The Sorceress of Belmair

by Bertrice Small

  As he ate a cherry tart, Cirillo watched, delighted, as Nidhug gobbled down the cakes, the jellies and the remainder of the tarts. Her appetite was a wonder.

  “Shall I have Tavey bring the bowl of fruit to my bedchamber along with some wine and restoratives?” she asked him slyly.

  He nodded.

  “What kind of a woman will you make me?” she asked.

  “Based upon your appetite I shall make you a woman of generous proportions. Faerie women are too slender for me. I prefer a nice mortal lass with some meat on her bones,” Cirillo said candidly. He arose. “Are you ready, my dear Nidhug?”

  “Tavey,” the dragon called to her servant. “Bring the fruit and some wine to my bedchamber. And when you have departed it know that I do not wish to be disturbed until tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Of course, mistress,” Tavey replied with a bow, picking up the bowl of fruit and hurrying off.

  When they reached the dragon’s bedchamber they found the fruit, and a decanter of wine awaiting them. The great four-poster bed had been turned down. Cirillo shut the door firmly behind them and turned the key in the lock for extra privacy. He turned to face Nidhug. “Are you ready?” he repeated, and when she nodded he said, “Dragon before me, disappear! Mortal woman now appear!”

  And as he watched the dragon scales melted away, and a beautiful woman took shape before him. She was big boned with large breasts, full hips and well-fleshed thighs. Her belly was slightly rounded but not ponderous. Her hair was a deep auburn red, and her eyes were purple. Looking into those eyes he saw the dragon looking back at him. Cirillo smiled, well pleased. “You are as perfect as a mortal as you are as a dragon.”

  “Let me see!” Nidhug turned about to face the large mirror that stood on the floor of the chamber. “Oh,” she said, and it was obvious she was pleased with what she saw. “I am quite a pretty woman, aren’t I? Oh, look at my nipples! They are the size and color of pale pink cherries. They look quite good enough to eat!”

  “And so I shall eventually,” Cirillo promised her, smiling.

  “I’m naked,” Nidhug observed. “I like the nice warm gold tone you have given my flesh.” She touched herself. “It is so soft. No wonder mortals are so easily wounded. Their skin is practically permeable. Still, it is pretty.” She turned her eyes upon him. “Why, my dear Cirillo, are you still clothed?” With a snap of her fingers she undressed him, and they both laughed. “I must say,” Nidhug complimented him, “that your manhood seems quite delightfully large. I think I shall enjoy it every bit as much as I did your dragon’s spear earlier in the cave. I thought I should be burst asunder when you put yourself into me. It was quite delicious.” She smiled into his green eyes, for he had made certain she would be of a height to do so. “Shall we get started again? What shall we do first, my dear Cirillo? You must lead the way for I only know the basics of mortal couplings.”

  “Turn about, and gaze at yourself in the mirror,” he said, coming to stand behind her. He gathered up her very full breasts in his hands and fondled them, squeezing them, pinching the nipples and pulling upon them. “Take your hands and draw your nether lips apart for me,” Cirillo said. “Ah, how lovely you are, my dear Nidhug.”

  “Are we going to couple or not?” she demanded to know.

  “Mortals take time for love play, and you will find if you relax that such play is well suited to mortal bodies.” Holding one of her large breasts in his hand he reach down with the other hand to find her female center, tweaking it strongly.

  “Oh, my!” Nidhug exclaimed.

  “You see,” the prince said.

  “Do it again!” she said eagerly, and he complied until she was wet and squirming; her full fleshy buttocks rubbing against his groin.

  “Oh, my!” Nidhug said again as she felt the thick length rubbing between the cheeks of her ass. “But that is not where it goes?” she asked curiously.

  “Sometimes, but most of the time not,” he said as he turned her about, and his mouth found hers.

  Nidhug, being a dragon, had never before experienced the touch of another’s lips upon her. It was the most exciting thing she had ever known. The full lips he had given her kissed him back. Her mouth opened of itself it seemed, and she felt his tongue caressing her tongue with such fiery intensity that a moan escaped her throat. Her breasts were crushed against his chest. Her thighs pressed against his thighs. His manhood throbbed against her leg, and she felt a companion throbbing deep past her nether lips. She moaned again and he slowly backed her up against the bed, pushing her down, lifting her legs up holding them firmly, and then thrusting hard into her as he stood before her. Nidhug gasped with the instant pleasure that swept over the mortal body she now wore as again and again and again he fucked her until she was screaming with her delight, and reaching a peak, fell away into a dark, soft place. When she came to consciousness again they were both in the bed, side by side. “That was quite marvelous,” she told him. “You more than outdo your reputation.”

  “My dear Nidhug,” Cirillo told her. “We have only just begun our evening of sport. It is at least five hours until the dawn, and I intend to have you in every way that a faerie man may have a dragon who wears the form of a mortal woman by the time the sun rises over Belmair.”

