by Dante King
We passed many doorways, all of iron-bound oak. Every now and again, Saya would point or nod her head at one and say something like, “Apothecary classes are held through there,” or, “Our Basic Sanative Lectures take place in here”.
In the background of this tour through the main keep, the sound of training soldiers came faintly from the courtyards outside. There was the clash and smash of metal on metal, barked orders, choruses of “Yes, sir!” and “No, sir!” These were joined by the occasional good-natured jeering of men and women giving each other shit.
Rather than annoy Saya by asking questions about every single thing, I merely grunted as though this all made complete sense. I was here now, and I may as well just wait for each lesson and class to see what it was going to bring. I had no qualms about being ignorant about things—I’d been unaware of this entire world up until a few short hours ago. I was loving every minute of my experiences here so far and figured that, like all good MMA fighters, I’d just roll with the punches as they came and adapt as well as I was able.
Besides, I thought, where the hell is the fun in trying to have a plan in a situation like this? Way more interesting to make decisions on the fly, and see where each choice takes me.
I eyed the toned figure of Saya walking proudly and confidently in front of me.
I know where I hope any decision involving her takes me…
“All right,” Saya said as we came to the end of another wide corridor.
This hallway was sealed by a circular door of carved stone. Around the edge of this door was a carving of a snake-like dragon with short wings and long-clawed feet. It ran around the circumference of the portal and was eating its tail in the manner of the ouroboros back on Earth. The head and tail were located at the top of the door, where twelve o’clock would be on a clock. To the right side of the door was a small alcove, big enough to put your hand.
“These are our digs?” I asked.
“That’s right,” Saya said.
“And let me guess, we have to hold our dragon crystal in that little nook there, right?” I asked, indicating the alcove.
Saya looked impressed. “That’s right,” she said again. “Only those with dragon crystals can get through this door.”
“What happens if someone shady tries to get through with a forgery or a fake?” I asked. “They get a slap on the wrist and are told to piss off in no uncertain terms?”
Saya laughed and patted me on the shoulder. I got the impression that she thought I was about as naive as a newborn kitten.
“Not a slap on the wrist,” she chuckled. “More of a separation of the wrist—from the rest of your arm.”
“Yeah, that’ll do the trick too.” I squared my shoulders. “Still, I’ve got nothing to worry about, do I?”
With that, I reached into my pocket, pulled out my onyx crystal, and thrust my clenched fist into the small recess. There was a moment’s pause. Then, with a weighty grinding of stone, the stone dragon above me pulled its tail from its mouth and the door opened.
“That’s a lot cooler than a swipe card,” I muttered to myself, pocketing my crystal.
We entered another wide passage, which was lit by a combination of flickering torches set in sconces on the wall and cunningly placed windows in the upper reaches of the ceiling. The corridor was straight and level and reminded me of Bilbo Baggins’ pad, when he had the dwarves over for a drinking session in The Hobbit. Doors led off from either side of this corridor.
“These are where the dragonmancer dormitories are,” Saya told me. “There’s also a well-appointed bathroom and sauna at the far end of this passage, a library, private apothecary workroom, small combat gymnasium, and meditation room.”
I nodded. It all sounded pretty fucking sweet to me.
Saya led me up the corridor a little way and opened one of the heavy oak doors.
“And here,” she said, “is where you, Elenari, and I sleep.”
The stone corridor that we had stepped from was as utilitarian and scrupulously clean as any hallway in any military academy back on earth, albeit with a slightly Hogwartian twist to it. These chambers though, the private quarters of me, Saya, and Elenari, were—and there wasn’t really any other way to describe it—luxuriously appointed.
“This is, uh, this is…” I said, trying to find the words.
“You don’t like it?” Saya asked, a faint note of concern in her voice.
I remembered the last place that I had called home, back in Los Angeles. Calling that apartment a shithole would have been disparaging to hellholes across America. It had been like something out of National Lampoon’s Animal House.
“This is what is known in certain circles back home as riciculuxe,” I said.
Before Saya could hit me with another one of those glazed stares of hers, I said, “It’s fucking incredible, Saya. I feel like a goddamn lord.”
Saya looked relieved. “You’re not a lord,” she said, “but you are a dragonmancer, and many people would say that’s a hell of a lot better. You may release your dragon here too. This is their home as much as it is ours.”
I did as she suggested, summoning Noctis from the onyx crystal in my pocket, while Saya released Scopula. It was lucky that these new digs of mine were so roomy because the two dragons were still in the same forms that they had been when they had been sucked back into their crystals up at the spire’s zenith.
The two dragons eyed each other warily for a few seconds and then inched closer together, their lips quivering, nostrils dilating, occasionally flashing a tooth or letting loose a small growl.
“They’re just getting to know one another,” Saya said casually. “Dragons are proud, but they are clever too. They won’t fight, not with the two of us getting along as we are. If we were enemies however, they would detect the animosity between us and might spark up a fight amongst themselves.”
I imagined that, when a tussle between two dragons sparked off, it probably went up like a fireworks factory.
The quarters—my quarters, I reminded myself—were something along the lines of a Turkish teahouse mixed with one of those posh London social clubs that you can imagine Sherlock Holmes participating in.
