To Chase a Dragon

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley, Droeska thinks as she stands on the precipice overlooking the still shadowed depths below.

It was early, the sun only having risen moments ago, the gentle warmth of its rays not yet reaching the valley floor.

The Valley, as it was simply called, stretched for miles, and was filled with many rivers and lakes. Her clan’s people often made forays down from the cliffs they called home to fish those waters. Now however, those trips would be fraught with even more danger.

Dragons had claimed this valley, at least two that she had seen. Brothers perhaps? Females were scarce, and often lived alone.

Males tended to be solo as well unless they were related or bonded in someway.

Droeska shields her eyes with her hand, leaning on her cane as she scans the horizon for sight of the beasts.

The first one had appeared nearly a month ago, a huge thing, deep indigo in color with veins of silver running through its membranous wings. Her heart had stilled at the sight of it, the memories of her youth crashing through her.

She has made the treacherous climb to this cliff edge each morning since, despite her families worry. “You aren’t a young dragon chaser anymore Nayna,” her youngest granddaughter would always caution, using their favourite nickname for her.

As if I don’t know that! She snorts, feeling each pain and ache in her arthritic joints.

Sighing, saddened at not having glimpsed either one, she flexes her pained hands several times and tightens her hold on her cane before turning to make the trip back down.

But before she has taken a step, a whoosh of air blows the loose strands of her silvery hair into her eyes.

Frantically brushing the hair out of her vision, Droeska spots the culprit and gasps. It's the red dragon, the one that showed up a few weeks after Indigo.

He’s enormous, a brute of a creature nearly twice the size of the other. Neither have flown this close to her perch before, even though she was sure they knew she spied on them daily.

The beast circles high above several times and Droeska gets the feeling that its eyes are studying her. A deep ache forms in her stomach, one of longing and nostalgia.

There was a time when this would have been the height of her dreams. Having been seen by a dragon and perhaps even making contact with one.

But now, in her advanced age, this slight acknowledgement would be the best she could hope for. They did not deign to consort with old women.

Another sigh escapes her as she watches the creature fold its wings and dive to the valley below; its interest in her already forgotten.

A number of large caves dot the valley walls, and she was sure one of them was now home to these two; but her eyesight was not what it used to be, so she could not pinpoint where it was with any certainty.

She starts when a slight scuffle sounds behind her, causing her already fast beating heart to beat even faster.

“Greatness, Aunya! You nearly scared me right to our Maker’s side!” she scolds her eldest granddaughter who has the respect to look appropriately chagrined.

“Sorry Nayna, I wasn’t trying to be quiet, promise!” She huffs out as she makes her way to her grandmother’s side.

Droeska pats Aunya’s shoulder, brushing back a piece of her night-black hair that has escaped the thick braid trailing down her granddaughter’s back.

Aunya was a beauty, curvy and strong, she had caught the eye of nearly every un-mated man for miles around. But she was brash, headstrong, and intelligent, a trait that most males found…unnerving in a woman.

Needless to say, she was Droeska’s favorite.

“Bah, it’s almost time for me to meet him anyways,” Droeska scoffs then chuckles at Aunya’s scowl.

“Don’t say that! You have many years left in you! Look how you still scale this path; better than most in our youth,” she says, pulling Droeska to her side for a quick hug and kiss on her head.

Aunya’s taller than average, easily a head taller than her grandmother, yet another reason for her still un-mated status.

Droeska wasn’t worried for her granddaughter though. Men weren’t the end-all be-all of this world and if Aunya truly wanted a mate, she would find one.

Besides, Droeska had a suspicion that Aunya might follow in her footsteps; now even more so since the appearance of the two males in the Valley.

“Did you see Red?” Droeska asks, her voice full of excitement.

“How could I not! It nearly blew me off the trail coming up here! He flew so close to me I swear I saw my reflection in its golden eye,” she states with a slight amount of annoyance as well as worry.

“Maker’s breath! Truly?” Droeska asks in wonder.

Dragons were dangerous of course, but usually did not go out of their way to bother humankind. Not unless angered and most people were not stupid enough to provoke them.

A territory that had been staked out by a dragon was usually left alone or abandoned by people. Only the foolhardy put up a fight.

The Chasers, as some are called, as Droeska had once been called, were those who sought the dragons out peacefully, respectfully. Hoping for a chance to be recognized.

It was told that if a dragon recognized a human – usually a male dragon to female human – a true and passionate bonding occurred.