  Nidhug shivered with anticipation. “Let us not waste a minute,” she told him. “I quite like the way in which this mortal female’s body enjoys passion.”

  And they did not waste a moment of their time together in the hours that followed. But while they sported with each other, the scholar, Prentice, began his careful search through the great pile of books upon the long oak table in his first chamber. At first he was concerned, for when he had taken a volume down from the stack to peruse, the other books disappeared. But when he would reach out his hand the books would appear again, and he realized that Prince Cirillo had put a small spell upon the books in order to keep them hidden should anyone enter Prentice’s rooms. If a visitor came calling it would appear as if the scholar had only one book before him that he was studying. The wealth of information was enormous, and Prentice immediately began making notes. By the time the young king came to visit him the following afternoon the scholar knew one thing for certain. A race of faeries had once existed in Belmair. But where they had gone, and what had happened to them he had yet to discover.

  Dillon sent for his wife, Kaliq and Cirillo. They arrived at the scholar’s rooms posthaste. “Here is what he has found so far,” the young king said, indicating the wealth of notes spread out upon Prentice’s oak table.

  At the other end of the table the scholar was reading intently. He looked up at the sound of Dillon’s voice to the others. “There are faeries!” he said excitedly.

  “What kind?” Cirillo asked him.

  Prentice looked puzzled. “Faeries,” he repeated.

  “We are not all alike,” Cirillo explained patiently, realizing how truly ignorant of his race this mortal was. “Some of us favor the forest as my family, some the meadows, some water, others the hills and mountains. Some are as I am. Others are small, and there are those who are smaller yet, and can live in places like seashells and flowers. Like you mortals some are fair, others dark. Now tell me, if you know, just what kind of faeries have you discovered here in Belmair?”

  “All I can tell you, my lord prince,” the scholar said politely, “is that faeries did once exist here in Belmair. I was not aware that they were of different species, shapes and sizes, however. I am grateful to you
for this information. I have looked at books with a later date than the earlier ones in hopes of saving us time. Now I realize that I must begin with the oldest of the books.” He sighed, disappointed.

  “Do not be discouraged, Master Prentice,” Cinnia said to him, patting his hand. “This is a great task you have undertaken, and I would trust no one else but you to do it.”

  He gave her a wan smile. “The other scholars think little of me, I fear,” he told her. “They cannot seem to understand the importance of knowing all the history of our world. They think it unimportant, but I believe that we learn from our history, and if we do not then we will only make the same mistakes again.”

  “Sometimes we do anyway,” Cinnia said, “but I agree with you nonetheless.”

  “A wise observation for one so young,” Kaliq remarked.

  Cinnia favored him with an amused smile. “Thank you, my lord,” she said. Then she turned back to the scholar. “Let me stay with you, Prentice. If two of us are reading we will make the work go faster, and hopefully find what we are looking for quicker.”

  Prentice looked somewhat distressed. “But you are my queen,” he said. “Surely such humble pursuits are not for you.”

  “I think that the scholar is uncomfortable having a woman in his chambers with him. There are no women scholars here in the Academy that I have seen,” Dillon said.

  “Oh, no, Your Majesty, there are no women scholars!” Prentice burst out. “But I for one do not understand why. If the queen would like to join me then I will put aside my own foolishness, and welcome her. There are a great many books to search through.”

  “I will gladly remain,” Cinnia said, and she drew a chair up to the table. “Where are the other books?” she asked.

  Prentice chuckled. “A spell has been cast over them to keep them hidden until needed.” He chortled. “’Tis really most ingenious.” He reached his hand out, and the stack of books was revealed. Selecting one he handed it to Cinnia. “Here is one of the earliest texts,” the scholar said to her. “See if you can find anything of interest in it.” He instructed her as he took a second book from the pile. When he withdrew his hand the other volumes disappeared from their sight, leaving the rectangular oak table apparently empty but for the two books selected. Prentice chortled again. “So clever, so clever!” he said, delighted by this simple magic.

  “We will leave you then to your pursuits,” Dillon said, and with a snap of his fingers he transported himself, Kaliq and Cirillo back to the Great Hall of his castle. Seeing the trio the servants rushed forward to bring goblets of wine. They settled themselves before the fire and began to talk. “What sort of faeries do you think existed here at one time?” Dillon asked, looking to his uncle.

  “They still exist,” Cirillo replied. “If they did not the watch eye in the hidden room would not have awakened, observed us and folded the chamber in on itself, which in effect has destroyed it and its contents. Whatever else was in that room is now gone. I find this whole situation interesting. According to the scholar it was the Belmairans who set up a room with what they had decided was forbidden reading matter. Why, I wonder? But it was faerie magic that hid that room away from even the scholars of the Academy. Again, why? Nidhug does not know. But whoever secreted that room wanted it to remain hidden, and when my faerie magic opened it up to prying eyes it acted to protect itself from discovery. That is why I placed an enchantment upon Prentice’s rooms and upon the books themselves. I was fortunate to retrieve the volumes that I did. I hope that one of them will give us the answers we seek. Or at least a start.”

