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Episode
II Return of the Dragon
Zirhan Khan rolled off the inert body of his
queen. “Sandoran whore,”
he muttered. “I’ll
get a child on you. Then we’ll
see if you’ll move that tight backside.”
Vanora lay quietly on the bed, her chest
heaving. She ignored Khan’s
jeering voice, keeping her eyes fixed on the
ceiling. The Sea Warrior might
be able to force her to his bed, but he could not make her act like a
woman. She no longer fought his
advances; not after realizing that he actually enjoyed
rape. Instead of resisting she
simply lay on the bed like a log and let him do whatever he wanted to
her. She could not stop him from
violating her, but she could deny him all but minimal pleasure. It took all
of her self control especially as Khan attempted to elicit a response by
violating her in as brutal a manner as
possible. A session with him
left her bruised and bleeding.
However, the tactic seemed to
work. Lately he had left her
alone, but she got little pleasure from her minor
victory. Khan taunted her with
the fact that he much preferred her mother, bedding the ex-queen almost every
night.
Tonight for some reason he had been especially
brutal. His “lovemaking”
had left her loins and aching and her breasts bleeding where his teeth had
broken the skin.
“Your resistance is wasted,” Khan
continued, “as is that of your
people. I will crush them as
I have crushed you.”
“Resistance,
my lord?” Vanora finally
responded, rising on one elbow. She
put all of the contempt she could into the last two
words. Khan might have forced
her to his bed, but he had not broken her; at least not
yet. “I had not realized
there was any resistance. Surely
a man who defeats women so easily must have subdued Sandor by
now.”
“One day,” Khan threatened, “it
will be my pleasure to hear you scream while I extract your tongue with red
hot pincers.”
“At least that act would impress me more
than your skills as a lover,” Vanora
sneered. “You stink like
a pig and sound like one too.”
“Bitch!” Zirhan Khan
raged. He slammed his fist into
the floor length mirror in Vanora’s dressing room spraying pieces of
glass everywhere.
Vanora curled her
lip. “I hope that was
worthwhile, my lord.” Taunting
the Sea Warrior leader was a dangerous
game. He was just as likely to
strike her as break her furniture.
But he still needed her or thought he
did. As a result he had to exercise
a certain self-restraint when dealing with
her.
Vanora had wondered why the brutal barbarian
didn’t simply get rid of her and force her mother to be his
consort. She got her answer when
Khan had forced her to appear with him while he welcomed the ambassadors
from the neighbouring kingdoms of Korak and Trantor.
Sitting beside Khan on the throne once occupied
by her mother she had watched while Khan received the two
lords. Raging inside, she could
do nothing while Khan presented her as his
queen. Khan had forced her compliance
by threatening to have her mother gang raped by the criminals imprisoned
in the castle dungeon. It had
been a humiliating experience, but she had learned something, and that was
that Khan needed her. His hold
on the kingdom was not yet secure.
Rebellion reared its ugly head and he sought needed peace with his
neighbours in order to give him a free hand to crush all
resistance. Until all opposition
was destroyed Khan needed her as a submissive
pawn. It meant that he couldn’t
beat her up too badly, hence his violence toward the mirror instead of
her.
Khan rubbed his bleeding
fist. “I go to your mother
now,” he jeered. “She
has a mouth as soft and yielding as that of a dove’s
breast. She more than makes up
for your deficiencies.”
Vanora controlled her
anger. Rolling off the bed she
draped a silk robe about her.
“Spoken like a true
warrior,” she responded.
“At least you have success in bending women to your
will.”
“Whore,” Khan retorted as he strode
toward the door. “I have
you and your mother, and soon I will have the Red
Dragon.” He slammed to door
before Vanora could respond.
“Red Dragon?” Vanora
wondered. “Who is the Red
Dragon?”
Melissa crouched above the
trail. Behind her were arrayed
the twenty young women who had joined
her. They were armed with a variety
of weapons from crossbows to swords, but the most effective instrument of
war they possessed was a heavy dart.
Melissa had designed the dart with her troop of females in
mind. It was easy to make, consisting
of a short length of hardwood tipped by a long iron spike and trimmed with
goose feathers to guide it in flight.
More importantly, it took little skill to
use. A few days of training had
made every member of her band proficient enough to hit a man-sized target
at twenty paces, provided that target stood
still. The trick was to get the
enemy to cooperate.
