Читать книгу The Sorceress of Belmair - Bertrice Small - Страница 8

WHEN THEY REACHED THE ROOF Dillon caught his breath in amazement when he saw the size of the dragon in her full glory. The afternoon sun set her iridescent blue and green scales to sparkling. Seeing the two men had arrived, she reached out her hand, and they stepped into her palm so she might raise them up to sit upon her back.

“Look carefully,” she told them, “and you will find two small pockets upon my back into which you may safely seat yourselves.” When they had, she opened her great wings and rose from the castle’s battlements to fly.

“Cinnia said Belmair consists of four islands in a vast sea,” Dillon remarked. “She is correct, of course,” the dragon answered as she flew.

“Your island of Belmair is the largest, and the most perfect of the four. As you can see there is a small range of mountains to the west. Fertile farmlands, woodlands and valleys cover the rest of the island. The coastline is both sandy and rocky with beaches and hills.”

Dillon gazed down. Everything was very green, and it reminded him of Terah except there were not great cliffs and fjords. The woodlands below them now were just coming into full leaf, and the few planted fields were hazy with new growth. The meadows housed cattle and sheep, but curiously he saw no sign of life other than around the two castles. “Where are the villages and the people?” he asked Nidhug.

“There are few and they are widely scattered,” the dragon answered.

“Is it like this on all the islands?” Dillon wanted to know.

“Aye, it is,” was the answer.

“Why?” Dillon asked the dragon.

“I don’t know,” Nidhug admitted. “For the last few hundred years the young women on all the islands have been disappearing. The men have had no wives to wed, and fewer and fewer children are being born. Some women are returned to us when they are old, and can no longer have children or be of use. They are not able to tell us where they have been, and are horrified to find themselves old. If it continues, Belmair’s civilization will die. That is why I trained Cinnia to become a sorceress, but as powerful as she is, she needed a husband who was even more powerful. Your father knew it, and that is why he brought you here to me to be Belmair’s new king. Together you and Cinnia can work to solve the mystery of where our young women have gone, and correct the situation so our population can once again thrive.” She turned north now over the great sea, and they were soon flying over a mountainous island, the highest peaks of which were still covered with snow. “That is Belia. It is the smallest of the duchies.”

“Have you no idea of who is stealing your women?” Dillon inquired. “You have great magic yourself, I am told.”

“My magic is fairly limited to protecting and serving Belmair, and its kings,” Nidhug replied. “The magic of the Shadow Princes is the greatest of all magicks.”

“Did you know all of this?” Dillon asked Kaliq.

The Shadow Prince smiled enigmatically. “Solve this conundrum, and you will be the greatest sorcerer of your time, Dillon, my son.”

Dillon laughed softly. “That I might be a bit of dust in a corner when you tell my mother about all of this.” He chuckled.

“She will soon have her own problems to solve,” the prince replied with a small smile. “And she knows I would never see you harmed.”

“You won’t be here,” Dillon reminded his father.

“My powers extend to Belmair. You have but to call me,” Kaliq answered him.

“That is a great comfort to me,” Dillon said drily, “but as I recall you have taught me to puzzle out my own problems.” Turning away from the Shadow Prince, the younger man looked down to study the sea as they flew.

Prince Kaliq of the Shadows nodded, satisfied. Between them, he and Lara had raised their son well. Dillon would be a great king for Belmair, and the mystery would be solved because Dillon was not a man to give up. Belmair could not be allowed to die, and Kaliq was himself concerned as to who was doing this, and more important, why?

“There is Beldane,” Nidhug called to them. “It is an island of mostly fields and glens. The hunting is excellent on Beldane, and the duke has many lodges scattered about his duchy for guests. Autumn, of course, is the best time for it.”

Turning east they flew over the next largest island to Belmair, Beltran, a vast hilly and wooded landscape. Below them a small group of sailing boats was setting out from a harbor below a castle.

“Dreng comes early,” Kaliq noted.

“I believe he thinks one of his little grandsons will be chosen to be king for he is the only one of the dukes with male progeny. He will be to Belmair by sunset, for when summoned by me the dukes’ boats come by magic in just a short time. We cannot have that,” Nidhug said. “Storm brew!”

Suddenly below them, the thunderclouds began to roll swiftly in. The sea grew frothy as the waves rose, crashing wildly on the shore, and the lightning crashed about the boats. One vessel was struck, and its mast caught fire. The little fleet struggled back to the harbor, and anchored to ride out the weather.

“It won’t clear until dawn,” Nidhug said in a well-satisfied voice and she chuckled. “Dreng is bold to think he can make my decision for me.”

“How will he feel when he learns I am king?” Dillon asked.

“Surprised. Possibly resentful, but he will accept my will for there is no other choice, Your Majesty,” the dragon answered. “When your father came to see me last night, I was amazed afterward that I hadn’t realized that someone not born of Belmair must be chosen to follow Fflergant if we are to solve our difficulties. And that someone must have even greater powers than Cinnia. Whoever, whatever, is taking Belmair’s young females must be stopped.”

“Agreed,” Dillon responded, “but I am more curious as to why they are being taken. There is something wicked here on Belmair.”

Having completed their tour of the islands, the dragon returned them to the royal castle where she once again condensed herself into a smaller size. “Let us now feast,” the dragon said. “And afterward your father and I will preside over your mating with Cinnia. How are you getting along? She is a charming girl, isn’t she?”

