Theft of Dragons (Princes of Naverstrom)

by John Forrester

  "Princess Sebine," she returned, and despite her initial resistance accepted his hand. She felt a strange heat flow into her as she touched his skin. "Where are you from, originally? Your accent is neither that of Trikar, nor of the northlands."

  "South near Cranth, along the Ferelian Sea. But these last several years I've travelled a great deal."

  "And do you plan to return home to the south?"

  A sadness briefly touched Tael's face, but he hid it with a wistful smile. "My home is gone, as are my parents...they are—" He stopped himself from saying more, as if the burden of saying the words were too heavy.

  "I'm really sorry for your loss." She paused awhile, a little fearful at the intense sadness in his eyes. "How old were you when they died?"

  "Six years ago...when I was only a boy of twelve." He shook his head, as if trying to expel the memory. "Tell me, Princess Sebine. Do you love the King?"

  The question surprised her. Was it some kind of test? She studied his soft eyes and in a strange silence felt like she could trust him. "I neither love nor respect the King...I despise him. He holds me and my mother as if prisoners. He has me followed wherever I go. He's a fat, ugly pig of a man."

  A grin crossed his handsome face. "We share this in common. The King is no friend to his people—and he is unpopular in the royal houses of Trikar."

  Sebine chuckled at his confidence in speech and his knowledge of the nobility. Who was he really? His assuring voice continued.

  "He recklessly makes enemies with those of other kingdoms, and risks the land with rumors of war." Tael leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "And he's made an unholy alliance with the vile Hakkadians—creatures tainted by the evil Princes of Naverstrom."

  "What do you know of the Hakkadians?" Her voice held suspicion and concern.

  "I know many things of them from my grandfather. I know their history as wandering nomads of the north and of the intense change that came over them when they discovered Naverstrom over two hundred years ago." Sober suddenly, he closed his mouth as if he'd said too much.

  "Please go on...this is all new to me. I've never heard stories of the Hakkadians." This wasn't really a lie, as she'd only learned of the Hakkadians directly from them. However, she'd always wanted to hear of the creatures from another viewpoint. She continued after still seeing hesitation on his face. "I would really appreciate knowing more of them...you might even gain my friendship."

  A wily grin formed on his face. "Friendship is not what's on my mind."

  His unwavering, green eyes bore into hers, and she felt a trickle of sweat fall down to the small of her back. He was very handsome...and mysterious. And the cadence and gentleness of his voice entranced her. She did find him dangerously attractive and couldn't help but glance down at his toned chest and hard stomach, and her mouth somehow tasted salty at seeing the silkiness of his sweat-ladened skin. After she cleared her throat, she continued, though her voice was unpleasantly hoarse.

  "Then perhaps I agree with you." On seeing his surprised expression she smiled and took his hand, amused at her forwardness. "This is the beginning of the Wintertide Festival, is it not? And where is my drink? Silly of you not to offer me a glass of wine."

  She giggled to herself as Tael arched his back erect as if a soldier coming to attention. With a mission in his eyes he charged off towards the winemaker's shop, a hand retrieving a coin purse at his belt. Soon he returned, and delighted, she found he'd brought them two proper glasses of dark-red wine. She accepted the gift, curtsied to him, and swirled the wine around. Nose to glass, she inhaled the delicate scents of plums and blackberry and dark chocolate.

  "I've discovered heaven..." She smiled with devilish eyes as she sipped the wine. "No wonder you tried to seduce the winemaker's daughter. You drank from his fine vintage and found yourself craving more than just a taste." She chuckled, surprised at her own suggestive words. "She's something of a legend in Trikar—for her beauty and unattainability. I applaud your adeptness in seducing her and I'm honestly flattered that you left her to talk to me.

  "When I first saw you staring at me, there was something genuine...a pure hopeless foolishness in your eyes. And then the girl chased after you like a mesmerized sheep...hah...the vintner's princess, as they call her. How could you seriously resist her? She would have given herself to you tonight. I'm quite certain of it."

