CHAPTER 11
Lyra descends the stone steps to the dragon keep, her leather riding gear squeaking with the movement. She carries her wool-lined jacket slung over one shoulder. Her head is adorned with wild, red hair, the fiery curls jostling against her slender shoulders with each step. As she reaches the bottom and enters the keep, her brilliant green eyes seek her life companion at the stables they had agreed to meet at.
"Skyhalla, I'm here, where are you?" Lyra calls as she enters the large stall. She hangs her riding coat from a hook on the wall, then turns to look in the direction of the corridor leading to the dragon's lair. She places her hands on her hips expectantly.
Just then, two bright blue spheres penetrate the darkness of the corridor. The orbs are moving up and down rhythmically as they grow closer. The torchlight of the keep finally reaches the advancing indigo eyes to reveal they are set in a creamy white dragon's head. Though the queen is as large as Bjorgon, her movements are as graceful as a swan. Skyhalla carries with her an aura of regality befitting to her status at Highland Den.
I became famished on my way here. I had to send Bjorgon to retrieve some fresh venison. I hope I haven't kept you too long.
"It must be nice to be able to gorge the way you do. I haven't been able to keep anything down all morning," Lyra recalls her queasy stomach after an attempt at breakfast.
The queen dragon sniffs her rider then finishes entering the stall. Lyra dunks a wooden bucket in a naturally occurring hot spring at the far end of the stable. She pours in a generous amount of soap sand from a tall vial from a shelf on the wall. Next, she grabs a sturdy bristled brush from a pegboard and dips it in the bucket. With two hands, Lyra starts rubbing the soapy brush on Skyhalla's pearl hide, making circular motions and then soaking the brush in the bucket again and repeating the process.
You're feeling better now, the queen observes as she watches Lyra soaping her hide.
"Yes, but I am quite hungry. I've brought some bread crusts with me I thought I would try to eat once we are in the fresh air," Lyra says thoughtfully. "Try not to breathe your meat breath on me though, your highness. I might end up having to wash you again." Lyra laughs and then dumps the remaining liquid from the bucket over Skyhalla's back. She continues the gentle scrubbing, making her way toward the tucked wing.
The dragon decides to make herself useful by gripping the pail's rope handle between her front teeth and scooping another bucket full of warm water. She sets it at Lyra's feet, careful not to exhale any of her last meal out of consideration of her rider's morning sickness, but also because Skyhalla didn't want any of Lyra's stomach contents fouling her beautiful, white hide. Dragons are rather fastidious about their cleanliness; a queen dragon even more so.
The water feels wonderful, Lyra! I could do this all day!
"Oh no! This might be enjoyable for your Worshipfulness, but my arms and shoulders are already quite sore, thank you very much." Lyra dunks the still soapy brush in the clean water. She takes a break, rolls her head to loosen her neck and stretches her shoulders.
A booming, male voice sounds from the open stable door. "Giving our queen the royal treatment, I see." Valkyr is leaning his heavy frame against the door, thick arms folded over his chest.
"I carry the same rank as Skyhalla," Lyra declares, flicking her unruly red mane off her shoulder. She holds out the scrub brush to Valkyr. "Here, your queen requests your service," she says haughtily.
Valkyr bellows his deep, infectious laugh. He takes the brush obligingly, winking a mischievous eye at Lyra. "A man's work is never done," he says teasingly.
"Oh, please!" Lyra exclaims. She steps aside as the hulking man takes to working the lather into the dragon's under-wing area. Then she adds, "If you men did half the work of us women, it would be a miracle."
"What say you, Skyhalla? Do you find that to be true for Dragonkind?" Valkyr asks raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
All serve their queen equally, whether they be male or female. As for who is more efficient, it depends upon the task.
Valkyr waits patiently for Lyra to share the telepathic message, since he is only linked to Bjorgon. Lyra decides to take her own slant on the queen's thoughts. "She is in agreement with me."
"Uh huh," comes Valkyr's skeptical response. He has worked his way to Skyhalla's hindquarters when Bjorgon decides to pop his mega-cranium into the rapidly crowding room. His glowing, emerald eyes look confusedly between the other three.
I come at a bad time?
"Well, if it isn't another big, useless oaf!" Lyra begins. She is smiling as she chides Bjorgon. "I don't think there's enough room in here for the four of us, big fella." She motions to the cramped quarters. Skyhalla's blue eyes swirl at the sight of her mate.
Look, Bjorgon! I am all shiny and clean! The queen partially extends her wings to emphasize her meaning.
"Well, Bjorgon and I are all ready for today's scout," Valkyr says as he dumps the last of the bucket on Skyhalla. "We'll let you two finish up while we wait by the hangar." He tosses the brush in the pail and hands them back to Lyra.
"Just like a man," Lyra says incredulously. "Puts in five minutes of work and thinks the job is done."
Valkyr pats his hand against Bjorgon's cheek and points in the direction of the hangar. "Come my friend, there is a hostile estrogen overload in here."
"Hmmph!" Lyra's eyes burn into the back of Valkyr's head as he and Bjorgon retreat towards the hangar. She stands there, fuming, with her fists clenched at her sides.
Could you wash my belly too? The queen rolls onto her side, patting her stomach with her front paws.
"Oh, blow it out your ass, Queenie!" Lyra hurtles the brush and bucket in the hot spring, sending a cascade of water over the dragon's face. She grabs her jacket and storms out of the stable.
She is definitely feeling better.