“She is spirited, much like my younger sister Zagiri,” Dillon noted. Then he told Nidhug and the prince of his attempts to charm Cinnia, and of how she had rebuffed him.

“A kitten into a viper.” Nidhug chuckled. “The naughty girl, but I am quite enchanted that you turned the viper into pink snowflakes, Your Majesty. It is obvious that Prince Kaliq has taught you about women, as well as magic.”

“Do not women possess a magic of their own that is to be courted?” Dillon asked her with a smile.

The dragon rolled her beautiful eyes, and her eyelashes fluttered coquettishly. “I am, for the first time, envious of a human female,” she said.

Her two companions chuckled. They entered the Great Hall of the castle. It had a high ceiling with beams carved and gilded with both gold and silver, as well as painted in red and blue. The arched windows lining the hall on both sides were recessed into the stone walls. The glass in them was clear with designs showing pastoral scenes in stained glass. Beautifully woven silk and wool tapestries hung on the gray stone walls between the windows. There were three great fireplaces in the hall, one on either side of the chamber, and the third behind the high board. The floors were slabs of gray stone.

The hall was empty but for Cinnia, who waited for them before the high board. She was garbed in a simple loose purple silk gown with a boat neckline and flowing sleeves. A thin chain of gold links decorated with pale amethyst crystals sat upon her hips. Her long black hair was pulled back into a single strand. She looked both fragile and strong at the same time. Kneeling before Dillon, she said, “I bid you welcome home, Your Majesty. The meal is ready at your command.”

Dillon raised her up. “Do not kneel to me again, Cinnia. If it is Belmairan tradition that a wife kneel before her husband, it is a tradition that I will not continue. You are a great sorceress, and you are my wife. I mean to make you queen.”

Her green eyes lit up with joy, but then the happiness faded away, and she shook her head at him. “I would be nothing but a consort if Your Majesty desired it, but I would have no authority even over our household. In Belmair, all is the king’s.”

Dillon turned to the dragon. “Is this a tradition that is written in stone?” he asked.

“Nay, it is not. But it has always been done this way,” the dragon answered him.

Dillon considered, then said, “As I am not Belmairan born, but am now nonetheless the undisputed king of Belmair, could I not make this change, and allow others to understand this is my way of honoring Cinnia, the great sorceress of Belmair, who is now my wife? Whose help I will need if I am to govern wisely and well?”

“There will at first be a certain amount of grumbling,” the dragon replied, “but I believe that to honor Cinnia as your first official act as Belmair’s king would quickly be seen as respecting Belmair and its traditions.”

“Then I shall do it,” Dillon said. He turned to Cinnia again. “You understand that the final word in all things but the household will be mine?”

“I do, Your Majesty! Thank you!” Her green eyes were shining now.

“And you will call me by my name when we are in private, or in an informal setting?” he asked smiling at her.

She nodded. “I will, Your…Dillon.”

“Then it is settled, and now please see that the meal is served. Our guests and I are hungry,” Dillon told her with a grin.

Taking her arm, he escorted her up onto the dais and seated her to his left at the high board. The prince sat on his right, and the dragon to Kaliq’s right. Cinnia signaled the servants to begin serving the meal, and Dillon watched, amazed at the separate menu of foods brought to the dragon. When the meal had concluded, and Nidhug had consumed the final of her eight sherry-soaked whipped-cream cakes, a minstrel came into the hall and sang for them. A serving woman appeared and whispered something into Cinnia’s ear. She nodded.

“It is time for me to go and prepare for our formal mating ritual, my lord,” she said rising from her seat. “You will be sent for when I am ready.” Then before he might speak she hurried away.

“What preparations will she make?” Dillon asked Nidhug.

“She will be thoroughly bathed so her body is pleasing to you,” the dragon replied. “The ritual consists of you coupling with her before witnesses, in this case the prince and me. Once you have been joined none has the right to separate you. This is why I prevented Dreng from arriving tonight. Your father accepted you as his successor. She accepted you for her husband, and as her king. You took Fflergant’s last breath. Now the last thing to be done is the joining. Once that is accomplished the deed is done, you will be king of Belmair until the last of the purple sands in your life glass is gone to the bottom. From the looks of the glass, that will be many years hence, Your Majesty.”

“If she is to bathe, then I should like to bathe also,” Dillon said, but the dragon shook her head.

“Nay, not until afterward. Cinnia’s body must be imprinted with your natural scent so it will always recognize you,” the dragon explained.

“Belmairans have sensitive skin,” the prince explained to his son. “Once her skin has been imprinted by yours, it will always recognize you even if you scent yourself.”

“How odd,” Dillon murmured low. Then he said to Kaliq, “What other little surprises are in store for me?”

Kaliq shrugged. “I have never lived in Belmair,” he replied.

“Is Cinnia a virgin?” Dillon asked the dragon.

If a creature could looked shocked, Nidhug certainly did at the query. “Of course!” she exclaimed. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“It is not a requirement in either Terah or Hetar that a girl be a virgin on her marriage. That she cleve to her husband once she is, is expected,” Dillon said. “I ask because a virgin would require more gentleness, more care, than a girl who has experienced passion a time or more. Is she aware of the differences between bodies male and female? Does she have any idea of what to expect?”

