by Marie Daye
Her waist, long and thin, her backside free of any blemish; even though he wanted to put some there, and elsewhere. Her navel to her breastbone, to her breasts. Gaalin felt his mouth water at the sight of them as she turned to catch the pants he tossed to her. He could ravish this elvish woman any day, all she’d have to do is ask.
She bent over to tug on her pants, and he felt a tug on the cotton of his own. He cleared his throat, turning slightly away from her to hide his erection from view; but enough to keep her body in site. Her breasts were magnificent, large with perfect pink perky nipples from the chilly air. He could imagine himself toying with those glorious mounds, oh he could imagine. For as tall as she was, her breasts and ass were big. Too big? No. Too much for an ordinary man to handle he assumed.
“Gaalin, a shirt please”
Gaalin’s eyes jerked up to meet her unaffectionate ones, the cold blue of her eyes could freeze a man. They were almost lifeless, without emotion, without the desire he felt boiling inside himself. This woman was a god to him, she was perfect in every way, in every detail, except the scar. He stepped quickly to a closet and began rummaging through her clothing as she sat on a chair and slipped her feet into leather boots, she began tying the lighter strips when he approached her again: this time a shirt in hand.
Yes, this woman was perfection to him he found himself thinking again. Yet he found himself tracing the blemish on her neck with only his gaze, his reach and touch would never find her. The jagged mark started at her left ear, split to cut across her cheek and follow her jawline to her chin before lining her throat to her collar bone. The injury was old, several years old, it has since healed but the scar was still hideous looking. It distracted him from looking at her symmetrical face, her large eyes, her straight nose, and her full lips.
He cleared his throat again when she pulled her shirt over her head, pushing her arms through the sleeves. Yes, he could touch this woman, his liege, all he wanted in his imagination: but never could he touch her in reality.
“Allow me to assist you with your armor my lord.” Gaalin said, lifting a heavy leather chest piece from a mannequin.
“Would you stop with the blasted ‘my lord’ shit?! I’ve told you, hundreds of times to not call me that. My name is Libelle, you know this. You’ve always known this. You call me that, or nothing at all.”
Gaalin chuckled, lifting the set of armor above her so she could lift her arms into the set. “My lord, forgive me will you? You’ve got guest downstairs, and I don’t wish to be thought poorly of by me calling you your given name.” He pulled the armor down around her, tightening the straps at her back. The plated leather was heavy, yet flexible enough for her to engage in battle in.
“So, just for today you shall allow me to call you lord.”
Libelle grumbled, adjusting the plated skirt about her waist. “No sense in arguing with you, huh?”
“Correct.”
“You will call me whatever you want to call me regardless.” She grumbled again, this time tightening her wrist cuffs. “When will my new armor be done with? Soon I hope? It has been about three months now.”
“I can't imagine it being much longer.” She stared at him once more with those icy eyes that still held no emotion, and he continued to wonder 'what is she thinking?'
She held a firm gaze with him.
“Send a letter to that black smith.”
“Yes, I’ll send one out in the morning.” Gaalin tugged her hair into a loose braid, ignoring the rat’s nest of knots. “Your helmet.”
Libelle took the masculine looking helmet and settled it into the crook of her arm. The helm gifted her with enough space for vision, but hid her face from the public: aiding in keeping her identity secret from peering eyes. Yes, townsfolk knew where she lived. But nay, folk hardly knew her true identity, if she so chose; she could walk among them as a commoner and no one would bat an eyelash.
She turned towards him, maintaining that cool gaze. She watched him watch her, watched his gaze travel up and down her now covered body. His lips twitched in a slight grin and she sighed.
"You look as if you’re needing to say something." She grumbled.
Gaalin straightened, "Why is it you say that?"
She crossed her arms across her chest, "You're eyeing me like a piece of delicate meat that you're ready to feast on."
Damn it all, Gaalin cursed to himself.
