Heart of the Mountain

The knight threw Iden back, the two of them squaring off again, the blood from his nose staining both of their breastplates. It wasn't the first time that Iden had broken it, and he fought through the pain, purple bruises already spreading beneath his eyes. He had to take the initiative. If the knight kept him on the defensive, then he would have no chance of winning. What he wouldn't have given for any other weapon than a sword right now. War hammers, maces, spears. Almost anything was better than a sword when it came to fighting someone wearing armor, but both he and the Paladin had come equipped to fight dragons, not their fellow man.

He stepped forward, gripping the Paladin's blade in his hand, pulling it up and away from him as he drove his own sword towards his unarmored underarm. The knight responded in kind, gripping Iden's blade just above the crossguard and forcing it down, bringing his knee up towards his groin. His codpiece mercifully absorbed the impact, but the strike was still enough to send him reeling. The Paladin took advantage to deliver another swift punch to his face, Iden dodging out of range, taking up a defensive stance. There was no such thing as honor in a fight for one's life, even amongst the Paladins.

Iden had to take control of the encounter, he wasn't as young as he once was, and he would tire before long. He charged in, locking the knight in a sword fight, their steel flashing as they parried and riposted. They danced back and forth, exchanging blows, each trying to disarm the other. Again it devolved into a brawl as the two men closed, grappling with their weapons, knees and elbows impacting metal. Iden was hit in the chest with his adversary's pommel, the impact winding him even through the armor. The Paladin tried to trip him, but Iden recovered, gripping his blade in the half-swording stance and attempting to drive the point towards his throat.

His opponent deflected the sword with his own and then leaned in to punch Iden in the face with his gauntleted fist. Iden stumbled back, dazed, trying to blink away the bleariness in his eyes as his ruined nose began to gush blood again. He moved back, the knight keeping the pressure on him, Iden scarcely able to keep up. Iden gripped his sword by the blade with both hands, swinging the weapon like a hammer, aiming for the Paladin's exposed head. Again it was deflected, the knight very nearly succeeding in disarming him.

There was just no way through that damned armor. Unlike his own, there were no breaks in it besides for the throat and the underarms, and the Paladin was skilled enough to keep those protected. He couldn't even stab the man in the foot, he was wearing sabatons.

They were both distracted as more of the torches that ringed the room burst into flames, the Paladin with the book of spells looking around nervously.

"My Lord!" he began, their leader cutting him off impatiently.

"I know, Gregory, I know! I've almost finished with this cur. Robert, take the damned spear and finish off the dragon in my stead, we're out of time."

Iden looked past the Paladin frantically as the one who he had referred to as Robert moved towards Isabelle. It was the knight that he had passed the strange pike to before engaging Iden. He remembered what the Paladin had told him down in the foothills, that there was only one weapon capable of piercing a dragon's hide, a pike with a tip made from dragonhorn.

Iden felt a new surge of adrenaline course through his veins, a kind of panic overtaking him. He too was out of time, he had to finish this right now, or both he and Isabelle would meet their end in this cavern. He lunged, beating the Paladin with his sword with a series of vicious overhead blows. It did little damage, but it forced the knight to retreat, putting him on the defensive.

"Iden!" he heard Isabelle call out to him, her voice strained as though it too was fighting against the gossamer net. There was an odd gurgling quality to her booming speech, almost like her mouth was full of water. "This is all that I can do!"

As he began to wonder what she meant, an orange glow caught his eye. He looked down at the blade of his sword, the steel burning steadily brighter, as though it had just been pulled from the fires of a forge. It burst into flames, startling him so much that he almost dropped it, globs of molten metal dripping to the floor below. It was so hot that he had to hold it at arm's length, but fortunately, the hilt was not heating up in the same way that the blade was. He wasn't going to be half-swording with this thing.

It was Isabelle's magic. Just as she had lit the torches, she had used her power over fire to enchant his blade.

The Paladin eyed it warily, keeping his gaze fixed on Iden as he called to his comrade.

"Gregory, do something about this!"

The knight leafed through his book of spells frantically, his eyes scanning the pages, his expression increasingly panicked.

