Zar Ch. 02: Dungeon and Dragon

Zar slays a wyrm and encounters a witch, freeing a prince and gaining an amulet of Minarwe.

*

From Tanarwel, Zar travelled southwest across Iskreti, a volcanic landscape of barren plains and desert. For the latter she joined some forty traders and their families. Baruk, a sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued man with dark hair and weathered skin, led the caravan like a mother herds children, forever despairing of their mistakes and foolish behaviour. If he took a liking to Zar, it was for her skill with the sword, and his skill as a teacher.

"I can see you have some training," he said. Zar had asked to pay her way as a guard, and Baruk had insisted on testing her, sparring playfully with her for a while, then more seriously as she began to test him back. "But how much experience have you had fighting? Real fighting is dirty." He surprised her with a punch to the face and knocked aside her blade, bringing his own to her neck. "And you're dead."

Zar rubbed her cheek, angry with herself but accepting the lesson. "It's true. The Sisterhood's finest trained me, but rules are ingrained in their thinking. I must do better."

"Then join us, and we - you and I - will show these layabouts what true mastery of the sword is about, eh?"

The sand was treacherous, the rocks sharp, and the sun constant. It was the near absence of water and the scarcity of vegetation that defined the desert, more than the summer heat. Mules carried carried goods for trade as well as water and food and equipment for the journey. That meant there were hundreds of mules to be rounded up and protected during the night from predators, and it meant they were a target for bandits that preyed on wealthy caravans - and even more so on lone travellers foolish enough to brave the crossing.

"More and more, merchants are risking the desert route," Baruk told her. "The Black Queen's men now patrol Rathwir and Gorten, taxing what they do not steal."

"Good business for you, though," Zar said, with a gentle smile.

But Baruk shook his head. "As pickings in the north diminish, the bandits prey ever deeper into the desert. The paths I follow now are slower and more treacherous, and there are dangers in the deep desert that human guards are useless against."

"So it is true, then? About the dragons?" Zar peered into the hazy south, as if she might spy one of the great mythical predators in flight.

Baruk shrugged. "There are no dragons in the Iskreti. But this is where they are born, wyrms haunting the shadows of this shattered landscape until their wings are full."

Zar was glad to be part of the caravan, glad of the company, and enjoyed the hours she spent training with Baruk. Indeed, spending so much time with a man she both respected and found undeniably attractive was a very enjoyable new experience.

The attack was in the third week of the crossing. Zar was off-duty, but woken by the screams of the mules and the cries of the caravaners was instantly awake and swiftly ready. The scene was chaos glimpsed by starlight and torches, Baruk raging at the night as he tried to order a response. Zar hurried over to him.

"It's a wyrm," he told her, pointing out into the dark. "Bring torches!" he yelled to the traders who were watching fearfully from a safe distance.

And it was, but he was wrong about where it was. The monstrous serpent had abandoned its attack on the mules and was circling the camp. Its aura was subtle and changing, so that it was never quite where she looked for it. "What if we sacrifice some mules," she asked. "Let it feed."

"Were it smaller, then maybe, but this one's almost ready to fly. As far as it's concerned, we're thieves stealing its food. It won't rest until we're dead."

"What do we do?"

He gave a bitter laugh. "I don't know. Run? Hide? Pray? The torches will work for a while. It prefers the dark, but even if we could see it, our weapons are useless against it."

"Well, I can see it," Zar muttered, following the slithering wyrm with her eyes. Drawing her sword, she leapt after it, ignoring Baruk's cry of alarm. Away from the torches she ran, until she was forced to slow down, the ground visible to her only by the dim reflection of the sword's blazing aura.

The wyrm was longer than she'd realised. Were it to straighten out and be still, it might be mistaken for the felled trunk of a mighty tree, one with six stubby legs and comically small wings. But it moved restlessly, constantly looking about itself, sniffing the air and listening. It was aware of Zar long before she was close enough to see its sharp-fanged mouth.

It coiled around her, surrounding her. "So brave you are, all by yourself. But I do not fear you. You cannot even scratch me!" Its voice oozed a sinister confidence. "Ask nicely and I may let you go."

Zar controlled her surprise at hearing the wyrm speak. She had thought it a monster to be killed, but an intelligent wyrm was something else. "Mighty Wyrm," she said reverently, bowing courteously. "We beg of you. Take all the mules you can eat, but allow us to continue our journey."