“Aye, she knows what is required,” Nidhug answered him. “I have taught her myself. Knowledge she has. Experience she is lacking.” The dragon chuckled. “Again, I must express my envy for my pupil. Your father’s prowess as a lover has extended even here to Belmair. I can but imagine what his son, and the son of a faerie woman, is like.”

“For Cinnia’s sake,” Dillon asked his two companions, “can you render yourselves invisible if you must be within the chamber? I have made love to women in my father’s hall surrounded by his brothers and their women. But this will be her first experience, and I think she should be put at her ease as much as possible.”

“Are you as fierce with your opponents as you are tender with your wife?” the dragon wondered aloud.

“I am,” Dillon surprised her by answering.

The serving woman now returned, and going directly to Dillon said, “Your Majesty, my lady awaits your coming.”

Dillon arose and followed the woman out of the hall. He was interested to see that they traveled along a well-lit corridor, at the end of which he saw a large oak door. The serving woman stopped and pointed before turning about and hurrying off back down the hallway. Dillon saw no knob upon the door, so putting out his hand he silently commanded it to open. The door remained shut. Interesting, he thought. And then he smiled. “Open for King Dillon, and in future always recognize my hand upon thee, or my footfall as I approach thee.”

The door swung open, and Dillon stepped into the chamber. It was a circular room with a stone floor and a glass ceiling that came to a witch’s peak. There was but one piece of furniture in the room, an enormous oaken bedstead hung with gold and red tapestried curtains. The pillars of the bed were carved around with grapevines. The headboard, though half-hidden by goose-down pillows, showed a stag and a doe as they ran through a forest. The wood canopy had a glass top that allowed those in the bed to gaze up through the glass ceiling to the night sky.

“Are you going to take off your garments?” Cinnia asked him.

He had been so intrigued by the simplicity of the chamber and the intricacy of the bed’s carvings that he hadn’t looked to see if she was in the bed. She was, sitting up, a scrap of silk covering her breasts.

“Have you ever seen a naked man?” he asked her as he began to strip off his clothing. He let it drop to the floor for there was no place where he might lay them.

“Nidhug has shown me pictures,” Cinnia said. “But, nay, I have never seen a naked man not in a book. Are Hetarians different from Belmairans?”

“Since we come from the same root stock originally, I do not think so,” he said. He was fully naked now, having kicked his soft felt shoes off. He turned so she might look at him. “What do you think? Am I the same as the men in the book?”

“You are bigger,” she replied.

“How?” he asked her.

“All over,” she said. “You look very strong, my lord.”

“I am. I have been trained to be not just one thing, but many. My grandfather was a great swordsman, and my mother is famed as a warrior, as well.”

“We rarely fight here on Belmair,” Cinnia told him. “We are a peaceful folk.”

“Peace is the better route,” he agreed, “but sometimes you must fight to protect what you hold dear else it be taken from you. I prefer the use of magic to solve problems, but I have also been trained to be a warrior by the same Shadow Prince who trained my mother before me. If I must fight, I can.”

“Have you ever fought?” she asked, curious.

He nodded. “Once, my oldest sister could not discourage a persistent suitor. I was forced to do battle with him.”

“Did you kill him?” she wanted to know.

Dillon nodded. “He refused to be satisfied otherwise. It made me sad to do it, but there was no other way. He threatened to kill Anoush if she would not wed him.”

“Did she marry another?” Cinnia inquired.

“She is not ready to wed,” Dillon said, and he walked toward the bed, and reaching it, climbed into it. “Now, however, is not the time for stories, Cinnia. We must complete a mating cycle tonight so that the three dukes can accept the dragon’s choice more easily.” Reaching out, he drew her gently toward him. “You have never known a man, I am told. But have you played lover’s games with any young men?”

Cinnia shook her head wordlessly.

“Have you been kissed upon your lips by any other than a family member?” he asked her. But he knew the answer before she even gave it. She was a total innocent for all the books she had read, for all the dragon’s teachings. “Then we must begin with the kissing,” he said in a firm tone. His lips brushed over hers, and the touch of his mouth caused Cinnia to gasp softly. He pressed his lips harder against hers, and Cinnia tried to push him away. In doing so the silk coverlet that had covered her breasts fell away, and her breasts pressed against him.

“Ohhhh!” Cinnia cried out, surprised.

Dillon’s head was spinning at the touch of her body against his broad, smooth chest, but her startled cry caused him to ask, “What is it? Are you all right?”

Suddenly Cinnia was no longer in his arms, and a small black-and-white bird fluttered to the top of the headboard.

Dillon didn’t know whether to laugh. “We must be joined tonight, Cinnia. You cannot use magic when we make love.” He reached his hand out to the bird but it scampered down to the end of the headboard. Cat! Be that! Dillon thought, and a large golden feline jumped up quickly from where he had been to snatch the bird from its perch, and hold it gently between its paws. They were quickly themselves again, and she lay naked in his arms.

“That wasn’t fair,” Cinnia said petulantly.

“I know you are afraid,” he said to her, and his hand stroked her silky black hair. “That is all right, my young queen. I mean to take my time and to be gentle with you. My blood runs hot, Cinnia, but I have been taught by the masters of passion how to give pleasure to a woman. Even a frightened little virgin. You need do nothing but follow my lead tonight. In time I will teach you to give pleasure, as well as receive it. But tonight we have a small duty to perform, and I would have you enjoy it, not be terrified by it.”

“There are no witnesses,” Cinnia said weakly.

