Heart of the Mountain

She finally released his hands, her iron grip leaving red welts on his wrists, almost as if he had been wearing manacles. She wrapped her arms around him, pricking him with her sharp talons, and he felt compelled to return the gesture. His hands wandered up and down the curve of her spine, her skin slick with perspiration, as silky-soft as ever. His fingers roamed down to take a handful of her plump rear, and they brushed the base of her tail. It sprouted from her body just above her rump, where her spine ended, some of the rough scales trailing a short distance up her back. He gave it an experimental prod, finding that it was just as chubby as it had initially felt, almost like a portly woman's thigh.

Iden shivered as he felt her lips press against his own, that tapered, winding tongue pushing its way into his mouth. It just kept coming, her slimy, undulating coils piling into his head. It was like satin that had been soaked in honey, more jolts of pleasure disturbing his afterglow as she stroked his inner cheeks, glancing the back of his throat with her invasive kiss.

"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me, Iden," she chuckled as she drew back to let him catch his breath. "You're strong enough to keep up with me, resilient enough that I don't have to hold back, at least not very much. I've not felt like this since...I don't even remember." She pushed her face into his long hair, breathing in his scent, nuzzling contentedly. "What's the matter?" she giggled, "have I robbed you of your quick wit? Poor Iden, so overcome with pleasure that he can barely speak..."

"It will take more than that to overwhelm me," he grumbled, not willing to admit defeat even as he trembled in her embrace.

"That sounds like a challenge," she cooed, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. "You try to put on such a gruff facade, but I know that deep down, you're kind and sensitive. I've shown you my true form, have I not? So why not show me yours? There's nothing to be afraid of..."

"I am not sensitive," he insisted, scowling at her as she laughed at his reaction. She finally uncoiled her tail from his legs, sensation returning to them, pins and needles tickling his toes. She let the odd appendage flop over his hip, heavy and limp, while she draped an arm about his neck and pulled him close.

"Are you warm enough?" she asked, "would you like more furs?"

"I'm...fine," he mumbled. The heat from the fire, and from their bodies, was enough to stave off the cold. Sharing a bed with a woman was not unusual for him, although he was normally gone by morning, but something about this felt more...intimate.

"Put your arms around me," she whispered, shuffling closer to him. He did as she asked, Isabelle exhaling a long sigh as she nestled in his embrace. "I've spent far too many cold nights alone, you have no idea how soothing it is to share a bed with a warm body after so long. To feel the beating of their heart, to have your breathing sync with theirs, until its hypnotic rhythm lulls you to sleep. It makes me wonder how I could ever do without it. We're not made to be alone, Iden. Not humans, and not dragons. How strange that we should seek comfort in one another when fate has made our peoples enemies."

He was too exhausted to formulate any kind of intelligent reply, but he soon found that she was right, his eyelids growing heavier as he listened to her steady breathing. It felt good to lie here with her like this, and he wasn't quite sure why. The sex was over and done with. At this point, he usually lost interest in whoever happened to be warming his bed that night, but something about this was different.

He fell asleep, his questions going unanswered.

CHAPTER 6: WARRIOR POET

Iden awoke the following morning with Isabelle's arm still draped across his chest, her long tail trailing over his thighs. It was heavy enough that he'd have trouble lifting it, limp save for a subtle twitching at its tapered tip, reminding him of the way that a sleeping dog's ear might flick while it was dreaming. She was clinging to him so tightly, her head resting on his shoulder, her bosom engulfing his upper arm. Her chest rose and fell softly, her breath tickling his neck and blowing the strands of her red hair.

They were glued together by stale sweat, and other, more sordid fluids. The fire had petered out at some point during the night, probably when Isabelle had fallen asleep, and the cold had crept in. He wanted to get up and take a dip in the spring, but he'd have to wake Isabelle to do it. Perhaps she was a heavy sleeper, only one way to find out...

He shrugged his shoulder and let her head slide down onto the silken sheets, moving her arm from his chest, going as slow as he could manage so as not to wake her. Once his upper body was free, he sat up, Isabelle stirring and murmuring as he pushed his hands beneath her fat tail.

