Dragon Slayer 2_A Pulp Fantasy Harem Adventure

by Michael-Scott Earle

  Captain Daxos drew in a deep breath and strode toward the hole in the wall. I noticed two more of the black-armored men with him moved to the opening as well.

  “They’re coming, too?” I asked with a frown.

  “Yes,” Captain Daxos said as he motioned to the two men. “Lieutenant Trosken and Sergeant Dai are my most trusted soldiers. We have fought in the Blackguard for nearly ten years together, and they have saved my life from the ghoulins on more than one occasion.”

  “It will be an honor to journey beside you, Sir Ethan,” said Lieutenant Trosken with a bow. He was a tall man, taller than even me, though with a rangy build and long arms. He wore his black hair pulled back into a tight braid that made his long nose and pointed chin seem even sharper and narrower. Intelligence sparkled in his dark brown eyes, and it seemed he was filled with a sort of nervous energy, as if always on the lookout for danger. He carried a weapon that resembled a Japanese naginata, with a short-curved sword blade at the end of a long spear shaft. A short katana-looking sword hung from his belt beside a long dagger.

  Sergeant Dai studied me head to toe, then grunted in what I hoped was satisfaction. He was almost as short as Irenya but looked to be made of solid muscle. Instead of a tight braid, he had shaved his head completely bald. A neatly trimmed beard grew on his square jaw, and the dark hair emphasized the thickness of his nose and eyebrows. He had a barrel chest, shoulders that seemed too broad even on his impressive frame, and massive forearms that ended in huge, thick-fingered hands. He carried two heavy-looking short swords that looked like extra-thick Roman gladiuses. A short-handled mace with wicked black spikes on the head also hung from his belt, and I guessed he had half a dozen other weapons concealed on his body.

  “What about them?” I asked as I pointed to the other two Blackguards that stood beside the remaining Councilors.

  “They will remain to guard the door,” said Captain Daxos. “Just in case any of the implings find their way up here.” The look on his face told me he was thinking “or if Vozaath does,” but he was too polite to say it.

  “I understand.” The danger to Windwall was very real. The door had remained locked by magic for centuries as a ward against Vozaath. The fact that I was taking it down meant we were past the point of no return. If I didn’t get rid of the demon, the city would face a serious problem.

  Thankfully, I had all the help I’d need to take down Vozaath. Once we found him, Arieste’s dragon form would be more than strong enough to rip open the demon’s flesh to expose its heart. I could use the fire magic to overload its gemstone, and the curse of Ironfast would be lifted.

  “Now to find the thing,” I said in my mind.

  “I’ve got your back,” Nyvea purred. “And what a pretty backside it is.”

  Trust Nyvea to find a way to lighten my mood.

  I climbed through the hole in the wall first and summoned a small tongue of fire to my palm for light. The stone walls on the other side were nearly identical to the tunnel behind me, but with one major difference. These walls had more of those strange-looking runes from the door carved into the stone. In fact, as I turned to study the rear of the door, I noticed that the runes covered every square inch of the stone. When I threw the little lick of fire against the door, it immediately fizzled out without leaving so much as a scorch mark. The wizards of Ironfast had to have used an incredible amount of magic to make the door impervious to attack from within.

  Captain Daxos climbed through next, then stepped aside to allow the women to enter. I reached out a hand to help Arieste through. Irenya brushed my offered hand aside and instead took Captain Daxos’ with a dazzling smile.

  “She’s trying to make you jealous,” Nyvea purred.

  “You think? She seemed pretty happy with the captain last night.”

  “But she swore to serve you,” the amulet replied. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Ethan. Trust me, there is no one she desires but you. She just wants you to feel as jealous of her and Captain Daxos as she feels of you and Arieste.”

  “Irenya, jealous?” I asked. “She doesn’t really strike me as that type of person.”

  “Perhaps the human side of Irenya isn’t, but what about the dragon side?”

