Dragon's Lair

Mantegor continued on, guided on by some nameless instinct. At last, in the cull-d-sac of a narrow, high-walled canyon, he thought he heard the faintest of sounds, whispers hissed furtively as if from a grotto hidden deep within the earth. A shadowy fissure gaped vertically in the surface of the cliff side. The heard issuing from within, and he knew they weren't voices of men, nor did they speak in any tongue he was familiar with. Yet, by some magical art, he was able understood all that was being said, as if the words were thoughts transmitted directly into his inner mind. He was listening to a language that transcended the need for words.

"I've lost all contact with the warrior," the first said, in a voice both deep and resonant. The entire mountainside seemed to tremble at the sound. "I tried to warn Dimthorn not to attack this man, but he would not listen. The children of Caan no longer heed their former lord. They grow wild and unruly and fierce with anger and hate that can be quenched in naught but blood."

"Does this mean that all our plans have been for naught?" said another voice, so faint it could barely be heard, yet distinctly feminine.

"Perhaps not! I'll take wing and seek out the warrior from the skies," said the male dragon. "It will take but a moment, whether I return with a corpse or a live man."

Mantegor ducked back along the cliff side, concealing himself behind a mass of tumbled boulders. Hidden in a tiny crevasse so near the beast's lair, he hoped to remain temporarily invisible to the dragon's probing eyes. Even in those moments, he only listened and observed, making sure he kept his mind silent and his thoughts guarded.

A sudden wind swept across the floor of the canyon. Mantegor watched in awe as an immense winged dragon rose majestically and soared swiftly into the clouded sky. He had no doubt that this was indeed the Elder Dragon, a nightmarish creature with the body of a lizard and immense leathery wings like the wings of a bat. Its body seemed to fill the entire sky, sinuous coils glimmering like diamonds in the sunlight as it swooped down dangerously near his hiding place. Then it was gone. The distant flapping of its wings were the only reminder of its passing.

3.

With a recklessness characteristic of him, Mantegor strode forward straight into the darkness of the dragon pit. He knew the treasure trove of the Elder Dragon awaited him, guarded now only by his mate. He had only to slay this female dragon and then escape with some small portion of the treasure.

The darkness of the dragon's lair was like what Mantegor imagined might emanate from the deepest pits of the underworld. His spear was held ready before him, but it seemed a fragile weapon amidst that great abyss of shadow. Any moment he expected the sibilant hiss of dragon's breath to break the awful silence. Every sense in his body was alert. Wary, he slowed his pace. Like a great cat then, he stalked silently forward, ready to strike left or right.

He emerged suddenly into a larger cavern. Strange lights flickered across the stone walls. Frosted bands of daylight streamed in through an aperture in the ceiling. In this vague and misty illumination, he was able to confirm that there were three separate corridors leading from the main cavern thru which he'd entered. Unwilling to waste any time making a choice, he went directly into the middle branch of the tunnels. He was just beginning to make his way thru it when there came a furtive sound that drew his attention.

He ducked into the shadows, his hand wrapped tightly around his spear. His heart was beating madly in his chest. But no saurian snout reared itself from any of the darkened corridors. The cavern remained empty. But he knew his senses hadn't lied. He had heard something.

Cautiously, he stalked forward once more. From somewhere ahead, a dim light flickered. By its fitful illumination, he discovered another mystery, for this branch of the caverns was now adorned with human furnishings. Richly woven tapestries obscured the bare granite walls. Magnificent, hand-woven carpets covered the smooth polished floors. Ancient books lined a series of massive oak shelves along the walls, and a wood fire roared merrily on a brick-lined hearth.

Mantegor passed through a low doorway and entered into a larger chamber. This room was cluttered even further with carelessly arranged elegance. An abundance of richly carved furnishings cluttered the chamber in a haphazard manner, as if they were used only seldom. And there, in the center of the floor, he found abundant proof that the tales of the Elder Dragons weren't all myths.

A treasure trove more vast than any he could have imagined in his wildest fantasies lay heaped before his awe-struck eyes. Glittering mounds of gold and silver and gems were stacked in careless profusion. Diamonds, rubies, opals, pearls, and countless other precious stones lay gleaming like the eyes of a thousand demons in the gloom. Crowns and scepters, lost relics of kings from ages untold rested amongst all the rest, cast aside like so much dross left to rot.

