The Dragonriders
by Tanith Tyrr
Pleasure@netcom.com

I.

     The gems winked and gleamed in the firelight like the eyes
of a hunting cat.  She spread them out on the sable cloak with a
satisfied hand, admiring their heft and sheen.  "Not a bad
night's work, eh, Taren?"
     The slender Elf grinned and laid aside the dagger he was
sharpening.  "Since we partnered, Mage-Lady, my luck seems to
have taken a turn for the better."  He inclined his lithe, wiry
body in a graceful bow to her that was poetry in motion.  "I have
never ceased to be grateful."  
     Aleen watched him covertly, the shadows playing across his
delicate, finely featured face.  His sheer beauty struck her with
the force of a physical blow, and her breath caught in her
throat.  She wanted more than anything to bridge the distance
between them and put her hands in his bright, pale hair. 
Reflexively, her hands tightened in the soft fur.  
     "You should be grateful."  Aleen snorted, deliberately
breaking the mood.  "I knew who you were when I bribed the
Guardsmen to let you go.  Just be glad that they didn't realize
who they'd captured."  She grinned.  "They thought you were just
another thieving wharf rat.  Not surprising, when you consider
how clumsy you were about tripping those magickal wards.  They
never would have believed that you were the infamous
Quicksilver."
     Taren winced.  "Indeed, my Lady.  Indeed."  Both the Reshor
Guard and the Thieves' Guild had been hunting the elusive Elvish
thief for nearly a year.  Neither the city nor the Guilds that
controlled it took kindly to freelancers.  "I shall endeavor to
take more care in the future."  His expression was wry.
     "They won't blame this last job on Quicksilver, though." 
Aleen chuckled at the nickname that the frustrated Guardmen had
given the slender, silver-haired thief.  "Everyone knows that
Quicksilver isn't a mage, and that he can't dispel magickal
wardings or wizardlocks."  
     "Which, praise Ashara, you can."  He smiled at her, his
violet eyes warm and inviting.  "We do make an excellent team,
Mage-Lady."
     Aleen tried not to stare too obviously at him.  *Damn what
he can do to me.  If only he wasn't so beautiful....*  She sighed
quietly.  *My preferences may be unusual, but at least I have the
decency to practice them with willing partners.  And I doubt that
any Elf would want to give himself to a Human.  Especially not
me.* 
     Briefly, she entertained the fantasy of seizing him,
throwing him roughly onto the bed and tearing the close-fitting
silks from his slim, sexy body.  She'd chain him, kiss him
savagely and let him moan into her mouth as she whipped him.  The
red welts would rise on his pale skin like a stormy sky at dawn,
marking his beautiful, alien flesh as hers.  
     A low snarl rumbled in her throat, and she turned away from
him abruptly.  *I'll be dammned if I break my vows over this one. 
I take no pleasure without consent.*  A chill ran down her spine,
and she shuddered, her arousal gone.  *Or I lose my powers for
good.  Nothing's worth that.*  
     He watched her, concerned.  "Aleen?"
     "Nothing."  She shook her head forcefully, sending her dark
hair flying.  "Just a bit of chill.  Throw another log on the
fire, would you?"  She gave him a forced smile.  "I think we can
afford it, even at this innkeeper's prices."  
     For an outrageous tariff, the genial but profit-hungry
keeper of the Orc's Head tavern had agreed to house the pair
discreetly for the week or so it would take for their trail to
cool down.  Lately, he'd been adding insult to injury by charging
them a stiff additional rate for such basics as food, drink and
firewood. 
     The Elf rose with a single, fluid motion.  "If you wish, I
have a good wine to warm us."  He reached into a hidden
compartment behind the woven tapestry on the wall and produced a
narrow-necked bottle of violet wine.  
     "It matches your eyes."  Aleen commented.  Then she took a
closer look at the bottle, and whistled.  "Gods, Taren, this is
Elvish Reachfar.  Do you know what this stuff is worth?" 
     "Courtesy of Varandis Merchantlord's collection.  I didn't
think a dolt like him could do a proper job of appreciating good
Elvish wine, so I relieved him of the burden."  The wiry thief's
grin was infectious.  "Among other things."
     "I bet," Aleen remarked dryly.  "Still, you should save it
to fence with the rest of the loot.  You'll need the gold if you
have to bribe somebody to forget your face."
     He lifted the bottle to her gracefully in both hands,
offering it to her without reservation.  Aleen made the mistake
of meeting his gaze, violet and compelling; and she sucked in her
breath sharply.  Vividly, she imagined the taut bow of his back
arched under her hands, and the yielding softness of his pale
skin.  Her hands shook imperceptibly as she schooled her
expression to careful neutrality.
     "Please, Mage-Lady.  If you would enjoy it, then it would
give me pleasure to serve it to you."  He inclined his head
slightly, his silver-pale hair falling in bright waves across his
slender shoulders.  "Let me?"  
     She heard her own voice reply, uncharacteristically low and
growling.  "Serve me, then."  *Serve me the sweet wine of your
suffering, the heady wine of your pleasure as I drink it from
your deepest heart.*  She shook her head sharply, as if to clear
it of forbidden thoughts.
     His head still bowed, Taren gave her the goblet.  The cool,
curving metal was a shock to her warm palm, but not as much as
the light brush of his fingers against her own.  Aleen sat as if
frozen in place, watching the easy grace of his motions.  
     His inhuman beauty made her think of dragons.  She had
watched them once, a silver and a gold on their mating flight. 
Their iridescent wings carried them to impossible heights, far
beyond the reach of any mere mortal.  Even a sorceress, though