  That made more sense. In fantasy stories, dragons were notoriously territorial creatures, more so than anything which had lived on Earth. Frosdar had hated Riamod because the fire dragon kept stealing its land and killing its minions. At the same time, dragons were also greedy. They built the largest hoards they could because they valued things of worth. If Irenya saw that Arieste had staked a claim to me, the dragon instincts within the red-haired woman immediately made her want what Arieste had.

  I felt a real connection with Arieste, but there was an undeniable sexiness about Irenya I had trouble ignoring. Everything from the way she looked at me to her spicy perfume to the sway of her hips as she walked tempted my imagination.

  “You could have both of them, hero,” Nyvea told me in her silkiest voice. “They both serve you, after all.”

  She filled my head with images of passionate nights spent between both the curvaceous redhead and the slim, elegant platinum blonde.

  “Nyvea, let’s focus on the task at hand,” I said. “We have to get this crown and save the kingdoms before sexy stuff, and I could really use your help.”

  “Use my help?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Why do you sound surprised? You are my friend, and I need your advice as I go through this crazy dungeon and into the long-forgotten city.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “I suppose you do.”

  “Yeah,” I said as I tried not to chuckle. “I appreciate your sexy innuendos, but I also need your sexy brain. Deal?”

  “Of course, Ethan. I am here to help you. Thanks for the reminder. Maybe I got a bit carried away with--”

  “It’s cool.” I pushed the very arousing images from my mind and, with an effort, returned my attention to the people around me. Lieutenant Trosken and Sergeant Dai had made the climb through the hole and were now lighting their own torches off Captain Daxos’ lit brand.

  “I’ll take the lead,” I told the captain as I drew my fireman’s axe from its sheath. “One of you take point beside me, with the other two bringing up the rear with the ladies in the middle.”

  “We’re not some delicate flowers that need protecting,” Irenya snapped with a scowl. Arieste’s expression revealed similar feelings on the matter.

  “Oh, don’t I know it!” I said with a broad grin. “But if you take the middle, you can use your magic to help me in the front or support the rear guard in case we get attacked.”

  This seemed to mollify Irenya, who promptly summoned a little lick of flame to dance across her slim fingers. Arieste’s expression remained hard for a moment longer before she relented with a nod.

  “Trosken and Dai will bring up the rear, and I will take the front beside you,” Captain Daxos agreed. He drew one of his two swords, which were long and straight with a slashing edge, like a Chinese dao blade. The casual way he held the weapon made it clear he was more than comfortable wielding it.

  We made a pretty bad-ass little company, I had to admit. The finest warriors of Windwall, two magic-wielding dragon women, and me with my fire and ice magic. As I led our small party down the incline and deeper into the tunnels to Ironfast, I felt a little surge of excitement at the prospect of another adventure. Time to kick ass and take names.

  The torches provided enough light to see about twenty feet ahead of us, and it revealed nothing but more of the rune-inscribed stone walls, ceiling, and floors. The passage was about eight feet wide and tall, so we had more than enough space to travel comfortably walking side by side. I found myself wishing for a watch as we strode down the tunnel’s gentle slope. We had no way to mark the time or measure how far we’d come.

  The darkness seemed thicker down here, almost a tangible thing that pressed against the circle of torchlight. The silence was tomb-like, and there was
no sound down here except our breathing or the scuffing of our boots on the floor. The place smelled of old wood, dust, and forgotten memories.

  “So, how much do you know about Ironfast?” I asked Captain Daxos.

  “Very little, I’m afraid,” the captain said with a shake of his head. “As my father no doubt told you, there are virtually no written records remaining from the days before Vozaath drove our ancestors from the deeps.”

  “So, no maps on where to go or how to find Ironfast?” I asked.

  “No,” Captain Daxos said. “But the one thing all citizens of Windwall know is that Ironfast is far, far beneath the surface. Far below the level of the canyon floor, for that matter.”

  “So, we’ve got a long way down to go.” The canyon floor was at least three hundred yards down from the tops of the cliffs. We’d gone down maybe fifteen or twenty yards to reach the magically sealed door, so we were still a long way from finding Ironfast.