“Show yourselves,” Dillon said, and both Kaliq and Nidhug appeared.

“Oh!”

“I thought you would be more comfortable if you could not see them,” he said.

“Yes, I would,” she admitted, and their witnesses disappeared once again.

“Now, where were we?” he pretended to ask himself. “Oh, yes! I was trying to teach you to kiss decently.” He swooped down again to take her lips with his.

Indignant, Cinnia wanted to protest the insult, but when his mouth found hers she discovered she wanted nothing more than to prolong the kiss, and they did. One kiss melted into another, and another and another until she was dizzy with the distinct feeling of something pleasurable happening to her. But when she felt his hand upon her breast she stiffened nervously.

“It’s all right,” he murmured in her ear. “A woman’s breasts, while meant to nourish her young, are also meant to be admired, and caressed, Cinnia. And you, my queen, have beautiful little breasts.” Bending his head, he kissed a nipple while his supple fingers traced the small globe gently. Then opening his mouth, he took the nipple into it and sucked it.

Cinnia shuddered as the sensation of his tug upon her breast traveled all the way down her torso into her belly and beyond into the sacred place. This couldn’t be right, she thought nervously. Something that felt so wonderful…better than anything she had ever experienced…should not feel so incredible. “You must stop, my lord,” she managed to say to him, her fingers winding into his thick dark hair and pulling at it.

He lifted his head. “Why?” His blue eyes were dark with his rising desire.

Her breast felt suddenly bereft, Cinnia thought, and the nipple puckered with the sensation of the cool night air. “Because this cannot be right,” Cinnia said to him.

Dillon laughed low. “Nay, my young queen, it is very right. It is almost perfect.”

“But the joining is, I am told, when our bodies become one,” Cinnia protested. “How can they become one when you do naught but kiss and caress me?”

“A proper joining requires that your body be prepared to receive me. If I forced myself upon you with no care for your comfort I should be little better than an animal. Kissing and caressing are but a small part of the preparation, Cinnia. You must trust me for I have loved many women, and never yet had a complaint,” he told her.

“I do not want to hear about your other women!” Cinnia said angrily.

“And you shall not. I have mentioned it only to reassure you that I know what I am doing, my queen. But you, my little virgin, seem to have a great many opinions for a girl who has yet to know a man.”

“I have done much studying on this subject. Ohhh!” He was nibbling her fingertips, and now his lips traveled up her slender arm to her rounded shoulder. Cinnia felt absolutely weak. “Ohhh!” His tongue was licking up the side of her neck, and now as he lay her flat, his tongue caressed her throat, his lips pressing a kiss into the hollow of it where he paused to enjoy the sensation of the blood pulsing beneath her skin. Her flesh was smooth, soft and sweet to the taste. “Ohhh!” His tongue moved quickly down, sliding between her breasts to lick at her belly. Cinnia shivered. “It is too much,” she told him softly.

“It is but a beginning,” he murmured as low. He lay his dark head upon her belly, and let his fingers play with her now. The tips trailed over her shapely silken thighs, coaxing them open for him as they pushed between the flesh and twined themselves in the thick black curls at their junction.

Cinnia stiffened defensively.

“It’s all right,” he soothed her, and he pressed a finger against her slit, which was already showing signs of moisture.

“Ohhh!” she exclaimed as the finger slipped past her nether lips.

Dillon sought for her pleasure point, and finding it he began to tease at it.

He was her husband, Cinnia had to keep reminding herself. Whatever he was doing was certainly proper, but oh! The ball of that wicked finger was arousing in her feelings such as she had never imagined existed. She was tingling all over right down to the soles of her feet, and it all seemed to emanate from that finger. “Ohh! Ohh! Ohhhh!”

Cinnia gasped as a feeling of sweet release seemed to pour over her. “Oh, that was so nice,” she told him. “Is it always like that?”

“You will have to tell me,” he said, smiling down into her face.

“Do you think I am ready for the joining yet?” she asked.

“Let us see,” he replied, and he carefully pushed a single finger into her sacred place, all the while watching her face as he moved the finger gently back and forth. When she made no protest or complaint, he withdrew the single finger, and then pressed two fingers within her. Her green eyes widened slightly as he moved the twin digits back and forth at a more rapid pace. She was tight, but she was very wet now. “Aye, you are ready,” he told her as he again withdrew his fingers, putting them in his mouth to suck upon them. “You taste sweet and salty all at the same time,” he told her as he covered her body with his, pushing her legs up as he did.

“The book says it hurts the first time,” she told him, her eyes now showing a small bit of fear.

“Only for a moment, my queen,” he said as he positioned himself. He had initiated virgins before. Some were eager, but others like Cinnia were hesitant. With virgins like Cinnia there was only one way to handle the matter once she was ready. Pinioning her arms above her head he filled her, tearing through her maiden’s shield with a single hard thrust, as she cried out with shock. “There, my queen,” he said, brushing away the surprised tears that had appeared upon her cheeks, “the deed is done, and the worst is over.” Then releasing her arms he began to ride her with slow, deep thrusts at first that became deeper and quicker as she began to respond to him.

It had hurt, but the pain was as quickly gone as it had come. She concentrated upon the sensation of the manhood now plundering her. He was big. Of that she was certain despite her inexperience. He filled her full with his great length. Cinnia was filled with fierce emotions. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, her fingers digging into his muscled flesh. Then unable to help herself she began to claw at his back, whimpering as she sought for something she couldn’t even understand.