Mantegor took a deep breath and darted out of the shadows. He saw no sign of the female dragon, but he was sure she wouldn't stray far from this trove. He didn't hesitate, but leapt directly into the golden chamber, for he had spied amongst that glittering hoard one treasure that he valued beyond all others.

He had never seen a sword before, but he had heard tales of them, iron blades forged by soot grimed smiths in the southern mountains, and he had long wished to lay his hands on such a weapon. Yet no legends had prepared him for such a finely honed blade as this! He lifted it with solemn reverence. The blade was straight as an arrow, and so well balanced that it hovered like a feather in his hand. It was double edged and both edges were honed razor sharp. The leather hilt was gilded with fine copper wire set in the shape of a serpent wound around the haft.

A black unadorned scabbard lay by the naked sword's side. He sheathed the blade and strapped it across his back with a strip of long leather, then gathered his ragged cloak up into a parcel and began to fill its folds with the more valuable gems and any smaller items he could find. He wasn't greedy. Even one of the pieces he took would provide a king's ransom, so he only selected those few treasures he felt he could safely carry away. During his search, he further armed himself with a jewel-handled dagger and a small iron axe. He also slipped over his head a shirt of glittering silver chain mail and put on a round iron battle helm upon whose brow rested a single blazing ruby. He imagined himself now to look quite princely beside the less fortunate brothers of his tribe.

During every moment of his search, he continually glanced over his shoulder, expecting at any instant for the Elder Dragon or his mate to return. But his bold thievery continued uninterrupted. Swiftly, he gathered his treasures into his cloak and tied it into a satchel like bundle.

Again he thought he heard a furtive sound. His instincts screamed that he was being watched. His hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of the sword. He decided to leave the dragon's lair as swiftly as possible. He turned back to the darkened corridor by which he had entered, and stopped short at what he saw there.

A young woman stood in the doorway, smiling at him. She was dressed in the bedroom apparel of a princess, a scanty bit of pale coral gauze and silk that did nothing to conceal her obvious feminine attractions. Her hair was almost black in hue. He had never seen hair so dark. It was like the lightless spaces between the stars. There was no shock or terror reflected in her hypnotic, violet eyes as she stared back at him. It was as if she had expected to find him there.

Cursing, he flew to her side and clamped his hand over her jaw in an iron grip.

"Who are you?" Mantegor demanded. "What do you here in the dragon's lair?"

She spoke not a word of reply. Mantegor could only surmise that she was one of the dragon's victims. Perhaps she'd been carried off from some far away village to act as the beast's unwilling slave. Strangely, though, she was dressed in a manner more befitting a princess than a slave, She even wore a glittering, gem-encrusted crown upon her blond head, along with an inordinate amount of jewelry that he guessed must have been taken from the treasure horde.

He couldn't understand why she would be here unharmed in the dragon's lair, but he had little time for such questions. At any moment the dragon or his mate might return. He started to drag her with him, but she struggled and resisted. Cursing softly, he gave her a swift but hefty clout to the side of the head, upon which she fell immediately unconscious in his arms. Throwing her limp form over his shoulder, he made his way back the way he had come. As he raced back down the passageways, he could not help but feel the soft firmness of the girl's flesh beneath his grasping hands.

After what seemed an eternity, he broke out into the open air once more. Sprinting down the treacherous mountain slopes, he carried the girl and his treasures until at last he believed they were safely out of range of the dragons' abilities to read their thoughts. The girl began to stir once more, so he set her down and gave her a sip from his water-skin.

"You didn't have to strike me," she sulked. "I would have come with you if you had asked."

Mantegor shook his head. " It wasn't a good place to argue," he explained.

"Where are you from?" she asked. "I've never known a man of your kind before."

"I'm Mantegor, from Arcturus to the north," Mantegor replied. "I've traveled from afar to plunder the treasures of the Elder Dragon's lair."

"You interest me. I thought there were naught but savages dwelling in the Northlands," she said. "My name is Yana Vey. How I came to be in the abode of the Elder Dragon is a tale far too long to tell."

