classroom, as befitting one who had worn Elf-made silk and woven cloths all his life, but Remo thought Jack’s use of the peasant fabric was striking. Without meaning to do so, the prince might start new fashions among the males at the palace. The females indulged themselves shamelessly, but the males resembled bedraggled peahens.
The teacher certainly noticed his beauty. She all but panted with heat like a werewolf female, though even the Elf knew this was one of the ladies of the court. She swallowed and rapped her wand sharply on the table before her.
Aneurin leaned over to tease his bonded with a hurried whisper but loud enough for Remo to hear. “Shall we bet how fast that one enquires of your mother when you will be put to stud?” He earned a sharp jab in his ribs for his sense of humor.
“I am Lady Vera. Every day after luncheon, you will come here to learn to shift both yourself and other creatures, if you have the skills for it. Some of you will not, and this is no shame upon you.” She beamed down benevolently, her brown curls nodding in time to her words. “Should you be unable, you will have this time period free, but do not think you may take your ease the rest of the day, for the next hour is spell casting class with Lady Tilda. You will be expected to appear then.”
She glanced around the room sternly, but avoided looking at Jack. “Now! Who can shift besides the dragon companions?”
A few raised their hands. Jack did not. Instead he folded his arms across his chest. When Jack saw Remo’s raised eyebrow, he muttered, “It’s not under my control. I’ll work on it.”
Lady Vera had sharp ears. “What form do you take, Lord Jack, if you please?”
“A black dragon.”
“Well, then. You shall practice in the back of the room. Try not to break anything.” She pointed with her wand to a distant corner behind her and lit the mage lamp over that area.
Jack and Aneurin removed themselves to the area indicated. Remo dared not turn his head to watch, though the occasional whiff of sulfur and some vile acidic smell floated toward them.
Lady Vera’s lesson was not very useful. “Visualization is the key. You must see from the eyes of the form you wish to be and your mind must see this clearly. Want that form with all your hearts. See it, feel it, and become it.” Her eyes strayed to the back of the room, and her eyes widened. “If you please, Lord Jack! If you are going to spread your wings, be kind enough to mind the tapestries.”
Remo understood why she spread them around the room soon enough, as almost everyone wanted a large winged form. Quenton taunted Remo by taking the place directly opposite the Elf. Of course, he manifested as a dragon, just as Remo knew he would. His sleek, young, green form, with silver accents, earned him commendations from Lady Vera. She immediately made Quenton her assistant to aid those of the students who experienced difficulties.
The Elf redoubled his efforts, but could not manage the trick of it, only managing to puff out in feathers like a molting chicken. Remo hung his head in shame and closed his eyes. He did not need the scent of garlic in his nose to know that Quenton was beside him.
Quenton’s breath teased his ears. In Remo’s own language, he uttered reassurances. “Do not fear me, Remo. I would not be so cruel here.” He placed one hand on Remo’s back. “Stop fighting what you really want to be. You know what it is. Take it.”
Remo looked up. There was much to be said they dared not. The Elf saw naked lust in his dark eyes. “Do you really want me to take what I want?”
Quenton’s hand moved lower. “Why not? I certainly intend to.”
Chapter Two
Remo trembled like a leaf in a high wind, but refused to acknowledge the hand now resting just a finger’s width from his ass. His skin flushed with heat, and he was sure his breathing quickened. What was the hold Quenton had on his heart? He lifted his chin and looked into the stormy darkness of Quenton’s eyes. “We are not lovers anymore, Quenton. I have not given you permission to touch my body.”
The brown eyes he’d once loved softened, and Quenton looked away. “You know why I left. I was as frightened as you of loving one not of my own race, though it’s more acceptable among my kind than yours. We were too young, Remo.”
Remo sighed and softened his voice. “Did you think the passage of time would make a difference?” His lips twisted into a half-smile at the irony of it all
. “You’ve been consorting with humans too long. Marking the passage of time is a human trait.”
Quenton’s lip curled into a snarl. “I have my duties to my queen. I do what I must.”
“Temperamental as always, I see.” Remo winged an eyebrow upward and ignored the soaring lust in his groin. No one had ever stirred his heart -- and shattered it -- as Quenton had and still could. “At least I am honest in why I am here.”
His ex-lover chuckled. “Liar. What would they say if they knew who and what you really are, Remo? Would they call you spy and send your lovely head back to your king?” He leaned closer. “It would be such a waste when I’d rather be fucking that sweet mouth of yours once more.”
Lust and rage hazed Remo’s vision until he could barely see. His ragged breaths sounded harsh to his own ears while the rest of the world faded away to shadows. Worst of all, his mouth watered at the memories of doing precisely what Quenton described. Days spent in a tangle of flesh together. “You demean my honor. I have not lied.”
Quenton removed his hand from Remo’s ass and stepped back one pace. In a low, insinuating tone, he accused Remo of pure dishonor. “A lie of omission is still a lie. You haven’t told the whole truth, have you?”
Mage energy crackled between them. Quenton allowed it to travel up his body and be absorbed. His eyes lit and for a brief moment turned golden. He hissed, “Do it, Remo. Change and fight me on my own turf. Become a danger to me.”
A red mist hazed Remo’s vision, seemingly coloring the whole world in blood. Remo gave one inarticulate scream of pure rage. He leapt at Quenton, not sure if he would kill or kiss, but something -- anything -- was better than standing still one moment longer. His wings buffeted Quenton, and his tail lifted to sting that self-satisfied smirk… Wait… His wings? His tail?
Shouts penetrated his confusion. “Holy Mother! A wyvern!” “Did you see that? Remo turned into a wyvern.” “Someone rescue Quenton before Remo stings him to death!”
