Chapter 57

The war changed shape once again. The siege was broken and I was faced with a terrible reality: I could no longer fight the Heacharids from behind my walls. Ironmotte had kept us safe for so long, but now we had to go beyond it and win battles in the field. No longer would one of my soldiers count for ten, twenty, a hundred of theirs. In victory, I had thrown the door open to defeat.

Here Tagarai, my newly-minted Master of Wolves, showed his true value. He ably commanded the strange force I had raised, with our few but blooded wizards, elite corps of Black Rose knights, Zuunese regulars, dwarven engineers, and of course Belzuun-Hegal. He divided them into armies, each led by a wizard and a general, and sent them west, to face Heacharid armies and lay siege to Heacharid fortresses. Our main advantage was that the Heacharids had not fortified their eastern border, and other than their walled cities, were vulnerable.

As we ventured forth from the Arkohum Gate, we encountered the Jaggurghar nation. It took me some time to realize these were the descendants of the bandit clans I had treated with a century before. The war had forged them into a kingdom, settling on the far side of the Zuunkhor foothills on the northern reaches of the tundra. I immediately sought an alliance, binding their kingdom to ours with a marriage of one of my grandsons to a Jaggur princess. I was surprised when they chose a prince of Sarakiel's line, but the prestige of the darkling people had begun to bleed out beyond the Zuunkhor Mountains.

Shura-Hegal had taken over the workshop as the rest of the Hegalites returned to the Red Wastes. Deimara now lived there with her when they were not campaigning in the war. Their happiness warmed my heart and though I fretted that Deimara had not yet chosen a second mate of flesh and blood.

Dioscoro's household continued to expand as he fathered a veritable horde of children. Even into the Sixth Strata, the human population in the area is known for a shocking preponderance of Rhandonian green eyes. One of his children, one born with Lysethe's white hair and red eyes, had the gift and he insisted on training her. More fool was I when I assented. Diotai would be a cruel and petty tyrant in her thankfully short time.

More of my children died, leaving behind families of their own. Miloz, my first child by Maireili, had finished his great work, transforming the ghoul community beneath Tagariaganuur into a true undercity. A small ghaunt population existed, the results of intermarriage between ghoul and human and serving as a sign that the Zuunese had begun to embrace their ghoulish neighbors. Maireili brought me two wizards from them, and Lysethe and I trained them both for the war.

While our modest population was hale enough to fight a siege, it was not equal to the task of pursuing the Heacharids over the Golden Wastes. The population was already rebounding, thanks to both the increase in trade and the lack of constant death on the walls, it was not growing swiftly enough to equal even sluggish Heacharid growth.

I sought a solution, but I could not see one. Even with our new populations of dwarves and ghouls we could not compete with Heacharid fecundity. The answer flitted out of my grasp, but I did not despair for a single reason. My wives.

I have surrounded myself with brilliant women. I do not have to solve every problem, for my wives are more than capable. Every account mentions their beauty but far too few delve into the unique contours of their individual genius. Sarakiel's ravenous academic brilliance, Tanyth's clever political skill, Lysethe's devious military mind, Maireili's razor cunning, Jerrika's logistical knowledge, and Zhahllaia's vast experience and incisive reasoning, were gifts beyond price. If I could not find a solution, they could.

I began to notice they were plotting something. Conversations that ended as I entered rooms, mischievous glints in eyes, and unexplained absences was the reality of my life for almost half a year before they finally revealed their grand design. They waited for the onset of winter, for that was always when our campaigning season stopped. We retreated into our warm homes while the Heacharids pulled back inside their walled towns. Belzuun-Hegal returned to her lair in Ironmotte and my armies sheltered behind the Arkohnum Gate. I was ready for a winter of rest and recuperation, but my wives had other plans.

One night as the first snow fell in Tagariaganuur, I entered our bedchamber looking forward to warmth in bed or perhaps a bout of love. As one, my wives looked to me and their lovely faces twisted into amused smirks. The expression was a normal one on Tanyth, but sat strangely on Maireili's innocent features.

"What is it?" I asked warily.

"We have found a solution to our problem," Sarakiel said, setting aside her book.

"But it requires something of you," Tanyth said, her busy hands mending one of Lysethe's tabards. The former witchthrall sat nearby, absently kneading the Kharsoomian's dainty feet.

"What?" I asked, no less warily.

"It is something you should enjoy," Maireili teased. She was perched on the windowsill, her spyglass on her lap. Now that her fear of the sky had gone, she was endlessly fascinated with it. The glass was a gift from Kushan-Hegal.

"The old goat," said Jerrika, leaning against the wall and folding her arms. Jerrika's Abbih was good, though her Mairese accent lingered.

"Out with it," I demanded.

"A marriage," Tanyth said.

"To one of you? I would be pleased."

"Not that sort of marriage, Master Wizard," Zhahllaia said, teasing me with the old title she used so many years ago. "We will be marrying you to a queen."

"You think to add to our army with a marriage," I said.

"She has already pledged us an army and has an order of knights at her command," Sarakiel said. "Though I believe her kingdom is far more valuable for its steel."

"Why would we not wed her to Tarsus?" I asked, naming my youngest darkling son. "Or Dioscoro?"

"Tarsus is married," Tanyth said gently. "And a woman would not be to his taste."

"Oh, yes. Of course."

"And Dioscoro has not the temperament for such an alliance," Zhahllaia said.

"Then one of the grandchildren? Great-grandchildren?"

Tanyth laughed. "She would only agree to you, my love."

"Of course, the Tyrant or no one. I merely..."

"What is your objection?" Sarakiel asked.

"If I marry this woman, I will make of her an immortal. The lot of us will have to live with her for all time!"

"We have met her," Zhahllaia said. "We think she will make an excellent addition to the household."

"You have met her? When?"

"Deimara and I took us in small groups," Lysethe said.

"We had to negotiate the terms of the marriage," Tanyth said.

"All of you are united in this?" I asked.

"We are," Zhahllaia said. The others could not hide their smirks.

"There is something happening here. Something I do not see."

"You will have to trust us," Sarakiel said.

I sighed. "You know that I can never refuse that request."

"It is one of the reasons we love you," Tanyth said. "Enough teasing. Come here and get your relief."

We set out in the third week of winter and my mood was that of a man on his way to the headman's block. I trusted my Council to be in charge in my absence, which speaks to the loyalty and efficacy of my government. They were able administrators all, and I saw no daggers brandished in the dark. Strombella Stoneborn wished she could accompany us to my marriage as the idea seemed to amuse her, but she was needed in the capital.

I traveled with my family, including my wives, those children still alive and residing in Zuunkhorun along with their mates and children. It was a huge group that journeyed through the Hinterlands. I was not allowed to cast the spells that would take us through the standing stones for fear I would know where we traveled, though when we emerged after our first long day's journey, I recognized the southern coast of Chassudor. Then we were in the mountains. I suspected, and would later prove correct, that the jagged orange-hued range to be the lower part of the Infernium Peaks.

I was unfamiliar with this part of Chassudor. Of course, later I would live there for many years but at the time, I knew only tales. In the middle of the continent stretching from the coast of the Turquoise, nearly cutting Chassudor in half, the Infernium Peaks were a stark and forbidding marker. It was easy to think of them as little more than jagged teeth, like a split jawbone of a colossal creature, but they possessed a varied and labyrinthine geography. They were dotted with caves and spires, secret valleys and stark plateaus. Entire forests, invisible to those beyond the mountains, lived in perpetual shadow. Idyllic gardens existed high in the sky with plants and animals that thrived nowhere else. It was home to monsters and wonder.

Dragons were rare in the Fifth Strata. I believe them to be extinct now, though I have heard tales and hope that my friend has somehow escaped the fate of her brethren. During the waning years of this strata, their time was coming to an end. Bashamerax, who was said to lair in the peaks, had not been seen in centuries.

I would grow to love the Infernia. The craggy tips reminded me of the Red Wastes, though the wooded areas were as lush as any part of the Nachtwood. Though the chill was cruel, I found I craved it. I would spend a century exploring the Peaks and I believe I only scratched the barest surface of them. Had I not founded Stormspoint where I had, in the only place it could have been really, it's likely I would have stayed there.

Tanyth huddled miserably in her furred cloak as we emerged on our first day above the clouds. "It is freezing."

"You didn't notice when you traveled hither before?" I asked with some amusement.

