The Dragon Slayer...

Introduction: Hi everyone, been a few months. Okay, this is a short novella, mostly erotic couplings and kind of a love story. No group in this story, and those that know my stories might see that as a departure.

Anyway, hope you enjoy it, I had a blast writing it over the last few days.

Disclaimer: No dragons were actually harmed in the writing of this work. ;)

Obligatory copyright:

Copyright 2015. This is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, Places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book in posted format may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission.

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The Dragon Slayer and the princess...

Chapter 1

Sir Lance Spears was a giant of a man. He was six foot three, muscle toned, and only in his mid twenties. Some would go as far to say, that this mountain of a man was perhaps the greatest slayer of dragons ever seen. He'd been killing dragons and making a name for himself since he was a young lad of fourteen years old. When his father died he had taken his place, picked up his armor, sword, and shield.

By all measures, except maybe one or two, he was a good man. He did have a weakness however, to alcohol. He wasn't a drunk, and he didn't drink every day. In fact, he only drank heavily each time he kills a dragon. A response no doubt to still being alive, and full of adrenaline.

He groaned and raised his arm, placing his lower arm across his forehead and squinted his eyes. The light felt like a dagger strike between the eyes. He swore to himself he'd never drink again, but he already knew he would. It was what he did after slaying a dragon, always a rewarding enterprise, but quite often dangerous. He just couldn't help but celebrate each time he came through alive.

He heard a light female sigh beside him and squeezed his eyes shut even harder. That was his other weakness, women. He couldn't help it, not really. He had strong features, blond hair and deep blue eyes that seemed to entrance women wherever he went. He as a knight and a gentleman, and as such usually resisted the urge to despoil the women that seemed to throw themselves at him. Whenever they heard that on top of his looks, he was a famous dragon slayer, and of course, he was rich with a title.

A triple threat that had him dodging amorous women more than he would have liked.

But unfortunately he tended to lose his willpower to push away beautiful young maidens when he partook of the wicked brew. He also had the tendency to not remember the next day. He looked to his right and flinched... He didn't flinch because the woman was less than acceptable. No, in fact the woman beside him was very attractive, a vision of loveliness. What made him flinch is he had no idea who she was, or what her name was. He really needed to stop drinking.

The morning after was always so... awkward.

He slid out of bed and his nose wrinkled, he reeked of sex. There was no way to sneak out, not only did he need a bath, but his armor was stacked up against the wall. There was no way to put that on in less than ten minutes, and it would clang and bang enough in the process to wake the dead. He sighed and started filling the tub in the corner.

He was just slipping into the tub when the woman woke and slipped out of bed herself. She started to dress without a word, picked up her shoes and turned to him with a bright smile. So far so good he thought.

She had long brown hair, brown eyes, and an athletic body that drew his eyes. It had been a pleasure watching her dress. He was starting to really regret not remembering last night. To his surprise she said nothing and simply tiptoed over and kissed him passionately.

She whispered in his ear, "Thank you for last night, you were amazing. Just remember to pretend I'm a stranger when you go downstairs, if my father suspects he'll kill us both."

He watched in amazement as she turned and tiptoed to the door, opening it slightly before silently sliding into the hallway, and then closing the door without a whisper of sound. He stared at the door in amazement for another few minutes really wishing he'd remember last night. If that aggressively passionate kiss had been any indication, she'd probably been an incredible lover last night.

But nothing came to him...

Then he shrugged, at least he wasn't dealing with the need to reject a woman, or worse, her family. If he'd been sober, he probably wouldn't have done it at all. Not that he was a saint, but he had to be very careful, so many were just after his money or wanted to marry into a noble title.

He shook his head, dismissed those thoughts, and finished washing up before getting out of the tub, and started to dry off. He was kind of sensitive when he dried his middle, so they must have went at it all night. He shook his head again and started to pull on his padded clothes, then went for his armor.

