"Are you
sure
you used enough oil on those hinges?" I asked, still hesitant to open the massive ornate doors that contrasted the otherwise dark, musty cave.
Ferren wrinkled his nose. Even when the slightest mistake could mean life or death, he always hated it when anyone doubted his skills. "Cherry, I already used two
whole
cans on thise doors. If thise doors squeak, I'll personally run in screamin' m' head off so you kin run away like th' pansy y' are."
I sighed, trying to ignore both his playful slight and the thought that he would actually be crazy enough to try something like that. "Okay, but if that dragon wakes up, I'm going to fucking kill you, got it?"
Slowly, deliberately, I pushed on the doors. They swung open silently, and a gust of hot air swept my hair back. We were blinded for a brief moment, but when we let them adjust to the glare of the room, we both nearly cried out in glee.
It was better than what either of us was expecting - gold, jewels, and everything in between, all piled on top of each other and stretching into the darkness. All ripe for the taking.
Ferren was the first to find his voice again. "I told ya this was a good job! We're gonna be— "
I slapped my hand over his mouth. Angrily, he reached up to pull it away, but I raised a finger to my lips.
We both listened intently. Silence. Then, we heard the booming, rhythmic breathing of something
big
. I breathed a sigh of relief. Still asleep.
We looked at each other, then did exactly what everyone says you should never do in a situation like this - we crept up a nearby pile to see it. We both knew what it was - it was in the quest description as a major risk, of course - but we both just had to see.
There it was: a gigantic, sleeping dragon, slumped lazily between the mountains of treasure. A painful reminder that quiet was key here.
It was...well, it was a fucking dragon. As big as a house, scaly, an ugly green hue, probably breathes fire, you know what one looks like. Though, seeing one up close, I will say that the books seem to make them smaller than they're supposed to be.
Still covering Ferren's mouth, I motioned again to be silent, and signaled for him to get the bags out. We turned around, ready to start looting, but a brief flash caught my eye and made me turn my head back.
Lying about twenty feet from the dragon, I saw one of the most amazing necklaces that I've ever seen in my life. It was covered in gems of different colors, all inlaid in an intricate weaving of gold bands. Unquestionably elvish design, but even then, I've never seen a piece with so much care put into it.
I looked back. Ferren was already tying up the first sack with one hand and grabbing another large gem with the other. I rolled my eyes; always quick with his hands, that one. Carefully, I crested the top of the hill and slowly descended toward the dragon and that necklace. My steps were slow and gentle, so that even the gold underneath my feet barely tinkled as I stepped across them.
Ten feet...five feet...one foot...six inches...two...one...
Got it!
I gingerly lofted the necklace, careful not to let the stones tinkle against each other as I brought it close to my chest. I quickly clicked found the small latch, wrapped it around my neck and expertly locked it again. It was gorgeous, absolutely breathtaking. The quintessential trophy from such a daring cache, sneakily stolen by the infamous Bard of Breale.
I could already hear the cries of praise, wearing my prize with the most luxurious and captivating dresses. My admirers would multiply tenfold, not from my voice or dance, but so that they may stare just a little longer a true marvel of beauty. Princes and kings would beg to have it, but I would turn them away with a flick of my wrist.
And the critics and jesters, jealously claiming that the stories were false, or that if they were true, then the only way I could have raided the dragon's hoard and escape unharmed was if I had -
CRASH!
I was torn back to reality by the loudest noise I've ever had to have heard in my life. The noise may as well have been a banshee cry. It echoed loudly between the cave walls, lasting for what seemed like an eternity.
I froze.
There was the sound of many treasures being shifted and crushed as weight was shifted and claws met coin. Gigantic bones popped, resonating through the cave like cracks of thunder. A loud sigh followed, and then more crushed coin. Then a low, deep,
close
snarl.
I slowly turned, fear gripping my heart as I saw that the sleeping dragon was wide awake, and had placed his face directly in front of mine. And he did not look happy to see me.
Somewhere behind me, I could vaguely make out the soft sounds of running feet and the wooden
thud
of the doors closing. If I wasn't absolutely terrified to the point of soiling myself, I would have probably made a silent vow that I would kill Ferren, for what good it would have done me.
It stared down its giant snout at me, its eyes darting between my face and the necklace around my neck. Its deep breathing picked up; I could swear the temperature in the cave jumped enormously in only a few brief seconds. My brain had surrendered to panic - all I could manage was a sheepish smile and an innocuous shrug.
I closed my eyes, trying to decide which death to pray for: eaten alive or cooked to a crisp?
I heard it growl again, so much closer now, and I was nearly knocked off my feet as I got hit by its sweltering breath. I would have passed out on the spot, giving in to my sheer terror rather than the inevitable end, were it not for a small recognition in that breath; a pattern that I've heard a hundred times before.
Was that...purring?
I peeked with one eye, and was nearly blown down again as it sniffed carefully around me. I could see it close its eyes and inhale deeply, smelling me. I was both terrified and confused - how the hell was I still standing? Was he somehow blind? Did I have a chance to sneak out of here?
I learned later what exactly in the Nine Hells happened. On my many travels, I am often gifted various little things from my many admirers, especially the hopeful and desperate. One such gift was a strangely scented perfume that was called "Air of the Fey." Among its many ingredients (most of which are probably fake or exaggerated), there was something called "drake honey," which, I came to learn, was a kind of excretion that different, usually easier-to-domesticate dragons made while ovulating. Gross, to be sure, but it gave off exotic scents that could draw attentions "from Sky and Sin itself," as it was often advertised.
There were a few downsides to this particular ingredient, though. As well as being difficult to procure and raising prices of products using it exponentially, it also had a tendency to attract other dragons, from the docile to the...very, very large. And when I say "attract," I do mean in
that
way.
So there I was, standing right in the middle of a dragon's den, right in front of its nose, smelling like a sexy wyvern in peak season.
The dragon snorted. The ends of his mouth turned up in what had to have been a grin. It hoisted itself onto its rear legs with out much difficulty, exposing its underside. It made that reptilian purring sound again, and my eyes were suddenly drawn to a growing slab of pink meat emerging from a hidden slit between its hind legs.
Oh, by the gods, that thing was huge. I mean, maybe it was a little small for a dragon cock, but it was fucking
huge
.
Before I could react, I was being wrapped in a large, scaly claw. I tried struggling, of course, but it worked out about as well as a string of yard trying to escape from a cat. It held me and angled me so I was laying on my back. I stared into its face, spotting a mischievous twinkle in its eye. Its tongue danced in the air, almost playfully.