"We didn't negotiate in the winter," she said through chattering teeth.

On our final day of travel, we emerged on a windswept peak somewhere in the middle of the range, clouds below us. Waiting for us, just outside of the boundary of the stones, was a column of knights in brightly-enameled armor. Their leader was a woman of stunning beauty and commanding height. She had a lovely face, with alabaster skin, dark brown hair cut short, and wide eyes of impossible deep ocean blue. She wore a tabard depicting a dragon rampant and held a shield with the same device, carried a longsword on her hip, a sculpted dragon snarling on the pommel. The dragon device was repeated on shield and banner of the knights behind her.

"Hail, Your Majesty. I am Melisant, Knight Champion of the Order of Bashamerax. Welcome to Bashamailon." The lead knight spoke Eomet with a musical accent that owed a debt both to Mondragon and the western reaches of Esmia.

"Hail, Melisant," I said, "You have me at something of a disadvantage."

"Lady Zhahllaia has informed me. I am afraid I am honor-bound to speak no more on your destination." She nodded behind me and turned, receiving my first look at the place that would eventually be my home.

Built on a great peak amongst the clouds was the castle that I would come to know as the Dragon's Roost. A narrow stair wound about the peak, leading up to the castle's gates. It was a staggering achievement, a collection of towers and spires, deceptively delicate structures that offered a commanding view for leagues when the skies were clear.

The knights formed an honor guard as they took us down the plateau. The road traced the side of the peak, finding an idyllic valley still high in the mountains and covered in recently-fallen snow. I would soon learn that Bashamailon was a network of these valleys, connected with roads that spanned peaks, busy rivers, and even caverns. The knights spoke of the kingdom's diversity. Most were human, but I spied more than one dwarf, several who appeared to have hobgoblin heritage, and even a gnome.

We passed through the town at the base of the peak, Kaibéliard, where the bulk of the knights left us in favor of their great hall. Melisant and three others handed off their horses and led us to the stair. With five wizards between us, we were able to conjure a spell to bear the lot of us to the castle above.

As we rose on a bed of cloud and sunlight, I watched Quiyahui dancing happily through the sky. She was comfortable here the way she had not been in Zuunkhorun. My own feelings echoed hers. I loved my adopted kingdom, in a way, but it had become a trap. A trap that I could see the method of escape, but still frustratingly out of reach.

We reached the castle itself and the younger grandchildren wanted another ride. Melisant led us quickly past the entry hall, to the tower of the castle set aside for us. "Her Majesty has ordered a feast tonight," Melisant said, "Where she looks forward to welcoming her bridegroom."

"I will meet her then?" I asked.

Melisant smiled. "That is how she wishes it."

My wives were positively giddy. After our journey, I thought they would want to rest, but they could not. Servants brought us baths and we washed and groomed ourselves. Sarakiel donned a gown of deep red, Tanyth wore a furred dress of iridescent white, Lysethe a tunic and trousers in reds, whites, and browns, and Maireili had been persuaded to wear a dress of midnight black. Each wore jewelry that enhanced her beauty, from Tanyth's scorpion diadem to Maireili's onyx choker.

Jerrika looked from woman to woman. "I am being outshone," she said with amusement. Her clothing melted into slime, reforming itself to a gown that clung to her curves. Since she had joined my household, her figure had somewhat thickened, though she was not yet back to her living form.

"You look lovely, Captain," Tanyth said with the attempt of a salute.

Jerrika smiled and I swear the touch of green in her complexion was a blush. Melisant, now wearing a fine tunic, waistcoat, and breeches, fetched us and we made our way down the tower, picking up more members of the family as we went. Deimara wore her black robes and Shura-Hegal had somehow been persuaded to wear a dress for the evening. Dioscoro's costume was black and red, and the two concubines who had joined him, one wore red and the other black. Faustan brought with him both of his wives and his new husband, a charming darkling fellow.

We entered the feasting hall where a long table ran the length of the room and the ceiling dripped with banners. Melisant directed us to one end, where the hearth blazed with a great fire.

Tanyth sighed happily. "I shall have to remember to thank our host."

"You'll have ample opportunity," teased Sarakiel.

We took our places and servants filled our goblets with fine Mairese wine. It had been a long time since I'd attended a feast that wasn't lubricated with watered oghul. I sipped, savoring the flavors, and finding I missed my home. Despite over a century there, Zuunkhorun was not that. If it was not now, it would never be.

As I was lost in thought, a page entered and announced the arrival of nobles. This was a modest gathering, but it seemed that some of the local aristocracy had been chosen to attend. I smiled and nodded as politely as I could but my insides roiled. Every time the page raised his small voice to say a name, a queasy fist seized my heart.

Finally, the page entered and in his high voice announced, "Her Majesty, Queen of Bashamailon."

The dread closed in. I had been fighting a war for nearly a century. I'd stood many times in an iron rain of Heacharid arrows and spears. I had been nearly overwhelmed a dozen times and been absolutely certain my days were at an end. It was nothing compared to the fear I felt in that moment, that I would see this woman and know for certain that she was unworthy of the gift of eternity.

"Allegeth ur-Udraeg!" finished the page.

I stared in disbelief as the Queen of Bashamailon entered. It was Allegeth, the woman I still in idle thoughts called my Allegeth. She wore a long and elegant purple gown, her body dripping with bright topazes. Her black hair, which I remembered hanging about her shoulders in a wild mane, had been corralled into a complex maze of braids and buns. Her skin was covered in burgundy scales, and though I could not see them, I knew of the patterns of yellow, orange, and black on her arms, legs, and her body. She watched me with vertically-slitted eyes the color of fire and as recognition bloomed over my features, she smiled, displaying her sharp teeth.

"Allegeth?" I murmured. I could not hear her over the blood in my ears, but I saw her mouth my name.

I moved to go to her, and Zhahllaia said, "You forget yourself, Master Wizard."

"It would not do to touch your bride before the wedding," said Maireili.

"Etiquette demands that you stand fast," Tanyth said with a smirk. "So I'm told. This is not Kharsoom."

"You don't underst...I know Allegeth," I said lamely.

"We know," Zhahllaia said mildly. "Why do you think we arranged the wedding?"

"I love you."

"We know. Now sit down and enjoy your engagement feast. You may speak with your bride-to-be anon."

The various nobles toasted our wedding, and out of respect for my party, spoke Eomet. Bards sang for us, and the bulk of these songs were in the local tongue. One of the few songs in Eomet was about the Redmarks, Allegeth's old adventuring party. It even mentioned the Mythseekers, though it left out that wonderful afternoon as we enjoyed one another. I could not imagine such a song would be appropriate for royal modesty.

Conversation with Allegeth was not feasible. Our eyes stayed upon one another and slowly, everyone else faded away. It was like we were at a small, intimate table, not opposite ends of a massive banquet. I could feel her warmth, smell the cinnamon scent of her body, hear the lovely contralto of her voice. I watched every forkful of food to her scaled lips, every flash of her sharp teeth, every subtle glance. Soon, that was not enough and I could feel the warm dryness of her scales and taste the cinnamon milk of her sex.

I shifted in my chair, finding myself uncomfortably hard. Her eyes met mine and I knew she was wet. Something in the way she watched me, moving her thighs. She wanted me and I needed her.

The feast lasted forever. I barely heard my wives as they spoke to one another and to those nobles seated near us. When the last course was finished and we were finally allowed by etiquette to rise and enjoy a curious Mairese port was I finally able to speak to Allegeth. I went for her, Sarakiel and Zhahllaia by my side.

"Allegeth, how..." I trailed off, gesturing to the castle all about us.

"When we met, I told you I was of the bloodline of Bashamerax," she said.

"You did not say you were the heiress to a kingdom."

"Would things have changed between us had you known I was a princess?"

"I might have called you 'my lady.' How did this wedding come about?"

"I returned here after the Redmarks disbanded. I wanted time away and it was easy to lose myself in the peace here. Zhahllaia found me and I had not realized so much time had passed."

"I remembered that she was how you learned to please me," said the djinn.

Allegeth blushed. "I am pleased you have found use for those skills."

"You've heard about Cull?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "Rose as well, and your Xeiliope and Alia."

"It is the curse of our kind to outlast our friends. Why did you not seek me out?"

"I did. I heard you went to war and that your ship was lost. I thought you were dead."

I wanted to touch her. Her cinnamon scent caressed my senses. "At the time, it seemed like my exile was forever, but against the time I have spent in Zuunkhorun, it was but a moment."

