Dragon Sweat

The Master, the victor in a score of killing fights, whimpered like a beaten dog: "Me, my lord! Go up on one of those things? I beg you, no, no, a thousand times no! I'm a man, not a bird!"

"Ho-ho-ho! Your face, Master, your face!" The Royal Torturer slapped his thigh in glee. He was a man whom dearly loved a joke above all things, well accustomed at taking full advantage of a captive audience.

"Be calm, Master, be calm. Did we need a bulldog for an honest fight you would be our choice, but the Chief Warlock has found us something much better for our needs. A cunning serpent able to fly as well as that dragon, a serpent of fascinating wickedness and as full of venom as a lawyers' tavern. A serpent well versed in all kinds of magic and courtly behavior, a speaker of many tongues and a convincing liar in all of them. Best of all, a serpent whom both enchants and terrifies every man she meets. And I say enchants in the full meaning of the word."

"Enchants?" The Master-At-Arms stared at Sir Tarquin. "A witch? You are sending a witch with Shitbucket? Which witch -- I mean what witch?"

"Look at my finger, Master."

The torturer traced the outline of three letters on the desk in front of him. The Master-At-Arms blinked, blinked again, and then smiled a little. So did Sir Tarquin. Both of them looked at each other and smiled even more widely.

"So, Master, have we not found you a better ball-breaker than anything I could provide in my torture chamber?"

The Master-At-Arms laughed aloud, clapping his hands together as though applauding a play or an execution: "The bitch-witch! The bitch-witch herself!"

Sir Tarquin stood up again, his belly heaving at the same joke as he looked down at the antics of the boy and his pet, both of them completely unaware of the terrible fate speeding towards them.

"But what could bring her to this small kingdom, my lord? What does a lady of her powers care about our dragon?"

"The lady has the King's sworn promise. Bring back the eggs which will create an army of warrior dragons for him and she will be rewarded, even unto half of the Empire once he has seized it. But if ever that should come to pass, Master-At-Arms, be assured I'll make sure that I'm living in the other half of the Empire."

Had Hal been able to overhear this conversation he would have been a thoroughly frightened eavesdropper. Though one part of it would have given him at least a moment's satisfaction. For, if a member of the High Council should talk so lightly of his selling the dragon, it meant that none of the great men of the kingdom knew about the most profound of her mysteries, one of far more value to a growing boy than mere tricks like flying or flame throwing. A mystery he had been taking advantage of under any watching eyes from the castle walls in his pretence of playfully tickling the dragoness. What he had actually been doing was soaking a piece of rag near glands underneath her wing joints where a colorless liquid sometimes seeped out -- a liquid which drove all those who touched it into a flaming desire to couple as madly as any March hare.

Hal had only noticed the liquid appearing in the last few weeks, as the dragoness reached her maidenhood. He supposed that it was intended for male dragons to lick and thus encourage them to mount the female. Certainly he had never suspected such a thing at first. He'd believed the liquid to be sweat, the first sign that the dragon was as other creatures.

Before then, in all the years since he'd first found it, the dragon had seemed to live on a higher level than other life forms, including men. It never ate, but spread its wings out under the sun whenever it could, as though it drew life from the great fire like a growing flower. Thus, it never dropped dung either, a great relief to Hal. All the beastling seemed to need was a daily drink of water and lots of affection. And now it seemed able to create affection itself, uncontrollable affection in all who were touched of the dragon's sweat.

By great fortune the first trickles were of a weaker potency than flowed later. But such as they were, the dampness on his fingers had driven Hal into a corner of the dragon hut with his breeches around his ankles and his hand continually jerking at his lance, a lance which refused to droop in tiredness after the first, second, third, and even fourth eruption. It had felt as if the fires of hell itself were burning in his loins and would never be doused.

The boy had almost killed himself before collapsing onto the straw and suffered so much soreness afterwards that every movement for days had been torment. He had quickly learned from his experience though, and took great care now never to touch the liquid directly and to mix it with plenty of water before use. A power intended for dragons was far too strong for humans without it being much weakened first. But what wonders even a trace of the sweat produced!

Carefully holding the rag by a still dry corner he led the beast back into the hut which housed it. Blotches of yellow appeared on the dragon's neck from its head to its front legs like daisies appearing after rain. Hal quickly answered the unspoken question.