Melissa raised her hand as the first Sea Warrior
drew parallel to her. She was
perched just above him and could have dropped on top of him had she wished,
but that was not her plan. She
dropped her hand and ten paces away Saphora cut the rope she had been guarding,
allowing the tall pine she was standing beside to topple across the
trail. It brought the column
of fifteen riders to a complete halt.
A few seconds later a second tree crashed onto the trail behind the
Sea Warriors, hemming them in.
Cries of alarm sounded from the trapped men as they milled about looking
for a way out.
“Now!” Melissa
shouted. There was no time to
lose. It would take the sea
barbarians only a few seconds to dismantle the crude
barrier. Her half-trained warriors
rose from their hiding places. A
veritable rain of missiles showered upon the confused men, piercing their
armour and striking their horses.
Several of the animals went mad, bucking their riders into the dust
and adding to the confusion. Others
bolted, crashing straight into the fallen trees and catapulting the men riding
them into the branches. However,
not all of the darts found their mark.
Several men were unscathed, and realizing that they could not ride
up the steep-sided ravine, they leaped from the saddles of their
mounts. Armed with swords and
spears they charged up the slope, deflecting missiles with their
shields.
Now it was Melissa’s
turn. She met the first man at
the top of the ravine. Armed
with sword and knife, she blocked the downward sweep of the man’s sword
with her short blade and avoiding the warrior’s attempt to hammer her
with his shield, drove the point of her sword into his
mouth. With a gurgling scream
the man toppled backward, taking another warrior with
him. A “thunk” sounded
as Saphora took out the next closest man, her crossbow bolt penetrating his
chain mail armour below his armpit and dropping him in his
tracks.
Two more warriors scrambled toward the
top. With a sweep of her sword
she cut the first man’s throat and then kicked aside the second man’s
shield and drove her knife into his
vitals. Below her a third man
took aim with his crossbow, but several darts suddenly blossomed from various
parts of his body.
Only three men were still on their
feet. These tossed down their
weapons and raised their hands. The
action was not enough to save one of
them. Several darts impaled him
even as he attempted to surrender.
The others fared no better.
Melissa lacked the resources to care for
prisoners. Ignoring their pleas
for mercy she dispatched both of them with her
sword. “Make sure the rest
are dead,” she instructed her
followers. She needn’t have
given the command. One of the
girls was already moving from body to body cutting the throat of each
man. It was bloody business,
but these men deserved little mercy.
They and their comrades had been engaged in a campaign of rape and
pillage of the local area for the last
month. There were still hundreds
more to deal with, but the destruction of this patrol would send a message
to the others that they now faced an opposition.
Saphora came up to
her. “Three wounded, my
lady” she said. “One
seriously. We will need to get
her to a healer.”
Melissa followed Saphora along the top of
the ridge. A half dozen of her
followers were huddled around three
figures. The sound of moaning
came from one of them. She ignored
the moaning girl. A glance told
her that she had a painful but not life-threatening
wound. It was the young woman
who lay quietly that was her concern.
Melissa recognized her as a sixteen-year-old called
Enara. She was very pale, blood
oozing from an ugly wound just above her left
breast. A crossbow quarrel had
hit her and gone right through, leaving a small entry wound and gaping hole
where it had ripped out of her back.
“You are right,” Melissa
said. Without proper treatment
the wound would almost certainly become infected and an injury that large
almost certainly would mean nerve and tissue
damage. However, the Sea Warriors
had garrisoned all the large towns.
Getting into one and locating a healer without being detected would
be very difficult.
“There is Rohvan,” Saphora
suggested. “I have heard
he has a healer amongst his followers.
“Rohvan,” Melissa
repeated. She knew of the leader
of the Sandoran resistance movement, but he would not be easy to
find. The Sea Warriors had been
searching for him every since the crushing of the Sandoran
army. There was one possibility,
however, and that was to see if she could find him
herself. A woman riding alone
into his territory might be able to make contact if she seemed interesting
enough.
“Take them back to camp,” Melissa
ordered looking at the three injured
women. “I will be back as
soon as I am able.”
Melissa pushed her horse as fast as she
dared. There was no point in
exhausting the animal and then being forced to wait several hours while it
recovered, but she not afford to dawdle
either. The young girl could
not survive long with a wound like that.
