“She will not,” Dillon said. “I set a silent spell upon her when we were first wed, for I did not want her with child until we had settled this matter. A child might have been used against us in this dispute. Even if the Yafir discovers my spell, he cannot reverse it. Only I can do that. But I need to find an advantage over this bold Yafir lord. I must learn where they dwell, for they know where we dwell. That is their greatest secret, Nidhug.”
“How will you do that?” the dragon asked him.
“It will take time,” he admitted to her. “I will have to cast any number of spells. One will flow into the other, and the next and the next until the answer is revealed. It is very much like peeling an onion, my dear Nidhug. Now go home, and let Sarabeth feed you, my good dragon. I must go to my tower to begin my work.”
“I shall not eat a thing,” Nidhug said sadly as she left him. But when she reached her own castle across the gardens, Tavey and Sarabeth, already privy to the news of Cinnia’s kidnapping and knowing how distraught their mistress would be, were waiting with her favorite foods, and spent a long evening coaxing some of them into the dragon.
“You need your strength, mistress,” Tavey pointed out to her. “Especially if you are to help the young king in his quest.”
Nidhug ate, but in truth her appetite had almost disappeared. When she had finished she went to her apartments alone and called out to Kaliq of the Shadows. “Prince Kaliq, hear my call. Come to me from out yon wall!”
Kaliq appeared before her. Seeing the dragon, he knew at once that something was very wrong. “What is it, old friend?” he asked her.
“Cinnia has been kidnapped by the Yafir!” Nidhug began, and then she told him all that had happened since she had last seen him. She concluded by saying, “I told the king to call upon you, but he would not.”
Kaliq smiled softly. “He is right, Nidhug. This is his problem to solve. He is a man, but would feel less so if his father were to come and make everything all right. He has the intellect and the powers necessary to handle this situation. And Dillon is not a fool. He will call upon me when he needs me. Seeking out the lair of the Yafir is the right first step.” Then with a wave of his hand Kaliq enclosed himself and the dragon in a bubble that, while clear within, appeared deep purple and impenetrable to anyone outside of it. “I do not wish to be overheard, and the Yafir enjoy listening, which is why they knew what we were planning. We should have considered it. Cirillo will be here tomorrow. He has found the perfect spell to prevent the Yafir from stealing any more of the Belmairan women. Once we will have cut off their supply of wives and lovers we have our first bargaining chip,” Kaliq told the dragon. “Dillon will know just what to do. Now, my dear, I must return to Shunnar. I left a most beautiful lover’s side when you called.” The bubble about them dissolved, and Kaliq was gone.
There was nothing more to be done, Nidhug realized when she found herself alone again. She climbed into bed and slept until well into the next day when Tavey came with a two-gallon cup of sweet hot chocolate to awaken her.
“The king calls, mistress,” her servant said as he handed her the cup.
“I must have a warm oil shower first,” Nidhug said. “The travel winds have dried my scales dreadfully, and they are sore.”
“I will send a message to the king that you will be there within the hour,” Tavey said. “I have already turned on your oil shower, mistress.”
Nidhug sighed. “You are truly perfection, dear Tavey,” she told him as she rose from her bed and handed him back the now-empty cup.
True to her servant’s word the dragon arrived at the royal castle exactly an hour later. To her delight she found Prince Cirillo awaiting her with the king. There was a decidedly lustful look in his eyes as he met her gaze, and she fluttered her purple eyelashes at him playfully. Cirillo grinned as he realized without either of them saying a word that she had missed him as much as he, to his great surprise, had missed her.
“Put a bubble about us while we speak,” Nidhug said softly to the two men.
Dillon nodded and enclosed the three of them. “That was clever of you, Nidhug, and a thought worthy of my father. The Yafir have obviously been lurking and listening. Cirillo has the spell. Now we must decide the best way of reaching all of the Belmairan women in danger from the Yafir.”
“We must bring all the women together at the same time,” Nidhug said. “You have the means to do this. To send me to each duchy will only trumpet our intentions.”
“Agreed,” Dillon replied. “Best to strike quickly.” He looked to his uncle. “The tunnels?”
“Aye, but we will need a fourth person. Nidhug is not strong enough to use my spell. It is woven very tightly, and could injure her if she attempted to use it,” Cirillo said. “We can call upon Kaliq or your mother, or my mother.”
“I would like to leave my parents out of this,” Dillon said.
Cirillo nodded. “I understand,” he said. “Mother would probably do it. She’s been dying to come to Belmair as I have spoken so highly of it.”
“Then I will ask her,” Dillon replied. “But let us first plan it all to the last detail.”
“Agreed!” Cirillo said. “The tunnels must be opened swiftly. To where?”
“The Great Halls of the three dukes,” Nidhug suggested to them.
“Aye,” Dillon said. “They are commodious enough for what we need to do.”
“And then,” Cirillo said, “the spell to bring all the women of childbearing age to each hall must be quickly spoken. They will arrive instantly, and certainly the women will be frightened.”
“We set a soothing spell in each hall as we enter it so the women appearing a moment later will not be alarmed,” Dillon replied.