Dillon laughed aloud as he felt her nails raking at him. She was feeling passion! He had aroused her to passion! A virgin, well, no more a virgin. He drove harder into her, sensing her desperate need for satisfaction. Hers and his own. Her legs, with some primitive instinct, wrapped about his torso, giving him deeper access. She was tight, and she was so wet and sweet for him.

“I want!” Cinnia cried out. “I want it!” she sobbed. She could put no name to what it was she wanted, but she suspected that he would know.

“And you shall have it, my queen,” he promised her. His length flashed faster and faster within her. And then he felt her crisis building, building, coming, coming.

Cinnia screamed as pleasure such as she had never known rose up to enfold her. She was drowning in it. She could scarcely draw a breath for it consumed her, raising her up, up, up, and then flinging her down. She vaguely heard the sound of her cries that were mingled with another sound. His cries.

The room was suddenly filled with a golden light. The air crackled loudly with their passion. There was even a thunderclap. Kaliq and Nidhug, revealed by the brightness, looked at each other, startled. And then the dimness came once more, and the sounds of the couple’s heavy breathing as they returned to reality. Dillon and Cinnia lay sprawled next to one another. She seemed to be caught in the throes of a half-conscious state, her breathing rapid, but calming slowly.

Father! What has just happened? Dillon asked Kaliq in their silent language. Never before have I had such a reaction to and with a woman.

She is magic as you are, my son, the prince told him. All the women you have known before were mortal, and while she is mortal technically, she is also a sorceress.

Will it be like this all the time with her? Dillon wanted to know.

I do not know, the prince responded honestly. But now it is time for sleep. Kaliq waved his hand over the bed, and it disappeared with its occupants. Then he and the dragon exited the chamber, and it folded in upon itself.

“I put them in her bedchamber,” Kaliq told Nidhug.

“Let us go and have some wine,” the dragon replied. “And perhaps we can decide what happened to cause such a reaction between them. Come, I have a small privy chamber here in the royal castle.” She led him to it, and conjuring up two goblets of wine the prince and the dragon sat companionably. “I have seen many joinings between the king and his bride in my lifetime, but never have I seen happen what happened tonight,” Nidhug said. “Your experience in the amatory arts is, of course, greater than mine, Kaliq. Have you ever seen such a mating as took place between your son and Cinnia?”

“Nay, I have not,” the prince admitted. “It is obvious to me, however, that if they use their powers together they can accomplish much good for Belmair.”

The dragon nodded. “I hope,” she said, “that they will fall in love.”

Kaliq chuckled. “I did not know you were such a romantic, Nidhug,” he remarked. “Have you ever been in love?”

“Alas, male dragons are few and far between. Have you any on Hetar?” she answered him. “In my youth, some twelve hundred years ago, I did mate with a handsome specimen, but then he flew off when he learned that I was the Great Dragon of Belmair. I stored the egg from that encounter in a cave on Belia. One day when I feel my time is coming to an end, I will hatch it. It is, sadly, the way of the Great Dragons of Belmair. And then I will live just long enough to raise my offspring, and pass on to it all the knowledge it will need to be the next Great Dragon.”

“You have a purpose in life, which is more than many have,” Kaliq said. “To have a purpose is important, Nidhug. And in answer to your question, nay, we have no dragons on Hetar.”

“How long do you mean to remain here?” the dragon inquired.

“A day or two more to be certain Dillon and Cinnia can manage together. After that I must leave them in your capable hands, old friend. And I shall then have to seek out Dillon’s mother, and tell her of what has transpired. Her life has been most circumspect these past few years. This is but the first of the changes that is to come into her life. Lara is not fond of change.” Kaliq chuckled.

“Why did you never tell her that you were Dillon’s sire?” the dragon asked him.

“Because she was very young, and just coming into her powers when I brought her to Shunnar. Because I knew she could fall in love with me, and it was not at that time her destiny to do so. Lara was born to accomplish several things, certain of which she has already done. But other things lie ahead for her. She yet has enemies, some of whom she is aware. Others of whom she has yet to meet. She was meant to be with Vartan, and to become a part of the Outlands, which she did. And she loved Vartan enough to want to give him a child, for as you know faerie women only give children to those they love. I don’t know why, but in a moment of weakness I implanted my seed within her. And when she was ready for a child my seed grew, and she believed it was Vartan’s son. It was better that way, Nidhug. If it had been known at the time that Kaliq of the Shadows had given a child to a faerie woman, who knows what Dillon’s life would have been like. And Lara would have remained with me and accomplished none of what she needed to do. She would not have left her child to my brothers and me.”

“Yet from all you have shared with me previously she did leave her children to follow her destiny,” the dragon said.

“Aye, she did. But the children were with the Fiacre, and always safe, living as normal mortal children live. But of course early on Dillon began sensing that he was different, and his fascination with magic was unquenchable. Lara thought his talents came from her, and decided that I must be the one to teach him. He has been with me since he was twelve, and it has been a joy,” Kaliq said, his face alight. “I will miss our daily contact, but our magic allows us to be together quickly.”

“And you believe that together he and Cinnia can solve the mystery of why our young women have been disappearing over these last hundred years?” Nidhug asked.

“Look what their simple joining created tonight,” Kaliq reminded the dragon.

Nidhug nodded. “Do you think it will happen every time they join?” she wondered.