The wyrm growled, and tightened the noose about her. "No," it hissed, and flicked its tail to knock her towards its waiting mouth.

Zar stumbled but didn't fall. Rather than retreat, which was anyway impossible, she stepped forward and swung the Dawn Blade in a bright arc, cutting through bone and armoured flesh. Perhaps the wyrm's instinct was to fly, for it leapt into the air - only to crash down again, screaming with rage and fear. Its great head lunged at her, jaws open wide, terrifying fangs as long as her arm, but she was already bringing the sword up defensively. It sliced through the soft flesh of the wyrm's tongue and pierced the throat.

Hot blood gushed from the wounded mouth as the wyrm gave a great plaintive wail. It made one last attempt to crush her, but found only her hip as she flung herself sideways. Rolling awkwardly to her feet, Zar drove the Dawn Blade through the thick body, almost severing the wyrm in two. It tried to wriggle out of her reach, but the two halves of its body had different ideas, and blood sprayed in all directions, drenching her entirely.

"I'm sorry," Zar whispered, and swung one last time, ending the mewling creature's agony.

She limped wearily back to the camp, met halfway by a furious Baruk who scolded her roundly then quite unexpectedly kissed her. "Come, let's clean you up."

*

Zar melted under Baruk's assault. This was nothing like the lust- and magic-fuelled fucking with the wizard. This was a flood of emotions and sensations like nothing she had ever been prepared for. This was entirely new. Each kiss, each caress, each warm breath against her neck made her want to clutch Baruk to her and never let go.

He had cleaned her of the wyrm's blood, stripping her of her clothes, exposing her, discovering her, discovering the moonsilver chastity belt. The more the blood was washed away, with pure and precious water, the less the distance between them, the more his hands dared, caressing her breasts, teasing her nipples, testing the cruel belt. "Sweet Goddess, but you're full of secrets, Zar."

More than you know, she didn't say. She twisted round in his arms and presented the other to him. "I need you in me, Baruk," she pleaded.

Perhaps she imagined the hesitation, for if it was real it was brief. Her need was swiftly met, however, and for the first time in her life she was penetrated by a man's bare flesh, a real cock rather than enchanted gold. In truth the gold had been better, but right then and there it was Baruk she needed. She sighed with pleasure, thrusting back to urge him deeper.

He quickly lost his shyness, his caution, and used her the way she craved - with passion. His hard cock pounded into her ass, the friction sending delicious shivers of excitement through her. "Oh yes," she cried softly. "Like that. Just keep fucking me like that." It had been weeks since her last orgasm, and she prayed she could make it happen again. "Like that, yes."

Leaning on one arm, Zar used her free hand to excite her nipples, rubbing and pinching them with less and less mercy. No doubt she'd regret it after, but all that mattered was the now. The assault on her senses was working, pushing her to that elusive precipice, but she needed more.

And then Baruk finished, his cock driving deeper than ever, seeming thicker than ever, stretching her exquisitely, and his essence burst into her. Zar cried out in wordless pleasure, exulting in each wonderful contraction of her ass about her lover's cock.

Until, too soon, he eased out of her. Too blissfully happy to object, or to care about much at all, she drifted off into a welcome sleep, glad to feel his warmth wrapped around her.

*

Memory of Tanarwel, of being taken against her will, and then being taken by her will, of behaving like an animal, surrendering to an unnatural and immoral act against the teachings of the Sisterhood who had raised her and trained her... filled her with shame. Scarcely a day had gone by since then that she hadn't imagined herself on her knees confessing all.

And yet those same memories inevitably stirred a hunger for more. A hunger to feel that golden cock - or Baruk's (or indeed any) cock - inside her again, filling and fucking her ass until she screamed in ecstasy.

*

As beautifully as it started, it soured quickly. For all their spoken gratitude, the caravaners studied Zar the next day with naked fear in their eyes. Even Baruk was cool towards her.

In the brightness of the late morning, much time having been wasted capturing mules that had fled from the wyrm but escaped being devoured by it, and before the caravan lurched into motion once more, Zar returned to the bloody corpse of the wyrm. The creature would soon have grown into a dragon, proud and beautiful and deadly, and perhaps she had saved more than the lives of the caravaners, but it had also been intelligent, and she had killed it.