"I have missed you, Belromanazar."

I reached for her, but Sarakiel stopped me. "No," she said. "There are rules."

I sighed. Melisant approached and her hands twined with Allegeth's. They turned and kissed softly. I scolded myself for my surprise, of course she had found a paramour. Allegeth turned back to me. "Melisant is my champion."

"Lysethe holds a similar position," Zhahllaia said.

"Is everything well?" Melisant asked.

Allegeth nodded, then looked to me, mischief flashing in her fiery eyes. "Do you still duel, Belromanazar of Thunderhead?"

"I have not in many years, Allegeth ur-Udraeg."

Her fiery eyes flashed. "That is unfortunate for you, since you will duel me."

"Now?"

"Is there a better time than a late winter's night?"

I broke into a smile. "I suppose not."

The page announced the contest and she appointed a noble, Zhahllaia, and Faustan as judges.

"Do you not think I'll have an unfair advantage?" I asked.

"If your wife and son are not honorable then you are not worthy of me." She broke into a grin. "Besides, you'll need every advantage you can get."

Melisant was her second, Lysethe mine. Allegeth brought us to a tower with a wide, flat top. The night was icy, cold enough to freeze the air in my lungs. The sky was a deep black, the stars glittering coldly above. We crossed to opposite sides of the tower, and for a moment, the smooth flagstones could have been the calm water of a mountain lake.

We watched one another in silence. For a moment, I felt as though we were in that room in the inn so long ago, the first time I had seen her glorious body in the nude. I thought perhaps she would doff her dress and we would lay together in the frigid air, warmed only by the dragonfire inside her.

She began her incantations and I began mine. A sheet of smoke slithered over the flagstones at our feet as a thunderhead bloomed from my will. The smoke sparked, revealing writhing flames of red, then orange, then yellow, then finally blue. They spat smoke into the air, rising into the swelling clouds and hiding the stars.

My power was gray, the clouds pregnant with fire and noise. A bright flash inside illuminated them for heartbeats. Then the roll of thunder shook the stones in the tower. Lightning struggled against the cottony confines, fighting to be born into the crystal air. The first clawed free.

The inferno rose, the storm reached to earth. Lightning raked pyre, flame turned rain to steam. Her flames grew, ready to burn the clouds from the sky, replace them with choking smoke. My rain fell, desperate to drown the fire that inexorably grew.

I thought of our first duel, so long ago now. That had been a lesson to me, a lesson that would eventually take me to the walls of Ironmotte. I had overextended myself that first time, attacking headlong into what I foolishly assumed to be weakness. She had absorbed my rush, then overwhelmed me before I could recover. This time I feinted. I teased the edges of her defenses.

Though she was far from me, I could make out her features. A clarity in the night, the connection forged between us as we dueled. Her mouth was open, her chest heaving with breath, the fire in her eyes mirrored in what she conjured. She conducted her flames, dancing them into the clouds burning pieces away. She was the bandits outside the Arkohnum Gate, trying to provoke.

I danced with her. We skirmished at the edges, never fully thrusting into each other's teeth. We toyed with one another. At the same time, we sparked our magic to greater heights, trying to provoke without overextending. We stood poised over a precipice, constantly goading the other to fall but neither would take the bait.

My breath burned. I could not tell if the air had grown so cold it had become a fire, or if the flames of her power had entered me. Was she burning me from within? Every bead of sweat was a tiny crystal of frozen pain, focusing me. I strained against my robes, wanting nothing more than to take her right there on the flagstones.

Our duel rose to a crescendo. Tempest and inferno warred. The provocations had become full thrusts, one into the other. Then a retreat. We rocked back and forth, joined in the aerilean energies of our gift. We were above this, clouds of smoke and rain, grappling, no beginning nor end to either of us.

Her eyes opened in front of me, like twin infernos. Our duel, suddenly, ceased. The clouds turned to wisps. The fire was out. We stood in the cold, our breath heaving. I wanted to hold her, to feel the dry warmth of her scales against me.

"A draw," announced Zhahllaia. "Well fought by Their Majesties."

I took a step to Allegeth and she to me. We were both unsteady, knowing that the only thing we needed was the other. Even as we were exhausted, our eyes blazed. If I touched her, our passion would ignite and make our duel look like but a summer's squall, a mere campfire.

"My lady, it's time to return to your bedchamber," Melisant said, taking her mistress by the arm. The words punctured my dreams.

"A wise plan, my love," said Lysethe, taking mine.

The two champions escorted us away. Lysethe brought me to my chambers and there, gently, she rode me. When I finally emptied myself into the undulating form of my bride, it was Allegeth's eyes I saw.

I was not fond of horses, but they had a hardy breed in Bashamailon that I would grow to respect if never love. My first acquaintance with them was a few days after the duel, when Allegeth bade me tour the valleys at the heart of her kingdom. Melisant and Lysethe, resplendent in their armor and bearing the banners of their lord and lady followed. Quiyahui slithered through the air overhead as a third living banner attesting to the power of the future prince consort.

That day, Allegeth wore her hair down in the magnificent mane I remembered from her days of adventuring. It was black and the rays of the sun revealed fetching highlights of gray, resembling a cloud of smoke from raging inferno. The wildness of her hair was so unlike her reserved demeanor. I had to remind myself that Allegeth was in temperament like a fire. Once started, her fury knew no bounds.

I was treated to a proper tour of Kaibéliard. I would grow to know its avenues well, better than I ever learned Tagariaganuur. Bashamailon was a kingdom at peace, well protected by virtue of its remote location. One could pass within a single peak of its borders and never know it was there. Only the Dragon's Roost seemingly resting atop the clouds betrayed its presence, and that could be dismissed as a passing fancy.

"This is your capital," I said, thinking of the majesty of Tagariaganuur.

"You find it wanting," she said, reading the corner of my thoughts.

"On the contrary. Yes, it does not compare to the size of Tagariaganuur, but it feels more like home to me."

"You are from Rhandonia."

"I am from the part of Rhandonia that the rest finds provincial."

She giggled, hiding her teeth with her hand. This was a habit of hers, I suspect cultivated in her youth when her appearance might have elicited fear. Dragonbloods were not unknown, but they were rare, with only a few lines still extant upon Thür.

"Tell me of your homeland," she said.

"It is hard to think of it that way. I only lived at Thunderhead for a brief time in the span of things. Most of my life has been in Zuunkhorun."

"Then that is your home."

"No. That has become more obvious to me lately. Zuunkhorun is a beautiful place and my subjects are admirable people, but I need to leave it. For me and for them."

"You will live with me here."

"I cannot yet. I started this war. I will not hand them defeat with my absence. I owe them a victory."

"You did not believe the war would hurt this much."

"I was a fool." I grinned ruefully. "I fear I shall always be."

"Why did you start this war?"

"Whether they know it or not, the Heacharids summoned me when they invaded Axichis and crushed the amazons, wiping a beautiful people from this world. I could not stop them then."

"You can stop them now."

"I have spent many lives on that belief, including that of my son. The Heacharids are no mere empire. They are a plague. They will spread unless they are stopped. They have already tried to reach Chassudor once. I fought them on the walls of Castellandria and hurled them back. Before I started the war, they were making plans for another invasion of this continent. Instead, I have trapped them in a quagmire of my design."

"You are at peace with your decision?"

"No. I am a filler of graves. I should know no peace for what I am doing, but that does not mean I should not do it. I look forward to the day where I dig my final grave for their empire."

"Do you ever wish you hadn't started this war?"

"In times when the enormity is too great."

"Why not instead of this destruction, did you not simply slay their emperor? A single assassination would fill but one grave."

I laughed, the innocence of her tone belying her words. "There are times I forget you were a professional killer."

She smiled, baring her sharp teeth. Her hand twitched as though she resisted the urge to cover them. "Most who know me see only that."

"Most who know you aren't marrying you." I sighed. "To answer your question, I do not think such a thing would be possible. The palace is well-guarded with legions of soldiers and countless witchthralls. Even if I could reach the emperor and kill him, another would rise in his place and still have the Empire. I had to dismantle their weapon and show them the folly of their pretense. I can't assassinate one man and be done with it. I must break a civilization."

"This is a great burden."

"Perhaps. It is also a debt. The amazons cannot win their justice. The Heacharids doused their flame."

