Dragon S Layers Ch 16

Author's Note and Acknowledgements

This is an ongoing work, and wouldn't be possible without the pledges, moral support and friendship of these beautiful people:

Alonsis

Asmund Bell

Apothecary29

David A.

Orodreth

Please bear with me as I get some things sorted out, this month has been especially rough, but I promise you we'll be getting back to our normal updates in May!

Interlude 4: Felicia's Lonely Road 1

To many, Felicia would probably have been considered something of a simpleton, but she never looked at it that way. In fact, she knew she wasn't stupid. After all, a wise person admitted their faults and that no matter how much they might think they knew, they really knew almost nothing about how the world worked. No, Felicia might not have been a scholar, but she wasn't stupid, either.

So she had to wonder why, standing outside of a shop with a weapon smith's placard, did she suddenly feel the itch at the back of her mind that told her she was being stupid. On one hand, she knew she couldn't hope to catch up to Sarah if she didn't leave immediately, but still. Was that what she really wanted?

Her chocolate colored eyes turned to the horizon for a moment, breath catching in her throat as the sun painted the sky a soft shade of baby blue that only two clouds had the courage to smear with their dingy grey smudges. It wasn't even high sun yet, her father would probably be just getting up right now, he wouldn't realize she'd left.

She could still turn back.

She could. It wasn't too late yet.

Felicia's heart fluttered with indecision and the nagging whimper of questions she knew needed answers; even if she found Sarah, would she be accepted? Would she be

loved

the way that she had been that night in the 'temple' of Isira? Could she really hope to keep the half-elf's attention? Would her father be all right if she left? How far could she hope to get with the four hundred gold she had?

The fluttering in her chest became a weight in the pit of her stomach as she looked at the cobble ringed building again with renewed fear. Through the dingy window, cast in light from a small forge in the back was a young man of about ten shaping a piece of steel into something. She caught herself watching his rhythmic motions, each so practiced and smoothly enacted that he would have the hammer in the air again before the dull 'pang' sound had even hit the window.

The motion made her think about Sarah- how smooth she had been as she rolled her hips and brought her beautifully curved body down on Felicia. That smooth, easy stroke of a hot intruder burying itself to the hilt in Felicia's butt while her elven friend's thick member rubbed against it inside.

Pang

. Sarah's heat against her, a hand full of hair. . .

Pang

. She'd slammed into Felicia, the hard, unforgiving thrusts that ensured she was at the woman's mercy. The half-elf claimed her, unquestionably. Felicia longed for it now, to feel inch after inch slamming into her quivering body.

Pang. Pang. Pang

. Sarah had made her a good girl. . . Sarah had promised-

Sarah had made her a good girl. Good girls got rewards.

Felicia's hand trembled along with her knees as she trudged up the steps to the shop. A twinge of loss in the back of her mind died off like a gust of wind sweeping through her hair. That subtle touch that told her she'd changed somewhere and it was likely she wasn't going to get back to who she was ever again. But was that such a bad thing?

The hot tang of burning charcoal tickled her nose and the

pang

of the hammer hitting the anvil became more pronounced, making the teen blush a faint crimson as memories of that night flooded through her mind with each satisfying clang of metal on metal. Whether or not she had meant to, Sarah had left a mark on her in more ways that one.

Felicia's generous chest swelled against her bodice when she drew in a deep breath, taking in the shop with one sweep of her gaze. It was modest, and the actual smithy part of the shop was separated by a human's height worth of open space with some planks to walk across. It might have been quaint if not for the expensive looking display cases and racks displaying all manner of blades and armor components. It had the air of a place that was- or was trying- to be more upscale than it was.

She swallowed, lost in the glint of ornate tools of death and destruction. Her mother had told her about shops like this back home, and though she had never seen one, she was momentarily swept up in images of the kinds of people that would wield them. One piece in particular caught her attention, hanging behind the counter on two massive iron pegs.

The sword was larger than she was, it's blade easily dwarfing even her thigh in girth. She edged closer, trying to squint at the price tag dangling from the hilt. Something prickled the edge of her awareness from behind and she looked back to find an older man hovering over her, almost pressing against her butt. For just one split second she thought it was her father.

He was clean cut and had a strong military look about him- a hard jaw, broad shoulders and a proud stance that said he knew what he was after in life. The greying spots at his temples made his raven hair look all the more dignified. He smiled a little, that kind of smile that was meant to be disarming. "Help ya', miss?"

Pang. Pang. Pang.

It was only when Felicia turned to face him that she realized his left arm was completely gone. She dampened her lips, flashed her best smile and tried to speak. It came out a strangled gasp.

Even when she tried again, she couldn't bring the words out. She cleared her throat and gesticulated towards one of the display cases. "Ahm- I'm trying to. . . er. Find a weapon. M- Maybe some armor?"

