Heart of the Mountain

"All of it," she confirmed with a shrug of her broad shoulders.

"This isn't some kind of trick? Why would you part with your collection so freely?"

"You have my word, it's no trick. All of my gold is yours to take."

Iden turned and walked towards the pile, glancing over his shoulder to keep an eye on the dragon, ensuring that she didn't suddenly pounce on him once his back was turned. He waded into the mass of coins until it was deep enough to reach his thighs, reaching down and cupping his gauntleted hands, filling them with gold like he was drinking from a stream. He gazed at the shining treasure, letting it fall back to the heap, spotting a few errant gemstones as they caught the light.

"It's...it's really mine?" he repeated, still unable to accept the course of events that had transpired. He had half a mind to believe that she had indeed eaten him whole and that this was some kind of afterlife.

"Truly," the dragon said, lying down on her belly. She crossed her forelimbs neatly as she watched him with her glowing eyes, the tip of her tail whipping back and forth idly like that of a cat. "We dragons are bound by a magical curse to honor the bravery of true warriors. You were ready to die for your cause, and I was not. Ergo, the day is yours."

Iden climbed a little higher, his feet sinking into the mass of coins, almost like he was wading through a bog. Each footstep created a small cascade that fell down the heap behind him, there was just so much of it.

He spied a bejeweled crown, perhaps the property of some long-dead monarch, and he lifted it from the hoard to plant it atop his head. Giddy with excitement, he raised a scepter that had been forged from solid gold, inlaid with ornate decorations of silver and platinum. He draped jewel-encrusted pendants and fine necklaces about his shoulders, filling his pockets with diamond rings and handfuls of coins, losing himself in a kind of greedy frenzy. He found an antique vase and filled it with gold, pouring the coins over his head as he began to laugh riotously.

Iden fell to his knees, then rolled onto his back, waving his arms and legs like a boy making snow-angels in a drift. He threw handfuls of coins and glittering gemstones into the air, letting them rain down on him, bouncing off his scorched and dented armor. He was still in disbelief. Not moments ago he had faced the jaws of death, and now he had everything that his heart desired. His laughter was that of triumph, of victory, but also of relief. Did it matter why the beast had spared him?

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," the dragon said, Iden finally getting himself back under control. He sat up, the crown still resting atop his mop of dark hair, the mass of jewelry that was hanging about his neck clattering against his breastplate.

"Should I not be?" he replied breathlessly, "this is the highest achievement that I can aspire to. I will never have to subsist on jerked meat again, I'll never have to make camp in a forest during a rainstorm because I have no gold with which to pay an innkeeper. I can buy a mansion and live out the rest of my days in luxury, I'll never again have to risk life and limb for coin." He filled an ornate goblet with gold and gave her a mock toast. "To the dragon, may her riches serve me well!"

He fell back to the heap again, his laughter echoing throughout the cave.

"So tell me," she said, a smirk curling her lips. "How do you intend to carry your newfound wealth back down the mountain?"

"What?" Iden asked, pausing his chuckling to peer at her.

"There must be a hundred tons of gold here, not to mention the other, more unwieldy items. Suits of gilded armor for men and horses alike, swords and scepters, I believe there's a solid gold throne buried in there somewhere. How do you intend to get it all back down the mountainside? Perhaps you could hire a fleet of carriages, but there's no path leading to the peak. Maybe you could pay an army of laborers who were stout enough to make the climb, but once word spread of a dragon's hoard that was guarded by a lone hedge knight, who else might come to claim it?"

Iden's blood ran cold, his wide smile faltering.

"You could fill your pockets and load your pack, take all that you could carry back down the mountain. But how does one spend a jewel-encrusted crown? How does a traveler divide a golden scepter into parts of appropriate value to pay for room and board at an inn, to buy a horse, or to pay for a meal? With such immense wealth overflowing from your pockets, who could you trust? What carriage driver wouldn't lash his reins and disappear into the night with enough riches to set him up for life? What bodyguard wouldn't slay his master in his sleep, what innkeeper wouldn't conspire to rob his guest? Greed is a powerful motivator, Iden. It changes people, makes them consider courses of action that under normal circumstances, they would never even entertain. Cheating, theft, murder. For wealth such as this, it's all on the table."