  With a regained composure and a confident smile, he ran his fingers along her neck and sent shivers across her skin. His green eyes admired her face. "As wonderful as a night with her would have been, I'd never trade it for the chance to meet you. If I'd paused or turned back to her, you'd have disappeared."

  She lifted the glass to her lips and relished in the sweet taste of the wine, contemplating his words. She let the liquid roll around in her still-parted mouth, the night air joining with the wine under her inhalation, igniting a hot, fragrant sensation that wafted up to her nostrils. As she drank more in a sudden, hungry rush, she felt a flush on her face and her mind fired with the feeling of his fingers on her neck. She found herself leaning in to him, the heat between their distance strong, the humid air around them a small cosmos, and simultaneously felt his long fingers on the bare skin of her back and his wine-flavored lips on hers.

  Her mouth gifted the remaining wine to him and together their tongues danced around the liquid in a mad ecstasy. Fervent now, the pressure tight between their lips, he pulled her so close she could feel the warmth and humidity from his body seep into hers, and her body responded to the language of his, a secret language between them. She discarded the glass into the bonfire and let her hands meander along the moist skin of his back and shoulder, then down to his waist, where she answered his body's call, and pulled his hips into hers. An uncomfortable wetness formed between her thighs and instead of lilting from her vertiginous mind, she kissed him deeper, sucking the air from his mouth and enjoying the pressure of their passion.

  She exhaled and separated, searching his eyes for evidence of lust without love, but felt relieved at finding both instead. Her palm wiped the beads of sweat on his forehead and she kissed his lips lightly to tell him she was feeling the same way. He leaned down and ran his lips along her neck, settling to whisper in her ear.

  "I've dreamed of you often, a dream that repeats and has etched a place in my memory, before I've ever seen you." The movement of the air from his mouth sent maelstrom of tingling across her scalp. "Maybe at first it was a fever dream—as I was a boy of thirteen, I believe—but then it crystallized into what my grandfather calls clear dreams, where you know you are dreaming and are awake in a way more awake than waking life. I dreamed of you and the familiarity of your face is from those dreams, and when I saw you at the festival last year I recognized you and knew you were the one. You were real."

  A small glistening appeared in the corners of his eyes at the intensity of the recollection and Sebine knew what he felt was genuine. She placed her hands on his cheeks and studied the wonder and entrancement beaming from his face.

  "You're so sweet. You meant what you said before about me...when we first met? I can see in your eyes that you did." She couldn't stop herself from kissing him again, and thinking how she wanted to be with him all night and the next, and every night after that. What she felt was strange and powerful and sudden, as if a flood torrent sweeping down the rivers of her heart. But it also felt invigorating and peaceful, as if she had finally come home to a place of contentment and protection—this feeling of being in his embrace.

  "What a wild and wonderful night this has become." Tael stared out over the festival and his eyes caught the ripple of explosions from fireworks igniting above. Sebine felt a vibration in her chest at the booming echo that came next. "I just arrived today in the city...from a long voyage south, and now I'm here!" His arms spread wide as if reaching out to embrace the sky. "And I met you—bless the fateful hand of the gods—I met you, tonight, on this beautiful night."

  A horrible flash cleared Sebine's mind in an inst
ant as she remembered Emitt Waylor's ridiculously precise timing in leaving the palace. "What time is it?" she blurted out, hating the panic in her voice that cause Tael to frown in surprise.

  "Do you have to go so early?" He held her hand and his eyes pleaded for her to stay.

  "It's complicated...and I can't risk being late or I'll get in the worst kind of trouble. I really have to go."

  "Wait, before you go...how can I see you again?"

  She smiled and kissed his lips again, smelling the scent of him that had already created a home in her memory. "Let's meet here, in front of the winemaker's shop, at the hour before the witching time. We'll enjoy wine and the festival, and you can tell me all that you know about the Hakkadians. Don't be late."

  He embraced her and returned the kiss, and with his release a coldness in the air swirled around her skin. She gave him a small wave goodbye, and turned and darted through the crowd, quickening her step as she noticed the elevated position of the moon. Her mind stayed with the boy but her feet led her on, running towards the emptiness of the palace.