She needed help fast. She
rode deeper into the woodlands relying upon information she had gleaned while
searching for her lost companions.
She had found no trace of them, but she had picked up stories about
the exploits of Rohvan, the only man who dared challenge the Sea Warriors’
claim to his homeland. It was
said he lived deep in the forest, in areas where the sea barbarians feared
to travel. It was the invaders’
most serious weakness. At sea
they were unsurpassed and their daring raids along any coastal area were
almost impossible to stop, but they were on unfamiliar ground in heavily
wooded territory and it was there that Rohvan had chosen to
hide. Melissa was hoping that
somehow she might be lucky enough to encounter one of his scouts and make
contact with him. It was her
only chance.
She thought back to the day she had adopted
the score of young women following her.
For three days after leaving the village where she had encountered
the Sea Warrior “tax collectors,” she had ridden from coastal village
to coastal village searching for her lost companions, but without
success. Frustrated she had turned
inland. It seemed impossible
that they could be lost, but her hopes were beginning to
dim. Surely there should have
been some sign of them now.
As she rode farther from the sea she had realized
she was being followed. With
a sigh she had turned her horse and
waited.
A minute later a score
of young women halted before her; all except
one. Sophora had stepped forward
and going down on her hands and knees touched her head to the
ground. “My lady” she
said as the rest of the young women emulated her.
“Get up please,” Melissa said
tiredly. “Why are you
here?”
“Oh mistress,” Saphora answered,
ignoring Melissa’s order to rise, “please do not send us
away. We have left our villages
to be with you.”
“And why is that?” Melissa asked,
suspecting the answer.
“We have been cast
out. Those of us who had husbands
were not accepted by our families and those who were not yet married were
considered fouled through our contact with the sea
barbarians.”
Melissa sighed again, this time to
herself. It was a sadly familiar
tale. Those young women who had
been used for pleasure by the Sea Warriors had been cast out of their communities
for the heinous sin of allowing themselves to be victims of
rape. She looked despairingly
at the twenty young women who were huddled in the dirt and then finally
spoke. “Get up,” she
repeated. “If you are to
be with me you must act like women, not like whipped
dogs.”
The young women clambered to their feet and
stood uncertainly before her.
“Wonderful,” she
thought. “I’m the leader
of a defenceless rabble of housewives and young
girls.”
As if reading her thoughts Saphora raised
the crossbow she had been carrying.
“Remember, mistress I slew the sea barbarian that was threatening
you.”
Melissa
nodded. So one of them could
shoot a crossbow. That was the
least of her problems. How was
she going to feed and shelter all of
them? Her three lost companions,
especially the two Silvani girls, had some aptitude in looking after
themselves. She doubted, however,
that any of the young women before her had much in the way of survival
skills. “Come along,”
she said finally. “We need
to find someplace to stay while I decide what I am going to do with
you. And please stop bowing,”
she added as all of the young women went to their knees
again. “You’re making
me dizzy.”
That had been three weeks
ago. She had managed with some
effort to organize the vengeful females into some sort of fighting unit;
not a very good one, but deadly when the enemy was stupid as were the Sea
Warriors she had ambushed today.
They were, however, poorly prepared to deal with
casualties. Even finding food
and shelter for the women had been taxing, using up the last of Melissa’s
gold. Even without the injury
to Enara she would have had to try to find some larger group to
join. Twenty women could not
defy thousands of enemy soldiers forever.
Flicking the reins she urged her horse
on. Somehow she had to find
help. She had lost enough of
her female companions.
She was magnificent; the most beautiful woman
he had ever seen, Rohvan thought.
Dressed entirely
in black with the exception of a bright red sash girdling her waist, she
was dressed as a warrior, a long sword sheathed over her shoulder and the
hilt of a knife protruding from the top of each
boot. Her flaming hair was arranged
into a thick braid that hung halfway down her
back. Taller than most men she
sat easily in the saddle, her full breasts rising and falling to the rhythm
of the horse. Emerald eyes beneath
finely arched eyebrows moved constantly as if she suspected that she was
being observed.
Ducking down, he waved to his men as the woman
passed. Quickly they moved from
their positions, surrounding the woman and closing off the
road. The redhead reined in her
horse as Rohvan stepped from his hiding
place. If he had expected fear
he was disappointed. She looked
at the men surrounding her with something approaching disdain.