We rode in silence for a time, leaving the soft boundaries of the city, making out way to Mount Vallac, the very peak upon which the Dragon's Roost rested.

"I like your wives," Allegeth said.

"I'm pleased. They speak highly of you. Have you children?"

She shook her head. "Melisant can do many things, but that is not one of them."

I laughed. "I thought perhaps there was another..."

"I am not...It is rare that I feel such need." She paused, swallowing, and though her scales did not hold a blush, I heard it in her voice. "You provoke it in me. Melisant does as well. Rose for a time..."

"I understand. That will disappoint my wives. They look forward to bedding you."

"What?"

"My wives like to entertain one another."

Allegeth stroked the mane of her horse thoughtfully, unable to meet my gaze. "Maireili is quite fetching," she said softly.

I chuckled. "I agree."

"Did you think, when we were two adventurers, we would find ourselves rulers?" she asked, changing the subject.

"I do not see why this was a surprise for you."

She flashed her sharp teeth again and this time her hand did not twitch. I suspected she recalled how alluring I found them. "I am not the only one of Bashamerax's descendants still alive."

"You were next in line."

"There is no line. When a monarch decides their time is over or the crush of ages decides for them, it is Bashamerax who chooses the next sovereign."

"How does he do that? I admit, I am ignorant of how he lives. I had heard he sleeps, but I remember you telling me he spoke to you."

"The Great Red Father is deep in slumber. He has not left his cave in centuries and likely will not for several centuries more. He stirs briefly to meet his descendants and give his blessing before returning to his dreams."

"He also wakes when he picks a new monarch?"

"Oh no," Allegeth said, scandalized by the idea. "He slumbered through the choosing, though his preference was plain. A sleeping god may still choose."

"I see."

"We are going to him now. He must bless our union."

"How will we know if he approves?"

"It will be easy. If he does not, he will eat you."

"That leaves interpretation to a refreshing minimum."

She shrugged, her scaled lips quirking. Ahead on the road, a cavern yawned open. The entryway was sculpted, the way I had seen the Khaltóg dwarves do in Zuunkhorun. These were a different design, appropriate as these were the work of Firnóg. The reliefs resembled dancing flames.

The road leading into the cave was well-maintained with smooth cobbles and deep ruts for wagons. Even in the dead of winter, the road was kept clean. As we entered, the pedestrians stopped and knelt for their sovereign. Most were dwarves, but more than a few humans, gnomes, and hobgoblins were among them. Quiyahui lingered outside, curling over the archway.

We passed through the opening, delving into the cavern. The differentiation between the road above and below was minimal, with the lanterns belowground perpetually lit. They burned with a magical flame, a common convenience when a kingdom was ruled by a dragon's bloodline.

As we passed inside, I began to feel distinctly uneasy. The only comparison I can think of was in my early days of exile in the Axoxcan, when the jungle itself seemed to breathe. I had the sense of being in the presence of a danger my mind could only barely comprehend. I looked about in the wide, sticky shadows, but nothing lingered there.

As we moved, I felt a rumble in my chest. Something shook me in the air itself, gripping me in these tendrils of fear. Finally, it resolved itself into a sound. Now my memories took me not to the Axoxcan but to the Mixtayhua, the highlands of the Ocaital, where once I had met a colossal serpent and stared into the eye of a god.

"You feel it," Allegeth said.

"I do. That is the dragon?"

"That is my ancestor."

"Why do the horses not bolt?"

"Centuries of breeding combined with powerful enchantments. Were they to stray from the path, they would likely flee for the surface. If they didn't drop dead."

Ahead, the light grew stronger. It could no longer be the lanterns lining the subterranean road. Something else glowed redly in the darkness, hurling an infernal glow into the cavern. This brightened as we advanced, the sound that rumbled through my chest growing louder. I knew then that what I felt and heard was in fact breathing.

We emerged into a great cavern and below, I saw the source of the sound. This was the dragon Bashamerax. He was colossal in a way that I had not seen since that rainswept day in the Mixtayhua, a sense of being more present than the sun and sky and also more alive.

The light now shining in the cavern came from his great nostrils, his every breath exhaling a blast of dragonflame. Though it was bright enough to easily see, he was too vast to be touched by it, his incredible bulk consumed in shadows at the other end of the cavern.

A smithy had been erected all about his head. Smiths, mostly dwarves but all the races of Bashamailon were among them, hammered tools and weapons in the fire of the dragon. This would be Bashamailon's true gift to Zuunkhorun. When the Order of the Black Rose rode into battle wielding dragonflame broadswords, the Heacharids could not stand against them.

"This is incredible," I said. I had been thinking of the dragon as a creature, but that was a fraction of what he meant to my love's kingdom. He was a great beast and a symbol of their history and strength. He was a god to be honored. And he was a resource the same way as a fertile valley, powerful river, or vein of ore. A civilization had arisen about a god during one of his naps.

"This is what we do," Allegeth said. "You look upon my ancestor, sire of my line."

We dismounted high on the path, as even enchantments wouldn't spur a horse closer to such a leviathan. Lysethe and Melisant waited there, holding the reins of our mounts.

"Come," Allegeth said. Her hand reached to me, falling back to her side. I wanted to embrace her so badly, to feel the warmth of her scales. We had to resist that urge. It sounds strange after what we had shared, but it had to be thus.

I followed her down the winding path to meet the great creature. At the floor of the cavern, the hot breath of the dragon washed over me. Even without the flames, the heat withered me.

Quiyahui's fear bled through our link. I believe there was a sense of kinship she felt, for her mother Ocoxochi was the only being I could compare to Bashamerax. He was a creature of flame and stone; she was a creature of air and rain. The thought caught in my mind and my heart thudded even as peace radiated through my body.

I had been a mote on that day in the Mixtayhua, lashed by wind and rain, eye to eye with a god. Now I stood before one again, his breath washing over me.

As we approached, work at the smithy ceased. Well-built men and women, their muscles glistening with sweat, stepped away from anvils and knelt before their queen and her intended. I was humbled by their devotion, for Allegeth was not merely a beloved ruler, but the avatar of their god.

The dragon's head eclipsed all. His breath burned, on the edge of pain. The scent of it, of molten gold and burning coal, choked my senses. I felt his presence all around me, a sublime knowing. Somewhere, the creature knew that I stood before him. He knew more about me than I could have imagined, his impossibly powerful senses gleaning information that would be invisible to a lesser being.

"Honored ancestor," Allegeth intoned, her words echoing through the great chamber. "Your descendent begs your blessing. Is this man worthy of siring your line?"

My heart thundered like the storm. I had stood before Ocoxochi and she had judged me worthy. She had given Quiyahui to me. I had not known it then, but without her I would never have regained my gift.

The dragon stirred. The smiths retreated farther away. Allegeth and I were alone in the path of the great beast. A blast of hot air washed over me once again. This one pulled, the dragon taking my scent into his great nostrils.

The jaw worked, small chewing motions over the scent. The dragon was not awake as I would think it. He was at the surface of that sensation, touching the world with his heavy attention.

Flame licked from his nostril, this one caressing me. I stood fast, knowing that he would not consume me. I understood what he sought, and I was that. And I knew the love I felt for Allegeth somehow carried to his slumbering mind. If nothing else mattered to a god, I had to believe love would.

His breath slowed and the minute movements that had betrayed his wakefulness slowed. The smiths returned to their labors without further trepidation, so accustomed were they to the patterns of a god.

Allegeth looked to me, shivering despite the warmth. Her fiery eyes were bright and I fancied they reflected the fires of her progenitor. "You have been judged worthy."

"That is a relief."

"For both of us. Come, my love."

Our hands reached for the other unbidden, but before we could touch, we both pulled away. We would not violate this sacred rule. My heart thundered ever louder, straining to be heard by the woman who prompted its beating. We made our way up the path to our horses and mounted. She followed another road that led around the great chamber and disappeared through another section of cavern. We climbed and soon we emerged into the late afternoon sun on the other side of Mount Vallac.

Below was a cozy valley, its dense woods covered in snow. A path ran past a river, nearly completely frozen over. I glimpsed a frozen pond through a stand of trees. The pathway was scenic, leading to an expansive cabin at the far end of the valley.

"What is this place?"

"It is called the Flamewood," Allegeth said. "It was originally built as the hunting lodge for the monarch but it turned into a second home where we may retire when not needed at the castle."

"Are we alone?"