The truth was, Lance was a master at the sword, had been trained at his father's knee since he could walk, but that wasn't why he was such a successful dragon slayer. Although it did help, the real secret to his victory was the armor he was putting on. He'd found out quite by accident the first time he took one of his father's dragon slaying contracts.

The armor was proof against fire, and most magic. Good thing too, or he'd have been a dragon's roast ten years ago. Granted, he still needed to fight a two ton lizard with claws as long as his sword, and with a bite the size of a wagon. Not to mention the tail... That's where his fighting skills made the difference. But without protection from fire and magic, he doubted he could get close enough to spit on a dragon, much less reach sword range.

He walked down to the common room of the inn with his armor on minus the helmet which hung off his belt. He also wore his long sword over his right shoulder and had his saddlebags over the left. The woman he'd slept with was clearing tables with a very happy smile on her face.

It was nice to know he'd done a good job, even if he didn't remember. When she saw him she grabbed some food from the back and a drink. It didn't take him long to chow down and head out to the stables.

He heard a whicker of welcome as he walked through the large stable doors. He smiled broadly and patted his horse on the neck.

"Morning Willow," he said in a light praising tone.

He knew Willow was a terrible name for a knight's warhorse, but he didn't care. He'd never met a mare as smart as her and she was two years old when he bought her from a horse fair. Best gold he'd ever spent. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get her to respond to anything else.

She whickered back and stomped her foot, then pushed her head into him. She was obviously eager to get moving.

"Shh, we'll be out of her soon sweetie," he whispered, hoping no one heard him.

He had a reputation after all.

He grabbed his saddle and got it strapped on, flipped down the stirrups, and grabbed the tack. He headed out of town at a trot, an audible sigh of relief leaving his lips as he passed outside the village limit. He'd managed to escape once again. He turned around and looked back, absolutely no sign of a murderous innkeeper.

He felt a little guilty about that, he'd been brought up to respect a woman, and one day when he found the right one he'd do right by her. But that damned alcohol kept...

He shook his head and internally stomped on the thought, he knew it was his fault. He just couldn't help it. The dragon he'd tracked down and fought nearly killed him more times than he could count with claws, tail, and bite. He'd been high on adrenaline and life itself when he collected the bounty. He didn't drink all that often, but it was a foregone conclusion when the village cheered him, and other men and the innkeeper pushed free drink on him in celebration.

He was headed north out of the kingdom of Aerelon. He'd about taken out most of the feral dragons here, and he'd caught wind the kingdom to the north, Wendell, had a dragon problem. As far as he heard, it was a small kingdom, only six villages and one castle. In Aerelon that would just be one small duchy of many. Even his holdings as a baron included a keep and two villages.

From what the notice said, they were willing to pay a hundred gold coins to the person that took it down. That was really good, and the only reason he was taking a new contract this soon. He thought the king must be desperate, but it also meant he'd have rivals on the ground competing for that gold. He wasn't too worried though, most of them would probably get roasted, though there were one or two others he hoped wouldn't come around. A few of them were almost as good as he was.

He'd see in two days, he'd have to go through the valley and through the pass of the small northern mountain range. Then it was another eight or nine hours he figured to the castle. Willow skipped below him, throwing off his seat a little and he looked down at the back of her head with annoyance.

He said, "Fine girl, but don't come crying to me if you run out of energy, we're riding out the whole day."

He smiled when she snorted in derision at his warning and took off into a fast canter.

Chapter 2

Willow slowed down as the valley sides started to shrink in toward them, mountains rising up on either side. The trail through was broken just wide enough for wagons to pass side by side if they met in the pass, but in some places there were trees when it temporarily widened, there were also quite a few places for an ambush.

He wasn't that worried, not many bandits were stupid enough to attack a knight, even a lone one of the lesser orders, much less one with the crest of the dragon slayers on his shield. The cowards preferred the easy pickings of a lone wagon, or a lightly guarded small caravan, but it wouldn't pay to be caught off guard because of arrogance.

