The Chronicles of Amberdrake

by Loren K. Jones

  “So long as you don’t snore too loudly.” She slipped loose and went up to collect her things.

  Word passed through the rest of the servants quickly. Brandis is a well-liked young woman, and there was little in the way of jealousy toward her new status. She moved into my room and started making herself comfortable. I had walked into town with only the clothes on my back and a belt of gold crowns, so I had little in the way of clothes in the wardrobe.

  That was one drawback of being a dragon. I must either strip bare to change or shred my clothes, so I would be bare when I changed back. I had to make my clothes as soon as I was human again. After all, sometimes I don’t change back to human form for decades at a time. I had not wandered the wild lands for ten years with a slit throat. I had become Amberdrake before night fell and not changed back in the ten years since. That was my priority for the morning. Tonight, it was Brandy.

  The wild passion of last night was in no way lessened tonight. Our bodies tumbled and twined, each exploring the other in intimate detail. I found things that she liked, and others that she did not. She found mostly things that I like, there not being much that I disliked in sex. Tonight, we walked hand in hand to the bathing room when we were finished.

  The bathing room has a large, deep tub, and a charcoal fired copper water heater. A windmill-powered pump fills a roof cistern, providing cold water as well as fill water for the water heater. We soaked and played, continuing our explorations of each other’s bodies. Soft, scented soap was scrubbed over backs and fronts, eliciting sighs and giggles. Eventually we returned to bed. Sleep came softly to Brandis first, and I laid in bed watching her. A tenderness was redeveloping in me that had been missing for far too long.

  * * *

  Morning was again announced by the crowing of that accursed bird. Someday I’m going to have him stewed. Brandis was already up and about, preparing for her day. My day was also ahead. A few good tailors were close by, and I had no real need to be dressed by the fine tailors in the inner city.

  Master Tailor Cork Manderson was only three doors down, and it is to him that I decided to take my business. After all, he was one of the few customers that continued to come into the Falcon. One good turn deserved another. I was an altogether average-sized man, being four cubits tall and of medium build. He had several outfits that were partially made, and it was the work of moments to finish them to my size. My gold ensured I got good service.

  Brandis returned to the Falcon late in the afternoon in a foul mood. “Those arrogant bastards. No, bastards don’t act like that. They are shastan. Modancals! Filthy beasts, set to devour each other or even themselves.” She slammed her hand against the wall, and for a moment I was afraid that she had broken it. Not her hand—the wall. “They wanted the information on those parchments, all right. They wanted to use it against each other. Even my father.”

  I placed my hand on her shoulder and caressed her hair. “He is only a man, Brandy. He has his flaws, as do I. Don’t be too hard on him. Men of power are driven to acquire more power. They can never be satisfied.”

  “But the information was about his friends, and he wanted to use it against them! Against men who share his meals, share his business, even share his mistresses.” Her voice and shoulders were shaking from suppressed tears. “I didn’t give it to them. I burned it all, right there in his fireplace. And he cursed me for doing it. For doing what’s right. Why?” Her tears slid heavily down her face, one at a time.

  I had no answer to such questions. They were questions I asked ages ago when I first began meddling in the affairs of men of power. The night was bad for both of us, and I began to regret taking her as my mistress. Not because of her, but because of myself. The feelings that she was awakening within me. A man protecting his mate could be dangerous. A dragon protecting his mate is dangerous. And I was beginning to think of Brandy as my mate.

  Business picked up over the next few days until the main room was once again filled. As I had expected, Letten was taking her breaks on her back, as was Amber Rose. I didn’t hear any complaints, so they must’ve been giving good value for the coin. All the women were serving in the main room, except Elanste. Even Candry was there, bathed and groomed, and in a dress that looked like it belonged to Letten. She was attracting some attention, though she was by no means as popular as Brandis.

  Brandis’ popularity was a problem for me. I am possessive, a trait shared by humans and dragons. And I am overly possessive of females who I have shared intimacy with. Perhaps this was a flaw, but that’s me: Flawed. Brandy turned down every proposition and smiled at me every time she caught my eye.