She stared at me in mock surprise. "Belromanazar! You would not think to violate our customs?"

"I wouldn't?" I coughed. Then, more firmly, "I wouldn't."

"We are staying here for the night. The cabin has its own staff, who, while discreet, will not abide such things."

"You thought to take me to a romantic cabin in the woods and we cannot be together."

"Perhaps there is a surprise in store. Perhaps not." Mischief danced in her eyes like dragonflame but I could not see her design.

The cabin could only be named such by a monarch. It was vast, constructed of wood and stone. It faced west, with wide balconies looking out over a landscape of incredible beauty. Here, a break in the peaks offered a view into the clouds below, to the trees climbing the other jagged peaks. White-plumaged falcons soared in the reddening sky, hunting for prey before they would return to their nests. Distantly, sky bells floated, their lights beginning to glow.

Quiyahui joined them in the sky, fluttering about the mountain. She stayed high in the air, swimming through the evening chill. Her contentment covered me like a soft fur.

Warmly-clad servants waited for us in front of the cabin, though whether they knew we would arrive or had merely seen our approach I was not certain. As one, they bowed. The man in the lead, a human whose wild red eyebrows spoke of some gnomish ancestor said, "Welcome Your Majesties. We have prepared a fire and a meal."

"Thank you, Fieman," Allegeth said.

The majordomo gestured, and a pair of stable hands took our reins. We dismounted and our horses were led off to the extensive stables. We followed Fieman inside. The central room was warm, thanks to a huge fire burning in a hearth that could have comfortably fit the lot of us.

This home, the hunting lodge, would become my favorite place to stay when I finally lived in Bashamailon. I enjoyed the seclusion, and after life at court for so long, I craved the simple privacy. Ironically, Tanyth and Zhahllaia would be far more involved in governing Bashamailon that I ever was, and Lysethe and Maireili both took their time as errants. But that was still in the future.

Pages assisted Lysethe and Melisant out of their armor and both women were soon clad in simple tunics and trousers. Eytelis, Lysethe's skymander, flew to the fire's side and was swiftly asleep.

We sat before an intimate table and ate the hearty meal they had prepared. Stewed mutton, subtly spiced vegetables, dried fruits and berries, and thick bread helped put warmth into our blood. They served this with the local beer that I would eventually develop a taste for.

"You have been quiet since you met my ancestor," Allegeth said.

"It is not every day one that finds one in the presence of such a creature."

"Surely, it was the first."

"May I tell you a tale?" I felt a tug on my mind, interrupting me. "Fieman? Quiyahui wishes to come in. She is in her human form, so don't be alarmed by the young woman you find at the door."

"At once, Your Majesty," said the majordomo. A moment later he returned with my familiar, who was indeed in her human form. With her blue-white flesh, she looked like she might have been frozen and though she was cold to the touch, she was hale. She knelt by my chair and I absently stroked the feathers of her head.

"Let me tell you the tale of Quiyahui and her mother."

"I have never known a wizard to have such a magnificent familiar," Allegeth said. "Zhahllaia warned me, for I asked about..."

"Oddrin. Yes. I lost him long ago. I'll tell that story too, but another time. Tonight, I'd rather share a tale of joy."

I told the tale of my journey into the highlands of the Ocaital and meeting the goddess of serpents. The words brought me back to a simpler time. I found I missed it, but I reminded myself that I would be without my remarkable wives. As dear as that memory was, my exile was not a happy time.

"Have they dragons in Uazica?" she asked.

"I never saw one, though I had never seen one in Chassudor either."

"Perhaps they are related in some way. Coatls and dragons. They certainly share traits. Perhaps they are relics of an earlier age."

"I believe you might be right."

"There is another story," she said, recognizing my knowing tone.

"Yes," I agreed, thinking of what the wandering demigoddess Ksenaëe had shown me in Storm's Rest. "It will also wait."

Allegeth rose. When she spoke, a shiver danced through her voice. "Then I believe it is time to retire. Come."

She escorted me into what I would come to know as the royal suite of rooms. I often stayed in a cozier chamber when I resided here, but Allegeth liked the most expansive of them. Fieman and the other servants had already built a fire in the hearth that warmed the central room. Three bedchambers opened beyond, one noticeably grander than the others. I made for it, my body tingling, as I could only assume that our long absence from one another was about to end in delight. I had forgotten her admonitions and simply could not envision a night that did not end with me between her scaled thighs.

"Belromanazar, where are you going?" teased Allegeth.

"To the bedchamber?"

"That is for the queen's use and we are not yet wed. Please, sit." She gestured to the collection of couches ringing the hearth. Before them, a thick bearskin rug drank the heat of the merry flames.

I chose a couch and reclined, Quiyahui kneeling on the floor beside me. Gooseflesh pebbled her skin, evidence my own arousal bleeding through the link we shared. She stroked my leg absently, her eyes upon Allegeth.

The Queen of Bashamailon sat on the couch opposite. By some unspoken order, Melisant and Lysethe moved to the bearskin rug, devouring one another with their eyes. In many ways they were similar. Both were lean, though Lysethe was harder, her muscles more defined. Their skin was pale, though Lysethe's was stark white while Melisant's was more ivory smooth. Lysethe's hair, nearly white itself, was long and straight, falling past her shoulders. Melisant's was deep brown, nearly black, and cut short. Their eyes could not be more different, Lysethe's were narrow, a bit of a slant at the corners, and of course they were blood red. Melisant's were wide and a deep shade of blue that I would swear could only be the product of magic.

Eytelis, Lysethe's skymander, responded to an unspoken order and flew to Quiyahui. She took him in her lap and stroked his white-gold skin.

"Let us begin," Allegeth said. The slits of her pupils had nearly vanished, rendering her eyes a portrait of flames. "Melisant, kiss Lysethe."

My bride sucked in a shivery breath as the knight took her in strong arms. Melisant's ruby lips found Lysethe's pale ones, her tongue pushing into Lysethe's eager mouth. The Heaven's Fire moaned, gripping the knight. The Lysethe the histories remember is the war wizard in her red plate armor, burning enemies to ash with deadly rays of sunlight. This is the Lysethe I remember, the sweetly submissive instrument of pleasure. She was a terrible enemy, but she was a gentle lover and the best of friends.

"We cannot lay together, but our champions can," Allegeth explained, her eyes darting from the passionate embrace on the rug to mine. "Go, tell Lysethe what you want her to do. What you would do if you were she and I was Melisant."

"Lysethe. Her tunic."

Lysethe's pale fingers curled under the hem of Melisant's tunic and pulled it up. The knight lifted her arms and then she was nude from the waist up. Her round breasts, capped with dark nipples, bounced into view. Lysethe's mouth went to Melisant's swanlike neck. The knight moaned with the new exploration.

"Her breasts," I said.

Obediently, Lysethe's hand went to Melisant's breasts, teasing the nipples to hardness. Her mouth ranged from Melisant's neck, back to her lips.

"I want to see you both," Allegeth said.

Melisant slipped Lysethe's tunic over her head and cast it aside. Lysethe's torso revealed, flour-white skin, defined muscles, and scars of battle. She always looked to me like a heroic sculpture, an artist in love with anatomy, working in flawless alabaster. As Melisant caressed Lysethe with her mouth, the former witchthrall's tigerish muscles coiled and uncoiled.

I thought back to the first time I had seen her, when she wore the uniform of the Heacharid witchthrall. It was at once a fierce and alluring sight, scraps of red cloth barely covering her breasts and loins, plate armor over her arms and legs, the cruel crown upon her brow. Now the crown was a slave collar, the feathered serpent cast in gold, identifying her as mine.

Melisant dropped to her knees, looking up at Lysethe with predatory affection. She unlaced the other woman's trousers, sliding them down her pale legs. Lysethe's sculpted buttocks were breathtaking, the white flesh dyed gold by the firelight. Between her legs, at the apex of her thighs, the white threads of her soft fleece cast wispy shadows.

Melisant stood and as Lysethe groped for her. The knight grinned again, unlacing her trousers and casting them away. She revealed more smooth flesh, her sex furred in a triangle of black. She was so smooth, a body unlined by age or privation, unquestionably a warrior from a kingdom at peace.

"She is a knight," I said. "Kiss her properly."

Lysethe kissed Melisant's hungry lips once more, then her mouth fell, forging a path along the ivory flesh. She teased the other woman expertly. I had spent many happy hours watching her practice her technique on my other wives and it was especially lovely to see the surprise on Melisant's beautiful face as she realized she was ensnared by a master.