“I wondered when you’d
make your move. You are the noisiest
bunch of brigands I have ever encountered.”
One of the men stepped forward and grabbed
the bridle of the horse. Several
others stepped closer, hemming her in.
“I’d remove that hand,” the
redhead said calmly, “unless you want to spend the rest of your life
with just one.”
Rohvan moved
forward. He was a bit put out
at the casual reaction of the redhead to his ambush, but he knew she wasn’t
going anywhere and he was most curious about the mysterious beauty who had
ridden deep into his territory.
“Release the reins,” he
ordered.
The redhead turned her emerald gaze in his
direction. “Are you the
leader of this mob? It is a good
thing I was alone otherwise you and all of your men would have been dead.”
Rohvan
flushed. He was not used to anyone
speaking to him like this, but somehow he felt like a small boy in the presence
of a school master. The redhead
exuded a sexual magnetism that was almost
overpowering. Mixed with it was
an aura of danger he found both intimidating and
intriguing.
“My pardon, my lady,” he finally
replied, attempting a recovery.
“But we do not often get
visitors. I will take your word
for it that you knew we were here, but if so why did you not turn
back?
The jade eyes burned into
him. “You are Rohvan?”
she asked. “I am
Sha
zhu, the Red Dragon and I need your help.”
Rohvan’s blue eyes
widened. Rumours of a formidable
female warrior calling herself the Red Dragon had been circulating for the
last few weeks. His men had picked
up stories from travelers and peasants fleeing to join his
men. According to them she had
wiped out an entire Sea Warrior army single-handed without breaking a
sweat. Now that he had met her
he could well imagine that the stories might be true.
“I am Vincus Rohvan,” he
replied. “Commander of the
King’s Guard, or rather what was once the King’s
Guard.” He gestured to the
men around him.
“I am honoured,” Melissa
replied. Her green eyes bored
into the tall, dark-haired man who stood before
her. Like the other men around
her he was dressed in shades of brown and
green. A glint of chain-mail
peaked out from beneath his jerkin and a long sword was belted about his
waist. A brace of knives was
thrust into his belt.
“The honour is mine,” Rohvan
replied. “Please come with
me. I am most interested to learn
how you managed to destroy hundreds of the sea
barbarians.”
“Actually,” Melissa
replied. “I am a bit pressed
for time. I need your
help. Several of my companions
were wounded in battle and it is said that you have a healer in your
band.”
“He shall be placed at your disposal,
lady,” Rohvan replied. Much
as he would like to have met with the captivating redhead, her manner indicated
that she would not accept his invitation unless her friends were cared for
first. He turned and leading
the way went to search for the healer.
Rohvan watched from a distance as the Red
Dragon put her troops through their
paces. She and her companions
had only been in the camp for a month and already they had changed it more
than he had imagined. It had
taken her only a couple of days before she was leading the training of the
women warriors. Rohvan did not
have a problem with that. Sandor
had a tradition of female soldiers, as Princess Vanora had
shown. But it was the way that
the women in the camp had flocked to the redhead that he found
interesting. Many of the men
in his band had fled with their wives and
daughters. As well there were
a number of others who were the widowed wives of soldiers killed by the Sea
Warriors. Within days almost
all of them had chosen to join the twenty young women the redhead had brought
with her. She now had over five
score females ranging in age from thirteen to forty under her
tutelage. There were others who
would have liked to join, but the redhead refused to accept anyone under
the age of thirteen.
It was most interesting to watch them
train. Rohvan had never seen
such techniques employed before.
Right now the entire troop was down on its knuckles performing some
sort of bizarre exercise. How
that was going to make them into any sort of fighting force was beyond
him. He had not even seen them
handle a sword as yet, although a few had practiced with crossbows and
darts.
Melissa turned as Rohvan
approached. “Take over,”
she said to Saphora.
“The training is going well?” Rohvan
asked conversationally.
“As well as might be expected,”
Melissa responded. “With
the exception of Saphora and one or two others none of them have any weapons
experience. They need to be toughened
up and taught some weapons skills.
Right now I am concentrating on things they can
handle. Most of them seem to
be able to throw darts. It might
be useful though if you were to provide me with some weapons from your stores
in order that they might be better
equipped.”
