Dragon's Bane walked through the Forest, the warrior's mind shifting and leaving Roane's family behind. The wolf moved at the warrior's side, crunching the leaves noiselessly beneath the soft paws. Bane was as quiet as the animal as they increased the distance from the farm. They didn't see another person until after the midday meal of cold chicken that Gwen had tucked into the haversack. Anytime signs of a farm appeared, Bane and the wolf made a wide path away, avoiding all signs of civilization as long as they could.
They came upon a road cutting through the Forest. Bane knelt next to the magnificent gray animal, rubbing the wolf's sides and looking left and right from the edge of the trees. Bane reached into the sack and withdrew a biscuit. She fed a little to the wolf and finished the rest herself while she studied the road and the possible directions she could go. The wolf looked to the southwest so Bane emerged from the woods and began walking along the dusty path.
There was no hiding the warrior's presence as farms became more common along the side of the road. The Dragon squared strong shoulders, walking with confidence. The Forest gave way to a low valley and the warrior paused at the top of the road, studying the village in the distance. The quilt of farms became small buildings that lined the widening road. In the distance, sharp cliffs rose from the green plain. On a slight rise of land near the escarpment stood towers surrounded by a thick stone wall. The warrior assumed that the towers belonged to the palace, though Bane would not have called the building a palace. The Dragon had seen grand palaces. She had walked the halls of the homes of the mightiest rulers on the planet. The towers and squat buildings within the confines of the wall could barely be called a castle compared to places the warrior had been. For a moment, Bane felt a twinge of pity for Gwen, that the farm girl would never know anything grander than the small citadel at the head of the village.
Bane shifted her load and continued walking down the center of the dirt road. Farmers in their fields paused in their work as the stranger approached. They lifted their heads and shielded their eyes against the afternoon sun to see what neighbor was away from their work in the middle of the day. They looked up with the thought they would call the friend over for some cool water and a take a welcome break from their own labor. Instead, they watched the stranger in black walk by without even waving. Their eyes followed the warrior until Bane and the wolf disappeared from sight.
The closer Bane came to the village, the more people who were gathered close to the edge of the road, waiting for the Dragon to pass. They made no attempt to hide their curiosity. The villagers stared openly and silently as the warrior passed. Bane did not turn her head to look at the people. She knew the expressions she would see. She didn't want to see the hope in their eyes. She would not promise to help these people. She knew some of their face would hold wrath. A Dragon's presence rarely meant peace.
Once, the Dragons had been the most powerful fighting force in the known world, an elite group of well-trained soldiers. They were heroes to most, though that heroism came with a price. They were heroes because they fought injustice, and sometimes, removing injustice required blood. Eventually the world had become too big for the Dragons. They had spread themselves too thin. Without the support of other Dragons, they had taken off on fool's errands. Eventually, those who were evil, those known as Hydra's, had begun hunting the Dragons. The coven's numbers had faltered and the members scattered in an effort to preserve the teaching that was left.
The Dragons still had a reputation, though. Bane's silent parade through the village was evidence of their legendary status. A few of the villagers whispered to each other, but most just regarded the passing of the warrior. Some willed the Dragon to keep walking through town and disappear into the cliffs. Others hoped wistfully that the Dragon was there to free them from Matayla. Bane felt hundreds of pairs of eyes on her as she marched up the high street with the wolf at her side.
Eton, a captain of the Royal Guard, watched the Dragon's approach from his mount at the far end of the high street. He saw the villagers line the street to observe the warrior. He turned the mount and knocked his boots against the flanks of the large brown animal. He raced away from the village, thundering through the gate in the stone wall, and bursting into the palace. His boots pounded the floor as he raced to the Queen's chambers. He knocked on the heavy wooden doors that sealed Matayla from the world, taking a deep breath to steady his thoughts.
The door was opened by a young, naked girl. Eton walked into the receiving room without looking at the girl. Instead, his eager eyes found Matayla. She was reclining on a settee, sipping from a porcelain cup as she watched him approach. Her long robe was pushed above her waist. The naked girl knelt in front of the woman, bowed her head, and began licking the slick opening.