“And then my spell must be pronounced immediately,” Cirillo responded. “Only then will the women of Belmair be safe. Once they are, dear nephew, we may move on to learning where the Yafir hide themselves.”
“They have taken Cinnia,” Dillon informed his uncle.
“I am sorry, Nephew,” Cirillo answered. “But you must remember that the Yafir believe that they are fighting for their lives. They will do whatever they must to save themselves and their own world.”
“Ahura Mazda said they mark each female born in Belmair, and that Cinnia had been marked for him,” Dillon continued.
“How do you feel about this?” Cirillo asked, curious to learn if any of Dillon’s mortal nature would reveal itself in this particular matter.
“She is mine,” Dillon replied simply.
Cirillo nodded, pleased. “Shall I fetch Mother?” he asked.
“I will go to her,” Dillon said. “You know how she enjoys a display of good manners and a bit of groveling.” He chuckled.
“At least let me send you,” Cirillo answered.
“Aye, I should appreciate that,” Dillon responded. “I am weary, for I have spent half the night gathering materials to begin my work.”
The faerie prince dissolved the bubble in which they had been standing. Then with a twist of his wrist he pointed to the stone wall before them and a light-filled tunnel opened itself. Without another word Dillon walked into the tunnel and disappeared down its length as the tunnel closed, and the wall became a wall once again. Cirillo turned to Nidhug. “He will be gone for some hours, my pet. Do you think we can find some way to amuse ourselves in the interim?”
The dragon nodded, and suddenly they were in her bedchamber. The faerie prince walked to the chamber door and loc
ked it. Turning back, he smiled at the big-breasted redheaded woman now awaiting him in her bed. She was quite naked, and her milky-white skin aroused him greatly. He walked toward her, his garments falling away as he came. “We shall have a far more amusing time today, my dragon lover,” Cirillo said, “than my unfortunate nephew, your earnest young king, will have with my mother.” And laughing he flung himself into the bed.
As he did, Dillon found himself at the end of the magical tunnel facing his grandmother, Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries. “What are you doing here?” she greeted him. “Does your mother know where you are? How could you go off like that to Belmair and marry without us there to give you our faerie blessing? You are an ungrateful boy. When I think of all that I have done for you…” She stopped a moment, and then said, “Why are you grinning at me like that, Dillon?”
Walking up to her, the young king hugged the beautiful faerie. “It is good to see you, too, Grandmother,” he told her, and kissed her cheek.
“Pah! You cannot wheedle me, you wretched brat.” But Ilona was smiling back at him. “You want something, don’t you? You never come to visit your grandmother unless you want something,” she accused.
“That isn’t entirely true, you beautiful termagant, but this time I do want something,” he admitted. “I need your help, Grandmother. I need it badly.”
“Your father made you a king,” Ilona said. “What more could you want?”
“May we sit here in your dayroom, Grandmother, so I may tell you all that has happened these last few months?” he asked her.
“You look tired,” Ilona said.
“I was up all night bringing together the many materials I will need to create a powerful spell,” he answered her.
“Wine! Faerie cakes!” Ilona said, and immediately a servant appeared with a tray bearing the required items. “First you must take a bit of nourishment, my grandson. Then you will tell me everything.” And she led him to an upholstered settee, sitting next to him as she fed him faerie cakes and wine. As he ate he felt his eyes growing heavy.
“What have you done, Grandmother?” he asked, even knowing as he inquired.
“You’ll only sleep two hours, my darling,” she told him. “Then we will speak.”
“Do…not call…Mother,” he said.
“I won’t,” she promised him, and with a wave of her hand as she arose the settee turned into a soft bed. Ilona sat quietly watching him sleep.
“Is that Dillon?” Thanos, the queen’s consort, came into the room. He was a handsome and dignified faerie man. “What is he doing here?”
“He has come for my help,” Ilona said.
“Will you give it to him?” Thanos asked her, curious.
“Of course! He is my grandson, my blood,” Ilona replied.
“Is Cirillo’s aid not enough?” Thanos said.
“Obviously not,” Ilona answered. “And how did you know Cirillo was helping him? I thought only your trees were of interest to you.”
“Cirillo is my son, too, my dear Ilona,” Thanos remarked drily. “He does speak with me now and again. You are such a jealous creature, Ilona, where your young men are concerned, aren’t you?” Bending, Thanos kissed the top of her gilt head. “I will leave you to watch over your grandson, my dear, and go back to my trees. They, too, have their difficulties, but are not as complicated as faeries and mortals tend to be.”
In precisely two hours, as Ilona had promised him, Dillon awoke. He felt enormously refreshed and revitalized. There had, of course, been magic in the sleeping potion she had added to his wine. He stretched and sat up. Immediately the bed turned back into a settee, and his grandmother was seated next to him. “Thank you,” he said.
“Now tell me what is happening in Belmair, and why you need my help,” Ilona said. “Why did you not call your mother?”