Now it was her turn to laugh, her resonating voice shaking the ground.

"You never planned this far ahead, did you? Claim the dragon's hoard, that was the only thought on your mind, and somehow everything would work out. You thought that you could solve any problem by simply throwing money at it, didn't you? But how will you transport this wealth? Where will you store it? Who can you trust?" She rolled onto her back, waving her four legs in the air as her mocking cackling echoed off the domed ceiling. "You have more gold than you ever dreamed, and yet you have no way to spend it!"

"There's no magical curse, is there?" Iden grumbled.

"Of course not, you fool! I just wanted to see the look on your face when you figured it out. Now we have no more cause to fight. You cannot defeat me, and even if you could, you cannot claim my treasure. We are at an impasse, so take my advice, and just go home."

"I have no home to go to!" Iden snapped, leaping to his feet and skidding down the pile. He marched towards the dragon, who cocked her head at him in surprise, her fiery eyes wide. He stopped not a foot from her long snout, pointing an accusing finger at her to punctuate his statement. "I'm a mercenary, I go where the fight is, and my only home is the tiny tent in my backpack. I have nowhere to go back to, and now I have no money left! I staked everything on this venture, I told you as much. I spent the last of my coin buying that horse and paying the innkeeper down in the village. That's it, I was either to win my fortune here or die trying."

"Why not just take another job?" she asked, her hot breath blowing the strands of his long hair. "Surely there's plenty of work for experienced killers such as yourself?"

"And how long can I keep that up?" he asked, turning to face away from her. He pulled the crown from his head and threw it back into the hoard, watching as it rolled down the slope and came to a rest on the cave floor. "I'm not as young as I once was, I have more scars than I can count. This lifestyle takes its toll, and one of these days, I'm going to face off against someone who's faster and stronger than I am. This bounty, this treasure...it was to be my escape. Now what am I supposed to do?"

"It was never going to work," she replied, her tone a little more sympathetic now. "Even if you could slay me, you would never have been able to keep the treasure. It takes a dragon to safeguard riches like these, or a stone keep with a legion of loyal guards."

"I wish that you had just eaten me," he grumbled, "at least that way I could have died on my own terms..."

"Oh, you're so dramatic," the dragon sighed. "Fine, you can stay here for a time, at least until you decide on what you want to do. I suppose I'm partially to blame for indulging you. I could have tried harder to turn you away before you reached the peak, but I get so bored up here, so lonely. Having someone to talk to is a rare treat for the likes of me."

"I can stay here? With...you?" he asked, turning to look up at her. "What are you talking about?"

He was still wary of her, not a few minutes ago she had been breathing fire at him and chasing him around the cave. But now she seemed almost docile, her harsh, reptilian features somehow softer and more appealing.

"You fed me, gave me shelter, let me ride your horse. I suppose I owe you the same, if nothing more. Unless you're still afraid of me?"

"I was never afraid of you," he insisted, the dragon's scaly lips curling into a smirk. She reached down and brandished a long, curved talon, as large as a butcher's meat hook. She tapped it against his breastplate, ringing the dented metal.

"First thing's first, if you're going to be staying in my cave, then you're going to need a bath. I don't mean to be rude, but a dragon's sense of smell is many times more sensitive than that of a human, and I don't think it would be unreasonable to assume that you've not had a change of clothes in days."

"You have a bath in here?" he wondered, the dragon keeping things moving along so quickly that he didn't really have the time to properly consider her proposition.

"In a sense," she replied, nodding her head towards the back of the cave. He turned to look and saw more torches flare to life, their flickering light illuminating another passageway that curved out of view. "Down there, off you go."

She gave him a nudge with her snout, making him stumble, and he set off walking. He skirted around the pile of treasure, looking back to see the dragon watching him, her eyes glowing in the gloom. He reached the mouth of the tunnel, he hadn't even noticed it before, it had been hidden in shadow. It was lined with torches that lit his way, the same as those that ringed the main chamber, attached to the walls with iron braces. They seemed to be magical in nature, she was able to light them at a whim. Just like when her clothing had burned away, and how she was able to spew flames from her throat, she seemed to have an innate control over fire.