  The sound of labored breathing came from behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder and was surprised to find Irenya sweating heavily. She looked like she was having a hard time breathing, and I saw a tremor run through her hands. Her eyes darted around nervously, and every step deeper into the tunnel only added to the look of terror on her face.

  I immediately recognized the signs of a panic attack, probably brought on by feelings of claustrophobia.

  Of course. How could I be so foolish? Until two days ago, Irenya had been the red dragon Riamod. She had ruled the blue skies, and now she found herself trapped beneath a mountain of stone. Of course, she was going to be panicking at the enclosed space.

  Arieste seemed less affected by claustrophobia though her posture was tense and rigid. Captain Daxos and the other Blackguards didn’t seem to mind the dark passageways, and they weren’t really paying attention to the two women.

  “Captain, take the others and go on ahead for a moment,” I told him.

  Captain Daxos shot me a curious glance, but his expression grew worried as he caught sight of Irenya’s condition.

  “It’s just nerves,” I said in an attempt to protect Irenya’s dignity. She was a second away from freaking out, the last thing she’d want was people to look at her like she was crazy. “I’ve seen this before, and I’m trained to deal with it. Scout the way ahead, and we’ll follow in a minute.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Captain Daxos set his torch down on the ground and motioned for his men to follow.

  Arieste didn’t move, and the look in her eyes told me the last thing she wanted was to leave me alone with Irenya. After our earlier conversation, I knew she had little reason to trust the red-haired woman.

  But right now, Irenya needed my help more than I needed Arieste to keep an eye on her. We couldn’t have Irenya suffering a full-blown panic attack at the beginning of our quest. If I could help her at least find a way to cope with her claustrophobia, it would make the whole journey a lot easier.

  “Go, please,” I told her. “We’re right behind you.”

  Her expression made her reluctance plain, but after a long moment, she hurried to catch up to the retreating backs of the Blackguards.

  “Irenya, can you hear me?” I asked in a firm voice.

  “Can’t… breathe!” she gasped. Cold sweat stood out on her forehead, and panic filled her eyes.

  “Listen to my voice,” I said as I took her trembling hands and gripped them hard in mine. “What you’re experiencing is perfectly normal. You hate the fact that you’re trapped in a tight dark space, right?”

  “Yes!” Her breath came in great wheezing gulps.

  “Your brain is telling your body to freak out, but you have to remember that you are in control here.” I squeezed her hands tighter and looked her in the eyes. “I can help you, but you have to trust me. You have to listen to what I’m saying and do what I do, okay?”

  She gave a wild, jerky nod of her head. At any moment, the anxiety would blossom into a full-on panic attack if I didn’t calm her down.

  “What I need you to do is take long deep breaths, like this.” I exaggerated my movements as I opened my mouth wide to draw in a long breath, held it for two seconds, then let it out slowly. “Breathe with me, Irenya. Do as I’m doing.”

  I repeated the breathing pattern, making sure to count aloud as I breathed in, held, then exhaled.

  “Come on, Irenya, you can do this,” I said. “Breathe with me!”

  She drew in a ragged gasp in time with me, held it, then blew it out in a single rush of air.

  “Good! Again!”

  I gripped her hands tight and held her gaze as we drew in a deep breath, then a second, then a third. Slowly, her ragged breathing normalized, the tremors in her hands faded, and the fear in her eyes dimmed. After a full minute of this exaggerated breathing pattern, she had calmed down enough that she was no longer on the verge of panic.

  My EMT training had taught me to apply oxygen to a hyperventilating patient, but I didn’t have any breathing masks or oxygen tubes.

  “You could always kiss her,” Nyvea purred. “Give her some of your breath that way.”

  “She needs oxygen,” I told her in my mind. “Kissing her would make it harder for her to breathe.”

  “It could distract her from her fear,” Nyvea responded. “That seems like the best way to forget about panic to me.”

  I ignored her and continued to help Irenya breathe. It took nearly five minutes before she fully calmed down.

  “Listen,” I told her, “what you’re experiencing is called claustrophobia, or fear of being in a tight space. It’s a perfectly normal reaction. Lots of people I know have it.”