"What incantation?" he yelled back. "I don't...the archivists didn't...I only know the spell for silencing the dragon!"

"Then cast it again! The bloody thing has almost regained its full strength!"

Iden wasn't about to wait around for them to cast more of their spells, wielding his flaming sword as he lunged at the Paladin Commander. The knight blocked his blade but was showered with globs of molten metal, bonding with his armor as they cooled. None of it landed on his face, but it gave Iden an idea. He whipped his sword, spraying the Paladin with more burning flecks of metal, and he raised his arms to protect his eyes.

Iden darted in, slashing at his breastplate experimentally. His suspicions were confirmed, the intense heat of his blade rending the immaculate steel, leaving a blackened tear in its wake. It was going straight through, Isabelle had given him the tool that he needed to gain the upper hand.

He gave the Paladin no time to adapt, driving the burning blade straight through his thigh, the cuisse armor providing no more protection than tanned leather. Iden smelled burning flesh, the knight bellowing as he dropped to one knee, smoke rising from the wound. Iden withdrew his sword, noting that there wasn't a drop of blood. The intense heat had cauterized it.

The knight tried to rise to his feet, but faltered, falling back to the ground.

"Yield!" Iden demanded, raising his sword as he prepared to deliver a killing blow. "Tell your men to stand down right now!"

"Slay the dragon before it's too late!" the Paladin shouted. "Carry out the mission!"

Iden drove his blade into the kneeling knight's neck, burying it up to the hilt, the flaming sword passing through flesh and bone like butter. The Paladin's eyes lost their focus, a wisp of smoke rising from his mouth as his jaw hung agape, dead so quickly that he scarcely had time to react. Iden withdrew the sword, the Commander's body slumping to the ground at his feet.

The three remaining Paladins had been transfixed by the fight, but now the one who was wielding the pike turned and made for Isabelle, intent on carrying out his Commander's final order. Iden raced to intercept him, but he felt like he was in a nightmare, running in slow motion as he watched the knight raise the weapon like a javelin.

Isabelle opened her mouth, her head upside-down relative to the floor, boiling water pouring between her long fangs. She spewed a plume of steam, unable to even turn her head in the direction of her assailant. The Paladin drove the pointed tip of his weapon at her chest, but her forelimb was in the way, the tight mesh trapping it tight against her body. She roared in pain as it penetrated her scales, drawing crimson blood, the knight pulling back for a second attempt.

The steam that billowed from her maw took on a darker hue, the last of the water evaporating, a fiery glow illuminating her iridescent scales and reflecting off the pile of gold that she was sprawled on top of. Whatever magic the Paladins had employed had worn off, and Isabelle vomited a cloud of flames, the fire licking across her own body as she was engulfed in the blaze. A wall of black fumes obscured her, Iden skidding to a halt as he felt the heat of it on his face, even from halfway across the chamber.

Robert retreated, the flames too hot to brave, staggering away from her as he took refuge behind his tower shield. The thundering of her footsteps told Iden that she had escaped her bonds before he had even seen her, the great beast emerging from the flames, flapping her wings and waving her horned head back and forth as she threw off the last vestiges of the silvery net. Fragments of it burned as they wafted through the air, floating like embers from a campfire.

She turned her glowing, reptilian eyes towards Robert, the knight's helmet emerging to peek over his shield. Iden expected him to turn tail, but instead, he raised his dragonhorn pike and charged at her.

Isabelle showed him no mercy, filling her lungs, and then thrusting her head towards him on her flexible neck. Her jaws opened wide, the fiery glow in the reaches of her throat becoming a spreading cone of flame. The knight was engulfed, his scream drowned out by the roar of the blaze, Iden able to make out his dark silhouette against the orange glare as he slowly sank to the ground. When the flames subsided, and the smoke cleared, all that was left was a suit of armor lying on the cave floor. Smoke rose from its every joint as the body inside of it cooked, the steel glowing a dull orange.

Two Paladins remained, the nearest one throwing down his spear and raising his hands in surrender. Gregory, the one with the spellbook, emerged from his hiding place behind one of the stone pillars. He drew his sword from its scabbard and threw it to the ground with a clatter, dropping his tome and following suit as he raised his hands.