The blue scales weren't quite as rough as they looked. They felt like the pebbles at the bottom of a stream bed, bumpy when taken together, but smooth individually. They were so pretty, their hue changing from blue to green depending on how they caught the light, almost like jewels in their own right. Iden couldn't help but run his hand across the appendage, stroking it, feeling its bumpy-yet-smooth texture beneath his palm.

The underside was nearly indistinguishable from skin, and when he tried to lift it, his fingers sank knuckle-deep into its layer of cushiony fat. It wasn't too heavy for him to move, but it took some effort. How was the damned thing so heavy? There was something oddly alluring about it that he couldn't quite place, it really did feel like a thick, elongated thigh in a way...

"What are you doing?" he heard Isabelle ask, his cheeks already starting to flush as he turned to see her looking up at him. She rubbed her eyes as she yawned widely, still somewhat groggy, but smirking at him all the same. It was just a tail, why did Iden feel like he had been caught doing something that he shouldn't?

"I was just about to take a dip in the pool," he stammered, "I need to freshen up."

"So do I," she chuckled, pulling the furs about herself to preserve her modesty. "You seem fascinated with my tail. Humans don't have them, I suppose. I'm curious, what do you make of it?"

"I...don't know," he muttered, wondering what she expected him to say. Did dragons compliment one another's tails? Was the length, the girth, or perhaps the color a source of pride? The appendage escaped his grasp suddenly, the tip rising to give him a gentle tap on the nose, as dexterous as a finger. It behaved more like a tentacle than a tail, she had such fine control over it.

"Come on," she said, stretching her arms above her head. "I suppose that you'll be wanting me to warm the water for you, and after how much you exerted yourself last night, a little breakfast might be in order. What say you to another shank of roast beef?"

Ah yes, last night. The memories came flooding back to him, sordid images flashing in his mind. He could recall every sensation, every taste and scent, the feeling of her powerful body moving atop his own as she rode him into the sheets. It had felt like a dream, but he knew that it had been real. Iden had bedded a dragon. Was that something to brag about, or a secret that he should take to his grave? He wasn't quite sure. She had shaken the foundations of his world, opened his eyes to new and unexplored pleasures, taken him in a way that he hadn't known a man could be taken.

Enough, he thought to himself, his brow furrowing. No more of this stammering and blushing, no more letting this woman lead him around by the nose. He wasn't some fresh-faced boy who had just tasted his first kiss, he'd had as many women as hot meals, and Isabelle was no different. She might be far stronger than he was, she might possess magical powers that awed and frightened him, but she was still just a woman. He had to assert himself, he had to get back on the horse, so to speak.

"You seemed rather taken with me," he replied, "don't forget who was on their back first. When I began my climb up the mountain, I was expecting to slay a dragon, not take one to bed."

"Well, it looks like someone has regained enough of his faculties to crack wise," she said as she gave him a wry smile. "Although I found your tongue better suited to other activities..."

Iden stood, putting his back to her and stretching, feeling her eyes on his back. He searched for his clothes, intending to get dressed, but then recalled how they had burst into flames.

"Uh...could I trouble you for something to wear?" he asked, looking back over his shoulder to see her biting her lip at him. She shook her head, barely suppressing a laugh.

"Go wait for me by the pool, I'll be there shortly. When we've had a wash, I'll make us some new clothes." He set off, the cave floor frigid against his bare feet. "And remember, Iden," she called after him. "Your clothes only exist as long as I will it, so keep your wits about you. If I should grow hungry for you again, there will be nothing standing between us, least of all your trousers."

***

The water bubbled as Isabelle dipped a toe into the spring, steam rising to the cave ceiling, Iden wasting no time as he dove in to escape the chill air of the cave. He submerged his head, shaking out his hair like a wet dog as he rose to take a breath. In the time that it had taken her to make her way down the snaking tunnel, she had reverted to an entirely human form. Her tail, her horns, and her other draconic features had all receded. She was nude, as there was no reason to conjure new clothes before she was done bathing, and he was a little disappointed to see that her enormous bust had returned to a more modest size. She was still a very fetching woman of course, and he found it hard to take his eyes off her as she stepped gracefully into the water to join him.