“Ah,” Rohvan replied, “perhaps
that might be forthcoming if I were sure that such equipment might be properly
used.”
“And you think I might not use it well,
my lord?” Melissa answered. It
was a sore point with her that although Rohvan entrusted her with the training
of the camp’s women, he did not see fit to supply her recruits with
arms or armour.
Rohvan shook his
head. In actual fact he would
have been most amazed to see any of the women turn into something approaching
warriors with the training techniques the redhead was
applying. However, he was quite
interested in finding out what skills this supposed woman warrior
had. So far he had seen nothing
to indicate she could fight other than an arrogant self confidence and the
fact that she carried a sword. He
was beginning to think that the stories about her were stories and nothing
more.
“I mean no offense, my lady,” he
replied, but I have seen nothing to indicate that either you are any of these
warriors are capable of fighting.
For all I know that sword you carry may be intended purely for
show.”
“Would you like to see me show you how
well I use the sword, my lord?” she
asked. She smiled when she said
it, but it was clear she was issuing a challenge.
Rohvan
grinned. He had never met anyone
who could match him with a blade, but if the redhead wanted a lesson in swordplay
he would be glad to give it to her.
He bowed and replied with a smile.
“It would be my pleasure, my lady.”
A number of Rohvan’s men had assembled
near them. Clearly they expected
some sort of entertainment. Melissa
allowed a slight smile to play about her
lips. “I see we have an
audience. Perhaps our demonstration
might be more interesting if we were to propose some sort of
wager.”
Rohvan smiled
broadly. For a brief unprincipled
moment he had a lurid vision of what sort of prize he would like to win,
but could not ask for it.
“Agreed,” he answered.
“What do you propose my lady?”
“The first one to score two hits
wins. If I win you agree to provide
proper arms and armour for my warriors,” Melissa replied, gesturing
toward the one hundred sweating females.
“And if I should
win?”
“Then,” Melissa replied with a knowing
smile, “you may request anything of me that you
wish.”
One of the watching men laughed
loudly. “Sir Vincus is the
best swordsman in Sandor. I think
I know whose tent the redhead will be in tonight.”
Rohvan spun around and glared in the direction
of the man who had spoken.
“Another word, Vorhan and I will carve your tongue from your
head.” Chastened, the man
shrank back into the crowd. Still
angry Rohvan turned to Melissa.
“My pardon, my lady. I
would not presume to invoke so severe a penalty.”
“You are assuming you will be able to
collect,” Melissa replied.
“Ask what you will, but first you must
win.” She unsheathed her
blade and held it at the ready.
Rohvan grinned
confidently. It was apparent
that he thought the contest would be a short
one. Melissa
waited. She had no way of gauging
the skill of her opponent until he attacked, but she had no intention of
taking him lightly.
Rohvan attacked almost lazily, but his speed
was deceptive. His power, however,
was more than evident. As his
blade crossed hers it almost knocked her sword from her
hand. She could not hope to stand
up to him and match him blow for blow.
She would have to match his strength with speed and
finesse.
Moving back under his attack she caught his
blade at an angle deflecting each blow rather than blocking
it. Then her own steel flicked
out in a deadly riposte almost catching Rohvan as he moved
forward. He answered with a
counterblow of his own, ducking beneath her attack and almost taking her
legs out from under her. Leaping
high, Melissa avoided the cut and slashed back, the tip of her sword nearly
slicing his throat.
Both combatants dropped
back. The first flurry of steel
had almost scored on both opponents.
It was a deadly game each of them played as the design of each of
them was to score on the other without inflicting a fatal or disfiguring
wound. It would have been far
easier if each had merely sought to kill the
other.
Melissa darted forward, using her superior
speed to advantage. Rohvan was
forced back for several steps and then as she overreached herself he beat
down her guard and almost scored.
The battle went back and forth each, the combatants circling constantly
as each sought an opening. It
was a warm day and within minutes both Melissa and Rohvan were soaked in
sweat. Evenly matched, it appeared
that the contest might be decided by endurance or luck.
The latter almost decided the first hit as
Melissa stepped back and caught her boot heel in the root of an oak and almost
fell. She recovered just in time,
the tip of Rohvan’s blade so close she could almost feel
it. Her swift riposte forced
him back and she pressed forward, hoping to keep him off balance, but
Rohvan’s strength saved him.