He stared at his lord all the time when an opportunity presented itself but not once had she ever confronted him about it. She had not once ever given any indication that his prying eyes bothered her. Those icy eyes of hers, since when had they begun to follow his?
He didn't say anything, a large lump building up in his throat. She was always so cold, not just to him but to all potential suitors. As the dragon slayer and as a commoner, she was content with being alone.
“So, do you want me then?"
The question caught him off guard. He felt his grey skin flush with warmth over her question, his heart skipped a beat, and sweat quickly covered his palms.
How should he answer her question?
Truthfully?
No, he couldn't do that.
If he chose to answer truthfully she would most likely clobber him. She'd be furious at him, right? What if he did answer her truthfully? Would the seemingly emotionless women standing in front of him return his desire?
Gaalin steadied himself, squaring his broad shoulders and lifting his chin. "No my lord. That'd be far more inappropriate than either of us should be comfortable with. No, I do not want you like that."
She chuckled, the sound just above a whisper as she was adjusting two leather straps at her sides. He watched that already cold glare turn darker, too dark for a living being. He questioned himself if he had hurt her with her response, perhaps she had wanted the truth from him. He flexed his already taught muscles.
The light smile fled her lips and she returned to the dragon slayer behind the set of armor. Not many people were aware of her true identity, let alone that she was a woman. He was but only a few who knew her, the real her. Perhaps he could think he was special to her, because when he really thought about it: he was the only one allowed close to her. He stared at her from the corner of his eyes, her bulky armor hid her curves, and her height made others think her a man already. Her voice didn’t help any, she didn’t speak like a feminine female, and her voice was more hoarse and rough like a man’s.
Any common man could not handle her, all the kings could not handle her.
She looked over her shoulder at her expectant drow, “Go ready yourself. You're coming with me, I am not riding with these fools by myself.”
“Yes, go fetch your blades. I’ll be down in a moment.”
Gaalin walked away and out the room to head down the stairs. He passed through the dark halls with a disgruntled sigh, muscles in his arms bulging as he flexed and clenched his fists. He rounded a corner and slowly descended the short flight of stairs, looking into the dining hall as light began to shine onto the table.
The table was barren, hardly ever used and in prime condition. The hearth was barely breathing at the head of the room, near it sat several baskets of fresh produce. Retrieving a ripe red apple, he rounded to more corners at a steady pace until he was at his room. He entered his living quarters, shutting the double doors behind him and sitting on the edge of his bed. He stared down at his raging erection with a sigh, his blood was pumping and he felt hot all over.
“Yes my lady Libelle... Yes, I want you lass.” He murmured to himself before taking a bite of the sweet fruit.
Libelle stood in the entry hall listening through the front doors to the men outside her house. They were hurriedly talking about the catastrophe in Edinburgh, and their excitement to meet the dragon slayer for the first time. From what she had gathered listening to their banter, it sounded like an elder dragon had come out of the mountains to feast on the flocks. It was rare for these dragons to travel into the cities, they were obviously
older and wiser. Stronger than the common fire lizard. Their scales were harder to pierce and their breath more deadly.
She had come across several in her travels and most were able to be spoken with if they were calm enough, and she had convinced more than one to leave the settlements be. Others she had risked her life to bring down, the battles always long and exhausting.
She shifted on her feet, the heavy armor rattling as it adjusted more comfortably over her body. She was hung over, her head was pounding and felt like a stone block had replaced her head on her shoulders. The beaming sunlight sneaking into the house through the windows threatened her with blindness.
Curses. How was she supposed to fight like this? Perhaps she should just send Gaalin. No... He couldn't handle an elder by himself.
"Damn beasty." She grumbled to herself in regards to the dragon.
"Ah, I'm now a beasty am I?" Gaalin chuckled as he entered the foyer, slinging a long, well-crafted bow over his shoulder.
“No, you've always been a beasty." Libelle stepped back as he crossed in front of her to the door. "Its days like today that you’re more a beasty than the ones that breathe fire."