the sorceri had always dreamed of riding dragons.  
     Dragons were not hard to summon; magick attracted them, and
almost any apprentice could do the spell.  But no human, whether
hearthwitch or hedgewizard or learned archmage, had ever learned
how to control them.  
     "My Lady?"  The Elf's soft words interrupted her reverie. 
He lifted the bottle.  "May I serve you?"
     She nodded, never taking her eyes off of him.  The rich
purple wine tumbled down in a bright stream, unheeded.  
     When her cup was full, Taren knelt down smoothly to set the
bottle aside on a low table.  He looked up at her, reclining
gracefully on his knees.  "Is there anything else I can do for
you, my Lady?" 
     When she did not answer, his voice sharpened, grew
concerned.  "Will you share your thoughts?"
     Aleen blinked.  "I was thinking of dragons."  She took a
slow sip of the wine, savoring its richness. 
     "They're beautiful, aren't they."  The Elf smiled up at her
wistfully.  "I've never been close to one, though some of my
ancestors have."
     "So I've heard."  The sorceress raised the cup to her lips
again.  "If I had a dragon to ride...."  She let her words trail
off into silence.
     "I have wished that, too.  But I don't think it's likely to
happen to either of us."  Taren looked faintly regretful.  "I
chose a different path, and you -"  He stopped abruptly, not
wanting to offend her.
     "I'm Human."  She said it without rancor.  "Dragons won't
come to Humans.  Only Elves, and damn few of those."
     "No.  Being Human has nothing to do with it."  
     "Then what does?"
     "I can't tell you."  Taren sighed heavily.  "I wish I
could."
     "Family secret?"
     "No.  It's nothing like that.  It's just that your language
doesn't have all the right words."  He thought hard for a moment. 
"You cannot tame a dragon.  It chooses you, if you meet its
conditions."
     "And what are the conditions?"
     "Only one who is *silantra la'menn* - in complete harmony
with the Song of Life - can hear the dragons, and be heard by
them.  Only one in desperate need can ride them."  The Elf turned
to face her, his eyes shining with a peculiar emotion.  "And to
keep one - oh, Lady - to keep one, you must give away all you
have, including yourself."
     Her brow furrowed.  "Give it to whom?"
     "To the dragon.  Your heart must belong to the dragon, and
the dragon will belong to you."  
     "I don't understand."
     Taren gave her a small, sad smile.  "No, you would not. 
Without offense, you Humans possess things you do not love and
love things you do not possess.  And you rarely give yourselves
away."
     "I understand love.  And possession."  Her voice was
suddenly throaty as she toyed with the silver cup.  The sorceress
leaned forward, looking at him intently.  "Does your heart belong
to a dragon?"
     "My heart is unclaimed."  He met her gaze squarely, lifting
his head.  "For now."
     Her lips felt suddenly dry, and she ran her tongue around
them slowly.  Traces of the potent wine still lingered.  "Perhaps
I should claim it, then."  Abruptly, the sorceress set the goblet
aside and reached for him.
     His inhuman eyes were wide, utterly innocent, when she
closed her hands in his soft, pale hair.  "My Lady."  Taren
whispered softly.
     Aleen moved as if under a spell, knowing nothing but her own
fierce desire.  She forced his head back, exposing his vulnerable
throat.  He trembled with anticipation, rising up on his knees to
meet her.  She bent over him like a panther over prey.  Her lips
brushed the side of his neck.  Taren could feel the heat of her
breath on his skin, and he cried out incoherently.  
     The sound brought Aleen back to full awareness, and she
jerked back from him in panic.  *Gods, what am I doing?*  "Taren,
I'm sorry -"  Her elbow struck the half-full cup, and the wine
fell to the floor with a heavy splash.  "Shit.  Oh, shit.  I'm so
sorry.  I didn't mean that."  
     "You did me no harm, my Lady."  He almost whispered.
     Aleen felt a flush of humiliation.  As gracious as he was,
there was no way that he could have returned her desire.  "I
don't know what came over me."  She looked down, ashamed, and saw
the spreading dark pool of wine on the rug.  "I couldn't have
been that drunk."
     Taren coughed.  "Ah, not exactly."  He looked quite as
embarassed as she did, and something in his tone alerted her.  
     "Taren."  Her voice was slow and deliberate.  "You gave me
Elvish wine.  Did it perhaps have some properties you neglected
to warn me about?"
     "Something like that."  He hung his head.  While most of the
Elvish brews were harmless enough to Humans, there were a few
exceptions.  There were vintages that could drive men mad, others
that inspired suicidal courage or incredible rapture, and several
that were rumored to be potent aphrodisiacs. 
     "I trusted you."  Aleen gritted her teeth and rose from the
chair.  Her passion for him had turned inward on itself, a dull
flame that ate at her vitals.  "You bastard.  You probably
thought it would be funny to tease the monkey, didn't you?"
     "Aleen, it wasn't like that, I swear."  Taren held out his
strong, slender hands.  The sorceress ignored him and stalked
savagely to the door.  "Aleen!  Where are you going?"
     She snarled at him.  "Downstairs.  To rent a slave." 
Deliberately, she slammed the door loud enough to drown out his
final words.  
     Behind her, the Elf buried his face in his hands and wept
crimson tears.  


(Part II is available by request; and further plot developments
will become available as written.  Email TanithTyrr at
pleasure@netcom.com for your copy.  All rights are reserved;
these stories are copyrighted by Tanith Tyrr and often by Circlet
Press and other fanzines, so don't crib.  :)  More elfboy porn
will become available as uploaded; write for more information.