"You need not speak of it if it disturbs you," Mantegor said. "Come," he said. "We have to move on now. The dragons will be searching for us. The sooner we leave this area, the better."

Once again he hefted her over his shoulder. Because he was aware she was awake this time, he was more careful where he placed his hands on her body. But she didn't seem to mind, and Mantegor himself couldn't account for his treatment of her. Normally, like any man of his tribe, if he found a woman he desired he would just take her, either on the spot or drag her back to his shelter and take his time raping her. Yet he couldn't bring himself to do that with this woman. Perhaps he felt pity for her, imagining the brutal treatment she'd received from the elder dragon, or perhaps it was because she was so different from any of the women of his own tribe, with her fair skin and hair, her huge, violet eyes and soft features.

By the time night had fallen, they had come down into the stone valleys and knife-cut chasms that bordered the dragon country. Mantegor gathered dry tinder in a small heap, and after striking fire from his spark stones, he was able to get a small blaze burning. They sat staring into the fire for some time. Mantegor couldn't take his eyes from Yana's voluptuous form, which was concealed not at all in her flimsy silken robe. His azure eyes glimmered with a fierce hunger that he didn't try to hide. Seeing that naked fire in his gaze, Yana moved over to sit beside him. She curled her body against his. He was maddened by the satiny texture of her breast pressing against his thigh.

"I would not have you think I am ungrateful to you for rescuing me, Mantegor," she whispered huskily, grasping the hardness of his sex through the material of his breeches. "I am very grateful indeed!" She emphasized her gratitude then by gently squeezing the thickness of his prize. He groaned with pleasure. With her free hand, she untied the leather bindings of his pants. He felt the soft, wet touch of her lips and mouth on his naked flesh, the heat of her body engulfing his own.

Forgotten was the dragon. Forgotten was the treasure. Forgotten was the gleaming blade of the sword that stabbed into the earth beside him. His entire being was centered on the fever of the pleasure the girl was giving him. Her hands tugged at him with silky coolness while her tongue bathed him in a delicious liquid heat. The moments turned eternal, and time grew slower. Each heart beat became an eternity.

Laying her down upon the sward, Mantegor began to help her undress. All the while, he kissed her mouth, cheeks, throat and breasts. He was iron and she was a cloud melting beneath him. She turned over, offering her self to him from behind, an open and glistening invitation.

He entered her easily. Her body felt feverishly hot inside. For a long moment, they lay together as one, their flesh meeting in an endless caress. Time stopped and the universe held its breath, anticipating the next moment that would be revealed.

Imperceptibly, the dance began. Mantegor was slow and gentle at first, letting her acknowledge the force of his passion. But he soon discovered that she took great joy in his fierceness, and so clung to him like a leaf as he ravaged her in a merciless storm. Her sex clasped him, silken and demanding, encircling him greedily as he thrust deeper inside of her. She danced and moved all around him, an encompassing goddess. They were pieces of eternity, flesh meeting flesh.

Suddenly, he was plunging into a welcoming abyss, adrift in a place that seemed strangely familiar. But it wasn't exactly a place. It was more like being submerged in the essence of a feeling or an experience. In that timeless land, he lost all memories of his former consciousness. A voice whispered a secret, so impossible, so fantastic, yet so indisputably true. He heard Yana cry out with wordless joy, as if from across some impossible distance, and the message was written on that joy. His own moment came then, an intense explosion of release and submission. For several moments afterward, the world of reality departed.

When he came back to himself, he found that Yana had already fallen asleep. Mantegor too felt himself treading on the edges of slumber. Many an older, more experienced warrior might not have allowed himself the luxury of such carelessness, especially when he was so near enemy's territory. But Mantegor was still very young and naive, and sleep comes very easily to the foolish.

4.

He awoke instantly to full awareness. His every instinct screamed out to him that something was terribly wrong. He could smell, almost taste the fear that permeated the air. He reached for his sword, only to discover to his dismay that it had vanished. The girl had also disappeared and was nowhere to be seen. But he could still feel the warmth of her flesh on his robe and the fragrance of her womanhood in the folds of his cloak. He knew by these clues that she had lain in his arms only moments ago.

A chill of apprehension, a sensation of almost physical cold ran through his veins.