  * * *

  Life at the Stooping Falcon settled down into a pattern. Elanste went shopping every third day, taking Jory along to carry for her. The roof and walls were now finished and insulated with dry straw. Brandis and I settled down, though we occasionally woke the rest of the staff late at night.

  The furnishings I had ordered arrived, and the old tables were pitched out with the rubbish, though they were pitched gently. Some poor souls would no doubt be dining on a better table tonight than ever before. It confused the staff that I gave so freely to the poor. No one knows that I was born one of them.

  Another factor in the changing fortunes of the Stooping Falcon was the addition of better beers.

  Lervin had been a decent brewer, but not great. I was much better, and some of my first brews were just beginning to develop. The beer we have been selling I purchase from Bandar Wensterson, the owner of the Crooked Tree. We had been friends, and he was the first to welcome me back. He uses our old recipe, and remembers where it came from. The beer was expensive, but I turned a slight profit nonetheless.

  Orman Follwer was another who had shared beer-making secrets with me late one night, and his brews had a different taste that’s as distinctive as his accent. He ran the tap at the Silver Goose, and was the brewer as well, though he was indentured. After ten years he still hadn’t paid his debt off. The part of his wages he was allowed to keep vanished up his nose.

  Profits were coming back, in spite of the lack of whoring. A better class of man was traveling farther to come see what I had made of the Falcon. Even some lesser lairds were coming in now.

  * * *

  It was late fall when I arrived, but now winter gripped the land in its icy claws. Winds blew, and snow collected in drifts about the Falcon. The improvements I’d made kept the Falcon more comfortable than many better inns. Where the walls had already been finished, I had magicked straw between the boards for insulation. The charcoal was lasting longer than expected as well, and that was all to the good. Charcoal was expensive, but it’s the best way to heat the place. The great circular fireplace in the center of the main room did nothing to heat the rest of the inn. Small pocket stoves were in each room, and they did the most toward keeping the cold at bay. Even the servants slept warm that year. With most of the drafts caulked and the roof and walls insulated, the attic was turning into a decent place to live.

  Winter brought changes in the Falcon’s customers as well. Less beer was being ordered, but more mulled wine and spirits were, along with hot cava. Hearty meals became the rule, and there was more demand on the girls for entertainment as well. Even Elanste was venturing out of the kitchen for occasional encounters to supplement her income.

  For me, winter as a human was a torment. The cold entered my bones and joints, making me as creaky as an old man. Brandis applied hot mustard plasters, but I knew all too well that I would be miserable until spring.

  I found an outlet for my excess energy in Brandis. The girl was nearly insatiable, though I came close a time or two. My room was as much hers as mine now, and she is taking a more active interest in the inn as well. This suited me fine as I intended to leave her in charge when I left. This was a mating year, and spring is mating season for dragons as well as other creatures. The urges that drove me as a human were nothing beside the mating urge of Amberdrake.

  The population of
Chanders had accepted me, with the exception of a few thieves and politicians. Laird Colem never did come out to see me, though I heard he was spotted riding hard to the south and the cities of the heartland. Danlin was another story. She stayed and dared me to try and get to her. I thought I was getting to her by not trying to get to her.

  * * *

  Danlin Willowby stormed into the Falcon late one evening with her hair tied tightly back. Fur lined boots covered her feet, and a fur lined over robe covered the rest of her. I sat impassively as she recited her list of complaints. Her chief complaint seemed to be that I was still alive. Second was the death of Lervin, who she called a model citizen. Every time someone mentioned him, I thought I’m going to be sick.

  “What do you want, Danlin? I have little time and less patience for you.”

  “You know what I want, Drake. I want you dead. Failing that, I want you out of my city. Your coming back doesn’t change things, and your murder of Lervin only compounds your crimes.” Her voice was sweet and soft, even when she was making threats.