She sank up to her neck in the hot pool, letting her mop of auburn hair float on its surface as she relaxed, loosing a contented sigh. After a moment, she tossed him the bar of soap, Iden snatching it out of the air. He didn't need instructions this time, and he set about cleaning himself, spreading the fragrant lather across his torso as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. It was unusual for him to have two baths in a month, never mind two in the space of so many days.

"So have you decided what you're going to do yet?" she asked, Iden pausing as he washed his underarms.

"No," he replied, resuming his work. "I've not had time to give it much thought."

"I'll say, I've kept you rather busy," she said with a smile. "You can stay here as long as you'd like, take your time. I must say that I...rather enjoyed your company last night. I was hoping that you shared the sentiment."

"Aye," he muttered, pretending to be too busy with his washing to pay her much mind. He didn't want to admit how good it had felt, she had enough leverage over him already, but he didn't want to risk insulting her either. "It was certainly interesting, you're more of a handful than I expected."

"Iden, are you making puns now?" she cooed. "Perhaps you need more time to recover your wits, I fear that I might have dulled your silver tongue through overuse."

He couldn't help but chuckle at that, and she grinned at him, splashing him with water. She had a certain glow about her this morning, her playfulness was infectious. She had said that she hadn't been with a man for years, or maybe longer, if he recalled correctly. He felt relieved himself, satisfied, despite a few aches and bruises that had joined his growing collection. He wasn't sure what kind of libido dragons had, but if they were anything like humans, then her contentment might be many times greater than his own. Iden would probably be foaming at the mouth if he had to go longer than a couple of months without female company.

Isabelle was skirting around the issue, but she clearly wanted him to stay longer. He had shelter, free food, and a willing host. Why should he refuse her invitation? Something nagged at him, however, a voice that kept reminding him that he had come here with a mission. Iden was a man of action, and when he set his mind on something, he didn't stop until he accomplished his goal. Humoring the dragon was just treading water, delaying the inevitable. He had to figure out a way to get his hands on her gold, or at least to leave the cave in possession of something that would make this venture even remotely worthwhile.

"I don't exactly have anywhere else to go right now," he said. His reply seemed to please her, and she went back to lazing in the water. Iden finished washing, and then noticed that she had floated closer to him, extending her hand for the soap. He gave it back to her, and she slunk around behind him. She was submerged up to the bridge of her nose like a crocodile lurking by the bank of a river, her long hair floating in her wake, her green eyes peering at him gleefully as he watched her curiously. She rose out of the pool, and he felt her hands on his shoulders.

"I'll do your back," she said, beginning to spread the foamy lather.

"I don't need you to do my..." Iden's complaint petered out as he felt her soft hands slide across his skin, her slim fingers following the dimples that his muscles carved into his body. It was so relaxing, and he felt himself sag, sinking into the water a little deeper as she drove her thumbs into the base of his neck.

"I'm happy to have someone to pamper for once," she said, massaging him as she moved further down his spine. She seemed to be able to locate every knot, and every ache, making slow circles with her fingers as she applied gentle pressure. The soap made her touch slick, almost like they were coated in oil. Nobody had ever done this for him before, it felt amazing. "I'm surrounded by riches, but I have precious little to spend it on."

Iden flinched, a wonderful wave of pleasure spreading up through him as she found a knot at the base of his spine, working it out with the heel of her hand.

"Where did you learn how to do this?" Iden sighed, having to concentrate so that his legs didn't give out from under him.

"I've accumulated a fair bit of knowledge in my time," she chuckled, amused by his strong reaction. "You should take better care of yourself, you know. You've built up all of this muscle, your body is...impressive, but you don't take proper care of it. Look at all these knots, you're putting far too much strain on your back, you'll have problems with it later in life. Maybe be a little more careful when you're lifting cannonballs and swinging war hammers."

"Most sellswords don't live long enough to see the consequences of their lifestyle," he replied, leaning back into her dexterous hands. "I could get used to this, though..."

