Zar slays a wyrm and encounters a witch, freeing a prince and gaining an amulet of Minarwe.
*
From Tanarwel, Zar travelled southwest across Iskreti, a volcanic landscape of barren plains and desert. For the latter she joined some forty traders and their families. Baruk, a sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued man with dark hair and weathered skin, led the caravan like a mother herds children, forever despairing of their mistakes and foolish behaviour. If he took a liking to Zar, it was for her skill with the sword, and his skill as a teacher.
"I can see you have some training," he said. Zar had asked to pay her way as a guard, and Baruk had insisted on testing her, sparring playfully with her for a while, then more seriously as she began to test him back. "But how much experience have you had fighting? Real fighting is dirty." He surprised her with a punch to the face and knocked aside her blade, bringing his own to her neck. "And you're dead."
Zar rubbed her cheek, angry with herself but accepting the lesson. "It's true. The Sisterhood's finest trained me, but rules are ingrained in their thinking. I must do better."
"Then join us, and we - you and I - will show these layabouts what true mastery of the sword is about, eh?"
The sand was treacherous, the rocks sharp, and the sun constant. It was the near absence of water and the scarcity of vegetation that defined the desert, more than the summer heat. Mules carried carried goods for trade as well as water and food and equipment for the journey. That meant there were hundreds of mules to be rounded up and protected during the night from predators, and it meant they were a target for bandits that preyed on wealthy caravans - and even more so on lone travellers foolish enough to brave the crossing.
"More and more, merchants are risking the desert route," Baruk told her. "The Black Queen's men now patrol Rathwir and Gorten, taxing what they do not steal."
"Good business for you, though," Zar said, with a gentle smile.
But Baruk shook his head. "As pickings in the north diminish, the bandits prey ever deeper into the desert. The paths I follow now are slower and more treacherous, and there are dangers in the deep desert that human guards are useless against."
"So it is true, then? About the dragons?" Zar peered into the hazy south, as if she might spy one of the great mythical predators in flight.
Baruk shrugged. "There are no dragons in the Iskreti. But this is where they are born, wyrms haunting the shadows of this shattered landscape until their wings are full."
Zar was glad to be part of the caravan, glad of the company, and enjoyed the hours she spent training with Baruk. Indeed, spending so much time with a man she both respected and found undeniably attractive was a very enjoyable new experience.
The attack was in the third week of the crossing. Zar was off-duty, but woken by the screams of the mules and the cries of the caravaners was instantly awake and swiftly ready. The scene was chaos glimpsed by starlight and torches, Baruk raging at the night as he tried to order a response. Zar hurried over to him.
"It's a wyrm," he told her, pointing out into the dark. "Bring torches!" he yelled to the traders who were watching fearfully from a safe distance.
And it was, but he was wrong about where it was. The monstrous serpent had abandoned its attack on the mules and was circling the camp. Its aura was subtle and changing, so that it was never quite where she looked for it. "What if we sacrifice some mules," she asked. "Let it feed."
"Were it smaller, then maybe, but this one's almost ready to fly. As far as it's concerned, we're thieves stealing its food. It won't rest until we're dead."
"What do we do?"
He gave a bitter laugh. "I don't know. Run? Hide? Pray? The torches will work for a while. It prefers the dark, but even if we could see it, our weapons are useless against it."
"Well, I can see it," Zar muttered, following the slithering wyrm with her eyes. Drawing her sword, she leapt after it, ignoring Baruk's cry of alarm. Away from the torches she ran, until she was forced to slow down, the ground visible to her only by the dim reflection of the sword's blazing aura.
The wyrm was longer than she'd realised. Were it to straighten out and be still, it might be mistaken for the felled trunk of a mighty tree, one with six stubby legs and comically small wings. But it moved restlessly, constantly looking about itself, sniffing the air and listening. It was aware of Zar long before she was close enough to see its sharp-fanged mouth.
It coiled around her, surrounding her. "So brave you are, all by yourself. But I do not fear you. You cannot even scratch me!" Its voice oozed a sinister confidence. "Ask nicely and I may let you go."
Zar controlled her surprise at hearing the wyrm speak. She had thought it a monster to be killed, but an intelligent wyrm was something else. "Mighty Wyrm," she said reverently, bowing courteously. "We beg of you. Take all the mules you can eat, but allow us to continue our journey."
The wyrm growled, and tightened the noose about her. "No," it hissed, and flicked its tail to knock her towards its waiting mouth.
Zar stumbled but didn't fall. Rather than retreat, which was anyway impossible, she stepped forward and swung the Dawn Blade in a bright arc, cutting through bone and armoured flesh. Perhaps the wyrm's instinct was to fly, for it leapt into the air - only to crash down again, screaming with rage and fear. Its great head lunged at her, jaws open wide, terrifying fangs as long as her arm, but she was already bringing the sword up defensively. It sliced through the soft flesh of the wyrm's tongue and pierced the throat.
Hot blood gushed from the wounded mouth as the wyrm gave a great plaintive wail. It made one last attempt to crush her, but found only her hip as she flung herself sideways. Rolling awkwardly to her feet, Zar drove the Dawn Blade through the thick body, almost severing the wyrm in two. It tried to wriggle out of her reach, but the two halves of its body had different ideas, and blood sprayed in all directions, drenching her entirely.
"I'm sorry," Zar whispered, and swung one last time, ending the mewling creature's agony.
She limped wearily back to the camp, met halfway by a furious Baruk who scolded her roundly then quite unexpectedly kissed her. "Come, let's clean you up."
*
Zar melted under Baruk's assault. This was nothing like the lust- and magic-fuelled fucking with the wizard. This was a flood of emotions and sensations like nothing she had ever been prepared for. This was entirely new. Each kiss, each caress, each warm breath against her neck made her want to clutch Baruk to her and never let go.
He had cleaned her of the wyrm's blood, stripping her of her clothes, exposing her, discovering her, discovering the moonsilver chastity belt. The more the blood was washed away, with pure and precious water, the less the distance between them, the more his hands dared, caressing her breasts, teasing her nipples, testing the cruel belt. "Sweet Goddess, but you're full of secrets, Zar."
More than you know, she didn't say. She twisted round in his arms and presented the other to him. "I need you in me, Baruk," she pleaded.
Perhaps she imagined the hesitation, for if it was real it was brief. Her need was swiftly met, however, and for the first time in her life she was penetrated by a man's bare flesh, a real cock rather than enchanted gold. In truth the gold had been better, but right then and there it was Baruk she needed. She sighed with pleasure, thrusting back to urge him deeper.