Dragons could shift, becoming human if and when they wished. It was rumored that the first human, dragon coupling had produced Izamfelderium; a magical being that had restored life to much of the blighted plains.

The matches were rare, none having been written about since before even Droeska’s grandmother’s time.

But the unions were desirous on both sides, hence the dragon’s tolerance of any Chasers that sought them out. Not that many Chasers even got the chance to meet a dragon much less recognize one. That didn’t stop them though, it surely hadn’t stopped Droeska.

Droeska had often thought that the dragons felt the pull of recognition, only approaching those they felt drawn to. Sadly, for her, she had not been that lucky.

But amazingly, Red had seemed to take an interest in her granddaughter.

Aunya slants a look Droeska’s way, crossing her arms over her full bosom.

“I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything Nayna. Surely not what you’re thinking anyways. He probably was hungry and contemplated whether or not I would make a good snack,” she grins, trying to pinch the slightly rounded curve of her stomach.

The leather fighting corset protecting Aunya's mid-section doesn’t allow for it to be convincing, and Droeska laughs.

“Hardly my dear. I would not brush that encounter off so easily. If you truly want to walk a Chaser’s path, the Maker could not have made that path more obvious,” Droeska says sagely.

Shuffling on her feet, Aunya puts her hands on her hips, glaring down into the Valley.

“Is that what I want though? Chasing a dream that may never come true,” she whispers then quickly glances Droeska’s way, a look of apology in her eyes.

“Nayna, I didn’t mean it that way, I…” she stutters before she’s cut off by Droeska’s raised hand.

“Hush sweetling. I regret nothing. My life was my own, just as yours is. You do nothing that is not in your heart,” her eyes are earnest as she takes in her favorite grandchild.

Aunya smiles lovingly at the slightly stooped woman in front of her. “Come Nayna, lets walk back together and see if Asha has some of her delicious tea brewed,” she says and links arms with her grandmother.

“Red is going to have to wait awhile if he really is interested in me. Any male that I might be contemplating as a mate will have to learn that I don’t come at his call; especially with only a flashy show of wings, no matter how big those wings might be,” she says teasingly, making the elderly woman snort.

“No doubt my dear, no doubt,” Droeska chuckles, feeling only slightly sorry for Red if indeed he has recognized her fiery granddaughter.

****

Aunya tosses her fighting corset onto the chair in the corner of her bedroom before stretching out her sore muscles.

“I swear Trobin is half troll, Maker’s balls he hits hard!” She mumbles to herself, noticing several bruises forming along her ribs and arms.

Taking the healing ointment from her night table, she gingerly spreads the salve over each hurt, hissing slightly at the discomfort.

“You sure took a beating today, Trobin had you killed twice as many times as you did him,” a singsong voice teases before a petite woman throws herself on Aunya’s bed, making the wooden frame protest.

Aunya rolls her eyes at her best friend since childhood. “For such a small person you’re going to break that frame one day. Are you sure your bones aren’t made from stone?” Aunya teases back, chucking her discarded stockings at her friend’s head.

Oarnara easily catches the article of clothing, making a disgusted face before laughing and tossing it aside.

“Gross! Someone really should teach you better manners! Maybe you should be focusing on the womanly arts instead of pummeling your way through the menfolk around here; except for Trobin it would seem,” she giggles as Aunya feigns a scowl at her.

“Yeah, like I haven’t heard that my whole life! Sorry but cooking, sewing and appeasing men’s whims is not in the stars for me!” She says vehemently.

“Yes, yes, I know and that’s why I love you. Who else would have protected me from the boys when they made fun of my red hair in our youth,” her grin is wide as she props herself up on one elbow and fluffs her hair out, which is now a stunning deep auburn rather than the orange color from their childhood.

“At least you don’t have that problem anymore,” Aunya says, flopping down on the bed beside her friend.

“Maker’s breath, I wish teasing was all I had to fend off from boys! Now it’s mating proposals and groping hands!” Oarnara whooshes out a breath, turning over on her stomach to fiddle with a loose thread on the bed’s quilt.

“Did you know that Broson delivered several live chickens to our farmstead the other day? My mother nearly had a fit when the latch on the cage opened unexpectedly; feathers were everywhere when Duds got a whiff of them. Maker, what a commotion!” They both laugh at the scene Oarnara’s words conjure. Duds, her family’s big dopey mutt, chasing the panicked fowl.