Still, there were no stupid thieves that day, and he felt Willow start to flag slightly under him. She was stubborn though, and had enough energy for another mile after they left the pass. He veered off the dirt road about twenty yards back into the bush. He took care of her first, removing the saddle and gear and brushing out her coat, put out feed and some water before building his rough camp.

It was only fair, he'd sat on his backside all day. Not that it was pleasant sitting all day in full steel armor on a moving horse, while fighting off a hangover from hell, but he wasn't one to complain or take it out on his innocent faithful steed.

He was just getting some food over his campfire when five men dressed in chainmail wearing the crest of Wendell headed his way off the road.

"Good day," he called out.

The front soldier came to a stop on his horse and scrutinized him and his camp with narrowed eyes.

"Good day stranger, we're patrolling the road in the king's name, what is your business here?"

He replied courteously, "I am Sir Lance Spears, Baron of Creekshire from the kingdom of Aerelon. I'm here in response to the dragon threat and reward for its death."

The soldier nodded his head, as if that fit with what he saw, and despite owing no loyalty to a foreign lord bowed his head respectfully toward Lance.

Lance asked, "The notice did not give much information, is there anything you can tell me about the dragon that endangers your kingdom?"

One of the other soldiers rode up, he looked like a boy.

"I saw the whole thing, I was there that day."

Lance muttered a few words under his breath so softly it wasn't audible to any, and barely to himself. A small glow surrounded the boy. Knights were by no means powerful sorcerers, he had barely any talent in that direction, but he did have a little. Knights normally didn't have the magical strength for fighting spells, or defensive ones, and Lance was no different than most in that way.

However, every knight was required to learn a few low powered spells, including the truth spell he'd just cast on the soldier. In the field a knight was also a judge of the king's justice, which was much more sure if he could determine who was lying. No one but him, and another with power, could see the golden glow surrounding the boy. He didn't really mistrust the lad, but he didn't know him either, and soldiers tended toward exaggeration when telling tales of battle.

Lance replied, "What did you see good soldier?"

The young man shuddered with remembrance and started his tale.

"It was almost a fortnight ago now. I was on patrol on the eastern border when a large group of mercenaries crossed in from Elaria. We counted carefully and there were twenty bowman and forty lancers. They had several empty wagons behind them and a few filled with supplies. They were heading for one of our villages, so four of the group headed back toward the castle at a gallop to muster a defensive force.

"The rest of us carefully shadowed the group, we had orders to split off another man to report if they changed direction. We followed them for hours, and started to get worried at the pace they'd set. We didn't think the soldiers could muster and make it to the town in time, but there were only four of us. We watched in despair as the invaders stopped short of the village and started preparing for an attack at dusk instead of waiting for dawn."

The boy shook his head as if to shake out the memory he was sharing.

"That's when it came. The dragon shrieked so loud it hurt my ears. The noise was pure evil my good knight, I'm unashamed to say I would have peed myself if I hadn't recently gone."

His captain cuffed the young shoulder on the back of his head lightly.

The young man shook his head, "Sorry sir, but it's true nonetheless. The sky was already a dark blue in the direction the dragon flew in from, and its scales seemed to be a dark black that refused to reflect even the small amount of light that night. At first I wasn't sure if I was seeing things or not, could have been my eyes playing tricks after that horrid roar, but then a large blast of fire came out of the inky blot, and the fierce black dragon became easy to see as it rained fire onto the mercenaries.

"It didn't take long for those sixty soldiers to die, mere minutes. Then the dragon landed and started to bolt one of the horses that still steamed from the fire. I'm ashamed to say, I just stood there and watched, to afraid to move, much less attack the evil beast. When it finished eating it raised its head and roared as if in victory. Then it grabbed two more horses in its fore claws, and jumped up into the sky."

The golden light hadn't blinked out even once. Yet, it was a strange tale.

Lance asked, "Anything else you remember, did it cast any spells or..."