“As Belmair’s king it is my right to ask for help from whomever I choose to ask,” Dillon began. Then he explained everything that had happened to date, concluding, “I need three magical beings to go into the Great Halls of the three dukes to instantly transport all the young women in each duchy, married or unmarried, into those halls, and then to speak the spell that will protect them from the Yafir. You, Cirillo and I will be those magical beings, Grandmother.”
“What of the dragon?” Ilona wanted to know.
“She will remain behind in my Great Hall to calm the women who are brought there. She is capable of protecting the hall and the women in it from the Yafir until we return back through the tunnels to work the spell on them ourselves,” Dillon said.
“What is she like, this dragon of yours?” Ilona wanted to know.
“Beautiful, kindly, amusing, intelligent,” he said.
“Intelligent? That does not sound particularly Belmairan,” Ilona observed.
Dillon laughed aloud. “You are jealous of Nidhug,” he said wickedly.
“Be careful, you rude boy,” his grandmother warned him. “Remember that you need my help. I care not if the Yafir take every female on Belmair for their own. Actually if they did gain control of that world they would be less troublesome.”
“I think not,” Dillon said. “Remember that for centuries no one in the magic kingdoms has heard or seen the Yafir. They are outcasts, nomads, scorned by all. But give them their own world, Grandmother, and who knows what havoc they will raise with the rest of us.” Then he laughed softly at the surprised look upon her face.
“Oh, rude boy, how hot your faerie blood runs! I am proud of you,” Ilona said. “I see cruelty in you you have yet to even tap. I cannot wait to tell your mother!” Then she grew thoughtful a moment. “Why have you not asked for Lara’s help?”
“I didn’t think a king should run to his mother or father at the first sign of trouble,” Dillon told her.
“So you ran to your grandmother instead?” she replied.
“Mortals know you more for who you are, Grandmother, than for our blood tie,” Dillon said. “Besides, the dragon could not have restored her size quickly enough after coming through the tunnel, and then used the spells necessary in time. She will play her part in my hall. Now, will you help me?”
“Of course I will help you, Dillon,” Ilona said.
“Then let us return to Belmair, Grandmother. I only wish my bride could be there to greet you,” he said sadly.
“The girl is as protected as she can possibly be,” Ilona said. “And if she finally is coerced into entertaining the Yafir lord’s cock, she will appreciate yours so much more when she is returned to you. Your reputation as a lover has seeped forth from Shunnar where your loss is bemoaned, and your stamina revered.”
Dillon laughed, but then he grew serious. “I did protect Cinnia, but I never considered that the Yafir would touch her. That was not simply foolish of me. It was arrogant. I should have put a spell about the castle. In my eagerness to solve this problem I overlooked the obvious.”
“The Yafir are a very difficult faerie race,” Ilona told him. “They have become so used to being reviled that they do not recognize kindness or honesty when they see it. They are probably the most selfish of us all, for they think only of themselves all the time. You held out a hand of friendship, and Ahura Mazda spit on it. If you cannot bring him around, Dillon, you will have no choice but to destroy him and send him into Limbo. They are, it seems, their own worst enemy. But you must try to help them in spite of themselves, for like us they are a faerie race,” she advised him. “Let us go, rude boy.” And with
a twist of her delicate wrist and an elegantly pointed finger, she opened a tunnel back to Belmair for them, and together they raced through it from the palace of the Forest Faeries to the Great Hall of the royal castle where Britto almost swooned at the sight of the golden light streaming suddenly into the large chamber as the king of Belmair and his grandmother appeared from out of it.
“Your Majesty!” the steward gasped, swaying upon his feet.
“You’ll get used to all this magic eventually, Britto,” Dillon replied, laughing. “This great lady is my grandmother, Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries.”
Britto bowed low. “Welcome to Belmair, great lady,” he said, his eyes taking in her beauty, and becoming hers in that moment.
“Thank you,” Ilona said in her most dulcet tones. She recognized the steward’s look of admiration and adoration.
“See that my grandmother has proper quarters and women to serve her,” Dillon ordered the steward. “And where is Prince Cirillo?”
“He is with the dragon,” Britto answered. “Shall I send for him?”
“Send for them both,” Dillon answered.
A serving man came with a tray holding goblets of wine for them.
“Delicious,” Ilona said, tasting hers. “My son has spent the hours you have been away seeking my help with his lover,” she noted. “A dragon! I would have never considered such a thing. But then Cirillo has always liked older females.”
“Nidhug is good magic,” Dillon said. “Her heart is a kind one. She is heartbroken that while she carried me to my three duchies Cinnia was stolen away. She raised my queen, and taught her simple magic and healing skills.”
“That is why they call your wife the sorceress of Belmair?” Ilona said.
“Yes,” Dillon replied. “But she has the ability to be great one day. I will teach her myself. I wish I had already begun her tutelage in stronger magic. Then maybe she might have protected herself from the Yafir lord.”
“Hindsight is a fine gift,” Ilona noted. “Cease your fretting and concentrate on the task at hand.” She looked about her. “This is a good hall, Dillon.”
The Sorceress of Belmair Page 22