Lysethe knelt before the other woman, guiding her leg up, teasing her inner thigh. Melisant's orchid was soaked, her juices shining like jewels. When Lysethe finally put her lips to Melisant's, the knight uttered a low moan as a deep shudder shook her lissome frame. It was a small bliss, a mere precursor for what the night had in store.

Lysethe did not relent. She buried her face in Melisant's sex, licking and sucking. I felt a caress. I looked down and Quiyahui guilelessly worked at my elven robes, drawing the cloth aside and revealing my turgid staff. Eytelis cast a baleful look at us as he returned to his place by the fire.

Quiyahui stroked me gently, her blue-white eyes meeting mine. She needed no permission. Through our connection she knew what I wanted. She opened her mouth and sucked me in, getting onto all fours. Perhaps it was because she was a serpent, but she was an expert. She greedily took me into her throat, her lips wrapped about the base of me. She stroked with languid swallows, a ripple that ran from the base of me to the head. She was slow, keeping my arousal at a low simmer, knowing I wanted to enjoy while I watched the wonderful show transpiring before me.

Melisant cried out, her knuckles going white as she gripped Lysethe's hair. I could not tell if she was trying to push the other woman away or draw her deeper. I don't think she knew either.

"Melisant. Use your fingers," said Allegeth. My intended bride had pulled the hem of her gown up around her waist. Writhing smoke obscured her sex, the contours of her magic doing to her what the expert sucking of my familiar did for me.

With incredible will, Melisant pulled Lysethe to her feet. She kissed the other woman messily once, both of their lips gleaming with the knight's nectar. Then roughly she spun Lysethe about and bent her over. I could not see what magic she worked with her hands, but Lysethe's eyes went wide and a choked cry was forced from her lips.

I loved to watch the joy on my Lysethe's face. Almost as alluring was the stern comportment on Melisant's. She looked as though she were getting some happy vengeance upon Lysethe, as though the bliss at the end of the former witchthrall's tongue had been a slight and only an equal subjugation would wipe away the shame.

Allegeth's breath quickened, thrusting against what appeared to be a fire burning over her sex. Her eyes flicked from the sight of our champions at their loveplay and my own. I wanted to go to her, to move her magic away, to sheath myself inside her, but that could not be. And somehow that made it better.

Lysethe moaned, shuddering against the touch. She was in a cascade of bliss, each one crashing over the next. She quaked helplessly while Melisant continued her loving assault.

"Melisant, to me," gasped Allegeth.

Without hesitation, the knight turned about, dropping to her knees. Allegeth spread her legs widely and Melisant dove between. I was treated to the sight of the knight's graceful back, the swell of her buttocks before me.

"Take your champion," begged Allegeth.

Quiyahui let go, and I was cold, but only for a moment. I hauled Lysethe over me. She shook with unshed bliss, but she found me easily. We were well familiar with one another. She took me, my sex slicked with Quiyahui's saliva, hers wet with her own arousal. We both cried out as I buried myself in her.

She leaned back, treating me to the powerful muscles on her belly, her small, prominent breasts. My eyes locked with Allegeth's. Though I was inside Lysethe and she had Melisant's face between her thighs, somehow we were together. I thrust brutally into my bride, each cruel stroke pushing a scream from her throat.

The pleasure crashed against us all. What Allegeth and I had held back, what Lysethe and Melisant had swam in, now enfolded all of us. I held on, watching Allegeth's face move into happy surprise. Then I lost my grip on my own bliss. The pleasure savagely tore itself from me. I filled Lysethe's bucking form, gripping her hips to drive deeply inside. Allegeth was musical in her bliss, lifting her hips off the couch to reach for Melisant's mouth.

Then, in the crackling firelight, we all stilled. For a moment, we were sated. Finally, Allegeth spoke. "Now, we go to our separate chambers and sleep well."

I thought she must be joking, but she took Melisant's hand and they made their unsteady way into the queen's bedchamber, shutting the door behind them. I sighed and escorted Lysethe and Quiyahui into our own bedchamber. We did not immediately sleep and I am certain Allegeth and Melisant had a second game of their own.

Ironically, Allegeth would not bear a child until some years later, but not long after we returned to Zuunkhorun Lysethe would bear Kelephas, who histories either remember as the Blue or the Cruel, depending upon one's allegiance. I believe his conception is why Allegeth was fond of the lad, as in some ways, he was her first child.

Over the following weeks wedding guests arrived. Thrandlas, the only other surviving Redmark, was first. His red beard now held the slightest touch of snow and the first crow's feet appeared at the corners of his eyes.

Velena arrived not long after in the company of our son Hadrian. Age sat heavily upon the both of them. Velena's formerly raven-black hair was mostly silver and her once voluptuous figure had gone to fat. Still, within the old woman I still could see the youthful Velena, my dear friend and frequent paramour.

"Look at you," Velena said with a smile when she arrived, taking me in her arms.

"Look at you," I said, embracing her warmly and kissing her cheek.

"I'm fat and old, Bel."

"You're still beautiful in my eyes."

"Flatterer," she said, smacking me gently. "I see how you accumulate such lovelies."

"Thank you for coming."

"We are the last ones left. I would not stay away." She smiled sadly. "I fall into the past often these days, the older I get. Living in my yesterdays. I was thinking on my journey here that we might be the last who remember Axichis at all."

"That's a tragedy." There was only one person who might still live from that time and I had no idea if she'd made it out. She had, but it would be many years before I would see her again. "Axichis was a place of beauty."

"That is why you started your war." It was not a question.

"Yes. The amazons cannot settle this vendetta but I can."

"There are times I wish we had never joined that war."

"Xeiliope asked us. We could not refuse her any more than you could have missed my wedding."

"True," she said sadly. "It destroyed the Mythseekers. It sent you into exile. And now this war."

"If we had not gone, if I had not started this war, the Heacharids would have started another. They were already preparing one."

"I wish the world could not be so."

"As do I. I was never meant to be a warlord. I want to be an explorer, an adventurer. Our time together in the Mythseekers was some of the best of my life."

"That pleases me. There was nothing like it when we four were together. Without you we were always incomplete." She brightened. "But now I get to see the last of the lovers wed. You always had a special place for Allegeth."

"That is true. I thought of her often, though we had not much time together."

"That is an amusing thought. The two ageless ones not having time."

"Time is a relative thing, Velena."

This would be the last time I saw her alive. I like to remember the smile on her face, the pride that glowed in her pale eyes. She had been my friend for some of the most important years of my life. I will always hold love in my heart for her, for Xeiliope and Alia. For all those who were part of me but have since been taken by the cruel inevitability of time.

That day, though, was one of joy. I donned my Zuunese finery with every badge of office. Tanyth stood by my side, wearing an embroidered gown. She was both the wife of the Tyrant and a Dowager Princess of Kharsoom, but the fashions of the Red Wastes would not do for Chassudor. Sarakiel stood on the other side of me in a gown of crimson in a cut quite daring for the modest librarian. Lysethe wore a fine tunic and trousers, while Maireili was resplendent in a flowing dress of black. After some cajoling, Tanyth convinced Jerrika to make her breeches, tunic, and waistcoat a little finer. She was barefoot, but that could not be helped. Jerrika could not form her shapeshifting slime into shoes, boots, or anything on her feet.

The cathedral was on the south side of the castle, overlooking the valley below. We filed in, finding it already filled. The smiling faces of my family, of my few old friends, greeted me. The nobility of Bashamailon formed the bulk of the guests. Many bore the marks of draconic ancestry, though few were as striking as the queen. Patches of scales, most often on the planes of the body, a peculiar fiery color in the eyes, sharpened canine teeth, were common sights. Only the officiating bishop, Haerzoth ur-Alraek was a full dragonblood like Allegeth, and I learned later he was her distant cousin.

As we entered the cathedral, the sunlight streamed through the stained glass ceiling. The scene above depicted in brilliant glass the great red dragon Bashamerax soaring overhead. The walls of the cathedral were the mountains, the pillars reaching to the ceiling were stylized peaks.

At the altar waited the bishop, wearing the traditional garb of the Church of Bashamerax, elaborate chainmail in burgundy, dripping with silks the color of flames. His face was scaled like Allegeth's, his eyes the same fiery color. He served as the leader of the church my entire time living in Bashamailon.