  “Will they be in all of Belmair, in all the dutchies, do you think?” Dillon wondered aloud.

  “How many duchies are there?” Cirillo asked Dillon.

  “Belmair is made up of four land masses. Belmair, the largest; Beldane, Belia and Beltran,” Dillon explained. “Each duchy is separated from the others by a great sea that surrounds it. This world is mostly water.”

  “Interesting,” Cirillo said. “Yet your castle and Nidhug’s sit nowhere near the sea. Why is that, I wonder?”

  “I haven’t been here long enough to ask such questions,” Dillon reminded his uncle. “I am far too busy trying to learn about this world, and about the wife I have been given. Cinnia is not an easy girl.”

  “Ah, but is she passionate?” his uncle wanted to know. “If a woman is passionate it is easy to forgive her faults.”

  “The passion is there,” Dillon said. “She needs tutoring in how to use it.”

  “If we could only introduce her to a banquet at Shunnar.” Cirillo chuckled.

  Kaliq laughed. “I do not believe Cinnia is ready for such an experience,” he said.

  “Remember, Uncle, it is my wife to whom you refer,” Dillon warned. “The women we pass around at the banquets at Shunnar are familiar with us, and with our ways. The women of Belmair are more reserved than those who live in Hetar. That was part of the reason for the exile of those sent away all those aeons ago. They wanted change, they were freer with their affections.”

  “But the Hetarians are so bound by tradition,” Cirillo said. “Are they really any different from these Belmairans?”

  “Aye, they are,” Dillon answered his uncle. “Those we call Hetarians carried their traditions and customs with them, even if they slightly altered and changed them. The point is they kept their heritage as it suited them to do so. They set up their world of Hetar with all the changes they had wanted to institute here in Belmair. Their history, their legends and mythologies they lost as they created new ones until, for them, Belmair was only a great star in the sky. Everything else was lost.”

  “I am glad I am faerie,” Cirillo said. “These mortals are too complex for me.”

  “There is much to commend both of these worlds,” Dillon replied, “but I am beginning to prefer the peace and order of Belmair to all the war and dissent of Hetar.”

  “Yet that peace and order has a price, my son,” Kaliq pointed out. “Because they eschew trouble and will not or cannot make orderly changes, Belmair’s world will die if an answer cannot be found to why all the young women have been disappearing for the last hundred years. And you are the king who will have to make the changes that keep this world alive, if it is to flourish once again.”

  Cirillo suddenly yawned. “This conversation becomes tiresome,” he said, and he peered into his silver goblet, which now appeared empty. He wiggled a finger over it, and it slowly filled with sweet red wine again.

  “You did not return to the castle last night,” Dillon teased his uncle.

  “I am sojourning with the dragon, if you do not mind,” Cirillo said in a casual tone. “She is a charming hostess, and I am seriously considering stealing her cook and taking her back to Hetar with me.”

  “Did you take a dragon’s form?” Kaliq asked, a small smile playing at the corners of his sensuous mouth; the rest of his question remained unasked, for it did not require an answer.

  “Aye, at first I did. We flew across the sea to the mountains. It was quite an experience. And afterward she showed me her egg. I gave it a faerie blessing, and the wee creature within the egg glowed golden at me when I did.” He smiled at the memory.

  “And when you had returned?” Kaliq probed further.

  “I gave her female form. She had never tasted the passions of a mortal female before, and she told me she quite liked it,” Cirillo said. He turned to Dillon. “You say Belmairan females are more reserved, but its dragon female is
not.”

  “I enjoy the knowledge that Cinnia has never known another,” Dillon said softly. “She is mine, and mine alone.”

  “You have begun to think like a Belmairan male, my son,” Kaliq said. “It is good that you understand them, but do not become like them,” he warned. “Cinnia is not like other Belmairan women. With your aid she will help the other women of her world to move forward in such a way as is pleasing to the men of Belmair.” Then he turned to Cirillo. “Do you think Nidhug would mind if I joined you for a short while tonight?”

  “You would have to ask her, my lord,” Cirillo said, “but I certainly do not mind.”

  “Try not to corrupt Belmair’s guardian,” Dillon said drily, but he was smiling. It was as if they were boys again back at Shunnar, and Kaliq was leading them on some new sexual adventure that would expand their horizons along with their experience.

  His two companions laughed. Cinnia had not returned by the time the evening meal was served. The three men ate together at the high board in the small dining chamber that Dillon had arranged to get set up. Afterward Cirillo and Kaliq attempted to make conversation, but they were eager to join the dragon. Finally when he held them with him as long as he could, Dillon burst out laughing, and sent them on their way. Cirillo and Kaliq disappeared in a flash, leaving their host still chuckling. With a snap of his fingers Dillon magicked himself to the scholar’s chambers where Prentice and his wife were deep in study.

  “Cinnia, it is time for you to come home,” he said. “Have you discovered anything during these past hours?”