"I see that men are as just as easily duped as in days of yore," spoke a deep, rumbling voice, a voice that Mantegor instantly recognized, "Especially when dealing with the female of the species."

The Elder Dragon rose, coil upon shining, iridescent coil, creeping from the depths of some hidden chasm in the earth. He was far more immense, far more terrifying, and a great deal more magnificent than Mantegor had imagined or feared.

"How appropriate that we meet now!" spoke the dragon, "The warrior and the serpent! This encounter has been ordained since before there has been history! Thus are legends born and lived anew!"

Mantegor said nothing. His mind searched desperately for some means of escape.

"I know well your ability to silence your mind," said the elder dragon, "And I'm impressed. Still, even though you were careful to block all your conscious thoughts, I was still aware that you were waiting and listening to our conversation outside the cavern walls. You couldn't disguise your odor which stood out like a beacon to me. I only pretended to be unaware of your presence so that Yana could more easily dupe you into a false sense of security."

"Yana!" said Mantegor, stunned. "She aided you willingly?"

"Why should she not? She is my daughter, Elder born even as I. Did you think this is my only form? Nay! I am many! I am legion! My body reflects the aspects of any image I choose! I am the beast of the field or the drop of the water in the ocean. I am the wind and the sky, the howl of the wolf in the night. I am all these things and more. If I had such emotions, I would pity you for this single mortal life that is all that you have known or remember. The moments of your life now must seem dear and short to you, fleeting fragments of time before you return once more to the clay and nothingness whence you came."

Mantegor watched in stunned amazement. Even as Zhyrtuk spoke, his form took on the cast of a multitude of creatures, many of which Mantegor didn't recognize as being part of his world. He realized that they were all different physical aspects of the Elder Dragon. The guises were masks for the many forms of its being. This was the Elder Dragon's secret, the secret that had allowed them to survive thru eons of savage primeval history. They were shape changers, able to take on whatever form suited them!

"You have been trained to despise me," said Zhyrtuk. "And I think now that you expect me to kill you. Set your mind at ease, for if that had been my goal, you would already be dead."

The dragon paused. The long sinuous coils of its serpentine body glistened like rubies and diamonds.

"If you had taken any other thing from my treasures," said the dragon. "I might have let you go on your way. But the sword of light-bearer I have claimed as my own, and no mortal man shall wield it who cannot prove himself worthy. I sent Yana with the sword into my Crystal Cavern, not far from here. "

Mantegor laughed mockingly. "How is it that a serpent can deign to judge a man's worth?"

"You are proud, warrior, but if from a dragon's trove you wish to rob, you must beware the dragon's fire," answered Zhyrtuk. "Listen well, man! I'm of a mind to make a bargain with you. Take the treasures you still have and depart this place forever. I will let you go free with whatever treasures from my horde that you can carry, but not the blade of the light bearer. To take that blade you must slay me, and we must do battle here and now."

"Why do you make me this offer?" asked Mantegor. "What guarantee do I have that you'll keep your vow and not slay me in the night when I am unaware?"

"Only my word," said Zhyrtuk. "I speak only truth."

The great sinuous form reared up, and in that moment, Mantegor knew what would ensue if he refused to agree to Zhyrtuk's bargain. There seemed no escape.

"Now that you have heard the terms of my offer," spoke Zhyrtuk. "What choice do you make?"

But Mantegor answered him not. He wasn't yet ready to make such a choice. He still desperately wanted that sword. Yet what chance did he have against the beast without a weapon?

With swift thought came swift and deliberate action. The dragon's ponderous head darted down, its nostrils flaring in anticipation of burning the insect that confronted it. With the speed of one wilderness born, Mantegor swept up a dead branch. Thrusting it into the remains of the smoldering fire, he flung a cloud fine, grey ashes into the dragon's face. The monster was momentarily blinded.

Mantegor fled. Night had not yet given up its grasp on the world. The moon was thin and cloud covered, and so he vanished swiftly into the illusion of safety its concealing shadows afforded. Yet he knew well Zhyrtuk could surely pierce even that Stygian darkness with his dragon eyes. There would be only a few moments before he recovered and found him once more. His one desire now was to die with a real weapon in his hands.