Trapping her blade he used the strength of his arms to push her
back. The opponents separated
and stood two body lengths apart, breathing heavily while they regained their
strength.
“You fight well, my lady,” Rohvan
gasped.
“Melissa
nodded. “And you too my
lord. I did not think you would
last so long.”
“We shall see who lasts,” Rohvan
grinned. As he finished speaking
he struck, crossing the space that separated them in two
strides. Melissa parried and
attempted to duck under his blade, but he turned his sword slightly and brought
it down in a quick slash between her
breasts.
Melissa leapt
back. The ties of her blouse
had been neatly cut, opening her shirt to just below her
breastbone. Resisting the urge
to swear, she took one more step back.
Rohvan had proven a better opponent than she had
imagined. He was big and strong,
with a reach that exceeded hers by half the length of her forearm, and reflexes
that almost matched hers.
Her shirt had been opened as if the ties had been cut with scissors,
revealing the rounded contours of her
breasts. Had she not bound them
with a thin piece of silk they would have been fully
exposed. As it was they attracted
the eyes of every man present, including Rohvan’s.
“A hit for me I think,” Rohvan
smirked.
“Smug bastard,” thought
Melissa. She retreated one more
step, luring her opponent one step
farther. This time it was Melissa
who scored, the tip of her sword slashing
down. She made it hurt, ripping
a gash down Rohvan’s belly and cutting through his belt.
Had it not been for the chain
mail shirt he wore she might have spilled his
guts. She permitted herself a
grin as the knight stumbled back, clutching at his falling
pants. She could have finished
the fight right there, but she gave him time to recover.
“My pardon, my lord,” Melissa said,
lowering her blade. “My
control was not what it should have
been.”
Rohvan was no longer
smiling. He used the pause to
knot his belt and then raising his blade he approached her cautiously and
then attacked. There was a flurry
of steel as each warrior thrust and
counterthrust. A dozen times
each blade came within a hair’s breadth of its target and each time
one or the other of the duelists parried or blocked the other’s attack,
but it was Melissa who finally finished the
fight.
She resorted to her acrobatic ability to pull
it off. Rohvan attacked and Melissa
went back. She appeared to stumble,
dropping to her backside, but as Rohvan charged forward intent on catching
her on the ground she rolled forward, picking off his
blade. For a brief instant she
was right below him. Had it been
a real fight she would have driven her sword into his
groin. She contented herself,
however, with pinking his thigh and rolling from beneath him just as his
blade stuck the space where she had been.
Melissa got to her
feet. Raising her blade she saluted
her opponent. It was only then
that she realized her latest maneuver had shaken loose the silk covering
her breasts. Hurriedly, she closed
her shirt, but it was too late. The
look on Rohvan’s face told her that he had seen the dragon tattoo between
her breasts.
Blushing slightly, Melissa ignored the
stares. “You fought well,
my lord,” she said. “But
I expect payment at dawn tomorrow.
Now my troop can begin training in earnest.”
“It shall be as you say, my lady,”
Rohvan replied. “I will
see to it personally.”
Melissa turned away, but she could feel
Rohvan’s eyes boring into her as she sheathed her sword and returned
to the women she had been training.
She had gotten what she wanted, but at a
price. The dragon tattoo was
bound to set tongues wagging, among her troop as well as the men in the
camp. It was something she would
have much preferred to keep secret.
However, there was not much she could do about
it. Clapping her hands she
reassembled her female company and continued the training
again.
Rohvan wandered toward the section of the
camp where the redhead had established
herself. It was set apart from
the area where the men camped, an arrangement that did not please most of
the males in the camp, but one the redhead had insisted
upon. If she was going to train
the women to be proper warriors then she needed them separated from the
distractions men created. She
did not forbid her charges to associate with the men, but her rule was strict
in regard to keeping her section of the camp as a place for women
only. Rohvan smiled slightly
as he moved between the orderly rows of
tents. It wasn’t hard to
detect the female influence. Unlike
the disorderly area inhabited by his soldiers, this area exuded a sense of
discipline and cleanliness.