  Chapter Fifteen

  TAEL WATCHED SEBINE filter through the now subdued crowd until her slender figure disappeared. As soon as she was out of sight he felt a pang of remorse for not offering to escort her back to the palace. He darted after her, ignoring alluring smiles of pretty girls along his path, and deftly maneuvered around partygoers raising mugs of wine in celebration of the gods of winter. But after trailing her path and searching for the flower dress she wore, he realized he had lost her amongst the dense revelry.

  "Looking for someone?" said a girl's delicate voice in an intriguing accent that marked her as from the far, southern Islands of Marr. Tael turned and felt the small hands of an alluring, nymph-like girl running up his chest.

  "Oh, gods of youth...what a strong and beautiful body you have. The lines of your muscles are like the waves of the Ferelian Sea. I crave to see them in motion under the pull of the gentle moon." The girl smiled innocently, but Tael could see the devilishness and seduction playing on her eyes. "Could you help me, perhaps? I can see from your face that your mind is elsewhere, but you see, I've lost my friends in all this madness and the wine has made me disoriented. I fear I won't be able to find my way home safely. But look at that face—you have such a honest, handsome face. A face I can trust."

  Her eyes sparkled in the light of the waning bonfire and although he knew her plea was mere pretense, he was unable to resist glancing down at her small but firm breasts, nipples erect under her sheer silk top. She possessed a tiny waist that flowed into perfectly round hips. In a quick turn, she scanned the crowd for her friends, but Tael found himself entranced at the sidelong view of her hips, which jutted out ridiculously. In his mind he imagined his hands locked on those hips, pulling her urgently into him.

  He shook his head, thinking of Princess Sebine once again, and chastised himself for so quickly forgetting the girl he had so often dreamed about. Tomorrow he would see her, and she would be his, and he would be hers. Together they would enjoy the festival and share in this world of wonder.

  "Still no sign of my friends. And how rude of me to bother you—weren't you looking for someone yourself? A friend perhaps?" Her face had changed to such a complete expression of innocence and concern that Tael found himself drawn into her plight.

  "It's no worry...I'll meet my friend tomorrow night." Tael regretted he said the words my friend, realizing the unconscious intention beneath.

  The girl smiled understandingly. "She will be fine, and you'll see her at the morrow. The Wintertide Festival is a festival of love and of the euphoria found in drink and smoke and sexuality. With the night so young it's a shame your friend had to leave so early...perhaps unexpectedly soon?" She studied him, small head tilted in regard. "Yes, I can see it in your eyes. Her departure was sudden and the passion inside your eyes still smolders—how would the poets say it? Let's see if I remember the lines correctly. The heart of love burns for an eternity, while the heart of desire fires quick and certain, spent in the hours of lust."

  "I'll save my lust for the new evening...as beautiful as you are—there is another who possesses both my heart and my desire." Tael spoke the words as if from rote, while the truth was not fully there in his mind.

  "Did I offer you an outlet for your lust?" The girl laughed vainly. "I don't believe I did. Merely aid in finding my home under the protection of your strong arms. You amuse me with your foolish innocence and presumptiveness—as if all the girls at the festival fawned over your attention."

  When the girl turned and walked away, Tael felt guilt strike his heart at her words. "Wait a moment...I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking. But I will help you home if you still want me to."

  "You? Take me home? Oh, I don't think so. How do I know you won't rape me in my moment of weakness? I'm small and lack any defense from your power. I can see your girlfriend's enchantment still clutching your mind. Lust for her still rages in your loins. I recommend a trip to the red house on Berince Street." She cupped her tiny hand under his balls. "Or perhaps if you lack the money, there is an old beggar witch in the back alley behind the house that will relieve your pressure for a loaf of bread. They say she has the most talented mouth—lacking any front teeth."

  A tingling spread through his crotch and flooded his craving for her. In that moment he knew he should leave immediately, a voice told him he was in danger, but his rebellious eyes inhaled every curve of her erotic figure and he grabbed her wrist and roughly pulled her against him. She yelped in delight, but a sudden scowl masked the smile that had briefly marked her face.