Eton bent on one knee, ignoring the girl. He took the Queen's hand and pressed his forehead to it. "Your Highness," he greeted.
"Captain," she returned with a bored tone.
"Mistress, there is a Dragon walking toward the palace!" he exclaimed in a rush of breath. He kept his head bowed, bracing himself for her reaction.
Matayla turned to him sharply, her fiery eyes ablaze. She sat up without a word, knocking the girl away, and walked out of her chamber onto the balcony overlooking the village. Eton followed. Matayla was staring at the road. They could see the tiny speck of the lone figure emerging from behind the last building of the village. The street closed with Matayla's subjects watching the warrior depart. "Did the people cheer?" the Queen demanded.
"No, Mistress," Eton replied. "They were silent but watchful."
Matayla stood on the tower balcony, watching the lone figure draw closer. Eton studied the Queen, waiting to read her reaction and follow her directions. The Queen's long blonde hair billowed about her in the wind that whistled off the cliffs. Her ice blue eyes were intensely focused on the Dragon. "Invite the Dragon in," Matayla finally decreed. "An enemy is best kept close."
Matayla spun on her heels and stormed back into the chamber. The girl stood nearby. Matayla stopped and slapped the girl as hard as she could. The girl cried out in surprise, her head snapping back. She stumbled but did not fall. She immediately returned to her position, her back straight and her head bowed. Matayla slapped the girl's other cheek, marking it with an identical red hand print. The girl did not cry out this time. The sound of the slap echoed in the room, but the girl's lack of reaction seemed to anger Matayla even more. She slapped the girl three times, and then dug her fingers into the girl's brown hair. Matayla used her strength to throw the girl over the settee. The girl landed face first on the velvet-covered sofa.
Before the girl could return to a standing position, Matayla jerked a coil of leather from the wall. She gripped the handle in her powerful hand and raised her arm to swing the whip. It snapped loudly and landed across the girl's backside. This time the girl did respond. She cried out as the sharp pain ripped through her. The sound satisfied the Queen so she cracked the whip again. Eton even flinched each time the Queen raised her arm to snap the leather against the girl's bottom and lower back. Red welts appeared on the girl, blood rushing to surface but not bursting.
Eton lost track of the number of times the Queen wielded the whip. The girl had stopped crying out though her body still reacted to every thrash. He was almost relieved when Matayla tossed the whip to the side. The girl lay over the low couch, her body trembling. "Get up, bitch," Matayla snarled her words as harsh as the whip. The girl hesitatingly placed her hands under her body, attempting to push into a standing position. She faltered, but caught herself and returned to her standing position before the Queen. "The Captain deserves a reward for bringing me this news so quickly."
Matayla waltzed out of the chamber without another word. Eton looked at the naked girl. He rarely gave her body a look. Matayla never allowed the girl to wear clothing. She wore a solid silver collar about her neck. She was in her early twenties, though they had all forgotten how old she actually was. Her skin was fair because she was rarely allowed to be outside. Her breasts were supple, though not overly large. Her nipples were a light brown. Her waist was slender. Eton's eyes continued traveling down the girl's small body. Between her legs was a trimmed brown mat of curls.
Eton felt his manhood pressing forward and looked down to see the fly of his uniform tented. The girl's brown eyes were also focused on the rising staff. He watched as she sank to her knees in front of him. Her fingers opened the buttons of the fly and parted the coarse material. When she spread the fabric, his rod sprang free. She gripped it around the base without enthusiasm and began licking the head. He closed his eyes as her tongue lapped up and down the tip, lifting the hood as she teased. He groaned, feeling her warm mouth close over the swollen end. Her tongue continued to roll around the head. He sighed and placed his hands in her hair, pushing her mouth farther down his straining manhood.
She continued using her tongue to swirl around him as her head bobbed quickly. He grunted, his hips thrusting forward. He forced himself in and out of her soft lips. He could feel her mouth pulling on him, milking him with the power of her tongue. He groaned, pushing even deeper into her throat. She did not gag as he forced himself into her passage. The ease he slid into the cavern sent him over the top and he began squirting thick streams into her throat.