"You mortals are all alike," she muttered. "What does it matter if you cause problems in the future, as long as you get what you want right now? You won't be around to see the negative results of your actions anyway, it will be someone else's problem! It's because of that attitude that there's no more magic in the world, you humans can barely see an inch in front of your noses."

"I've survived beyond thirty," Iden replied. "In my profession, that's borrowed time. My strength, my health, it's all going to get worse from here. Old age will make me slow and weak enough that my job kills me long before my declining health does. Most people rarely live beyond sixty anyway."

"So the next thirty years of your life have no value?"

"I didn't say that," he said, shivering as her questing fingers located another knot and began to rub it. "That's why I'm here, after all, to find a way out before some eager twenty-year-old skewers me. I want to live to a ripe old age, surrounded by an army of children, but I'm in the wrong line of work."

"I'll say," she muttered, Iden feeling her fingertips trace one of his more impressive scars. "These wounds...some of them came so close to killing you. There's one here that must have missed your spine by scarcely an inch. If it had found its mark, you'd have lost the use of your legs."

"Oh, that big one?" he asked. "Yeah, someone tried to run me through from behind with a baselard during a melee. If he had been using anything with a longer blade, he might have gotten deeper into my armor. More proof that a gambeson is always needed, chain and plate won't do the job alone. Don't worry, I gave him more than a scar for his trouble."

"What were you fighting over?" Isabelle asked.

"I scarcely recall. Something to do with a border dispute between two kingdoms I think. I remember that we won."

"And what happens when you lose? You can't have been on the winning side of every war that you've ever fought."

"Most have been successful," he said, feeling her brush the curtain of his wet hair aside so that she could access more of his back. "I'm rather good at picking a winner, I have a lot of experience. If I can tell that someone's cause is futile, or that they have a good chance of failing, then I don't offer them my services."

"Is there enough work for you to be so picky?"

"Oh yes," he laughed. "Mercenaries are like morticians, they never have to roam far to find work."

Isabelle finished up, leaving Iden with a kind of sweet ache that permeated his muscles. Maybe when he found his fortune, he'd have to hire someone to do that for him more often. He certainly felt better than he had in a while.

"Let's dry off, and then I'll make you something to eat," Isabelle said. He followed her out of the pool, feeling the same puff of heat as the day before as she evaporated the moisture from his skin with her magic. In a rush of swirling flames, the same outfits that they had worn earlier reappeared, Iden's tunic and leggings so tight that they could have been tailored to fit him. Isabelle wore her loose blouse and her long gown again, her leather corset tightening around her waist before his eyes, as though invisible hands were pulling the laces taut. This was all becoming so routine to him, the previously amazing magic seeming almost mundane now.

"Come," she said, a smile brightening her face as she set off up the tunnel. "I'll cook something for you."

***

Iden chewed on a hunk of meat as he looked out over the pile of gold, seated in his throne at the mahogany table once again. His meal was perfectly seared, just the way that he liked it, crisp on the outside and juicy on the inside. Isabelle was standing across from him, just watching him eat with a smile on her face. Entertaining guests was a novelty to her, she seemed to enjoy it a great deal.

"Aren't you going to join me?" he asked. "Don't think I've seen you eat a thing since we arrived in the cave."

"Dragons don't have to eat often," she replied. "But when we do, we eat a lot."

"I see," he said, cutting off another piece with his gilded knife. "That's why you swoop down and take half a flock of sheep at a time?"

"That's right. In my true form, I weight about eight tons. It takes a lot of meat to keep me fed."

"Eight tons?" Iden marveled, "I don't even have a frame of reference for that."

"It's about as much as...ten or eleven cows," she replied.

"How do you figure that?" he asked, gesturing at her with his fork.

"Well, the average adult cow weighs around seven hundred and fifty kilograms, and I weigh a little over eight tons. One ton is a thousand kilograms, which means that it takes ten point six cows to match my weight. Ten point seven if you want to round up."

"How can you have point six of a cow?" Iden asked, frowning across the table at her.

"Sorry," she chuckled, "sometimes I forget that not all humans are highly educated. It's just math. Point six is sixty percent. If you cut a cow into ten pieces, then six of those pieces together would have a value of point six cows."