Like scavengers, the caravaners had torn the fangs from the fearsome mouth - no doubt they would be worth a fortune - but Zar was more interested in the wings, cutting the membranes from the slender bones and packing it like rolls of fabric.

"May your next life be longer," she said, honouring her fallen foe, and returned to the camp.

"That's no ordinary sword, is it?" Baruk said that evening. They were sitting away from the others, drinking tea and watching the sunset.

"No," she admitted, unwilling to say more.

"Even before, I had my suspicions," he explained. "The edge too sharp. Too perfect. As if it's fresh from the forge. There should be some mark of age on it."

It was also, Zar didn't say, so bright to her magic-sensitive eyes that it was a wonder no one else could see how extraordinary a weapon it was.

"And you!" he continued, agitated. "What kind of a woman runs into battle with a dragon, and -" He took a breath, as if to try and hold back the words. "And fucks like a whore."

As stunned as Zar was by this outburst, Baruk's flush of shame was so uncharacteristic as to be comical. But also, she understood it. "I too was raised to believe that what we did last night was unnatural, that it was something done only by the most wretched of men. It's lies, though. Last night, for me, was beautiful."

She tried to kiss him, but he flinched away. "Amongst my people, it is punishable by death. It is forbidden by the gods! But you put a spell on me. I couldn't help myself."

Zar stared at him, speechless, at Baruk who refused to meet her eyes; and as she stood, the last embers of the setting sun were extinguished. "Well," she murmured, "I won't tempt you again."

*

Zar had been in love once before, not with a man but with Sister Adila at the Convent. Sadly, her affection for the older girl was not returned, nor would the Sisterhood have looked kindly on it. Such 'unhealthy' attachments between Sisters were rewarded with irrevocable separation. That had been a lonely time for Zar, and Baruk's rejection of her was a painful reminder.

As the desert gave way once again to well travelled roads and the outlying villages of Paraldiar, she parted ways with the caravan. Her fellow travellers wished her well, but their relief was evident. Baruk thanked her and gave her some payment, and as she turned to go, he said, softly, "I'm sorry." She pretended not to hear it, and strode away without once looking back.

Besides, somewhere in these foothills there was a witch she needed to find. "In Paraldiar," the seer had said, "set free the prince held captive by Abab-Baria." Old grandmother Baria, so often the villain, the wicked witch of children's tales. Was it truly possible that she was real? And who was the prince that needed rescuing, and what did he have to do with her quest?

The first real town she came to, Zar sought out a leather worker. Showing him the wyrm-wing membrane, she asked, "Can you work with this?"

The man's eyes lit up in awe. "I have seen this only once before. It is a pain to work with, but produces fine, hard-wearing garments."

"I need new boots," Zar said, showing him the pair that had brought her through forest and swamp, and across plains and desert. She had patched and repaired them so often that they were more twine than leather. "I cannot pay you, but you may keep what you do not use."

"That is more than fair," he said, his eyes gleaming, "but it will take me a few days to gather the tools I'll need."

"Very well. Tell me, is it true that Abab-Baria lives in these hills?"

He laughed. "No indeed, the old witch is long gone. Dead, no doubt. But she has a granddaughter, a healer of some repute and by all accounts a great beauty. She lives not far from here. A few days' journey by foot."

"Then I shall pay her a visit, and return for my boots."

*

Everyone Zar met, it seemed, agreed that Labaria was a great beauty whose skills as a healer more than made up for the wickedness of her famous grandmother. She was guided unerringly to a secluded cottage that seemed almost to have grown out of hillside and warped the trees into itself.

But Labaria herself was as beautiful as all had said, and no older than Zar, at a guess. Her smile awoke butterflies in Zar's belly, and her offer of tea and broth were quickly accepted. "How can I help you?" she asked, adding softly, "Is it a problem conceiving? I can help with that too. Trust me with your problems."

"Ah, no," Zar said, a little embarrassed. "I'm looking for your grandmother."

"Ah, the witch, I presume. Are you after some dark enchantment - a love spell, maybe? There are better ways to win a man's heart - if it's love you want."

"No, it's... I..."

Labaria put her hand on Zar's. "You can trust me. I promise."

Zar nodded, feeling very confused but also hopeful. "There's a prince I need to rescue."