"Be content, Josephine, I see all the colors of your coat. We shall fly this morning. But first I must prepare."

As soon as the dragon was inside Hal pulled the doors shut and put a bar across them. The thousands of cracks in the planked roof and walls let in enough light for the shed's interior to become as twilight, a million straw motes floating through the intruding rays and then disappearing from sight in the darker areas. The dragon ambled over to the largest pile of straw at the far end of the hut and sniffed at it. Girlish laughter and cries of mock fear came from the depths of the straw.

"Come away, my lady," Hal said severely. "There are terrible creatures hidden in there, and I fear for your safety."

More giggles, and a mass of blonde curly hair popped up out of the straw: "It's true, you do speak your dragon as though it were your heart's love. Chelinde told me it was so but I didn't believe her, so I came to hear myself."

"A good day between you and evil, Caelia," Hal said, little bothered by the girl's banter. "And is it that long tongued sister of yours who is hiding with you?"

Another head came out of the straw, another head of tangled fair hair filled with straws and the two faces both of a kind, round and rosy, with bright blue eyes full of mischief.

"Why here I am indeed, mighty dragon master, and have been since we crept in before dawn."

"And what of your father? How would our Master-At-Arms deal with me if he knew you two were here in Josephine's shed?"

"He'll never know," Caelia answered lightly, brushing the problem of her parent aside, and none of the three with the slightest foreboding of the dangers rushing in on them. "And anyway, I wanted to see the dragon."

"See it, girl? And haven't you seen it every day for years past, just as all hereabouts have done?"

"I haven't seen it the way Chelinde has."

Hal himself blushed furiously and unable to stop from casting a guilty look at Chelinde's face: "And what way would you be talking about, Caelia?"

The straw pile parted and Caelia emerged from it, pale skinned and much freckled, hot eyed, wide mouthed, a cupid's bow on the upper lip which was made for laughing and kissing. Her pleasing shape was akin that of her elder sister, short in body and leg, but as well curved as any piece of fruit sinful Adam ever plucked, and as fully endowed in the bust and bottom as Eve herself must have been. The forest green gown Caelia was wearing was much worn, overdue now to be passed down to another sister, for the wooden buttons on the bodice were all but popping off, and as her fingers stroked it, removing wisps of straw, she knew full well what effect she was having on Hal.

"Why, I haven't been for a flight with your dragon as Chelinde has."

Hal was speechless, not knowing how much Caelia had learnt and whether she could be trusted to keep quiet. Bad enough she knew as much as she did already, after he'd sworn Chelinde to silence by all the Gods in the mountains.

"Chelinde!"

The straw broke apart again like the pool of Venus and Chelinde rose out of it to stand beside her sister. Two buttons on her bodice were already undone and Hal remembered -- as he would remember all his mortal days -- what was concealed below them, and how Chelinde had squealed with excitement as he'd taken her budding womanhood in both of his hands. Now she was back again, her sister with her to boot, and the pair of them looking like bear cubs that had found a dripping honeycomb to lick.

"No need for hard words, Hal. Wouldn't you like to take the both of us for a flight? Didn't you say yourself I could bring another girl next time if I wished?"

True it was indeed he'd said some such thing -- or rather, his balls had said it through his mouth when they possessed him body and soul.

Had Chelinde not the slightest suspicion of how she'd been tricked into washing with water tainted with dragon sweat? But why would she think of such a thing when only Hal himself knew of the power of the dragon's sweat? No, she could know nothing of the mind affecting power at his command and must still believe her seduction had been fully consummated by her own desire, a desire as uncontrollable as Hal's own. But to bring her own sister to another meeting! Had it truly been Chelinde's idea or that little minx Caelia? Another of the Master-At-Arm's daughters! Lunacy!

Yet when Hal looked at both pairs of bright eyes, both pairs of red lips, and at the taut female flesh underneath those gowns he knew the argument was lost before it was even debated. If Josephine could lift the three of them into the air he cared not whether Caelia and Chelinde were the Master-At-Arm's kin or the devil's. He could no more resist them than refrain from breathing.

"You -- you have the price of your flights with you?"