“Oh goodness! Broson again? Hasn’t he realized yet that you aren’t interested in his advances? How thick skulled is he?” Aunya snorts through her laughter.

“I know!! He was even bold enough, after all that, to still ask me to the Season’s end festival!” Oarnara rolls her eyes before both women break out into fresh laughter.

Oarnara’s laughter fades and her eyes turn serious as she takes in her friend. “I heard that red dragon spotted you,” her voice quavers slightly as she reaches out to grab Aunya’s hand.

“You aren’t really going to consider venturing into the Valley after it are you? I know you’ve been thinking about taking the Chaser’s path, but Aun, they’re beasts, not real men at all!” Her eyes plead with her friend.

“I know how you feel about them Nara, and about the Chasers. But truly, no other path has pulled me like this one does,” Aunya says, trying to ease the other woman’s worry.

It was a conversation they’ve had in the past, neither able to change the other’s thoughts on the matter.

Oarnara was frightened of dragons, as one should be, but it was more than that. She had never enjoyed the stories or romanticized about them like many of the young women did. The thought of seeking them out on purpose shocked and worried her.

“I would hate to lose my best friend to their hungry jaws,” Oarnara whispers, squeezing Aunya’s hand.

“Hey, I’m sure I would taste foul and be promptly spat out!” Aunya jokes, pulling her friend in for a quick hug.

“Enough about that! Tell me more of your would-be suitors! I heard Jervus mention you the other day, I think he might ask you to the festival as well,” she says making Oarnara blush in excitement.

“Truly? Maker’s breath, he’s a dream!” She squeals, effectively diverted from her concerns about dragons.

Aunya listens half-heartedly to Oarnara’s gushing over Jervus’s attributes; not particularly liking the over muscled knock skull. But her friend liked his type so who was she to judge.

Instead, her mind was on the trip to the Valley she was more and more certain she was going to make; planning to conveniently leave before any of those other knock skulls worked up the courage to ask her to the upcoming festival.

****

"Remind me why we came to this dismal valley again?” Dazmino’s growl reverberates off the caves wall, his great ebony claws restlessly scraping deep gouges into the rocky floor.

Solvolium sighs at his brother’s distraught mood. His question the same each day since Sol had caught up with him here.

Daz was a fast flyer and once Sol had won his argument for relocating them to this area, Daz had captured the location’s image from his brother’s mind, taking to the skies without a backward glance.

“I told you, it’s a feeling I’ve…,” Sol starts but is cut off by the snap of Daz’s jaws.

“Yes, yes! You think your ‘recognized’ is somewhere close,” a puff of smoke exits Daz’s nostrils, a sure sign of his annoyance. A shimmer of the air warms Sol’s scales before Daz’s form shifts. His now human hands grabbing a nearby robe to cover his naked chiselled form.

Sol follows suit, donning his own robe.

“I don’t think, I know she is somewhere nearby! It’s now only a matter of if her human heart will accept the calling. She must come to me,” Sol says with no little exasperation, tired of the same argument day after day.

Daz was not fond of humans. Did not in fact pander to the beliefs that a connection between their species was beneficial despite the facts to the contrary.

Sol didn’t care what Daz thought about it anymore; not since he started to feel this pull. It was insistent; soft, yet uncomfortable at the same time. Nothing in Sol’s long life had ever piqued his interest like this had.

And today, today he had come close to his potential mate, he was sure of it! The beauty he had spied on the cliffside had held his gaze as he soared past; her deep blue eyes full of wonder, excitement, and something else. Recognition perhaps?

Like Sol had told Daz, she would have to come to him before he would know for sure. Until she accepted the pull of recognition and sought him out, he was helpless.

“You know I hate being this close to humans Sol. We may be able to take their form, but they are just so…strange,” his complaint is said with less rancor than usual, causing Sol to study his younger brother.

Shorter than Sol, Daz’s raven black hair is shot through with silver, matching his wings when in dragon form. Although not as muscled as Sol, Daz’s leaner form did not lack in strength as their bouts, both in dragon and human form, attested to.

Sol runs his fingers through his own locks, fiery red, akin to his scales.

“They will not venture near us Daz, you know this. You have nothing to fear,” he teases his brother, ducking a half-hearted slap to his head.

“I’ll just send you out there to eat the lot of them if they do. Maybe the indigestion you’ll get will convince you to return us to the mountains,” Daz grumbles before grabbing his needle and thread.