The quarters were really an open apartment of sorts, with a large spacious main living area, which was sunken so that you had to step down into it. This sunken space was surrounded by squashy armchairs and sofas upholstered in faded blue velvet.
In the middle of the sunken area, surrounded by the comfy velvet furniture, was a large stone fire pit. The ledge of this pit was wide enough to prop your feet on or, more importantly, rest a beverage on. There were a couple of coffee tables dotted about the room and a large ebony desk up against one wall. Light was provided by thick, Gothic-style windows all along one wall and oil lamps that I bet cast a pretty cozy glow through the room in the evening.
“Yeah, this is pretty freaking lavish, isn’t it?” I said.
My eyes were picking out specific objects dotted about the room. There was a beautiful and delicate silver coffee service on the sideboard, a chandelier hanging from the ceiling that looked as if it was crafted from giant teeth instead of antlers, and a huge water-bong in one corner of the room that was surrounded by massive, soft pillows.
Saya shrugged. Clearly, she had grown accustomed to this sort of living. The tactician’s part of my brain made me ponder on whether that had softened her and my other fellow dragonmancers somewhat.
“We are dragonmancers,” she said again. “We are the most elite fighters that the Empire has at its disposal, sent on the most dangerous missions and into the teeth of our most deadly foes. Peril hangs over us like a damned storm cloud most of the time, so why should we not live in comfort when we can, hm?”
Well, I couldn’t really argue with that. Besides, I felt as if I had paid my dues when it came to living in the worst sorts of accommodations. I wasn’t about to lose any sleep at the thought of sharing this comfy crib with two beautiful female warriors.
�
��So,” I said, “is this me over here?”
There were three beds set into raised nooks in three different walls. Each bed had posts and hangings so that the sleeper could have a little privacy if they fancied it.
I sat down on the edge of the nearest bed and noticed that there was something gold sparkling on the duvet. It was a pendant, I thought, or a locket. I reached to see what the piece of jewelry was and toss it over to Saya to see if she recognized it. Before I could even get a fingertip to it though, the blonde woman strode over to the bed and snatched it up.
“No,” she said sharply. “No, this is—this is my bed.” She stuffed the locket under her pillow and turned away from me. “You’re over there.”
“All right. That’s cool,” I said and walked over to sit on the bed Saya had indicated on the other side of the room.
What was that about? I wondered. Obviously, there’s a story to be heard there, but now probably isn’t the time.
“What’s through that door?” I asked, breaking the slight tension that had permeated the room.
Saya seemed relieved that I wasn’t about to bring the locket up. She turned, running a hand through her thick ash-blonde hair and said, “That’s the balcony. We have a private dragon landing pad out there, though you won’t be able to land your dragon when it is in its biggest battle form. There’s also a hot-tub which can be filled with the same thermally-heated water as the rest of the baths and showers.”
“We’ve got a geo-thermal hot-tub?” I asked incredulously. “On the balcony?”
Saya nodded.
“Shit, that’s a greenie’s wet-dream right there,” I said with a laugh. “Jeez, what the hell did I do to deserve all this, huh?”
Saya shrugged her strong shoulders. “You were chosen,” she said. “Chosen like the rest of us.”
“Chosen by whom?”
Saya stretched her arms over her head and grinned when she caught me checking her body out yet again. “Chosen by Fate, by the gods, by luck, chance, or the universe—take your pick, because it amounts to the same thing.”
“Beats winning the lottery,” I said under my breath. “So, Saya, when can I start cracking rocks with my bare hands, huh?”
Saya laughed. “You won’t be doing anything like that, Earthling,” she said, with a little of her original haughtiness. “Not until you’ve passed through the Transfusion Ceremony.”
“Oh yeah, Elenari mentioned something about that. She didn’t say much about it. What is it?”
“A secret.”
“Of course it is,” I said.
“It is something that all prospective dragonmancers must pass through,” Saya said, “but no dragonmancer is allowed to speak of it to the uninitiated. I will say this though; if you pass through it, unscathed you will be changed. You will be different to what you were. A whole new woman—man, I mean.”
I laughed at her mistake and put my hands up in mock supplication. “How did you find out that all dudes wonder what it’d be like to spend a day with lady parts? That’s supposed to be an insider secret!”
Saya cracked a smile of her own. It softened her hard exterior even more. “I apologize. I haven’t ever had to introduce anyone to the Crystal Spire that wasn't of the female persuasion.”
I waved the apology away. “That’s all good. If I’ve come away with one impression after walking around here, it’s that if I can become half as powerful and skilled as you ladies, I’ll consider that a win.”
Saya looked at me thoughtfully. “Not only are you strong, and obviously a quick learner—judging by the way you summoned your dragon with ease—but you have a skilled tongue too, Michael Gilmore.”
It would have taken a stronger man than me to resist that opening. “You have no idea,” I said.
There was a series of snarls from the middle of the room that curtailed this potentially interesting line of conversation before it could get started. The two dragons were squaring up to one another. Noctis had his long neck arched back like a cobra, while the squatter, low-slung Scopula had her teeth bared.