The tents were set in neat rows and organized
into groups each with its own campfire and cooking
pot. Although children played
among the tents, they were not
unsupervised. Their mothers were
close at hand and they bowed to Rohvan as he
passed. The action made him feel
a little strange. Women usually
curtsied, but they had picked up the custom of bowing from the
redhead. Where had she learned
that convention and what were the strange markings he had seen on her body
when he had dueled her three months ago?
The question had burned in his mind ever since the day she had pricked
his inner thigh with the tip of her
blade. He permitted himself a
grin. It had not been funny at
the time, but now he realized from watching her train the women that she
could have pricked a far more sensitive region of his
anatomy.
Today the camp was half
empty. It was swimming
day. It was a strange custom
the redhead insisted upon. Every
woman was expected to bathe at least three times a
week. Rohvan had nothing against
cleanliness, but bathing one day out of every three seemed a bit
extreme. Interestingly, the redhead
did not bathe with the other women.
Rohvan thought he knew why.
It was time to discover what the exotic markings on her skin
symbolized. He knew where to
find her and headed in that direction.
If the women in the camp thought his intrusion strange they did not
show it. No one tried to bar
his way to the waterfall.
Melissa stretched beneath the falling waters,
allowing it to flow over her face and
breasts. Even though it was high
summer the water was undiminished, rising as it did from a spring deep within
the earth. That accounted for
its chilling temperature, but Melissa welcomed
it. After six hours of demonstrating
and driving her troop under the hot sun it was a refreshing relief to wash
off the dust and sweat. She turned
slowly, letting the spray wet her hair and
back. The chill water raised
goosebumps on her flesh and hardened her
nipples. Then another chill swept
over her. She knew without turning
that she was being watched.
“How long have you been watching?”
she asked, making no attempt to cover herself as she turned to face
Rohvan.
“Not long enough, my lady,” he answered,
making no effort to look away.
Melissa stretched her arms over her head,
lifting her breasts and arching her back
slightly. Without the slightest
hint of embarrassment she swept her hair back over her
shoulders. “Have you seen
enough?” she asked, deliberately omitting Rohvan’s
title.
Rohvan stepped forward and began to
strip.
“What are you doing, my
lord?” Melissa asked, stepping
from beneath the waterfall and into the deeper water of the plunge
pool.
“Joining you,” Rohvan replied, baring
his powerful shoulders and deep chest.
“It seems improper for me to conduct a conversation while you
are bathing and I am not.”
“I would suggest that it is equally improper
for you to spy on a lady in the privacy of her bath,” Melissa replied,
but her voice did not imply any indignation, but rather a sense of playfulness
that was almost an open invitation.
Rohvan grinned even more broadly as he removed
his boots and sword belt. He
kept his trousers on and moved toward the
waterfall. “Somehow, my
lady, I think you would have protested more vigorously if you really didn’t
want me here.”
Melissa sculled out into deeper
water. Rohvan was strikingly
handsome and had a roguish charm she found rather
captivating. He reminded her
very much of her first love, the corsair captain who had taken her in when
she was but a girl and who had introduced her to the ways of
love. But she had lost him when
she had been captured by the Shang.
Thinking her dead, he had married
another. It was a part of her
life she still remembered with regret, but she could hardly have expected
her lover to wait four years for her.
Rohvan stepped beneath the
waterfall. He was possessed of
an impressive physique. “Very
impressive,” Melissa thought her eyes fixed on an area of his anatomy
that although hidden was more than
obvious.
“By the gods,” Rohvan
exclaimed. “How do you tolerate
such cold?” He stepped from
beneath the waterfall and executed a fluid dive into the
pool. In a few strokes he was
only a body’s length from her.
Melissa mad no effort to escape
him. Despite his forwardness,
the knight was a man of honour. She
knew that he would not force himself on
her. By rights she should have
been outraged, but she was not. As
a matter of fact she welcomed his
attentions. It had after all
been five years since she had engaged in consensual
sex. As he gazed upon her she
felt an unmistakable stirring in her
loins. Lazily she turned over
and breast stroked toward the other side of the
pool. A sun drenched rock rose
out of the water. It was a place
where she had spent some time sunning herself on the few occasions she had
not been busy drilling her troop.
Acting as if Rohvan was not there, she stroked
to the rock and pulled herself out of the
water. Lying flat on the rock
she closed her eyes and relaxed.