Iden glanced at Isabelle, wondering if she might simply continue her rampage despite their surrender. Instead, she merely glared at them, twin plumes of smoke rising from her nostrils.

"Leave," Iden demanded, gesturing to the tunnel that led out of the cavern with his flaming sword. "And don't come back."

The two remaining Paladins didn't need to be told twice, hurrying to the exit, one of them pausing briefly at the mouth of the tunnel to look back before scurrying up the dingy passageway.

Iden exhaled, letting his sword fall to the floor, the blade still so hot that it bent on contact with the rock. He touched his fingers against his face experimentally, wincing as a flare of pain shot through his nose. He turned to face Isabelle, seeing that she had returned to her human form. She was clad in a less provocative outfit, having foregone the loose blouse and the leather corset of her usual attire.

"You came back," she said, her tone neutral. It was hard for Iden to gauge whether she was relieved, or still angry with him.

"Thought I'd give the whole redemption thing a go," he replied, standing there stupidly with his face covered in blood. "I brought your books back. I'm...sorry that I took them."

"What changed your mind?" she asked. "You could have been long gone by now, I wasn't expecting to see you again."

"I made it down to the foothills, where I met the Paladins. They told me that they were coming to kill you, and I suppose that I was right to assume that they might succeed. But besides that, I just felt...bad. The further away from you I got, the worse it became."

"Well-adjusted people would call that a conscience," she said, failing to suppress a smirk. "I suppose I should be thanking you. If you hadn't come to my rescue, I would certainly have been killed. Those Paladins knew exactly what they were doing."

"It wasn't just my conscience," he said, Isabelle watching him curiously with her green eyes. "I felt like I had left something behind up here, a part of myself. I didn't realize how much I enjoyed your company until it was too late."

He began to walk over to the bookshelves, Isabelle following behind him silently. He knelt, and opened his pack, returning the dusty tomes to their respective places. He handed the last one to Isabelle, who turned it over to examine the red leather cover.

"De Mercier," she muttered, clutching it against her breast protectively.

"I might never be a warrior poet," Iden began, "but it's like you said. I can choose what kind of person I want to be, and I don't want to be the kind of person who steals from his friends, who betrays people's trust. Whatever money I might have gotten for these books wouldn't be worth the harm that it would do to you, and to me..."

He slung his pack over his back and rose to his feet, Isabelle keeping her eyes on him as she cradled her book like it was a lost child.

"I suppose I'll be going now," he muttered, turning his gaze to the ground. "I hate to ask you this, I really do, but may I keep a pocketful of gold? It's not out of any greed, just enough to see me to my next job. Without it, I fear that I might starve."

"I...suppose so," Isabelle replied hesitantly, "let's call it a bodyguard's wage. I'd be dead without you, after all. But before you go..."

She returned her book to its shelf, then turned and headed towards her pile. She rummaged for a minute or two, returning with a roll of cotton bandages. She had not conjured this fabric, it was as real as he was.

"Oh, Iden," she mumbled as she reached up to grip his face in her hand. She turned it to the left, then to the right, examining his broken nose and the bruises that had spread around his eyes. "You're a mess. I'll do what I can, come with me."

***

Iden followed Isabelle down one of the snaking passages, arriving at the spring where they had so often bathed together. She had him sit beside the pool, where she filled a jug with the clear water, pouring it over his face to wash away the drying blood. He didn't protest, gritting his teeth as she gripped his crooked nose. She snapped the cartilage back into place, a wave of pain making him recoil. She tore off two pieces of cotton, stuffing them into his nostrils to stem the fresh bleeding, and then wrapped a length of the bandage around his face.

"I have something that might help with the pain," she began, but Iden shook his head.

"I've had worse, my nose has been broken more times than I can count."

"You fought well," she said, staring into the shimmering pool. "You killed those two Paladins without taking so much as a scratch, but you knew that you couldn't win, didn't you? Without my magic, you wouldn't have stood a chance against their commander, and you're experienced enough to have known that. In fact, you must have planned to meet all six of them head-on, it was a stroke of luck that you only had to fight two at once. What were you thinking?"