“I frankly admit to not having an answer to that question,” Kaliq said.

“Can you give them love?” the dragon asked sentimentally. “A marriage is so much better when there is love.”

“I could give them love,” Kaliq said quietly, “but it is better if they find that love for themselves. It is there, Nidhug. My son knows how to please a woman, but he has never loved one. And your young mistress is innocent where men are concerned. Tonight they have begun their adventure. In time the love that is buried within each of them will claim them. We have but to wait and be patient.”

“My lord Kaliq,” the dragon ventured slowly, “do you know the answer to the mystery of Belmair’s missing women? I know you know far more than you are ever willing to admit. But that is the nature of your kind.”

“I do not know,” Kaliq told her. “But I believe by combining their powers my son and his bride can overcome whatever the difficulty is.”

“Is it evil?” Nidhug asked him.

“I cannot tell. It cannot, however, be good, but sometimes there are those who cause unintentional wickedness. Dillon and Cinnia will learn the truth,” the prince promised the dragon. “Belmair is theirs, and they will not allow it to be destroyed.”

The dragon nodded. “I will show you to your bedchamber now,” she said. “Then I will return to my own castle. Tomorrow will be a long one, and the dukes will need all the reassurances I can give them that what has transpired is the right thing.” She arose and led Kaliq from her privy chamber to another room where a silent servant awaited to help the prince prepare for sleep. “I bid you good-night, my lord,” the dragon said, and then she was gone.

Kaliq allowed the servant to bring him water to wash. He ordered a tub for the morning, and requested that he be awakened at sunrise. The servant bowed himself from the chamber, and Kaliq was alone. The last few hours had been amazing. He wondered if he might gain entry to the Dream Plain from Belmair. If he could find Lara, then perhaps they might speak and he could tell her what he had done. But then he decided against it. He owed Lara the courtesy of telling her face-to-face. The prince slept.

In the morning after he had bathed and eaten, he asked the servant assigned to him to take him to the young king. He found his son busy studying a map of Belmair in a light-filled library. “Good morning,” he called to Dillon.

“Good morning, my lord,” Dillon replied. “I am looking over this new world you have given me to see if there is something wrong somewhere that will give me a starting point to solving the mystery, but it all seems ordinary.”

“Where is Cinnia?” Kaliq asked.

“Preparing herself to meet the dukes later,” Dillon said.

“Should you not be doing the same?” Kaliq said. “You must honor these men, my son, for you can be certain they were not expecting the king they have been given. You will need to exercise a great deal of diplomacy with them. The people we know as Hetarians were exiled because they wanted to make changes in tradition here, but they were also sent away because they were willing to fight over it. The Belmairans think themselves above that kind of thing.”

“Their need to hold to their traditions and not change is similar of the people of Hetar,” Dillon noted. “Everything changes, my lord. Nothing remains the same.”

“Nay, it doesn’t,” Kaliq agreed, “and that is precisely where the problem lies here. For over a hundred years the Belmairans have had a problem, but because the problem did not jibe with their traditions, they ignored it. Now it could be too late.”

“You cannot know if it is too late until we learn what is causing this problem,” Dillon said in logical tones.

Kaliq chuckled. “Precisely, my son,” he replied. “Now go and dress yourself properly so you may greet your guests with honor.”

“I have no clothing but what I was wearing yesterday when we came,” Dillon said.

“You will find your possessions in the king’s bedchamber. Come, and I will show you,” Kaliq said. “Do you know how to return to the royal apartments?”

Dillon grinned. “I do,” he said, and then he proceeded to lead his father to them.

There he found the carved and painted wooden wardrobe filled with beautiful garments. The robes and tunics were decorated with embroidery, bejeweled and ornamented with gold and silver. There were trousers and capes. The fabrics were rich. Silks, soft wools, cottons. Many of the garments were white, for that was the color the princes wore most, and Dillon was considered one of them because of his father. In a painted chest with drawers the young king found accessories of all kinds, and a large box filled with magnificent jewelry. The wardrobe also contained shoes and boots of fine leather in several colors.

Dillon examined it all, and then turning to his father, said with a wry smile, “You have provided me with a fine dower portion, my lord Kaliq.”

The prince chuckled. “You are a king now, Dillon. It is fitting you present yourself like one.” He clapped his hands, and a servant hurried in to bow before them. “Help His Majesty to prepare himself for his guests,” Kaliq told the man. Then he turned to his son again. “I will await you in your day chamber,” he said.

When Dillon appeared almost an hour later, he was garbed in flowing white trousers and a long white tunic that was bejeweled and decorated with pure gold threads upon the wide cuffs of his sleeves and six-inch-wide border at the tunic’s bottom. The tunic’s neckline was a round one. There was a heavy gold chain about his neck, and on eight of his fingers he wore a ring, each with a different colored stone. Diamond. Ruby. Sapphire. Emerald. Amethyst. Topaz. Peridot. And a great black pearl on the middle finger of his left hand. On his feet were red leather slippers decorated with gold.

“Will I honor the dukes, my lord?” he asked Kaliq.

“You will,” the prince said, nodding, satisfied, and for the first time realizing what a truly handsome man Dillon had become. Tall and slender with a body well toned by his physical activities. Slightly tanned from the desert sun that Dillon loved so well. His dark hair was cropped short and styled simply. The blue eyes that had once appeared to all as Vartan’s were now the bright blue of a Shadow Prince. “You have the natural presence of a king,” Kaliq noted. “Your mother would be proud of you.”