Allegeth was there as well and it was impossible for me to look anywhere else but upon her beauty. She was bare from the shoulders up, save for a long yellow train. Her gown echoed the flame motif, and the crown she wore was golden flames adorned with sparkling rubies and topazes. Her lovely face was lit with joy and expectation. I saw the need I felt for her echoed in her eyes. We would not be apart for much longer.

"Is this the one who has obtained the blessing of our father?" asked the bishop. He spoke Basha, the dialect of Fernum spoken in this land. I was at the beginnings of my lessons and only understood and was able to respond thanks to having memorized the ritual of the ceremony.

"He is," said Allegeth.

"Then let him approach."

I strode up the aisle, my brides behind. My eyes met Deimara's as I walked and she gave me an encouraging smile. I felt such a surge of love for my daughter and gratitude that she could be here with me.

I stopped before the altar where Allegeth had told me on the previous day. "I am Belromanazar of Thunderhead, Tyrant of Zuunkhorun, Lord of Eirashtar." Claiming lordship over a single city in the Red Wastes against a jewel of a kingdom like Zuunkhorun was perhaps foolish, I wanted to say it, for this was the title that would linger.

"You will join the House of Bashamerax," said the bishop. "Our father has decreed it so."

"It is my honor."

"Stand before us and be honored."

I mounted the altar and took Allegeth's hands. Her hands were warm and dry, her scales smooth. She was radiant. I had never loved her more. But then, I had never loved her less either.

Allegeth closed her eyes. I felt her will reaching for the aerilean energy that cavorted inside her. Through our connection, both the physical where I held her hands, and the far more profound link of our love. The power flared within her, given form by her will. A ring of fire blazed to life, surrounding us and only us. The flames licked inward and though the heat curled my hair, it did not harm me. It could not.

"Your Majesty," said the bishop, "you hold the life of your consort in your hands. Release him and consign him to the flames."

"I have chosen this man to continue the line of the Great Red Father," Allegeth said. Her tone was formal but cracked at the end, the emotion getting the best of her.

"Your Majesty," said the bishop, this time addressing me. "You have been chosen by the Great Red Father and his most illustrious daughter. Now you choose. Life eternal, hold fast to Her Majesty. Or oblivion, let go and be consumed in flame."

"I pledge myself to Queen Allegeth ur-Udraeg and I will continue her line of the Great Red Father."

Allegeth sighed, her lips spreading in a dazzling smile. If anything within me could have been frozen, it melted in that instant.

"Then the line is intact. Tyrant Belromanazar, Lord of Eirashtar, you are Prince Consort to Queen Allegeth, long may she reign."

Allegeth pulled me into her arms, her lips finding mine. The heat from the flames blazed on us. I kept hold of her hands, bringing them both to the small of her back as I kissed her. I slid my tongue into her mouth, and she sucked for a moment, then passed her tooth over it. She released me, smiling as I savored the bright sting and coppery flavor of my own blood. The tiny wound was our secret.

We turned to the assembly and she raised my hand up. They rose and bowed as one.

"Now we feast!" Allegeth cried and a cheer followed her.

Allegeth and I led the bridal procession to the feasting hall where we sat at a fine table while bards sang. This time I sat next to Allegeth and she often leaned over, translating the songs. I scarcely heard her over the delicious sensation of her hot breath tickling my ear.

The food was delicious, more of the hearty mountain fare. There was mutton and pheasant, venison and pork, candied turnips and spiced yams, thick soup and thicker bread. We drank first the local beer with its floral bite, followed by a sumptuous Mairese red, and finished with port.

The servants were setting out the final course, berry cakes that were said to finish the meal on a light and airy flavor, when Allegeth stood. An instant hush fell over the chamber and all eyes turned to her. "Today, Belromanazar became my consort," she said, speaking Eomet. "He has shown the House of Bashamerax respect at every turn, understanding and embracing our tradition. I wish to honor the House of Storm, as I am joining it as well. My husband has six consorts of surpassing beauty and skill and I join this illustrious sisterhood with gifts."

Servants entered, carrying a heavy chest, setting it beside the table. Allegeth went to it, addressing the assemblage.

"My husband's first consort is Zhahllaia the Enlightened, a djinn of Old Qammuz. She is known for her wise counsel and she is a master of Alishum."

The servants opened the chest, drawing a small case from it, and bringing it to the table where they set it before Zhahllaia. They opened it, revealing a full set of Alishum pieces exquisitely formed in copper and iron.

"Please accept this Alishum set as a token of my esteem," Allegeth finished.

Zhahllaia responded in Basha. I could not quite follow it, but I suspected it was a formal expression of gratitude.

Allegeth inclined her head to the djinn. Then she went on, addressing the room. "My husband's second consort is Sarakiel of Castellandria. A librarian of the Grand Library in the Great City, she is a scholar without peer. I wished to find a gift worthy of her mind, but sadly, we are a land of metalworkers. Fortunately, she is also an incomparable beauty, though far too modest to say so."

Servants drew a golden ring filigreed with the finest silver from the chest and set it upon the table. "This is for your tail," Allegeth said, "though finding its size was a challenge."

A blush rose to Sarakiel's cheeks. "Thank you, Allegeth."

Allegeth continued, praising each of my wives in turn and gifting them an item of incredible craft and deep consideration. Tanyth received a blade of straight Kharsoomian design, its pommel sculpted with a scorpion. Maireili's gift was an orrery of exceptional workmanship, showing Thür at the center, the other heavenly bodies about us. Jerrika received a compass and sextant, and the way the wight turned them over in her hands betrayed how deeply the gift spoke to her.

The most famous of the gifts given that night was the suit of armor given to Lysethe. This was the famous red-enameled plate the Heacharids claimed was impenetrable. The dragonflame steel was worked with a dog motif, the helmet even resembling the head of a snarling hound.

As each of my wives held her gift, touched by the consideration and craft, Allegeth went on. "I am grateful that the scions of the dragon will have such excellent mothers that will educate them, love them, and protect them. And I am grateful that I could be so honored to be counted among you."

A lusty cheer went up. If any of my wives had reservations about Allegeth, they had vanished. I leaned over, speaking softly in Allegeth's ear. "That was lovely. Thank you."

"I hope so. I want them to love me."

"They do, Allegeth. They would not have made this come about if they did not."

She broke into a relieved smile as we finished our meal. There was only one thing left to do that evening. We both knew it. Our magic jumped like excited puppies, perpetually reaching for the other. We existed in an aerilean haze. The scent of new rain and fresh fire bloomed over the table. When we rose from the table, another cheer came. We went, hand in hand, to the royal bedchambers.

The celebration would not cease in the castle. Every house and commons in Kaibéliard was alive with exultant citizenry. They believed their beloved queen would be conceiving an heir that night. They were wrong and it would actually take many decades before Allegeth and I managed to continue the line. I believe they were also celebrating her happiness, and in that they were entirely correct.

Allegeth and I were alone. Her sumptuous bedchamber door was closed, and she and I stood across from one another. My heart thundered in my chest. I had not wanted a woman, needed her, like this in a long time. Every part of me strained to take her.

"You may touch me now," she said shyly.

"I want to see you first."

She smiled demurely, the gown coming off by inches. Each motion exposed more of her lovely scaled flesh. "When you think of our time together, what do you think of most often? Is it our duel in that flyspeck in Esmia? That rude little inn in Witherborne? Or was it when you took me in front of your friends and mine?"

"Different times, different memories. Allegeth, you have been in my heart since that cold night in Queenswall."

"As you have in mine," she said. The gown slipped, showing her burgundy scales. The yellow and orange top of the diamond design that ran up her arms peeked into view.

"I could never forget your beauty, Allegeth." Her name vanished on the wings of an amazed breath as her gown fell to puddle upon the floor, leaving her exposed in all her glory. Her figure was an hourglass, with gently flared hips and full breasts. Scales covered her, the diamond pattern running up the outsides of her limbs. My eye went between her legs, where the fire pattern started at the apex of her thighs, haloing her sex, then rising up her belly to the space between her teardrop-shaped breasts.

Her scent reached me, the spicy cinnamon, cut with milk. When she moved, the faint rasp of her scales tickled the back of my neck. I was mesmerized, completely unable to do anything but stare at her. I had missed her for so long and now that she was here before me, I could not do anything but behold her loveliness.

"I want to see you," she said, her voice catching.