He chuckled, "You wouldn't be saying that if you had not drank so much of that ale."
"Hush. Fetch my horse." She would not have any of his harassment. Not now anyways.
Her retainer only chuckled and grinned, he stepped closer to her and in an intentionally clumsy way put her helm over her head. She gave him a foul scowl and he smiled back at her, treating her piss-poor mood in a gentle and playful manner. Her icy eyes continued to glare at him through the narrow gaps in her helm.
"Are you ready for the excitement then?"
"Excitement you say?" She went to reach for the door when Gaalin stepped in front of her, and placed his hand on the knob. He smiled a smile for her, the only person he would ever do so for.
“Yes, excitement. Can't you hear that chitter chatter of theirs? They want to meet the dragon slayer, even a hung-over slayer."
She growled at him, he laughed and opened the door wide. A sudden swarm of light blinding them both before their eyes adjusted and there stood the two Edinburgh guards, not panting as hard as they were when Gaalin left them the first time. They stood frozen in place as Libelle walked out the door past them, without even acknowledging their presence.
Gaalin was quick on her heels, silently signaling the guards to follow as they walked to the stable. Gaalin rushed past her and opened one of the stall doors to one of the several horses they kept. Out stepped a fine boned creature, one with dusty black legs and an amber-brown coat covered by a grey wool blanket. It stepped high, its shoed hooves clicking on the ground as Gaalin pulled the blanket from its back. One of the guards approached the horse, attempting to secure the delicate creature by its halter.
The horse screeched and reared up at the man, pinning its ears and opening its mouth to snap at his hands. Gaalin scowled at the guard, "It's not recommended to touch this nasty creature. He merely tolerates me."
He lightly but quickly brushed down its coat as Libelle approached her imported stallion. Brought over from a warmer country, her steed was bred for speed and stamina. Not built like the work horses this land was so proud of. The horse was just as tall, not as strong, but could cover more ground in a shorter time.
She handed her horse an apple that he happily snatched from her hand, then pinned its ears back and kicked a hind leg at Gaalin when he approached with a saddle.
"Tend to that chestnut mare over there." Gaalin snapped at the guards as he avoided the horses hard foot.
The two guards rushed to the second stall and swung open the gate. Gaalin's large and sturdy mare nickered as she walked out and the two guards were at its side where they rapidly brushed the horse down and began to tack it. The horse was well tamed, taking the bit swiftly and hardly flinching as the girth was tightened around its waste. Unlike other people’s horses.
Gaalin handed his lord the horse's reins and she merely looked down at the fine leather. "You said the dragon was attacking Edinburgh?"
The tallest guard again spoke, standing at attention. "Yes sir, it came from the south. Attacked the farms and started killing livestock. It was focusing its breath at the main gates when we rode here."
Gaalin looked back at his lord who was still inspecting the tack seemingly without a care. He gestured towards the guards horses who ran towards their already exhausted steeds. They mounted the steeds who each grunted under the new weight of their riders. Gaalin leaped onto the back of the mare, and once again looked to his lord.
"My lord, we should take the eastern roads. We can reach Edinburgh faster."
"We should take the mountain pass." She responded.
“My lord, the horses may not make that trip. That path is nothing but steep slopes and currently time is of the essence."
"It's all right, you take the eastern roads. I'll take the mountain pass and assess the damage."
Both guards appeared puzzled, they looked between themselves, their exhausted mounts, the manservant and a seemingly mad dragon slayer.
"Pardon my rudeness slayer, but unless you can fly you will not reach Edinburgh in time if you take the mountain pass."
The other guard piped in, "Yes, how will you reach it in time? If there is time… we may be too late now..."
Libelle chuckled and looked at the men from behind her helm. "I have my ways." She held the reins tighter in her hand before stepping up into the stirrup and swinging herself into the saddle.
"Go now, meet me there when you can."
