Read Online A Day of Dragon Blood by Daniel Arenson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Daniel Arenson
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empty of slaves," spoke a deep, smooth voice.
Solina turned to see General Mahrdor at the doorway, clad in armor, his sword at his side. His face and bald head were tanned a deep gold, and his eyes glimmered as they stared at her. Solina realized that her gown was open too far, revealing more flesh than it hid.
"You come to make love to me," she said.
He raised his eyebrows, entered the chamber, and closed the door behind him. "I come to discuss our war. I come to report of our troops' morale. I come to ask for more armor and spears. Are you so vain that you think every man at your door comes to ravage you?"
She couldn't help it. She gave him a crooked smile. "You are not every man; the others would die if they entered this chamber." She doffed her robe and stood naked before him. "Love me. I know why you're here. Do it. Roughly. Make it hurt."
He stood staring in silence. Blood pooled at their feet. She raised her chin and stared into his eyes, refusing to blink first. Finally he stepped over the body and grabbed her. He pulled her to her bed, tossed her upon her blankets of silk and golden thread, and climbed atop her. He claimed her. He hurt her. He gave her sweet pain to shout with, and she drove her fingernails down his back, and she bit his shoulder until she tasted blood. When she tossed her head back and closed her eyes, she thought of Elethor and screamed.
When he was done, she shoved him aside, rose to her feet, and grabbed her gown of white silk. She pulled it over her body; it kissed her skin with a thousand kisses.
"Come," she said, "we will inspect the lines. Show me what you've done with my army."
She returned to the window and whistled—a long, loud sound like a bird of prey. The thud of wings sounded in the courtyard below. A growl rose into a screech. With a flash of scales, her wyvern ascended a hundred feet, from the cobblestones below to her window. The beast's wings pounded the air, bending palm trees below and billowing her curtains and hair. His scales clattered, thick plates like iron armor. His eyes blazed red, his teeth snapped, and smoke rose from his nostrils. His name was Baal, and he was the greatest of the wyverns, a forge of acid, a behemoth of wrath and muscle and bloodlust.
Solina shuddered to see him, a shudder of awe and delight. For a thousand years, the eggs had lain in the desert sands, hard and polished like obsidian. For a thousand years, the priests of Tiranor, and the kings and queens of the Phoebus Dynasty, had prayed and chanted and cast their spells... and the eggs still slept.
But I... I quickened them with the seed of flame, with the life of my lord the Sun God. Her lips pulled back in a grin, and she inhaled sharply, savoring the acrid stench of the creature. My prayers were answered; my glory flies across the desert. I am a mother of beasts. I am a goddess of wyverns.
With her foot, she nudged her dead slave halfway out the window.
"Eat," she said.
Baal tilted his head, regarded the dead woman, then thrust forward like a striking asp. He took the body into his mouth, tossed back his head, and swallowed. His neck bulged and his scales clanked as the body moved down his throat.
"Turn," Solina told him. "I will ride you."
He turned sideways, still clinging to the palace wall. Solina climbed out her window and into his saddle. She grabbed the pole that was fastened there; it bore her banner, a golden sun upon a white field. With a crooked smile, she looked over her shoulder at Mahrdor, who still stood in her chamber.
"Ride behind me," she said.
Soon they flew upon Baal over the city. Solina gazed upon the glory of her home. From up here she could see all of Irys. The Pallan halved the city, a trail of silver-blue, a giver of life in the desert. Countless ships sailed down its waters, from the distant lands of the south, to the docks of Hog's Corner, and finally into delta and sea. Along the riverbanks rose the villas of the wealthy, their gardens lush and their
Solina turned to see General Mahrdor at the doorway, clad in armor, his sword at his side. His face and bald head were tanned a deep gold, and his eyes glimmered as they stared at her. Solina realized that her gown was open too far, revealing more flesh than it hid.
"You come to make love to me," she said.
He raised his eyebrows, entered the chamber, and closed the door behind him. "I come to discuss our war. I come to report of our troops' morale. I come to ask for more armor and spears. Are you so vain that you think every man at your door comes to ravage you?"
She couldn't help it. She gave him a crooked smile. "You are not every man; the others would die if they entered this chamber." She doffed her robe and stood naked before him. "Love me. I know why you're here. Do it. Roughly. Make it hurt."
He stood staring in silence. Blood pooled at their feet. She raised her chin and stared into his eyes, refusing to blink first. Finally he stepped over the body and grabbed her. He pulled her to her bed, tossed her upon her blankets of silk and golden thread, and climbed atop her. He claimed her. He hurt her. He gave her sweet pain to shout with, and she drove her fingernails down his back, and she bit his shoulder until she tasted blood. When she tossed her head back and closed her eyes, she thought of Elethor and screamed.
When he was done, she shoved him aside, rose to her feet, and grabbed her gown of white silk. She pulled it over her body; it kissed her skin with a thousand kisses.
"Come," she said, "we will inspect the lines. Show me what you've done with my army."
She returned to the window and whistled—a long, loud sound like a bird of prey. The thud of wings sounded in the courtyard below. A growl rose into a screech. With a flash of scales, her wyvern ascended a hundred feet, from the cobblestones below to her window. The beast's wings pounded the air, bending palm trees below and billowing her curtains and hair. His scales clattered, thick plates like iron armor. His eyes blazed red, his teeth snapped, and smoke rose from his nostrils. His name was Baal, and he was the greatest of the wyverns, a forge of acid, a behemoth of wrath and muscle and bloodlust.
Solina shuddered to see him, a shudder of awe and delight. For a thousand years, the eggs had lain in the desert sands, hard and polished like obsidian. For a thousand years, the priests of Tiranor, and the kings and queens of the Phoebus Dynasty, had prayed and chanted and cast their spells... and the eggs still slept.
But I... I quickened them with the seed of flame, with the life of my lord the Sun God. Her lips pulled back in a grin, and she inhaled sharply, savoring the acrid stench of the creature. My prayers were answered; my glory flies across the desert. I am a mother of beasts. I am a goddess of wyverns.
With her foot, she nudged her dead slave halfway out the window.
"Eat," she said.
Baal tilted his head, regarded the dead woman, then thrust forward like a striking asp. He took the body into his mouth, tossed back his head, and swallowed. His neck bulged and his scales clanked as the body moved down his throat.
"Turn," Solina told him. "I will ride you."
He turned sideways, still clinging to the palace wall. Solina climbed out her window and into his saddle. She grabbed the pole that was fastened there; it bore her banner, a golden sun upon a white field. With a crooked smile, she looked over her shoulder at Mahrdor, who still stood in her chamber.
"Ride behind me," she said.
Soon they flew upon Baal over the city. Solina gazed upon the glory of her home. From up here she could see all of Irys. The Pallan halved the city, a trail of silver-blue, a giver of life in the desert. Countless ships sailed down its waters, from the distant lands of the south, to the docks of Hog's Corner, and finally into delta and sea. Along the riverbanks rose the villas of the wealthy, their gardens lush and their
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