My elven robes sensed my desires and unfurled, reknitting themselves even as I cast them aside. I stood before her nude, my staff straining to be sheathed inside her. Her gaze crawled over me, widening as she found the scars that now crisscrossed my form. "Who did this to you?" she asked, her attention captured by the eye-shaped patch on my abdomen, still the single most impressive scar I carried.

I smiled ruefully. "That was Lysethe's handiwork. Nearly killed me."

"And you married her."

"I have discerning tastes."

She took a step toward me. Her cinnamon scent grew stronger, surrounding me in a delicious miasma. When she spoke, her blush was in her voice. "I often think of that time...when you bade me take you in my mouth. I cut you. You liked it."

"I am fond of some pain. Sometimes." I took a step to her. Now I could feel the fire burning within her. A faint shimmer haloed her.

"I know this," she said, taking another step. We were now inches apart, separated only by will. "I do not quite understand it."

"You have an eternity." I took her in my arms. Her scales were warm. I caressed her face, gazing into the fiery depths of her eyes.

"I love the way you look at me," she murmured, shivering.

"I cannot look at you in any other way." I kissed her, my lips sliding over the soft scales of hers. Her tongue was hot in my mouth. My hands went to her waist, resting over the curve of her hips.

She giggled into my mouth. "I can feel you poking me. I forgot what it felt like."

"That is unfortunate."

"Melisant has a...device. Axichan. She likes to wear it sometimes."

"I would like to see that," I said, my kisses falling to her neck.

"Perhaps you will," she said, pulling me to her mouth once more. "I need you, Bel. I need you inside me."

I lifted her easily into my arms, carrying her to the bed. I laid her on the wolfskins, the white gray fur outlining her burgundy form. She moved once, and I caught a flash of blue, the innerfolds of her orchid, the color of the hottest flame. The scent of cinnamon milk hit me and suddenly I needed to drink deeply.

"I love you, Allegeth. Since the moment I beheld you."

"Take me, my husband," she said.

I kissed her, finding her neck, then her breasts. I was, perhaps, too eager, but I cannot be blamed when confronted with such beauty. I loved the way her scales felt, like stones warmed in the sun, but somewhat elastic. She was a unique creation of glory and being with her was an incomparable gift.

I kissed the place between her breasts where the last of the flame pattern, then followed the flames to where they blazed. The lips of her sex were outlined in white, then yellow, the scales delicate to the touch, softer than the others. They moved out to orange, with tiny speckles of black giving the impression of smoke. Her lips glistened with the first drops of her nectar.

I pressed my lips to the place just above her slit, drinking in her incredible scent. Gently, I spread her thighs. The blue of her insides winked at me, calling me, begging for attention. It was everything in me not to immediately attack her. I explored her soft scales, conducting the aroma as it heightened.

I traced my fingers over her lips and she shivered, uttering a throaty sigh. Encouraged, I kissed her inner thigh, my tracing growing harder and harder. Her hips moved, trying to push me inside. I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers.

Her taste flooded my senses. The spice of the cinnamon tickled my nose even as the softness of the milk called to me. I ran my tongue over her, exploring the petals of her orchid. She cried out, pushing her hands into my hair, gyrating her hips into me. I did not relent. I devoured. This was the first course of my true wedding feast.

She squirmed, melting against my ministrations. Her cries lost any coherence. Her nectar flowed easily, coating my beard in a succulent residue. I brought her to her height, grinning as her body seized in a delicious rictus. She held there for the space of several heartbeats and then gave a moan, flooding me with her juices.

"Oh Bel," she begged. "I want you. I need you."

I pillowed my head upon her, punctuating my words with soft kisses on her wetness. "There is something I have wanted since that night in the inn."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Do you trust me?"

A sharp tooth worried a scaled lip. She nodded.

"Roll over, my love."

Her sweet brow furrowed but she allowed me to guide her onto her belly. I pulled her hips up, and now, her buttocks was before me. My second course. Between the burgundy globes, her scaled rosebud beckoned.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a small, breathless, and excited voice.

I kissed one scaled globe of her buttocks. Then the other. "I am going to show you how much I love you."

She lay on the bed, obscenely, gloriously supplicant. Her cheek pressed to the billow, her claws gripping the blankets, the echoes of her bliss and anticipation of a new decadent pleasure.

"Love me," she begged.

I put my lips to her opening, licking the scales. They were delicate, looking like tiny flecks of volcanic glass. I found a new taste to contrast the incredible cinnamon milk of her sex. Here, she tasted like a campfire, of embers consuming wood. I found without surprise that I craved her. I opened her like the flower she was, my tongue driving into her again and again.

"You are wicked," she moaned, pushing back against me.

I pulled away for a moment, slapping one buttock. "Would you like me to stop?"

"No, please my love. I can feel you all the way inside me. Like no one has ever been. Let me give myself to you."

I turned back to her rosebud, conducting her bliss. My hand slid between her legs, teasing the folds of her sex. Each movement was a counterpoint to the other. I thought of her as a fire. I had provided the kindling and now I was nurturing what started as embers into a mighty blaze. Soon she was past words, wanton moans as she frantically tried to get me deeper inside. I knew what she wanted, even if she did not know how to ask.

I moved away and her sad whimper was heartbreaking. I sheathed myself in oil with a simple incantation. With some amusement I noted that it had become one of my most practiced spells. There is something the histories never mention about me. My fondness for Arthan sex had given me mastery over a specific aerilean mystery.

I placed the head of my staff, now shining with oil, against the puckered opening wet with my saliva. I gripped her hips, where the diamond patterns began.

"Bel?" she whimpered, fear mingling with desire.

"I love you, Allegeth," I murmured and at the moment of her name, I pushed. Her rosebud, already loosened by my earlier attentions, opened to me, and I found myself inside her. She was vise-tight and hotter than a forge.

She wailed once, her eyes shut tight, her fists balling on the furs. She sucked in quick, shuddery breaths. I had never seen her more beautiful than I had in that moment. The word love was inadequate for what I felt for her. I wished I could give her all of existence, every wonderful sight, taste, and sensation. I worshiped her in a way that I looked forward to demonstrating every day of our eternal lives.

I took her inch by adoring inch. Each time I took more of her, each time that velvet vise enclosed about my length, another quake shook her body, another moan escaped her lips. The fire inside her roared, demanding more fuel. I could do nothing more than feed it.

I pushed the last of me inside her. She gripped me, impossibly hot about my staff. I thought perhaps the fire would boil from her and consume me. The agony was delectable, heat reaching deep claws into my most sensitive parts, pulling joy from me I did not know I could experience. I could have stayed inside her forever, luxuriating in the ecstasy of her body. My own bliss would not be denied.

She sensed it somehow. She was past any kind of reason, making noises into the furs that had no possible translation. She spasmed about me, holding, releasing, holding, releasing. The flames inside us rose. She pushed back, uttering a choked and agonized cry.

I pulled back, then pushed hard. Retreat and thrust. Again and again. I stoked the fire inside us like a bellows. I conducted those flames, demanding they rise higher, burn hotter. She moaned with every new penetration. I took her with long, aching, brutal thrusts, every time she was impaled, her body quaked anew.

She lost her grip on the furs. Her muscles were ragged. She could do nothing more than shudder and sob her pleasure. The fire spread into me as well. It ignited along my staff, pulling into my loins, consuming my body. I burned with a need I had never felt. Everything vanished about me except for what I felt inside her.

And then, the fire spilled from me. For a moment, every part of me blazed brightly, and then it was gone in a shaking pyre.

The next thing I remember was holding Allegeth about the back, the two of us cuddled on the bed. My skin was covered in sweat; her scales were perfectly dry. I found myself stroking the diamond patterns on her arms.

"Are you well, my love?"

"It hurts," she said softly, licking her lips. "Hurts...wonderfully. I have never felt so beautifully filled."

I pushed her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck. "I am pleased to hear it."

She looked over her shoulder, her fiery eyes luminous in the dark. She was silent, considering her words carefully. "I think I understand why you like pain."

I kissed her lips, caressing her cheek. "I suppose you do."

She was silent again, and I watched the thought bloom on her beautiful features. Her eyes met mine, and I saw the jest dancing there. "We will not have a child like that," she giggled.

I laughed. "We will have time in plenty for the other way."

She took my hand, toying with it. "As long as we can do it that way as well."

"I don't know when either of us will find time to rule a kingdom."