Making himself comfortable on the leathers cushioning the stone floor, he focuses on the current article of clothing he’s been stitching together. A new tunic Sol thinks.

Sol shakes his head. His brother has effectively dismissed him; he will be taken up with his sewing for awhile now, finding the act of creating something calming.

Sol didn’t mind, it kept them in fine clothing while in their human forms. As much as Daz complained about not liking humans, he sure took an interest in many of their activities.

It made Sol think Daz’s dislike of that species was because he had never interacted with one face to face. It was unusual for their kind not to have had some interaction with humans by Daz’s age, but there it was.

Anytime they had to enter a human city, Sol had usually gone alone, and Daz had never complained; only requesting books or tools from time to time.

Humans rarely knew what creature walked among them, their senses so much duller than his own.

Sol found the species fascinating. Entertaining even. So, contradictory at times as to be absurd. As a result, it wasn’t a total surprise to him that he would feel this pull of recognition to one of them.

Sol leaves Daz to his hobby, making his way to the hot springs deep within the cave they have taken up residence in.

The blackness down here is complete, but Sol’s dragon turned human eyes are easily able to make out everything.

I’ll have to transplant some star moss along here if my human mate comes to me. Sol thinks excitedly, the thought causing a rousing hum to begin deep in his center.

The thought of the dark-haired maiden on the cliffside warms him further. If it was indeed his potential mate, his quick glimpse of her had been pleasing.

Image wasn’t everything, Sol knew. There had been many human women, beautiful ones, which had brazenly beckoned to him anytime he had visited a human town or village.

Although he had, on occasion, accepted their overtures, he had often found the joining lacking. Pleasurable sure, but not fulfilling on a deeper level.

Most of the human females he had witnessed had seemed demure, too eager to please. He wondered if his mate would be that soft. He hoped not. He hoped for independence and intelligence besides beauty.

His sigh of resignation fills the cavern that opens before him, the warmth, and smell of sulfur permeating the air. The spirits have taken it out of his claws now anyways; whether she be demur or bold, he was sure they would come to appreciate each other in time.

Slipping into the depths of the warm water, Sol lets the tension of the day wash off him. He would wait now, wait until the pull of recognition informs him that she is drawing nearer, hopefully to seek him out.

****

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Aunya curses under her breath, putting her hand on her sheathed sword. She had been traveling for almost three days and was sure she was close to the dragon’s cave – a weird pull had been urging her on since she left her clan. Now, there was this!

Hiding in a small grove of densely packed trees, she eyes the three men that are investigating her recently used campsite.

Thankfully she had put the fire out early that morning, having only used it to cook the small fish she had caught. She had just finished packing up her belongings when she had heard their clumsy footfalls from a good distance away.

They were not a careful bunch, but unfortunately all three were big men, carrying big swords. She was no match for their brute strength and number. She would just have to keep to her hiding spot and hope they figured the owner of the camp had already moved on.

Making a disgusted face, Aunya turns her head away when one of them drops his trousers and starts pissing on the remains of her fire.

“You think someone else is hunting our dragon?” Piss Face asks his brethren.

“Not in their best interest if they are,” the dirtiest of the three says menacingly.

Aunya could hardly believe that these three could think they had a chance on taking down a dragon! One dragon would be near impossible even with a troupe of battle hardy men, but two dragons?

Maker’s breath, these must be the dumbest of the dumb. She was surprised they had lived to the age they were.

If she wasn’t in such danger, she would have snorted her laughter. Instead, she rolls her eyes and hopes the dragons make quick work of these idiots, preferably before she reaches wherever it is they are denning.

She was pretty sure seeing her potential mate eat another human, no matter how deserving, would put a damper on their first meeting.

A twinge in Aunya’s stomach makes her gasp, fortunately too quietly for the three dolts to hear; but unfortunately the slight pain – which had started soon after the encounter with Red – also causes her to stumble slightly, snapping a small twig under her boot.

She quickly raises her gaze to the three, hoping beyond hope that they hadn’t heard it. Three dirty faces are scanning her grove of trees. Not my lucky day, Aunya thinks gravely as she prepares to draw her sword.

She was no novice to fighting, having trained at an early age to wield a sword. But the men before her were big, and a lot stronger than her. She vowed she would not go down easily, hopefully even taking one of them with her.

She holds her breath, still hoping they won’t spot her.

“I see you lurking there!” Piss Face grunts, drawing his sword as he advances on her hiding spot.