The passageway was tall and wide enough to let the dragon pass, made from the same moist, slimy rock that he had seen elsewhere in the cave. Was there really a bath in here? Perhaps she meant that there was a well or an underground spring. It might even be the source of the stream that flowed down the mountain.

He entered the tunnel, following the torches as his footsteps echoed on the uneven floor. What was he doing? Was he really going to take up her offer, live with her in this cave until he worked out what he was going to do next? A sudden wave of confusion made him reel, he had no idea what was going on now. His purpose had been so clear over the last few weeks, his goal so stark in his mind. Reach the mountain, climb the mountain, slay the dragon. It couldn't have been simpler. But now, that same dragon was showing him kindness. She had pretended to be a farm girl, then she had tried to kill him, and now she was repaying the somewhat reluctant generosity that he had shown her during their ascent.

Was that really her goal, or was this yet another ruse? Did she want him to leave, or didn't she? If he kept letting his mind run in circles, he'd go crazy. Better to just wait a while and see what she did next.

CHAPTER 4: CREATURE COMFORTS

Iden emerged into another large chamber, albeit somewhat smaller than the first, more torches springing to life as if they had sensed his arrival. As he had suspected, there was an underground spring here. The cave floor tapered into a large basin that was full of clear, blue water. It looked big and deep enough that the dragon should be able to at least partially submerge her massive frame in the pool. There were more columns here, the bulbous flowstone glistening with moisture, masses of stalactites drooping from the uneven ceiling above.

Iden glanced behind him, ensuring that the dragon wasn't spying on him, then he began to remove his armor. It was always a rather difficult prospect without help, but he eventually succeeded in getting it all off. He stripped off his gambeson and stepped out of his leggings, taking another quick look over his shoulder before removing his underwear.

The floor beneath his feet was so frigid that it almost had him hopping on the spot, but what else had he expected from a mountain cave? He inched closer to the edge of the pool, dipping a toe in, then withdrew it immediately. It was as cold as ice, how did she expect him to bathe in this?

The sound of footsteps echoed in the tunnel behind him, and Iden spun around, covering his loins with his cupped hands as he saw Isabelle standing there. She had reverted back to her human form, her smoldering eyes replaced with the familiar green, her patterned spines giving way to auburn hair. She was wearing a billowy, white blouse that exposed her shoulders, cut low enough to put her cleavage on display. She wore a black corset over the top of it that helped to push up her bust, the laces pulled taut to accentuate her hourglass figure, a flowing gown trailing on the ground behind her.

This wasn't the attire of a farm girl, she looked more like the wife of an influential Lord, or some kind of expensive courtesan. He understood now what she had meant when she had told him that she had no need of expensive clothes. She seemed to be able to conjure whatever garments suited her. The tattered shawl and the patched skirt that she had worn had merely been part of the illusion.

Her eyes played up and down his naked body, drinking in the contours of his muscles, tracing the faded scars that peppered his tanned skin. She made no attempt to disguise her curiosity. For some reason, he felt a warmth growing in his cheeks. He was no stranger to the female gaze, it wasn't uncommon for his partners to lie in bed beside him after a romp, playing their fingers up and down his torso as they admired his impressive physique. Something about the way that Isabelle was looking at him made him feel oddly embarrassed, however. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he was naked and shivering, while she was clothed and perfectly at ease.

"I thought that you might want a little help," she said, giving him a knowing smile as she strode past him. She approached the edge of the pool, her long gown dragging behind her, then she knelt to dip a finger into the water. Almost immediately, the surface of the spring began to bubble, clouds of steam rising from its disturbed surface. She was boiling it, more of her magic no doubt.

"This should be more to your liking," she said as she rose to her feet, turning to face him again. Iden was still stood there with his hands between his legs, hunching over a little, trying not to look as awkward as he felt. She let her eyes linger on him again, enjoying his discomfort, and then she took a seat on a nearby rock. It seemed that she intended to watch.