“Will I ever see her again?” Dillon asked, and for the first time since they had arrived in Belmair yesterday his voice sounded vulnerable. Dillon had always been very close to Lara, who loved him with a love all mothers kept only for their firstborn.

“Of course you will see her. As soon as I tell her what has happened she will want to come, and she will not be satisfied until I have brought her, nor will she be happy until I have given her the magic for reaching Belmair,” Kaliq assured the young man.

The door to the day chamber suddenly burst open, and Cinnia appeared. “The dukes are just landing now,” she told them. “We need to be in the throne room to greet them.” She looked at Dillon, surprised. “You look nice,” she said. But she never questioned where his garments had come from for it was obvious to her that magic was involved in his wardrobe. “They will be pleased after the shock has worn off. Perhaps I could look a bit more elegant.”

“Allow me,” Kaliq said, and with a wave of his hand turned her red gown into a flowing white silk one, whose bejeweled and gold decoration matched Dillon’s garments. On her small feet were identical red leather slippers. About her neck a delicate gold chain. From her ears hung ear bobs with all the same jewels found in Dillon’s rings. On her left hand was an elegant but simple red-gold betrothal ring. The prince looked at her a moment, and then with another wave of his hand Cinnia’s hair was drawn back into a mass of curls and waves dusted with gold. “That should do it,” he said.

Dillon, with foresight, conjured a full-length mirror so Cinnia might see herself.

Surprised she nodded her thanks to him, and then studied first her image, and then the image in the glass of them together. A small satisfied smile touched her lips. “We are quite magnificent,” she noted.

“Indeed, my queen, we are,” Dillon agreed. “Now come, and let us greet our guests. If we do not hurry, they will be there before we are.”

Accompanied by the great Shadow Prince the young king and queen walked quickly through the castle corridors to the small throne room. The smell of death was now gone from the chamber to be replaced by the fresh scent of honeysuckle and woodbine set into several tall-footed vases set about the little room. Dim and bleak the previous day in the presence of death, the area now glowed with bright golden light that poured through windows that yesterday had been darkened and almost invisible.

Dillon took two steps up onto the dais to stand before his throne. To his right the dragon stood silently, and to his left Kaliq of the Shadows took his place. Cinnia stepped one step up to stand before her smaller throne. From the little balcony that served as an awning above the two thrones, a flourish of trumpets sounded. The double doors to the room were flung open, and the three dukes strode into the room. Seeing the young couple in all their regal garb the trio stopped. Surprise was very evident upon their faces.

Nidhug stepped forward. “Greet your king, Dillon of the Shadows, Tullio of Beldane, Alban of Belia, and Dreng of Beltran!”

The three men bowed almost automatically, but then Dreng burst out.

“A Hetarian, Nidhug? You have chosen a Hetarian for our king? What kind of a jest is this that you tease us with, dragon?”

“There is no jest, Duke Dreng,” the dragon answered. “Tradition will not allow Belmair to be ruled by a queen in her own right. There was no man of sufficient birth here for her in Belmair. And what simple man would take the sorceress of Belmair for a wife? But tradition demanded she be wife to the next king.”

“Fflergant is dead?” Alban of Belia asked, although he knew the answer to his own question even as he asked it. Still, he had to ask.

“Aye, the old king is dead,” the dragon confirmed. “But before he died he accepted Dillon of the Shadows as Belmair’s new king, and he accepted him as husband for Cinnia. He saw them take their vows before me. Then the young king had Fflergant’s last breath as tradition demanded.”

“And the joining?” Tullio of Beldane demanded to know.

“The joining took place last night, and was witnessed by me, and by the king’s father, Prince Kaliq of the Shadows,” the dragon told the three dukes. “Now give your loyalty to King Dillon, my lords. All that has taken place in the last day is my will. The will of the Great Dragon of Belmair. Will you deny me?”

The three dukes fell to their knees together before Dillon and spoke with one voice. “We pledge our loyalty to our new king, Dillon of the Shadows. May your life be long and your reign a happy one, Your Majesty.”

“Rise up, my lord dukes, and welcome to our home,” Dillon replied. Reaching out, he drew Cinnia up to stand next to him. “Tradition dictates that only kings can rule Belmair, but Cinnia will be your queen, not simply my consort. While my word will be final, her words will be listened to and considered well, my lord dukes. This is my first act as your king. My second will be to learn what wickedness works itself in Belmair that has stolen your young women away and puts us in danger of extinction. Together my wife and I will combine our magic to correct this problem. We will work together with you, my lord dukes, and soon all will be as it should be.”

The three dukes had arisen to their feet as Dillon had spoken. His words had surprised them. They had not expected a foreigner to understand their ways, their centuries-old traditions. And they were not really convinced that he did. He was not, after all, one of them. Publicly elevating Cinnia’s opinions to importance was in and of itself suspicious. Dreng of Beltran, who was the boldest of them, finally spoke.

“Your Majesty, may we deal frankly with you without fear of reprisal?”

“You may always voice your opinions to me freely, my lords. I may not always agree with you, but I will certainly never punish any for speaking out. Are not the dukes of Belmair the king’s closest advisors? But whatever you do, do not tell me what you think I wish to hear, for none of you can even begin to imagine what I think,” Dillon responded. “Honesty does not displease me, but duplicity will.”