"Here," Chelinde said and held out a small white muslin bag. "I took them from a batch that our mother has just finished drying."

Hal moved forward, took the bag from her fingers, opened it and carefully spilt the treasure inside into his hand. Three pieces of treasure in truth, three small squares of ash speckled potash mixed with fats and essence of herbs. Three pieces of soap! Hal held one of the squares to his nose and breathed in the smell from it as if he was standing by the rose gardens of Paradise. The great head of the dragon loomed over his shoulder, Josephine sniffing at Hal's hand in her curiosity. Both girls cowered back as if they feared being bitten

"Ah, you need none of this, my lady. You are not condemned to do my filthy work. But heed me now."

Hal carefully pointed to himself, then to Chelinde and Caelia, held an hand on each side of his head, and flicked two fingers on each one up and down. Then he made a hooked question sign with one finger: "Can you carry the three of us aloft, Josephine?"

Outbreaks of pink blossomed along the dragon's belly, running into each other like spilt paint. Like her namesake, her coat was always of many colors, colors which displayed meanings as clearly as words to those who could read them. An ability which only Hal had. Now he cocked his head in some surprise at the boldness of Josephine's display.

"So sure, hey? I hope you may not be topping it the phoenix. But on your own wings be it. Please to step this way then and oblige."

Hal pointed to the large drinking trough and plunged his fingers into the water inside the trough, then quickly pulled them out again and shook his hand to show how cold the water was. Afterwards he tapped his nose and stood back. The dragon waddled forward, dipped her snout into the trough and made a coughing noise. Then she apparently lost interest in the trough and slithered away. The two girls clung to each other as the water in the middle of the trough swelled up in a great boiling and moiling, with jets of steam spurting out of it and waves running along the length of the trough to splash over the ends.

"Tis nothing to fear, sister," Chelinde reassured Caelia. "Only a little dragon spit being used to warm the cold water for us. For Hal says that the dragon cannot abide the smell of strange humans close to her unless we are freshly washed."

Hal had indeed told her that. A lie of course, but a most convenient one. As soon as the dragon's spit had been quenched he picked up a stick, plucked the rag from his belt, pushed the rag deep into the trough, then used the stick to swirl the boiling and colder portions of water into a comfortably warm mixture. Only he knew what else was also being spread through the water from the sweat stained rag.

Two buckets Hal then filled from the trough, put a ladle in each and carried the buckets to the dragon's washing place. The dragon had scratched out the earth there and carried in sacks of sand that Hal had spread, for the boy hated mud almost as much as he hated dung.

In the middle of the sandpit was a waist high pile of straw from which Hal drew handfuls of stalks to rub Josephine down with after her daily bathe. He set the buckets down behind the straw.

"So, do you girls wash yourselves most carefully. You may crouch down as necessary, though I will have no eyes to spare for you as I prepare Josephine for her flight."

Chelinde giggled, and then Caelia too, exchanging knowing looks, the four rosy cheeks flushing even redder. Hal handed one of the precious pieces of soap to each of them.

"Go to it, girls," Hal urged. And if the dragon sweat worked as well as before, even much diluted, the sisters would soon enough stop blushing.

From the wall Hal took down a net made of ropes, of the finest quality the castle ropemaker could provide, furnished on the King's direct orders. To try to ride on Josephine's back was impossible, for along her spine were a single row of fins, each half the length of a man's forearm, and each fin tipped with a needle as sharp and as strong as the tip of an Iberian legionnaire's spear. Any saddle placed on Josephine's back would have been ripped to shreds within minutes, and the rider's arse along with it.

As soon as she saw the net the dragon crouched down eagerly on her belly, eyeing the door of the dragon hut like a dog waiting to be released from a kennel. Hal laughed and fetched four sheepskins which he impaled in a row on her fins, each skin pressed well down so the tops of the fins stood proud above them. Then he threw the net over the sheepskins, carefully arranging the ropes to ensure none were twisted and each fin projected through one of the wide mesh holes in the net. The load must be properly spread along Josephine's body and the sheepskins were to protect the net ropes from chafing, not the dragon's hide from harm. Her scales had never been pierced to Hal's knowledge, not even with when the wolves had snapped and bit at her like puppies trying to chew through chain mail. Her anger and her fire had only exploded when the pack had drawn blood from Hal.