Labaria recoiled in amazement. "A prince! Well, well, well. What has the old witch done now? But no matter. I will help you. Of course I will. Relax, eat, and we shall devise a plan."

Zar breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to have an ally.

*

Labaria's plan, which didn't make much sense to Zar, involved Zar removing her tunic and exposing her breasts. "Oh dear," Labaria said. "That will never do. Here." She handed Zar a tub of violet-coloured gel with a floral scent. "Rub this into your skin. All of it - all over your breasts."

Zar set to work. It was pleasant work, after all, though there really was a lot of gel. Something about it bothered her, though. "How will this help?"

"She's a witch, remember? This will help protect you."

A strange way to protect against magic, but Zar guessed Labaria knew best. Besides, it was good to just relax for a while with an excuse to massage her breasts, and maybe tease her nipples a little. Indeed, it was almost addictive, and she was a little disappointed in the end to be scooping the dregs from the tub, not least because the cool gel soothed the almost burning heat in her breasts and the itching of her swollen nipples. "Don't worry about it," Labaria had said.

And so Zar didn't, but she was a little perplexed by how heavy they felt. "They've grown," she said, paying closer attention. Zar's breasts were normally quite petite, something she didn't mind at all. She was a fighter, after all, and breasts were just a nuisance.

Labaria smiled. "I like them better this way."

"And this will protect me from the witch?" Zar asked, feeling particularly stupid, but also quite pleased that Labaria liked her enlarged breasts. She wished she could see Labaria's breasts. They looked so soft and perfect and kissable - and there was something curious between them. A star, perhaps.

"It should..." Labaria frowned uncertainly. "We should test it," she decided. "Come with me."

Testing it was sensible. Zar followed the healer through the cottage, to stairs descending into the rock of the hillside. The air was cold and damp and a little oppressive, but the way was well lit with torches.

They passed through a doorway into a large chamber where a beast was kept captive. It had the head of a bull and a powerfully muscular human body. And it was naked, and very obviously male. An iron collar with a heavy iron chain kept the bull-man at a safe distance - which was a relief, because it bellowed furiously as they entered.

Zar shrank back. "What is that?"

Labaria laughed. "I'm the one he's angry with. You'll be perfectly safe. He'll love you."

"I don't understand."

"We need to test your breasts? Just kneel in front of him and wrap your breasts about his cock. He'll do the rest."

Zar frowned in concentration, trying desperately to make sense of the plan. "Trust me," Labaria said, smiling in that way again that made Zar want to kiss her and strip her and suck on her sweet nipples - and that star! It was dazzling! Green and mischievous...

"I trust you," Zar said, and managed to tear her attention away from the beauty to the prowling beast. It didn't make sense, but didn't need to. She braved the bull-man's wrath, kneeling within reach, and welcomed the monstrous cock, hard and eager, between her breasts, pressing them tight. Not only had they grown in size, but in sensitivity too. As the bull-cock thrust urgently between them, her nipples brushed against his belly, awaking a fiery lust within her.

Had the thought of him penetrating her not terrified her, such was his phenomenal size, she would have turned and begged for it - but that was not the plan. She remembered the plan. She held her new breasts together, seeming even larger now than before, as the bull-man fucked them, snorting with the effort.

"He is close," Labaria whispered. "Capture his seed with your breasts. Don't spill a drop." Zar nodded, happy to oblige, curious to see what she had only felt before.

The bull-cock shuddered to a conclusion, its creamy essence bursting out to splash against Zar's neck and chin. More and more followed in great pulsing spurts, the bull-man's seed oozing down across her breasts. Zar struggled to contain it, there was so much, but at last there was no more, and she shuffled back to Labaria. "Did it work?" she asked, meaning the protection.

Labaria ignored the question, too intent on scooping up the bull-man's seed, spooning it into a small jar. "Exquisite," she murmured. "A royal jelly indeed."

Royal...

The veil across Zar's mind tore away, leaving a crystalline clarity of perception. Thrusting her hand into the neck of Labaria's tunic, she snatched hold of the star and wrenched it away.

"No!" the old witch screamed, her true face revealed, scarred and blistered by unnatural abuse as much as age. "I need it!"

"What you need," Zar growled, "is to undo the spell on the prince, before I see whether removing your head will do it."

"The chain! Break the chain and you break the spell!" Abab-Baria calmed suddenly and gave a wicked smile. "I do like them better this way."