“Oh, shit…” I said.
I knew that it had been too good to be true. Things had gone relatively smoothly, all things considered, but now these two angry beasts were going to turn this splendid room into a goddamn Mongolian barbecue.
I made to get up from the bed, but Saya put a hand on my shoulder. “Wait,” she said, “I’ve never seen this before, but I think that they might be…”
Scopula made a low keening whine in her throat and then rolled over onto her back. Noctis let out a whine of the same variety, then curled his neck over so that he could sniff around the other dragon’s jaws.
“Are they flirting?” I said with a dubious laugh.
“I think that they are,” Saya said, with a disbelieving little giggle of her own.
We watched the two big beasts wrestle and tussle, mock fighting and snapping playfully at one another.
“Hey,” I said, “seeing as they’re obviously getting along and what not, maybe this is a good time to ask; how come you don’t see any baby dragons flapping about the place?”
Saya grinned at me. “You have procreation on the mind, huh?”
“You are definitely out of practice hanging out with guys if you find that surprising,” I said.
Saya and I stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments. Over on the far side of the room, our two dragons continued to snap and growl flirtatiously at each other.
I wasn’t a stranger to the host of little signals that people gave off before they began the old bingo-bango-bongo. And Saya and I were giving them all off at once. It was a fireworks display of subconscious sexual greenlights.
Well, this might turn out to be quite the introduction to Drako Academy.
Chapter Nine
There was a moment where coy eye-contact turned into blatant staring, smiles widened, and lips parted. Sweat prickled my palms, and my heart rate picked up as dopamine, norepinephrine, and oxytocin flooded my system.
Like I said, I’ve ridden a lot of buses and read a lot of random magazines.
And then…
It was on.
I made the first move, stepping toward Saya, reaching out a hand to cup her face and pulling her toward me. Part of that was totally instinctive, but there was also a conscious decision on my part. I doubted Saya was accustomed to another person taking control of a situation, and I wanted to throw her off balance.
We came together in one of those kisses that felt like they could stretch on forever. There was an element of hesitation, of surprise, on her part, but that passed in about two seconds. Then Saya’s hands came up so that she could run her fingers through my hair.
Our tongues investigated each other’s mouths.
Probing, lapping, and licking.
As we kissed, I couldn’t help but be surprised at how coquettish Saya was. I had expected a tiger in the bedroom. Expected her to be as domineering and as powerful, as confident and as aggressive, as she had been when I had first met her, only an hour or so before.
Little did I know, Saya was just warming up.
I ran my hands over her perfectly toned, marvelously fit, fighter’s body. My free hand slipped under her shirt and slid up her back. There wasn’t, as I had observed before, a superfluous ounce of fat on her. She was all silky skin and tight muscles and coiled expectation. I could feel her heart thudding strong and quick against me, and I realized we were pressed chest to chest. I hadn’t even noticed it happen.
Surprising really, what with that pair of perfect double-Ds of hers wedged between us, nipples hardening against my chest even as we continued to lock lips.
Saya broke away from me, her eyes fixed on my face, and ripped her shirt up over her head. I followed suit, pulling my own worn Carhartt flannel over my head.
For a moment, we stood regarding one another. Our breathing came hard and hungry through our mouths. Saya’s breasts caught my gaze and held it like a tractorbeam, like a spotlight, like a
pair of fucking shotgun barrels.
It was funny, I thought, but I still couldn’t get a read on Saya. Despite the fact that she had just whipped her shirt off to reveal a pair of gravity-defying breasts, I still wasn’t certain how far this would go.
Saya didn’t look skittish, but she didn’t look like she’d be as difficult to get my hands on as, say, a controlling interest in Tesla.
Then, with a slow seductiveness from a Levi’s commercial, Saya slipped out of her ass-hugging pants. They fell to the floor, and she stepped out of them to stand nude in front of me.
“Well, shit,” I croaked.
She was something to see all right, was Saya. Her tanned body gleamed, the muscles etched.
Then, she launched herself at me with unbelievable speed. She hit me like an NFL defenseman and propelled me onto the nearest bed. I had no ideas whose it was, but it was about to become ours for the next little while.
Her lips pressed against mine, her legs gripping either side of my thighs. As she reached down and ripped off my belt—literally tore the leather band in half and flung it across the room—I played with her massive breasts. I rubbed her nipples between forefinger and thumb, teasing her, and was rewarded with a savage grunt of pleasure from deep in her throat.
I kicked off my Timberlands as Saya pulled my jeans and boxer shorts down and, just like that, the two of us—complete strangers only an hour before—were stark naked.
I pushed Saya away from me so that I could drink her in from close-range. From ten feet away, she had looked incredible. Face to face, with those big titties of hers swaying pendulously in front of my nose and her hot breath in my mouth. . .
She looked, quite simply, remarkable.
I slid my hand down her flat, defined stomach and between her legs.
Her center was just as tight, and just as wet, as I could have imagined.
The stunning warrior let out a gasp as I slipped a finger inside her with a soft squelching sound. As she flung up her blonde head to stare at the ceiling, I used her momentary distraction to flip her over so that I was on top.