Rohvan stared in
amazement. The water glistening
on her lithe athletic body reflected the sunlight like a thousand
jewels. But it was the serpentine
figure of the red dragon engraved on her skin that drew his
attention. He could have sworn
that the creature was actually alive.
Its body seemed to shimmer with a strange glow and the muscles beneath
the woman’s skin gave it movement.
Rohvan took a deep breath and pulled himself
out of the water beside her. He
made no effort to touch her, despite the fact that her actions amounted to
an unmistakable invitation.
Melissa opened one
eye. “You are wondering
about the markings on my body, my lord?”
“Your pardon, my lady,” Rohvan said,
“but they are something that is difficult to
ignore.” At that moment,
he was thinking less about the tattoo and more about how kissable her lips
were – along with other less refined thoughts.
“I have revealed their secret to no one
other than my closest companions.
And I hardly think you are in that category as
yet.”
“And,” said Rohvan, “how might
I gain such confidence?”
Melissa
hesitated. She had allowed Rohvan
to get this close to her, clearly inviting his
attentions. Her actions could
hardly have been more obvious. Had
she reacted in shocked indignation when she had first detected his presence
her lack of interest would have been all too clear, but she had led him on,
her every action and word inviting
seduction. Now, however, at the
last heartbeat, she found herself unable to proceed, like some love struck
damsel who had never been kissed.
“My lord,” she
began. Rohvan silenced her mouth
with a kiss.
It was not a passionate kiss, nor did he force
his lips hard against hers, but rather he gently caressed her lips with his
own. It sent an electric shock
through her that went from her lips to the tips of her
toes. “Ah, my lord,”
she repeated. Lifting her body
she lost herself in his embrace.
“Mmmmmmmm,”
Melissa
cried. Rohvan thrust deep into
her. She was gagged with a piece
of his shirt. They had decided
it was for the best after her cries of passion had threatened to bring everyone
in the camp to the scene of their
lovemaking. Covered in sweat,
their bodies contorted in a sexual frenzy as they
coupled. Neither was conscious
of the time that had passed. If
anyone had come looking for either of them they did not know
it. Rohvan seemed inexhaustible
and Melissa insatiable. Wrapping
her legs around him she arched her back as she sought to bury him within
her. Fortunately for her unbridled
ardor, Rohvan was more than equal to the
task. His hands on her breasts,
he squeezed hard and then bent his mouth to the erect
nipples. Melissa screamed as
an orgasm ripped through her body.
Gripping Rohvan’s backside she tried
to pull him even deeper.
Rohvan grunted from the
exertion. Bedding the flame-haired
beauty was like trying to ride a wildcat.
Gripping her hips he thrust hard into her and then pulled back,
withdrawing his throbbing manhood.
The gasping woman moaned in protest, but Rohvan ignored
her. Grabbing her legs he flipped
onto her belly and then gripping her just above the elbows he pulled her
back and took her from behind.
Melissa cried out as her back was arched back
like a bow. Then she screamed
into the gag as Rohvan penetrated her from
behind. The knight was tireless,
meeting her every demand. Five
years of pent up sexual deprivation exploded out of her as he probed the
inner recesses of her garden of love.
Rohvan gazed in wonder at the sweat drenched body of the
Red dragon. Powerful muscles
rolled beneath the velvet skin making the image of the dragon carved into
her skin move as if it were alive.
He released one of her arms and let his fingers play down the curve
of her spine. It was like caressing
steel sheathed in satin. He bent
forward and licked the sweat from her back, and then when the woman responded
with a moan he continued his plumbing of her inner
recesses. She climaxed again,
her love canal clamping like a velvet vise about his
manhood. This time her passionate
response was followed by his. He
exploded within her, filling her with his thick white cream, while she slump
forward in sexual exhaustion.
Melissa untied the
gag. Moving beneath
Rohvan, she shifted he body so that she was lying
on her back. “Hold me,”
she whispered. “Hold
me.”
Rohvan took her in his
arms. Gently he kissed her soft
mouth. She molded her body against
his, and then with a smile on her lips drifted off into a tranquil
sleep.
Rohvan held the sleeping
woman. He caressed her
hair. A short while ago she had
beaten him in a duel, now she surrendered to him
completely. And he still knew
almost nothing about her. He
let his fingers run over the head of the dragon tattoo between her
breasts. One day he would learn
its origins.
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