His sharp grey eyes lingered on her face, but she could sense that he was looking her over, appraising. She became acutely aware of the warm air across her ample cleavage and tried to discretely cover it by feigning a cough. She patted her chest lightly. "Sorry, I'm not used to this. Ahm- w- what would you recommend?"

He held her gaze for a moment, a moment longer and then smiled once more. "Right this way. . ." he turned and lead her through the isles until they came to a rack of blades as long as her leg. "Is he a soldier?"

"Uh?"

"Be forgiving my presumption, but I don't think you're shopping for yourself and I don't see a ring, so I have tah think it's for your father or brother. Am I right?"

"Uh. . . Y- Yeah. My br- brother. Yep," Felicia murmured as she looked over the blades. "Um, h- he's. He's going to the Watch."

"That right? Well, a good thing. It's been chaos around here, lately- some noble went and got himself killed, a bunch of ruckus, it was. Good thing for your brother, then. He'll do this city proud." He passed the larger blades into a few displays with shorter, more ornane ones. "So, he'll probably want something he can use close in. The guard'll give 'im a pike for patrols."

"O- Oh? So, short is good then?"

"Oh yes, ma'am. You want to leverage your strength," he flipped the latch on one of the displays and pulled one of the swords. "See, with a blade like this you focus on getting puncturing wounds." He thrust into the air slowly for emphasis. "You wanna disrupt organs and put your opponent down quickly."

Felicia frowned at that when an image of crimson bloomed across her vision. She'd never killed anyone, but she had killed one of the lame calfs before. . . The blood, the screaming, she'd nearly blacked out. But, she needed something to defend herself with. Trying to catch up to Sarah wasn't going to be like taking veggies to market. There'd be danger. Yes, she needed this blade.

"O- Okay, so. . . Is there any difference between one or the other?"

"Aside price? Be forgiving my bluntness, miss, but you pay for quality. You won't find better steel in Parnel, though. Can promise you that."

Pang, pang, pang

. Steel. . . Steel like the hard intruder that Sarah had plowed into her, gods, was she really thinking about that now? Her cheeks burned with shameful lust and that niggling implication of the man's words, "you pay for quality."

"U- Uh. . ." Felicia closed her eyes for a moment. Bearings. She needed her bearings. Sarah was waiting for her. "M- My brother's kind of small, what would you suggest? Size wise?"

"Ah, yeah, one'f those? Don't worry none, I've got just the thing. . ." he replaced the blade and wandered over to another case, removing a blade with a beautiful ivory handle. The blue leather scabbard was wrapped in silver braiding and accented with a polished steel neck. "Here, try this."

Her trembling hand wrapped around the handle, taking it as though it would bite her. She could do this. She could be strong. She could be a good girl.

Yes, she could.

With a steading breath, she drew the blade from its scabbard and inspected it. It was light, comfortable in her hand and very well balanced. She could probably fit it on her belt with a little work, and she'd be armed. Yes, this was perfect! "How much for this one?"

"For such a pretty face? I could do with. . . Oh, how about ten ounces of silver?"

"Oh, my." It was a steal, she'd be an idiot to pass that up. Even though her father- when he had been her father- taught her to negotiate on everything, ten ounces was a drop in the bucket. "Well. . . uh-"

"Well, if that's too much-"

Felicia pre-empted him. "A- Armor. He needs armor, too."

In the next half hour she was shown a number of armors that looked pieced together from different parts- rings fastened to leather; plates fixed to leather. All manner of strange combinations of boiled leather and metal, all remarkably affordable, but hardly the kind of thing she imagined would last if she came into real danger.

If she were Sarah, she'd probably have gone with something heavier. . . Something meant for the rigors of the road. Which is why, when they passed by a suit of tiny interlocking rings, Felicia stopped as the shop owner- Betran- continued on. He was regaling her with tales about combat in some 'police action' against an armed peasant rebellion that lead to the formation of a quasi nation state. She was only half paying attention, the pervasive

pang, pang, pang

slamming against her mind, making her body quiver. The moist warmth dampening her inner thighs was becoming unbearable along with the need to feel someone- to feel

Her

wrapped around her. . . To be full again.

Gods, what had she become.

Felicia clenched her thighs together as she eyed the armor, distractedly fingering some of the rings. "H Betran?"

"Ye- Oh, that? I doubt you'd want that for him."

"Why not?" Her breath caught a little when he stepped up beside her, the scent of his musk and power filled her nose, his slick baritone tickling her ear when he spoke. He brushed against her just a little and her heart flip-flopped in her chest. "It. . . looks strong. . .?"