  “Now Danny, be reasonable. I never touched Lervin. He died of heart failure at seeing my ghost sitting at his bar. That, and the wasting sickness that had been eating him alive for more than a year.” I had put Danlin’s back to the door, and I could see shadows moving out in the hall. Brandis, at least, was listening in. “As for the problems of the past, well, it was your idea to take over the wool trade. I didn’t do any more than provide you with support. And what did I get for my trouble? A slit throat. And don’t bother denying that you helped Lervin. I was on my way to a meeting with you when Monas and Stilmat jumped me.”

  “And what if I did? You betrayed me. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have taken the wool market, and by now I would own this city. But no, you had to get a quick poke at The Red Curtain. And you just had to brag to that little whore about our plans.” Her voice was still soft. The woman was amazingly well controlled.

  “Now, Danny, how was I to know she was related to Master Merchant Woodley?” I love baiting Danny. When she gets mad her mask slips and the gutter trash she really was came through.

  “Her name was Stephlin Woodley! How could you not know? Does your brain shut off when your shaft gets stiff? And as soon as you were done with her, she went running to Uncle Banister. Do you have any idea how much money I lost?”

  “So I didn’t ask her name. Is that any reason to have my throat cut, and my body thrown over a cliff?”

  “Yes! And you won’t be coming back next time. You have no friends here anymore, despite your attempts to curry favor with the lairds. When I am done with you, you will have to beg to get someone to piss on you.” She was shouting now and standing with her hands on my desk. Her posture was affording me an excellent view down the front of her dress. She probably didn’t even know she was doing it. Her breasts had gotten her this far, and she employed them as distractions or bait without conscious thought.

  I slowly rose to my feet, remaining behind my desk. “It is time, Lady Danlin, that you remember why you wanted my help in the first place. I am still a Mage, and magic is still at my beck and call. How would you like a nice dose of the pox? Or maybe you would prefer to have your nose grow.”

  Danlin suddenly looked frightened. “You said you couldn’t do things like that. You aren’t powerful enough. Don’t lie to me, Drake.”

  I called power into a nimbus of glowing red light that surrounded my body. Danlin was truly frightened now, and I added to the light with an illusion of goat horns growing from my head. The Father of Demons is said to glow with inner fire, and have horns like a goat.

  Danlin burst screaming from my office, running for the door while her maid vainly tried to get her coat back on. The door hadn’t even closed behind her when I started laughing. The stories she’d tell would be great for a few laughs. Brandis was standing by the door of the office with a wicked expression on her face.

  “My father is going to be interested in this, Drake. He has a large portion of his fortune tied up in the wool trade. If Danlin and her friends are trying to take over, he needs to know.”

  “She doesn’t have the resources any more, Brandy. That was ten years ago. Her threats are as empty as her head. With her husband running across the empire to escape me, she has more than she can handle just trying not to go completely broke.” I slipped my arm around her and guided her out of the office.

  * * *

  Word came in early spring that Laird Colem had been spotted in the court of Prince Tambert, down in Greater Westport. It’s the excuse I’ve been looking for, and I prepared to leave. Brandis was not happy, but she honored the vow that we made.

  “Drake, please don’t go. He can’t hurt you anymore. Do you really have to go after him?”

  “Yes, I do. You know that. Now give me a kiss and let me go. I will be back, and if I don’t come back, you get the Falcon.” She grabbed me in a fierce hug that threatened to break my ribs. Then she let go of me and fled toward our room.

  I rode out of town for a full day before I stopped. The time had come for Amberdrake to return. I tied the horse tightly after I dismounted. I was always hungry after the transition, and horsemeat tasted just fine to a dragon. I stripped and stood with my arms spread wide. The transition began as my body started to glow. After so many years, and so many times, the transition only took a moment. The horse went mad, trying to escape, but I picked it up in one foreclaw, piercing the poor creature’s heart with a massive talon. I sucked the blood from its throat, and then gorged on the hot entrails. Bones crunched merrily as I munched the rest of the horse. I probably look like a kestrel eating a grasshopper. Then I launched myself into the air and headed west, toward the mountains where my kind awaited.