The soldier shook his head, "Not that I noticed, but... Right before it took off I could swear its head swiveled in my direction and it looked right at me. It had creepy and unearthly glowing green eyes, it looked unnatural as if it were a creature straight from hell itself, and I could swear it saw me. Then, it was just gone, disappeared up into the sky and away in the night. I was shaking, felt like death walking over my grave. I'm sorry sir knight, I can't even tell you what direction it fled too, the sky was too dark by then to even see a silhouette, and no one has seen it since."

Lance narrowed his eyes, that didn't sound like normal dragon behavior.

"Why would it attack a group of mercenary soldiers, and leave a nice big juicy town alone? Not to mention it hasn't been seen since for almost fourteen days?"

The lead soldier cleared his throat, "Our sorcerer has a theory as to that. The mercenaries left a trail of death as they raided villages in Elaria, he believes the unholy beast followed this trail of death like a mouse will follow a trail of cheese. Perhaps it was hunting the raiders. Now that they're dead, it's only a matter of time before it needs to feed again and chooses a new target, and why would it move on now that it's here? But perhaps it would be better to hear it from him on the morrow when you arrive at the castle?"

Lance frowned, he supposed that was possible, and it was as good an explanation as any until he knew for sure. Still, it was damned odd behavior for a dragon. He also knew a guess when he heard one, a story made up to fit the facts rather than the other way around. Still, a dragon usually fed every five to seven days, and it had been close to a fortnight, two to three times the average time gap. He hoped he wasn't on a wild goose chase; maybe the dragon was long gone?

The soldiers took their leave then, citing the need to continue their patrol, and Lance sat down in front of the fire and ate his meal. He cast a quick ward that would simply wake him if anyone approached, it was the only ward he had the power to cast, and then he laid down by the fire and let sleep take him.

Chapter 3

The castle for this small kingdom was probably closer to a keep. Even his own keep as a baron of Aerelon was only a little smaller. Still, it was quite large and obviously kept in good repair. He could see no obvious weakness or degradation in the forty foot high walls surrounding it. The kingdoms nearby had all been at peace for over two decades, almost as long as he'd been alive, so there were only a few soldiers walking the walls.

More than enough to deal with bandits or a mercenary attack, but if the dragon showed up here they'd be in trouble. He rode through the open gate, the soldier stationed there asked no questions. His shield's crest was more than enough to guarantee his entry into the keep grounds, if not all the way to the throne room.

He dismounted and walked Willow over to the stables and started to unsaddle his horse. The stableman volunteered to take care of it, but he declined. No one but him took care of Willow. Not only did the horse deserve his thanks and gratitude, but the beast wouldn't allow others to touch her at all.

"Be careful when you feed this one," he warned on his way out after throwing his saddlebags over his shoulder.

The guards at the keep proper stopped him, after a short conversation he was lead through the main passageway that led to the throne room. He looked around and it was much like keeps anywhere, the core of the keep were the public rooms, guard posts, ball room, public dining hall, and of course the throne room. The wings to either side would host the private rooms, and no doubt be harder to get into.

He wasn't sure which wing was the royal and which the visitor yet, but he'd know shortly. He didn't know all that much about King Wendell either, just that he enjoyed a good relationship with his own sovereign king. At the throne room the guard stopped him.

"You can leave your sword and bags here sir knight, no weapons are allowed inside the throne room."

He removed the sword and shield from his back and handed over his saddle bags. The guard let him through and the seneschal got his information. When he walked in the seneschal announced him.

"Your majesty, I bring you Sir Lance Spears, Baron of Creekshire from the noble kingdom of Aerelon."

He approached the throne and bowed at the waist respectfully. He owed the man no allegiance, but did owe respect to an ally's monarch. There were seven people in the throne room besides himself, and his stomach twisted with distaste when he saw Sir Derig Melnott, Earl of swords. Sir Derig had a title in Aerelon, but the 'of swords' was the landless title for a knight. Derig was also the dragon slayer that he most loathed to see, but not because he feared losing the bounty. The knight was a snake in his opinion, oily and arrogant.

Sir Derig had never once shown outright disrespect, but talking to the man always left a bad taste in his mouth, the compliments were always two edged, or outright lies.