Dreng of Beltran looked uncomfortable. He struggled to find the right words. No matter what the king said, he did not believe Dillon could be that open-minded.

“You wish to ask me why the Great Dragon chose the son of a Shadow Prince from Hetar to be your king over your oldest grandson, Calleo, do you not?” Dillon asked.

Dreng of Beltran grew red in the face. “Majesty, I mean no disrespect,” he said.

“It is a fair question, my lord,” Dillon replied. “Calleo is a boy who has lived barely eleven years. He is not old enough to rule, and you, my lord, are not clever enough to rule for him. None of you are for that matter. The problems besetting Belmair require a fresh eye. And, too, your grandson is not old enough for a joining. By your own traditions, his kingship would not be legal without the joining. Such a choice could have caused strife among the Belmairans, and strife is the very thing Belmairans seek to avoid, is it not? I am told that you despise those you call Hetarians. But I am not a Hetarian.”

“But you come from the world of Hetar,” Duke Alban of Belia said quietly.

“I was born in the Outlands, a place reviled by Hetarians. The man I spent half my life believing was my father was the clan chief of a people known as the Fiacre. He was murdered in a plot conceived by Hetar’s rulers. He had displeased them by fighting back when they attempted to invade the Outlands. He had organized the seven tribes inhabiting the region into a single government. Under his leadership, and that of my mother, they had driven Hetar from their lands, and punished them, as well.

“My mother is a faerie woman with some small amount of mortal blood. Her name is Lara. Her parents are Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries, and John Swiftsword, now deceased, a Hetarian mercenary who earned the rank of Crusader Knight. He was of mixed mortal and faerie blood. My grandfather died in a great battle against the forces of darkness. He was called the greatest swordsman in Hetar’s history. While my mother’s early years were spent in Hetar, she left it to follow her destiny, which is not yet entirely fulfilled,” Dillon explained.

“When I was twelve,” he continued, “I was sent to Prince Kaliq to be trained in the magic arts. I have, since an early age, exhibited a strong leaning toward these arts, and my mother believed that only this Shadow Prince could train me properly. The ability for magic is a great gift, my lords, a great responsibility, and an equally great burden for those who have it. I have lived in the world of the Shadow Princes since I was twelve, and only when my fate became clear did my father reveal the truth of my parentage to me. I am of the Shadows. I am faerie. But I am not Hetarian.”

“We call the world from which you come Hetar,” Duke Alban said.

“How did you know you might send your dissenters to that which appears to be no more than a star?” Dillon queried him.

“We told them,” Kaliq said quietly. “When we saw the trouble some were causing here in Belmair we offered to share a portion of our world with them where they might be isolated. The Shadows know all that occurs in the cosmos. It is our calling.”

“So you called your rebels Hetarians after the world to which they were sent,” Dillon mused aloud. “Did you ever consider there might be other races upon that star?”

Duke Alban shook his head. “The Shadows offered us a solution to our problem, Majesty, and we accepted it,” he said. “Whatever else was involved had nothing to do with Belmair.”

Dillon nodded as if in agreement with Duke Alban. You have given me a far greater task than I first realized, my lord father, he said silently to Kaliq. I am beginning to see where the Hetarian attitude was born. He heard Kaliq chuckle so softly that only his ears might hear it.

“My lords,” Cinnia spoke. “We have prepared a feast to celebrate your coming. Will you join us? And Duke Dreng, I would ask that you allow me to send a servant to fetch your grandson, Calleo, and permit him to join us.”

“I will right gladly,” Dreng said.

“I remember being eleven,” Dillon noted. “I suspect the lad will be vastly relieved not to have to marry a sorceress this day.”

And his companions within the room laughed loudly, the dukes slapping each other on the back. Kaliq caught Nidhug’s eye, and the dragon nodded, well pleased by how the morning had gone. Despite Kaliq’s assurances, she had been concerned at how the three dukes would take the appointment of a foreigner to their throne. But it had gone well. Dillon had acquitted himself admirably before the trio of Belmair’s high aristocracy. He obviously had his father’s ability to charm. And Cinnia had behaved beautifully due in part, the dragon suspected, to her husband’s public behavior toward her. Dillon had not robbed her of her dignity.

“Thank you,” she said quietly to Kaliq.

The prince turned his beautiful bright blue eyes upon Nidhug.

“You are wise beyond all others of your race that I have known,” he told her. “I will see that my son heeds your advice, my lady dragon.” He took her hand up, and kissed the blue-green scales.

“Allow me a small indulgence,” he said to her, and then he murmured a small spell, and Nidhug’s elegant claws were suddenly sheathed in pure gold. “Ah, yes, much better,” Kaliq told her. “You have such lovely claws. They are beautifully shaped.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” the dragon cried holding out her hands to admire his handiwork. “Thank you, my dear Kaliq.” She looked into his eyes as she spoke, and suddenly in an instant Nidhug knew what it would be like to be made love to by this great lord of the Shadows. She drew in a sharp breath as heat suffused her body, which threatened to expand to her normal size. She swallowed back the flame in her throat and for a brief moment she glowed ruby-red. Fortunately no one saw what was happening, and the dragon was saved embarrassment. “Kaliq!” she scolded him, and the Shadow Prince shrugged apologetically.

Then together they entered the Great Hall of the castle where the banquet awaited.