  "Let go of me...stop it! I swear to the gods I'll scream." Her words were cut off as he pressed his lips hard against hers, her mouth tasting of sweet wine and cinnamon, and though she resisted and her body wriggled in fury and tried to break free of his enlocking embrace, in a few heartbeats she exhaled and gave in and her tongue spoke to his in the language of lovers. He could feel her stimulated nipples pressed against his chest. He was crazy—he knew it—all his cravings tonight were immoral and the smiling and angry faces of the girls mixed with the wine and the music and the wildness. But he couldn't help himself; Sebine was right—he was a man with excuses and he simply couldn't help himself.

  The girl (he didn't even know her name) smelled of cloves and sour cherries and honey. Her skin was blanched white and silky to his fingers as they ran along the avenues of pleasure taught to him by older women desiring his youthful stimulation. Those hips that had enraged his mind at first sight felt firm and fantastic at his tight grip—and he lifted her against his now inflamed cock. He wanted her now, not a moment later, at any dark spot with a place to lie. Or perhaps he couldn't wait and he would take her here in the pressure and anonymity of the crowd. She felt so good he wanted to roar in delight and possess her in the madness and fury of his feeling.

  "I knew you would control me." Her voice was a panting whisper in his ear. "No chance to stop you...I'm not strong enough...how could I stop—"

  She moaned a terrible moan of agony and luxurious delight as he reached down and plunged two fingers into her wetness. That made it all the worse for him. She was so firm and ridged that even though she was wet, the width of his fingers was difficult for her to bear. She panted and her eyes closed, expression jubilant, and her eyelids fluttered as an epileptic in a seizure. Her knees buckled and he held her up: one hand cupping her hips and the other between her legs.

  At that moment the crowd pressed in to them as if a wave cresting onto the shore. He kissed her again and this time she responded, tongue slithering and bold, and finally her small hands reached into his pants and she cried a bit—fingers hesitant—then she was desperate as she explored the features of his erection. Music erupted in a frenzy of drums and horns and now the partygoers were so tightly mashed against each other that Tael took the opportunity to spin the girl around, her ass facing his crotch, and at the swaying of the crowd's hips and shoulders timed to the music roar
ing around them, he and the girl ground their bodies together.

  Head tilted sideways, the girl smiled and turned her eyes up towards his in a kind of crazed reverence, and he responded to her silent words of adoration with a kiss and his fingers teased a nipple, sending a shiver through her small frame.

  "You're a demon," she said, her words slow and choked. "The soothsayer warned me I would cross paths with a demon...and my life would stumble and falter in the demon's wake. She told me the demon would wear a young man's face—a handsome face—but underneath was darkness and the cold brutality of slain bones. With a warning she advised me to try and stay clear of this demon, though she said that likely it was impossible—as fate steered me into this path like a ship caught at sea by the tangles of a giant sea creature. And look, see how you entangle me like an octopus. Your arms and..." She glanced down, groaned, and squeezed his now engorged cock. "...a tentacle of torture."

  At her words a chill of fear prickled along his arms and caused the hairs to rise along his goose-pimpled skin. Her lips mouthed the words take me and she bent slightly over and guided his cock to the soft place between her thighs. His hands felt her hips—those hips his imagination had fired in a vision of lust and desire—and he yanked down her tiny-bell-lined dress and fished his cock around her wetness, sending a thrill of weakening pleasure through his body.

  But in her now dark-and-dilated eyes he sensed the depths of the hell of Naverstrom—the same as in the eyes of the Hakkadian sorcerer he had slain. He had to stop this. As she studied him, blackness crept around the rim of the girl's eyes like a flood of ink spilling into water. And the chill he had felt now exploded into a dousing of iced water on his inflamed and muddled mind, and with a fervent act—like that of a heretic standing proud against a foreign faith—he pushed her away from him.

  The girl paused and hissed—eyes pure black pools of malice—and her now forked tongue slither from scaly lips as twin daggers appeared in her clawed hands. The crowd fled like mob of rats from a dog's charge—screams and shrieks and slurred voices shouting in concern.