Saying a prayer to the Maker, Aunya stands, smoothly drawing her own sword and stepping out from the shelter of the trees.

“A woman!” Dirty Face leers, licking his cracked lips as his eyes eagerly run over her. A shiver of disgust washes through her, nearly making her gag.

“Wow, I didn’t think by the smell of you three, that one of you would be so smart. It truly is shocking!” Aunya says brashly, hoping her bravado will throw them off balance.

Keeping her back close to the tree line, Aunya hopes it will help to keep them from flanking her. Currently, it doesn’t seem the men are too worried about strategy; interested instead in the fact that she has tits rather than the sword gripped easily in her hand.

The tallest of them, the one she has yet to nickname, advances several steps. His weapon held loosely, the tip nearly touching the ground. Aunya was almost offended by the lack of concern any of them showed.

“My balls have been blue for months! Looks like that’s about to change,” Blue Balls sniggers; sadly, no longer nameless.

“I will be happy to relieve you of those pesky bags swinging between your legs if you continue to advance,” Aunya says, maintaining her cocky attitude.

“Oh, ho ho! Boys, this one thinks she can swing that sword good enough to defeat the three of us!” The smile that stretches Blue Ball’s face is filled with yellow, half rotted teeth.

“Well let’s give her a bit of a workout before we take her then; I don’t like it when a woman puts up too much of a fight,” Piss Face states. The other two nod distractedly, their eyes still glued to Aunya’s bosom.

The three had continued to advance slowly, more so due to their shock that she was a woman rather than from any real fear of her prowess.

They were only a few feet away now; deciding that she needs to take advantage of their lack of concern with her abilities, Aunya makes the first move.

Moving swiftly, faster than the men expect, Aunya steps left and confidently swings her sword. Piss Face barely gets his up before Aunya expertly reverses her swing and lands a blow. The cut is deep, cutting near to the bone on Piss Face’s sword arm.

“Aaarrrg!” Piss Face bellows, his sword crashing harmlessly to the ground.

Sucking in breath, Aunya hops away, bringing her sword back up in front of her.

The other two are no longer smiling; callously stepping around Piss Face - who is sitting on the ground, his hand clutching his arm in an attempt to stop the gush of blood – they raise their swords.

“Looks like this pussy has claws. Let’s de-claw her quick, I’m getting tired of this,” Blue Balls grunts.

Aunya braces herself. She has practiced her skills since a young age; many times managing to best some of the bigger men. But she has never fought to kill, not truly. Now, she would be fighting for her life; no more practicing.

Calming her breathing and positioning her body into a familiar fighting stance, her mind clears. Saying a quick prayer to the Maker, she hopes her family and friends will remember how much she loved them.

Blue Balls advances like a bull, no real technique in his move other than to use his greater bulk to overwhelm her.

Dirty Face flanks her, also moving quickly, but keeping back a bit from Blue Balls. Aunya lifts her sword, knowing the hit from Blue Balls will likely numb her arm.

She braces herself, the moment slowing down to a crawl; but instead of metal striking metal, Blue Balls stops, his eyes going wide and his mouth hanging open.

Aunya watches in numb silence as a tip of a sword emerges from Blue Ball’s chest. That’s not my sword, she thinks dazedly even as Blue Balls falls dead at her feet.

Aunya’s eyes are wide as she stares into the now vacant eyes of the man on the ground, his blood soaking into the dirt. Her gaze raises slowly, traveling up a pair of thick muscled legs clad in dark leather.

Those legs are already moving, interrupting her perusal of her rescuer. She watches dumbfounded as the most handsome of men, rounds on her other two attackers.

He’s glorious, she thinks, her focus only on the man easily blocking Dirty Face’s clumsy moves.

Her rescuer is big, his hair as red as the setting sun and with muscles that strain the leather they’re bound in.

Aunya grimaces when she hears a wet squelch and Dirty Face’s head goes flying, landing with a thud a few feet away.

True to his name, Piss Face wets himself as the giant advances on him. Ignoring the man’s pleading, he quickly dispatches the wretch.

Aunya is breathing heavily, her stomach in knots as the man turns her way. Weirdly she’s not afraid as he advances on her, his sword dripping blood.

His eyes are yellow, she notices with wonder, at once knowing who…no what, was in front of her.

“Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” he asks worriedly. His voice is like warmed honey and Aunya’s insides instantly turn molten.

“Well, at least you didn’t eat them,” she snorts, letting out a hysterical snicker at his confused stare.

End…for now.