The Queen of the Dawn Ch. 02

A/N: This story has a lot of plot development and action sequences. So if you are only in the market for sex scenes, this is probably not for you. :) However, if you like sexy fantasy/adventure tales with unexpected twists and turns, I hope you will enjoy it.

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Gray sand swirled far below. His guts were swirling too. He was flying. Thrashing winds flayed his cheeks while he ascended heavenward. She was holding him. He could hear her wings slicing the air. The tips of her long golden pinions flashed at the edges of his vision.

One of her arms, clinging tight, sent ripples through his chest. The other was moving. He felt fiery fingers sliding down the rear seam of his doublet, grazing his leather-clad buttocks and reaching between his legs. He tilted his head down, tucking his chin and saw a glowing hand part his thighs. He gasped as it curved upwards and started to stroke him.

Her incandescent touch set his flesh aflame. A torrent of blood rushed through his pelvis making him billow out like a sail inflated by a sudden, furious gust. Pulsing in her caress, he thickened with each pound of his heart. Rapidly the laces binding his crotch began to cut into his plumping tissue.

He heard her voice, "Come to me." Her steaming breath scalded his ear.

He turned to look at her and was immediately blinded by her blazing eyes. Luminous lips locked onto his mouth and filled him with fire. With his lids squeezed shut, he rotated in her grasp, oblivious to the great desert shrinking beneath him. He pressed hard on the small of her back, at the base of her wings and gripped her neck while kissing her savagely.

Aurora, burning brighter and hotter, soared past vermillion clouds. The wind tore Hal's hair and scraped his spine. Air currents funneling around his body smashed him against her flaming form, searing his skin. Vesicating pain shot through his nerves. His epidermis bubbled and split. He flung his head back, screaming in agony and ecstasy and was devoured by shimmering white void.

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Cool water revived him. A strange-looking old woman with long, straight silver hair pressed a cup to his lips. Above him tent fabric blocked the brutal golden disk in the sky.

"We found you. Thought you were food for the Lord of the Dead, cooked by the Sun," said the woman using the language of the West.

Hal ran his tongue over his scabbed, stippled lips. He wondered if the flight had been a dream. Had everything been a dream? His eyes darted around the space, resting on his possessions piled a few paces away. Next to his sword, the golden feather gleamed atop his mail. Aurora's eyes sparked in his mind. He forgot his Sunbaked skin and felt a certain part of him grow and stiffen. He slung his feeble arm over his groin in an attempt to quash, or at least obscure, his burgeoning memory.

"Now you live. Live well."

The old woman left and after a short while Hal dropped back into slumber. By evening he was able to walk. The woman and her people welcomed him to share their meal and the warmth of their fire.

Most of his new companions did not speak the Western tongue; so he did not understand the majority of the conversation around him while he ate. But, though her accent distorted many words, he was able to communicate with the old woman. When the food was finished she asked him how he had come to the middle of the gray desert.

The prince told her all that had happened to him and that he could not rest until he reached the edge of the world and entered the palace of the Queen of the Dawn. The old woman laughed. She and many of her tribe had glimpsed the magnificent citadel in the clouds from their homes upon the cliffs that bordered the endless Eastern sea. The glorious fortress would only appear for moment and then fade into the clear light of day.

"No place for a mortal man," she said. "You must ride a great bird or a terrible dragon to reach it."

"I have to get there. I beg you to show me the route." Hal's face beamed with hope.

"Young sir, you must not journey further east," warned the woman. "We have fled our village, though we prospered by the great ocean for generations."

Prince Hal listened as the old woman explained why. Months ago a brilliant red star had appeared in the night sky. The town sibyl said it was a sign of doom, but none heeded her. Then on the eve of Midsummer a gigantic dragon with blazing scales of gold flew down from the heavens and breathed fire on nearly every rooftop. Many perished during the first attack and scores more over the week of nighttime firestorms that followed. When barely a single house still stood, the meager number of survivors decided to abandon the place that had been their home for as long as anyone could remember and move inland to the West. It was better to risk starvation and death by exposure to the elements in the gray desert than be cooked by dragonfire.

Only the sibyl remained. She refused to vacate the smoldering ruins of her hut atop the highest ridge, claiming she would lose her prophetic powers if she could not hear the music of the waves.

"I must go," said the prince to the woman. "I have no choice." He pulled out the feather and twirled it, watching it take on the fiery glow of the flames. "It is my destiny. I shall slay this dragon and enter the palace of the Dawn."

"The sibyl says he who kills the dragon will conquer death itself and live forever." The woman's voice deepened.

"If I live forever then one day I'll find a way to sail to the palace." He thought his fate was now set in stone.

"So many of our young men died trying to defeat the demon beast! It cannot be done." Tears ran down the woman's wizened cheeks.

The next morning Prince Hal renewed his mission, despite the old woman's words. A map the dispossessed villagers gave him led to more gentle country. Rabbits and other small game were plentiful and the prince made good use of his bow and arrows.