"Sure, it'll turn a blade, but it's heavy," he was saying as Felicia leaned her weight back. A hair more and she'd touch him. She could feel the heat of his presence and for a second an alarm went off in the back of her mind. What was she doing? Was she insane? "In a city, you've got nails and things that can get caught on the links. Plus, chainmail's expensive-"

She did it. She leaned back against his chest. There was a second's pause where she imagined him wrapping his arm around her and taking her there and then. She wouldn't fight, she wanted to feel that comfort- she

needed

to know that there wasn't anything to be ashamed of. What Sarah had done to her had made her a good girl, she just needed to know she was right.

She wanted an excuse to loose herself, to know that it was all right to let go of who she'd been before the man that was her father had betrayed her. She needed someone to tell her she was doing the right thing. . . She needed it.

Betran, however, had other ideas. His firm hand cusped the back of her neck to steady her. "Careful, now." He said in a throaty voice. "Almost fell."

He was taking the most direct route he could to keeping the situation casual, his manner and tone, the way he let go at just the right moment. He wasn't going to help her cure her itch and she should've been ashamed to even think of something like that. Gods, what had Sarah done to her.

Painfully, regretfully, she looked to the armor with cheeks burning in her own shame. She was better than this, what would have mother have said? Throwing herself at strange men and hoping for something she had no right to ask- gods, what an idiot. How could she have hoped to live up to what Sarah wanted for her if she was trying to validate her doubts like some kind of little kid reaching for a candy. Sarah needed her to be stronger, she could be stronger.

She could be a good girl. . .

"I'll take it."

"Uh-"

"Well, it's good in a fight, right? You said so yourself."

"Begging your pardon, ma'am, but this is expensive, and if your brother goes wearing it around town, he's going to make himself a target for all kinds of criminals that'll want to sell it. I really don't-"

"Please. Please, how much do you want for it?"

"It's fifty gold coins, miss."

Felicia blanched inwardly. "F- Fifty coins?!"

"You pay for quality, ma'am. Meaning no offense, but like I said, chainmail is expensive. I have to pay my help and it's labor intensive." He leaned in conspiratorially. "I'm charging you near cost, but don't tell anyone!"

Felicia looked up at the armor, her hand tightening around the coin purse protectively. She had been a good girl for years, it was time she stepped into the role of a woman. She'd find Sarah, she'd protect her from whatever trouble she was in.

She could do this.

"I'll take it."

#

In the next four hours, Felicia spent more than a hundred coin buying more supplies than she could really carry- anything that sounded like it's be useful found its way into her new backpack and then when that became too cumbersome, she found herself a horse merchant- she'd need one anyway- and wound up negotiating a fantastic price on a proud stallion with a beautiful grey-white coat and patient disposition.

But as morning turned into afternoon the ache she felt for Sarah's presence had started to burn away, replaced by a concern that she was loosing ground to Sarah and her companions. She'd managed to figure out she needed to head west, but before she could get there, she'd have to cross almost two whole nations to get to Desrol, but she was committed, she was going to save Sarah and she was going to be the woman that she needed to be.

A few hours after that, however, nearing the edge of the city's limits, she found a place called the Black Boar Inn straddling two large tracts of land. Dozens of carts had been packed along the side of the road back to back like centipedes.

Some of them were familiar, and with a little investigation, she found some of the wagons that she'd seen outside of the Isira temple during the revel. It wasn't all that surprising, but did that mean they were following Sarah and her troupe? For that matter, did it mean they were the cause of the chaos that the armorer had spoken of?

Felicia's stomach grumbled, reminding her that there was more to the inn than just the glow of the early evening lanterns. Even before she caught a whiff of the scent of roast pig, her mouth had begun salivating with possibility. It was the chance to get directions, get some water for her new canteens and maybe some dinner. Yes, this was a good place to stop for the time being.

After she lashed the horse to a hitching post, she wandered inside and was almost immediately overwhelmed by the cacophony of sound, smells and sights. Half clothed dancers mingled around the smattering of tables telling bawdy jokes and sharing food.

Every table in the lobby was packed and surrounded with people. All of them except one.

There was a single table in the middle of the lobby stacked high with empty plates and cups nearly to the chin level of the short, slight framed woman sitting in the chair. Everyone seemed to be deliberately ignoring her, but as Felicia approached- intent on talking to the older woman behind the bar- a slender hand grabbed her wrist.

Felicia turned, not sure what to think at first. The young woman smiled, her purple gaze lingering on the teen with a slightly amused flicker. "You look lost." Her voice was a sultry rolling purr that raised the hackles on Felicia's neck.

"Uhm- I kind of am. . ."

"Have a seat, maybe I can help. I can tell we have similar friends. . ."

"Oh?"

"You know Sarah, don't you?"

Felicia relaxed a little, eying the chair. "I do, yes. Do you?"

"Oh, yes. I know her very well. But I don't know where she got off to in such a hurry. . ." The young woman smiled a brilliant grin. "Maybe we can help each other out."