"That you didn't deserve to die," he replied, shrugging his armored shoulders. "I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I hadn't at least tried to help. My own life isn't worth much these days."

"Even though you had a rucksack full of loot, you climbed all the way back up here, and started a fight that you couldn't possibly have expected to win, just for my sake?"

"Isabelle...you're the only person who's ever valued me for anything other than my sword arm, the only one who has ever believed that I could be more than just a killer for hire. Before I met you, I didn't even know that there was anything more to aspire to. I suppose I felt as though...if I let you die, then everything that you saw in me would die with you."

"Iden..." Isabelle began, but her voice trailed off.

"I figure we're probably square now," he said, rising to his feet. Isabelle looked back at him as he readjusted his pack, touching his fingers against his bandages. "I should get going, I'd like to make it down from the peak while there's still some light left. I don't fancy tackling all those loose rocks and snowdrifts in the dark."

"You're leaving?" Isabelle asked, her expression still neutral.

"I'll have to seek my fortune elsewhere. You should leave too," he added solemnly. "The Paladins will send a whole army to avenge their fallen brothers. Go somewhere remote, somewhere that you won't be troubled by the likes of us mortals."

He began to walk up the tunnel that led into the main cavern, but soon heard the sound of bare feet on rock echoing through the passage. He felt Isabelle's hand on his pauldron, and he looked back over his shoulder to see her standing behind him.

"Please don't leave," she said, the plea coming across more urgent than she had perhaps intended. "I don't want you to go."

"But I lied to you, I stole from you," he replied as he turned to face her. She peered up at him with her green eyes, her lower lip trembling, a head shorter than him in her human form. "I betrayed you."

"You made bad decisions, yes, but you corrected them. You hurt me, but you made amends. You made the decision to be better than you are, Iden. You're every bit the man that de Mercier was."

He opened his mouth to reply, but he was silenced by her kiss, Isabelle standing on her toes and hooking her slim fingers around the collar of his breastplate to reach him. It was soothing, affectionate, the strokes of her tongue slow and measured. When she pulled away, there was a smile on her face, and tears in her eyes.

"You taste of blood," she chuckled. "Won't you stay here, with me? You've been so concerned with finding your fortune that you've been blind to what is right before your eyes. You can't see the forest for the trees."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You spoke of wanting to leave the life of a sellsword behind you, of siring an army of children. You said that your quest for riches was merely a means to an end. Iden," she continued, clutching her arm meekly as she stared at her feet. "When I appeared to you as Isabelle, I will admit that my intentions were frivolous. I was bored, lonely, and you were a welcome diversion. But I saw something more in you, a kindness, a gentleness that I hoped to coax out of you in time. When you stole my books and fled, I thought that I had failed, that you were not the man that I had thought you to be."

Now her gaze rose to meet his again, the emerald-green of her irises reflecting the wavering light of the torches that lined the stone walls.

"Yet that act was the greatest test of your character. When faced with the choice of taking the path of least resistance, or of acting selflessly, you chose the latter."

She placed a hand on his stubbly cheek, her skin smooth and soft against his.

"I haven't seen another dragon for so long that I can scarcely remember what they're like," she continued, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice. "And yet I yearn for companionship as any woman does. I pine for a family of my own, something that I thought might no longer be possible for me. What mortal man would have me, knowing what I truly am? Iden...if I'm being presumptuous, if I'm letting my imagination run wild, then tell me now. Spare me from this terrible uncertainty."

"We...can do that?" he asked, his eyes wide. "A human and a dragon can..."

"Yes, though not in this form," she replied hastily. "I would not have attempted to entrap you."

"Where would we live?" he asked, "here?"

"We could have the estate that you spoke of, enough land that no one would bother us, our children would want for nothing. If you were with me, then we could pass as a retired sellsword and his young wife. Through you, I could simply buy my meals as I did in the old days, we could even purchase grazing land so that we might raise our own livestock. As I once told you, I'm happy to part with my gold if it means obtaining something of greater value, and what could have more value than our happiness?"