At each corner of the net was a wooden ring, triple sewn into the ropes, the rings hanging level with each wing joint, both front and back. Hal fetched a second net and laid it flat on the floor, then spread more sheepskins along the middle of it.

"Come, my lady, come."

The dragon rose on her legs, scuttled forward over the second net, then crouched down again. Like the other net, the belly net had rings sewn into each corner and Hal had four lengths of rope over his shoulder, the 'Fria und Odin!' lashings. They were called that because if they came undone those would be the last despairing words he'd have time to shout. As he secured each set of rings together Hal totally ignored the laughter coming from across the straw pile. Only when the nets were safely secure above and below Josephine did Hal turn and look towards Chelinde and Caelia. And as he did so his lungs seemed suddenly emptied of air.

Chelinde was standing behind the straw pile, visible from the hips up and wearing nothing but her necklace of painted wooden beads. Her expression was one of pure mischief as she rubbed a piece of soap over and around her taut young breasts, showing particular care to the dark plums on the tip of each wet and wobbling mound. Behind her was Caelia, not even wearing as much as a necklace, and grinning at Hal as if he were the castle jester. He stepped towards the straw, mouth agape, hardly knowing what he was doing. Caelia laughed in delight at his obvious stupefaction, then reached around Chelinde and began massaging the trails of soap on her sister's paps into a lather. The front of Hal's breeches jerked upwards as quickly as a disturbed viper rousing itself. Both of the girls giggled anew at the visible proof of their effect on him.

"Come on, Hal, time for you to wash as well," Chelinde called out. "We've water enough left for you."

He stumbled forward, as dazed as a man hit with a club in a tavern brawl. The more he tried to undo his jerkin, the bigger the toggles seemed to get and the tighter the leather loops around them. But when he was behind the straw pile the girls crowded close to him, each taking on the task of loosening his clothing. And neither of them wearing a stitch.

The smell of the soap on their warm bodies was the finest aroma ever known in his life, even better than roasting pork. And when he found four pillows pressed against him, four pillows of white flesh sprinkled with freckles, pillows softer than any on the King's bed, Hal nearly fainted.

The sisters had no more interest in teasing the boy's weaknesses though, only in exposing his strength. Both of them held onto a sleeve of his jerkin as they removed the dirty garment, and then Caelia pulled his shirt out of his breeches as Chelinde undid the wooden buttons at the neck.

"Ha, you're too tall for us, Hal," she chuckled, her breath brushing against the exposed skin in his opened collar. "Kneel down, dragon master."

He would have jumped into a bonfire if they'd asked it of him -- even into the moat, perhaps. On his knees in the damp sand, he held up his arms again and his shirt was lifted high and over his hands. Directly in front of his face as this happened was Chelinde's loins and the blonde patch of hair set above her sweet cleft. Hal pushed his head forward and his tongue further forward yet, the tip of it not quite reaching its target as Chelinde laughed and retreated half a step, keeping her hands clasped around Hal's raised wrists.

"La, Caelia, this monster is as fearsome as his dragon. He wants to eat me!"

Her sister squealed in mock alarm: "Odin save us! What are we to do?"

"Never fear. I shall sacrifice myself to save you. Hal, lie down -- on your back."

He did so, stared up with bulging eyes and saw Chelinde appear over his face, each of her feet almost touching one of his ears, her smooth legs and exquisitely shaped thighs wide apart, right up to the furrow of the delectable man trap between them. She brushed some strands of loose hair away from her knowing eyes, then looked along the length of his body to Caelia.

"Sister, while I hold him down, do you remove his breeches and wash him most thoroughly."

Caelia giggled: "How can you hold down such a beast?"

"Watch and learn."

Chelinde lowered herself, putting a knee where each of her feet had been before, then leaning forward over Hal's chest. The entrance to the promised land filled his gaze, and then nuzzled against his lips. He snorted in delight and tongued away at her sex like a pig hunting truffles. The fat bulges of Chelinde's rump quivered in response, pressing the join between them down onto his nose, until he was compelled to put a hand under each buttock to help support her weight, lest she stifle him.