  * * *

  The wind rushing past my face gave me a feeling of exhilaration. My great wings beat steadily, driving me higher and faster than any bird ever dreamed of flying. The inner fire that was part of all dragons burned high in me as the mountains drew near. It was mating season.

  Dragons only mate once every hundred years. This has to do with the gestation period of our eggs before they were ready to be lain. There were more youngsters this time, though they were not of mating age. They were spectators, cheering on the contestants in life’s most challenging contest; procreation. While our eggs took one thousand years to hatch, it only took us another fifteen hundred years to mature. A long time in human terms, but when your life expectancy was measured in millennia, it was not long at all.

  Snow-capped crags passed beneath my wings as I followed the path to the ancient matting grounds. Roars of greeting and challenge echoed through the rocky passes as potential mates and rivals noted my passing. A form launched itself from a ledge and beat strongly toward me. Sunlight glinted off her scales, dazzling me with the beauty of the sight.

  Sahrendrake passed close by my left wing and pivoted to slide in beside me, matching my glidepath toward the valley below. “Greetings, Amberdrake. You smell of humans.”

  “Ah, Sahrendrake, you know my nature. I have to go back once in a while. I have to remember why I am what I am, why I wanted to be what I am. Otherwise I would likely join your father in oblivion.” Dragons were more likely to commit suicide than to die of natural causes.

  Sahrendrake snorted, gouts of flame shooting from her lovely snout. “You’re too vain. How could you bear to deprive the world of your magnificence? No, you just like the fast life and constant mating.” Her tone was jovial, but she had a habit of making her points painful if I wasn’t quick enough to agree.

  “You should try it. It’s not as glorious as our mating flights, but it does have its advantages and attractions. Such as being ready again after a few hours rest.” I gave her a leer that had her rolling in the air with laughter.

  “Males! It’s over for you in just a few weeks. But for us, it takes a hundred years.” She straightened up and landed daintily on the grass next to the lake.

  I landed beside her, though not with the ease
and flair that she displayed. My excuse was that I was tired after so long a flight, but the sad reality is, as dragons go, I was a klutz. Oh, I did all right when I was fresh, but Sahrendrake danced into her landings.

  Sahrendrake snorted at my clumsiness, then waded into the water. Contrary to popular belief, fire-breathing dragons loved the water. “If you would practice more, you wouldn’t have such a hard time landing.” Her great head submerged, and bubbles of steam marked her trail. The fish in the lake grow to enormous size during the century of our absence, and the females fed on them before breeding. Males fasted to prepare for battle.

  Morning broke over the mountains, flooding the valley with sunlight. “Amberdrake,” a deep voice rumbled, “you fraud. Are you ready to fly?”

  I opened my eyes just a slit. “Who are you calling a fraud, Corandrake?”

  “You, human bait.” He landed beside me and stretched his wings in the sun. Corandrake was older than any of the other male dragons in this part of the world. At sixty-three hundred, he was one of the oldest and largest dragons in the world. “This time, you fall. Luck will not hold you a fourth time.”

  “Last time you said luck wouldn’t hold me a third time. Don’t you ever get tired of your own false predictions?” I snapped my legs straight and swept my wings down, evading the flames that Corandrake blew at me. “Come now, you can do better than that,” I called back toward the ground. Corandrake launched and chased me into the upper atmosphere.

  Battle between dragons is a deadly serious business. Our bodies are not immune to flame, and talons can tear through scales and flesh with ease. Mating battles do not, however, generally end in death. Normally they continue until one combatant or the other withdraws. Corandrake had been the victor in hundreds of mating battles, but he was getting old.

  Corandrake flew at me like a comet, flame bellowing from his mouth with his roar of rage. I was more restrained. That’s the human part, the part no other dragon can understand. From my experience as a human, I knew how to retain my composure in a fight. When Corandrake was within striking distance, I folded my wings, dropping like a stone beneath him, and scored his underbelly with a flip of my tail. Corandrake pivoted and roared in pain and rage that I had not only evaded him, but scored the first strike.