"Can I get some privacy?" he asked, hobbling over to the pool and dipping his foot in. It was balmy now, she had heated the entire spring in a matter of seconds.

"Not if you want to get clean," she replied. She crossed her legs, letting her gown ride up a little, exposing her thighs in a way that might have seemed unintentional if Iden hadn't known better. He wasn't sure what she meant by that, but he didn't have much of a choice, and so he waded into the spring. The rocks beneath his feet were smooth, and there wasn't much debris, the warm water rising to his waist. Fortunately, the dim lighting and the rising steam gave him enough cover that he felt comfortable enough to move his hands from his groin.

"Catch," Isabelle said, tossing an object at Iden. He caught it in his hands, seeing that it was a block of soap. He sniffed it experimentally, noting that it smelled of lavender. She must have recovered it from a trading caravan, or perhaps the entourage of some rich and influential woman, soap was a rare commodity.

"Do you know how to use it?" she asked.

"I've never spent my money on fancy soaps before, but yeah, I get the idea. You just wet it and rub it on your body, right?"

"Rub it between your hands until it creates a lather," she explained, "then spread it on your skin. It will help to wash off all the grime, and it should make you smell a little more appealing."

He chuckled at the absurdity of the situation as he began to spread the foam about his chest and under his arms. A mercenary bathing like royalty, whatever next? Was she going to cut his hair, and clean his fingernails?

"How do you like it?" she said, resting her head in her hand as she watched him.

"Well, I'm starting to smell like a perfumed princess, but it feels pretty good to get clean. I'm more accustomed to bathing in lakes and rivers, if I have the time at all."

"I noticed," she chuckled.

He washed his stubbly face, and then threw his mop of wet hair back, running his fingers through it. As he spread the slippery lather across his stomach, he was acutely aware of Isabelle's green eyes following his hands. She was downright lecherous, it made him feel like he had been tricked into putting on a show for her. Was this just another one of her games? Why would a dragon be attracted to a mortal man, anyway? Would her preferences not include razor teeth, tough scales, and leathery wings?

"Let me know if you need to me wash your back," she added, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh. "I must admit, you're quite the specimen. I thought that all your talk of womanizing might have been bluster, but I can see how the average girl might fall head over heels for a man like you. You're taller than most, broad-shouldered, with an impressive physique thanks to your...rather taxing choice of profession. Long, dark hair, rugged features, enough scars to show that you know how to handle yourself. I'll bet that when you ride into town, the local girls just salivate over you, don't they?"

It sounded like a compliment, but somehow her assessment made Iden feel self-conscious. He was usually the one examining women, judging them by their assets, scanning a tavern in search of the prettiest girls to bed before he had to move on to his next job. She was right, of course. He was accustomed to women folding at a mere glance, their fantasies so often revolved around dark, handsome men with an air of danger about them riding into town to sweep them off their feet.

But now, it was Isabelle who was playing that role. Despite her subdued appearance, he knew her to be far larger and far stronger than any human could ever hope to be, she radiated a supreme confidence that he almost found intimidating.

"So...is Isabelle your real name?" he asked, dodging her question.

"Real enough," she replied. "Dragons have many names, and humans would stand no hope of pronouncing them."

"Why did you choose Isabelle? Have you used that identity before?"

"Not really," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "There was no grand scheme, it was simply the first name that came to mind. It's a pretty name, though, wouldn't you say?"

"I suppose so," Iden muttered, leaning down to spread the lather between his legs. He could feel her eyes on him as he finished washing, and once he was done, he lay down and let himself sink a little deeper into the water. It was so warm and pleasant, the spring was just the right temperature, all of the aches and bruises that he had sustained during his short bout with the dragon seeming to melt away. He let his mane of black hair float around his head, and closed his eyes, drifting on the calm surface. It got deeper towards the center, and so he stayed close to the edge.

When he opened them again, Isabelle was standing beside the pool. He rose to a standing position with a start, covering himself up.

"Relax," she chuckled, reaching out a hand. "I just want my soap back. It's expensive, you know. If you leave it in the water, it'll dissolve."