The guards didn't budge even as Gaalin urged his horse away from her side. His mount slowly walking towards the clearing in the yard that would lead him to the closest road.
"But, but slayer.... You cannot fly can you?"
"No, but he can."
Her stallion snorted, pawing at the frozen ground. Its breath fogged with each breath and she felt him tensing beneath her. His muscles were quivering with anticipation and his legs danced about.
"I don't mean to argue slayer, but that horse of yours looks like it will break over that pass. It is not sturdy like the drafts." One guard said timidly, lowering his eyes when Gaalin gave him a chilling glare.
Libelle ignored him, loosening her grip on the reins, the horse moved into a long stride trot. Its feet extending far out in front of the other as she turned it into a circle, warming up its muscles. "Gaalin, get your ass moving.”
Gaalin chuckled. "Yes my lord."
He continued walking down the steep hill beside the house. The guards took only one more moment to stare before urging their horses into a trot to keep pace with Gaalin. They stared wide eyed as her horse let out another shrill whinny, rearing up high on its hind legs and bolting like an arrow let loose from the string of a bow.
The duo rushed past them down the sloped hill next to the house, and past the stone paved path. Yes, the paved path would be for smoother traveling. However it would take her far out of the way from her destination. She flew through the tree line before her horse leapt from a ledge, the grassy soil ending and turning to a sharp sloped ledge filled with rocks and gravel. The stallion’s feet stayed tucked under it for an eternity before it finally extended its hooves, catching its weight and launching itself further down the incline. Swiftly and gracefully gliding down the hillside.
"We best hurry up now. Unless we wish to miss the fight." Gaalin stated coldly as his lord moved further from his sight.
Chapter Two
Libelle sat mounted on her stallion who was heavily sweating, its breathing slowing as it stood cooling in the tall wheat grass of the farmers’ fields. She was scanning the landscape, seeing Edinburgh not too far in the distance.
The city was still standing, very little smoke rose from the stone walls. The fields outside the city were another story as scorch marks burned into the soil. Ewes and ram carcasses left burnt and rotting on the soil, some half eaten and others not. She searched for villagers, none wer
e in sight and she could not hear any wails from women or children. It was eerily quiet.
She lightly kicked her horse forward, its feet moving forward at a walk as it stepped through the field. She continued her search, wondering if she perhaps was too late. She half expected to find screaming villagers or a dragon roaring about. Yet all was quiet.
A voice came from the small animal shelter to her left. "Psst! You there! You must seek cover! There's a dragon about!" An elderly man and his wife peaked their heads from the rubble.
Libelle turned her horse in their direction, "Have you seen where it's gone?"
The husband spoke again, "Yes! It went east, into the sun! It burned up the place, ate some livestock and disappeared! I fear it will come back!"
She looked to the east, then up towards the sun and squinted. She doubted it would be gone for long, dragons never left their supper alone for too long.
"You fool! That's the dragon slayer! He's here to save us!" Hushed the old woman, she swatted at his cap. "We have no idea how the town has fared. Lots of screaming and hollering, lots of fire!"
Libelle simply nodded at the couple who began bickering with one another as she rode off towards the city gates. She pulled the bow from her saddle, securing the leather bit that held it in place as she rode like the demon she was. Reaching to her opposite side, she pulled her quiver from the saddle bag and secured its strap across her shoulder and chest. Tightening the reinforced leather belt along her waist, she adjusted the long blade in its sheath that hung down against her thigh before kicking her feet out from her stirrups and letting her feet dangle at her horse's side.
They approached the heavily stoned path that led to the stables and main gates of the city, and the closer she got the more the quiet began to make sense. Sprawled out across the stone walls, aged and damaged from centuries of battles and attempted invasions; lay many, many guards. Their corpses charred, the smell of burnt human flesh stung at her nostrils. Their woven tunics were but ash, and their chain mail was nothing more than a melted chunk of metal that adhered itself to whatever surface it could touch.