  Embarrassment and anger filled her eyes, and she pulled her hands free of mine as she refused to meet my gaze.

  “If you feel yourself starting to panic like that again, I need you to tell me.” I tilted her chin up to lift her eyes to mine. “I can help you through it again.”

  “It won’t happen again!” Irenya snapped and stepped back to pull her face free of my grasp.

  “If it does,” I insisted, “tell me. I want you to be okay, and I know how scary things like this can be.”

  “You don’t seem afraid,” she retorted, and anger flashed in her eyes.

  “I’m not because I spent months training in conditions like this.” I’d spent many of my Academy days crawling through cramped spaces. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have any fears.”

  “You have fears?” Her eyebrows rose and curiosity wrinkled her forehead.

  I hesitated for a moment. The last thing I wanted to do was admit that I was afraid of anything, but I knew it would help her. “I really, really don’t like snakes. They creep me out.”

  “Snakes?” Her eyes went wide and she let out a little laugh, a melodious sound that held none of her earlier panic. “Sir Ethan Dragonrider, afraid of snakes. Hah! You aren’t afraid of dragons, and they’re much deadlier.”

  “Yeah, kind of foolish, huh?” I shrugged as I smiled at her.

  “Ahhh,” she sighed. “I suppose not as foolish as a dragon being afraid of a tight cave.” Her shoulders slumped a bit, and I reached out to pull her into a hug. The beautiful woman let out a small gasp of surprise when I held her, but then she pushed her face into my chest and took a few deep breaths.

  “Feeling better?” I asked as soon as I felt her body relax and her breathing return to a normal rate.

  “Yes,” she said as she pulled away from my hug. Her eyes flashed to my lips and then her lips matched my smile.

  Admitting I had fears of my own had helped her come to grips with hers. It was a step toward helping her overcome it though I could see by the wicked twinkling in her eye that she would find a way to make me regret sharing this information with her.

  “Look, if you feel the panic starting again, try to take long, deep breaths like I showed you,” I told her. “And, if it gets really bad, you tell me, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said. Her gaze met mine, and something flashed i
n her eyes. For a single moment, the sultry facade she had put up faded, and I caught a glimpse of the real Irenya beneath. The woman felt the same fear anyone would in such an unfamiliar situation, surrounded by people that had been her enemies until literally two days earlier. Yet I saw the same look that passed in Arieste’s eyes when she realized that I wasn’t going to turn her over to the people of Whitespire to be killed. There was relief there, mingled with something else. Gratitude, perhaps?

  Then the moment passed, and the mischievous look returned to Irenya’s face.

  “Well come on, then,” she said with a saucy wink. “If we hang back too long, the others will think we’re getting into all sorts of mischief.” She pressed her soft, curvaceous body against mine. “Maybe we should give them a reason to suspect us. After all, we are alone in the dark.”

  A little shiver ran down my spine as her hand slipped up my back to caress my neck, and my heart sped up with the feeling of her warmth so close to me. I inhaled the spicy citrus tang of her perfume, which only made my blood rush faster. It took all of my self-control to draw in a deep breath and take a step back. She was having a strangely intoxicating effect on me, and it was getting harder and harder to resist.

  “Such a shame,” Irenya purred with a little tsk of her tongue. “Maybe another time, handsome.” With a flip of her hair and a saucy wink, she turned and strode down the tunnel after the others.

  My mind raced as fast as my pulse as I watched her sashay away.

  “Ooh, she’s going to be a fun one,” Nyvea purred. “A handful, in all the right ways and places.”

  I couldn’t disagree, given my marvelous view of her most ample places. At that moment, I felt a bit torn. Arieste and I had a real connection, but everything about Irenya screamed sensuousness. I knew spending a night with Irenya would be one hell of a ride, but I really did need to focus on the mission.

  I picked up Captain Daxos’ torch and hurried after the dragon-woman. I caught up with her in a few seconds, and she shot me a look that promised more than just a few minutes of fun. I felt my face flush and forced myself to stare at the tunnel straight ahead. Her little laugh only added to my embarrassment.