Micky Carre
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Dragon Riders of Etrea 2—Chapter 21
🕑 Added 2024-08-22 14:46:19 +0000 UTCHenrik just stared at her. “Dinner?”
She nodded. “Yes, and it had better be good. I’m quite hungry. I want to see what kind of meal you’ll come up with.”
“What can I use?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Whatever you can get and cook in an hour.”
Well, that meant hunting was out. He went over to his saddlebags to see what he had left. Enough hardtack for another two weeks, but that certainly wasn’t the kind of food to impress a woman. Three carrots, some of Rasud’s beans, a bit of dried meat.
It would have to work. Henrik grabbed it all and took it to her counter, then fetched his small cookpot. He filled it halfway with his water skin, then chopped up the carrots and dried meat—that didn’t cut well, it was more like grinding—and added the beans.
That would have been good enough for him, but this was a test. He rummaged through her food storage, trying to find something he recognized. His life basically revolved around fresh meat and dark beer, but fortunately his best friend was a fan of culinary arts. Henrik found some herbs and salt and tossed them in the cookpot, then went back and looked some more. Potatoes! He knew potatoes. One of those was also chopped up and added to the stew. He then set it over a small fire on her hearth.
Isobel watched him the entire time. She seemed to have a rather pleasant demeanor, at least, so far. Not like Anslie, who had practically taken his head off within thirty seconds of meeting him.
Henrik turned to look at her. She was sitting in one of the chairs with her legs crossed, one of her feet gently bobbing up and down. That small, knowing smile on her face was a clue. A big clue.
Henrik casually turned back to the counter and tried to think. He was missing something. He grabbed a small towel to clean his knife blade and it dawned on him.
“Where do you put your scraps?” he asked.
“Outside and to the left, you’ll see a compost pile,” she said, her smile growing larger.
Henrik gathered up the ends of the carrots and the potato eyes and hurried outside. About thirty feet from her door was a pile of dead leaves and various bits of other plants. He tossed his handful onto the heap.
Once back inside, he grabbed the small towel and wiped the counter clean. That was something he probably wouldn’t have bothered with in his own home—he cleaned it when it was dirty, simple as that.
That done, he finally went over and sat in the chair opposite Isobel. She continued watching him with that same insufferable calm.
“Well?” Henrik asked. “How am I doing so far?”
She finally smiled. “Relax, Henrik. I’m just asking you to make me dinner. I get tired of cooking, sometimes.”
“Is this part of the test?”
She rolled her eyes. “It can be, if you want. Look, I was just teasing you. If I really wanted to test you, you’d know it. Honestly, I’d rather just get to know you.”
Henrik relaxed a bit. “Well, okay. What do you want to know?”
Isobel shrugged. “Look, I’ve had a dragon for company for a while now. I might not be the best at this. Start from the beginning.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded.
Henrik took a deep breath. “Well, okay. I’m twenty-five years old. I think I was born down in the harbor district of Selfoss. I have no memories of my father, but I do remember being stolen from my mother at a young age and sold into slavery.”
Isobel gasped, her face horrified.
“They beat me every time I tried to escape, but I never let up. Eventually, I was able to sneak out, and ran all the way to the city. There, I found an orphanage and they took me in. And that’s where I spent the rest of my childhood.”
Isobel covered her mouth with her hands. She hadn’t expected a story like Henrik’s. “That’s horrible!”
Henrik shrugged. “It’s life. There, I met Rasud, a half-orc witchman. He and I grew up together and have been best friends since childhood. After the orphanage, we started working as thieves, stealing from all the rich bastards on the north side of town. And it was that skill with thievery that got me hired to steal the dragon egg.”
“Wait. You mean—”
Henrik nodded. “Yep, the very same one. I never really wanted to steal it, but it was either that or face the chopping block. I obviously changed my mind.”
Isobel stared at him for a moment. “I need a drink,” she said, pushing herself up. She walked across the room to the kitchen area and fetched a clay jar from a hollow in the stone wall. She turned and glanced at him over her shoulder.
“Want one?” she asked.
“I’ll never say no to a good drink,” Henrik replied.
She filled two small mugs with golden liquid, then replaced the large cork in the top of the clay jar and put it back in its place. With two mugs in hand, she walked back toward Henrik, handing him one before sitting down.
Henrik smelled it. “What is it? It smells great.”
Isobel shrugged. “It’s like wine, but made mostly from barley. I don’t have a lot of grapes here, so I work with what I can.”
Henrik took a sip. Rich, strong flavors washed over his tongue and gently warmed his throat on the way down. It was similar to beer, but much stronger.
“Oh, this is nice,” he said, trying to think of something else to say. He was never shy around women, but he wasn’t just trying to bed her. He needed to win her heart and mind as well as her body. That was new to him.
What would Rasud say? Probably something witty and flirtatious. Henrik didn’t have the witchman’s gift with words, though, so he had to think.
He reached across the small table, extending his hand to her. She glanced at his hand and Henrik just smiled.
She raised an eyebrow, but finally slipped her hand in his. Henrik gave it a gentle squeeze.