One afternoon, after weeks had passed, the broad blue line of the Eastern Ocean stretched across the horizon. The waves beckoned. Hal tore through the ties securing his mail and the rest of his garments and charged into the sea. Though the water was different from the ocean cherished by the men of the Green Isles, it was the sea nonetheless. He relished the fresh salt air and the cleansing wash of the tide.

He realized he was close to the palace of the Dawn. He had made it to the edge of the world. Surely she would come to him now. The Sun began to sink in the sky. The prince turned from the scarlet Dusk towards the surrounding cliffs. Charred shells were all that remained of hundreds of simple dwellings. Only one structure had walls and a viable roof -- a round hut on the highest ridge that shimmered in the twilight.

The prince approached, figuring it must be the home of the sibyl. The exterior of the dwelling amazed him. It was made of shining golden scales, each bigger than the span of his hand. A woman in gray robes opened the door. A hood hid her eyes, revealing just the lower portion of her face.

"Who comes?" she called out, using the speech of the West.

The prince wondered how she could know where he was from when he hadn't uttered a word. "I have traveled from a faraway land to slay the monster that destroyed this village," he announced.

"You are one of the fabled knights of the West. I hear the ring of steel when you move." Her long hair was black as ravens' feathers and straight like the people of her tribe who had helped him in the desert. Her accent was exotic, yet easy to comprehend and very alluring.

Drawing near the prince noticed her pretty lips and delicate chin. He was curious what the rest of her was like. "I am Prince Hal of the Green Islands. Are you the sibyl who foresaw the terror of the dragon?"

"I told the people to flee when the red star torched the sky. They did not listen. Most of them died in the flames. I praise the Dawn that the last ones have left. You must leave too. This place is cursed."

"Why do you stay, holy sister?"

"I am bound to these cliffs and sea beyond. I will lose my sight if I go elsewhere." The sibyl gathered the collar of her robe and pulled her hood closer. Hal discerned a blindfold tied underneath concealing her eyes.

"How can you see anything with your eyes shrouded?" he questioned.

"I see what is to come. I use my other senses to tell what is now." The sibyl motioned for him to enter. "The day is growing old. If you will not make haste to go then you must come inside. The Sun is almost gone and the dragon will strike soon. You may take refuge with me until the beast has passed over. Then journey on."

The prince looked around the sibyl's hut. The floor was stone. Piles of golden scales were strewn everywhere. There was an ample cooking pit in the center with a sturdy iron cauldron and an ancient table and bench cut from slate. Jars painted with unfamiliar symbols were stacked along the perimeter; many of them were cracked and leaking. Overhead smoky twigs hung from the rafters. "Why hasn't the dragon burned this place to ash like the other houses?"

The sibyl spread her arms, palms open to the walls. "The dragon's breath cannot set afire its own flesh. We are protected by the skin it sheds."

"The creature molts. Like a serpent?" Hal felt the sly hunter within him stir.

"Yes. Some leagues south the shore is littered with scales. I gather them." She turned back to him. "You must remove your mail, and the rest of your attire. It is going to get very hot. You will roast." She sensed his reluctance. "My virtue will not be blemished. If I cannot see you, I cannot be shamed by your nakedness. You wish to live, don't you?"

As he unlaced the knots that bound his mail he was glad he'd just bathed in the ocean. At least he would smell of salt water and seaweed instead of weeks of dirt and desert. "Does the dragon only attack at night?" he asked while undoing his doublet.

"During the day the light of the Golden Queen holds the beast in slumber. Once she is gone and darkness falls the monster awakes and soars the skies, hunting for men to incinerate."

The sibyl lifted the large cauldron from the center of the cooking pit and moved it to the edge of the hut. The prince was impressed by the slender woman's strength. She pushed aside several partially consumed logs revealing a circular stone panel wide enough for a man to pass through.

She pried open the slab with her hands and slid it over. "When you've undressed, bring your clothes and your self down here." The sibyl disappeared below. The prince, wearing nothing, soon followed her, carrying his bundled clothing, folded mail, sword, bow and arrows.

"Put your clothing, your mail and weapons in the hollow," she instructed. "Quickly."

Hal placed his treasured belongings in a cavity carved into the wall of the stone-lined space. Shivering, he clung to his upper arms and for a breath or two reconsidered the removal of his clothes. Then he looked down at the sibyl who was curled on her side, wearing only the blindfold and the thinnest shift he'd ever seen. Her figure was svelte and supple and even in the dim light from a lone candle there was golden sheen to her skin. The cellar was tiny and he couldn't avoid brushing her shoulders and back as he lay alongside her on the floor.

Feeling his goose-pricked flesh the sibyl guessed he was chilly. "It won't be long before you'll wish you were as cold as you feel now."

"Shouldn't I close the cover?" he asked staring at the ceiling of the hut through the entrance hole.

"No. We will lose our breath."

Rising winds howled in the prince's ears. In moments the walls began to shake; the air surrounding their bodies grew warm.

"The dragon comes..." the sibyl's voice shrank into silence.

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