“What else do you want to know?”
“You were a thief?” she asked. He could hear the unspoken question in her tone.
“I was,” he replied. “Rasud and I stole quite a large sum of gold, silver, jewels, even paintings and rugs.”
“So, that’s how you made your living? By stealing from others?”
Henrik gave her an apologetic smile. “We stole from the wealthiest people in the city. We never touched women or children, or anyone without enough money to spare. In fact, we donate a good sum to several places around the city.”
“Such as?”
“Rasud practically supports half of the orphanages himself,” Henrik said. “I’m a bit more stingy, but in reality I’m just focused on my future.” He chuckled. “Although who knows what my future will be now.”
“How do you feel so far?” She eyed him curiously.
“Good,” Henrik said after a brief pause. “Calduin is strong-willed, but he is not able to take over my mind, though he has tried. Having the sword helps a good deal. I’ve also been able to keep my temper, although I’ve really only been tested once. But that was a serious test, and I passed.”
Isobel nodded. “That’s good. From what Cazeth has told me, now that you’re bonded things hang in a delicate balance. If you lose your temper even once, you risk everything turning to ruin.”
Henrik took a deep breath. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I have Anslie to keep me calm and happy, and now you.”
“But I’m not yours yet,” she said.
Henrik paused for a few seconds. “How about now?”
To his delight, she laughed. It was a genuine laugh that lit up her entire face and ended with a bright smile directed at him.
“Oh, it is nice to have someone to talk to,” she said. “The three of us talk, but it’s not the same.”
“What about you?” Henrik asked. “What’s your story?”
“Well, I grew up west of here, in a small town in Arendal. About two days’ ride east of Svalbard. My father was a successful farmer, so I had a rather comfortable childhood. I had four brothers. I was the only girl.”
“How old were you when Cazeth called you?” Henrik asked.
“Thirteen,” Isobel replied. “I had just turned thirteen, actually. I told my parents about Cazeth contacting me, and what it all meant.”
“How did that go over?” Henrik asked.
Isobel gave him a wry look. “They took me to the city to see one of the priests. Thought some evil forces were trying to invade my mind. The priest didn’t know much better. When they finally took me home, I just pretended to be okay. At the first chance I got, I took an old workhorse and left.”
Henrik shook his head. “That’s a long ride. Especially for a thirteen-year-old girl.”
Isobel laughed. “I brought a spear with me, thinking it would make me look fierce. Fortunately, Cazeth strengthened me, but I barely had enough money for food and water. It wasn’t an easy journey.”
“I can imagine,” Henrik said. “What was that, a full month in the saddle?”
Isobel nodded. “The horse lived out the rest of his life right here, out among the trees and plants. I’ll show you his grave sometime; I planted a tree right on top of it. Cazeth wanted to eat him but I convinced her otherwise.”
“She’s bigger than Tossyth,” Henrik said.
“That’s because she’s her mother,” Isobel said. “Annasta’s, too. She’s the oldest dragon alive today.”
Henrik whistled. “How old are they? Dragons, that is.”
Isobel shrugged. “No one knows. Older than humans, that’s for certain. Even Cazeth doesn’t know much about their origin. They were once favored by the gods, but that time has long since passed. Now, they’re all but forgotten.” She let out a sad sigh. “They just live their quiet lives in the mountains, ignoring the world until they’re needed.”
“I suppose they’re grateful for the company, then,” Henrik said.
“Definitely. Mother is very grateful for me, and I for her. I’d probably be married to some farmer and on my third child, had I stayed back home.”
“Well, now you get me,” Henrik said with a wink.
Isobel laughed. “We’ll see. For now, I’m just hungry.”
Henrik quickly crossed the room to check on his stew. It certainly smelled good. He used a towel to grab the lid and open it, then stabbed a piece of carrot with his knife. The blank sank right in. He did the same with one of the beans and found it soft as well.
“Alright, it’s ready,” Henrik said. He almost wiped his knife blade on his pants but remembered Isobel. Instead, he wiped it on the towel, then used the towel to grab the cookpot and carry it to the counter.
He looked around for bowls. Isobel pointed at a cabinet, and Henrik opened it and selected two wooden bowls. Each one got a nice serving of stew.
He brought the bowls, each with a spoon, over to the small table where Isobel sat. She patiently watched him, still with that faint smile on her face, her bright green eyes thoroughly measuring and examining him.
“Well, dig in,” Henrik said. He grabbed a spoonful himself and blew on it a few times, then tried it. It was actually quite tasty. He reminded himself to thank Rasud.
“Not bad,” Isobel said. “I’m glad there’s some variety in your stew. For a moment I was afraid you were one of those guys that eat nothing but meat and drink nothing but beer, thinking that’s a real man’s diet.”
Henrik cleared his throat. “No, of course not.” He made another mental note to ask Rasud about some recipes.
After dinner, they finished their mugs of barleywine and relaxed for a moment. Isobel got up and went outside to speak with Cazeth, while Henrik relaxed.
Sitting in a saddle for a week was never fun, so he bent over and touched his toes, twisted side to side, and other stretches. He bent over to touch his toes again, and Isobel walked back in.
“I’m not that kind of girl, Henrik,” she said.
Henrik hurriedly straightened with a laugh, then turned to face her. “I was stretching my legs. I’ve been in the saddle for nearly a week, remember.”
She raised an eyebrow at him but set nothing.
“So, what now?” Henrik grabbed his mug. “Barleywine and continue learning about each other?”
She smiled. “I can deal with that.”
She poured them another mug each, and they went back to the table. They talked until the sun went down, and it was finally time for sleep.
Henrik looked over at the bed. It wasn’t particularly large, but they would both fit as long as they got very familiar with each other.
“Don’t worry, I won’t make you sleep outside with the horse,” Isobel said, standing up and walking across the room. “Take off your clothes, though. I can already tell those are scratchy. Plus, you’ve probably been wearing them for a week straight.” She began unlacing her shirt.
Henrik blinked. Well, he didn’t need any extra motivation. He pulled at the laces on his shirt and pants, trying to undress as quickly as possible without looking like he was hurrying.
“And don’t get any ideas,” Isobel said as she grabbed her shirt and pulled it off over her head. “I keep a dagger beneath my pillow.” She undressed like she wasn’t even remotely concerned about being nude in front of Henrik.
He tried not to stare. Her body was soft curves over hard muscle. Perky breasts topped her athletic frame, complete with a flat stomach and strong thighs. And of course, the most perfectly round ass Henrik had ever seen. He felt his mouth go dry at the sight of it.
Henrik had to tear his eyes away from her magnificent ass so he could focus on undressing. His pants came off, and he took a deep breath to try to quell his erection. As long as he didn’t look at her, he should be okay, but it was halfway there already.
“Well, looks like someone’s excited,” Isobel said with a chuckle.
“A natural response to seeing such a beautiful woman,” Henrik replied with a shrug.
Isobel raised a finger. “Just make sure you don’t try to stick that thing in me. I have a dagger, remember?” She winked at him, then went to the bed.
When she got to the bed, she bent over much further than necessary and pulled the blankets back. After that, she crawled onto the bed, arching her back. Finally, she turned and flopped onto her back.
“Well, put that thing away and come lie down,” she said, patting the bed next to her.
Henrik took another deep breath and got in bed. He was a large man, and there wasn’t a lot of spare room.
“You’re so damn big,” Isobel said, lifting his arm and putting it behind her head. “That’s better.” She wiggled around so her head was resting on his burly shoulder. “At least you make a good pillow.”
“Should I rub your back or anything?” Henrik asked. “Or your feet?”
“No, but can you hand me that ribbon on the table next to the bed?”
Henrik turned to look at the table. In the dark room, he didn’t see anything.
“Oh, it’s okay. I’ll get it,” Isobel said.
She pushed herself up and leaned right over Henrik, putting her perky, round breasts right in his face. One of her soft, pink nipples actually rested on his lips for a moment.
Henrik wasn’t a godly man, but at that point he was about ready to pray to any and every god that would listen. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.
“I just needed my ribbon,” Isobel said, drawing her arm back. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put those there.”
She began gathering her hair behind her head, but muttered not so quietly about Henrik being so big again.
“If you’re going to take up the whole bed, then I’ll just sit on you,” she said as she threw a leg over him and straddled his stomach. She sat down and Henrik could feel the heat of her pussy against his skin. Isobel looked down and feigned surprise. “Did I sit on your stomach? I’m sorry, Henrik.” She held his eyes and slowly wiggled her hips side to side, sliding down his body an inch at a time.
Henrik was harder than a diamond at that moment. Isobel clearly knew that, but kept pushing herself backwards. Henrik felt the tip of his cock slide between those voluptuous ass cheeks of hers and press against her back door.
“That’s much more comfortable,” Isobel said, acting as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
She straightened up, flexing her butt cheeks while doing so. The strength of her ass muscles felt like she was putting Henrik’s cock in a chokehold. He felt sweat break out on his forehead.
“Your hip bone is digging into my leg,” Isobel muttered, looking down. She took a deep breath and let it out, then pushed herself back a bit more.
Henrik felt her muscles relax and the tip of his cock nearly entered her. He wanted to just grab onto her hips, but he refused to react. This had to be another test of hers.
She finally finished tying her hair up and sat there for a moment, her hands on her hips, the tip of Henrik’s cock nearly inside her ass. He could feel the wetness of her pussy on his lower abdomen.
“That’s much better,” she said, reaching up to tuck away a stray hair. “Do you need anything before we go to sleep?”
“I’m okay,” Henrik said, surprised at how calm his voice was.
She slowly leaned forward, placing her hands on either side of his head. “Goodnight, Henrik” she said, and stretched up to kiss him.
It was just a peck, but Henrik felt triumph in his heart. He was on his way to winning her over.
“Move your arm,” she said, and arranged herself so her head was on his shoulder.
Henrik leaned over and kissed the top of her head, then tried to get some sleep.
