Quest of the Dragon

"All ye attend my words and hear the will of Gnar. The Pool has spoken, Prince Jernel. Your quest has been set." High Priest's voice echoed grandly through the pillared hall of Temple Gnar. The Denorian people collectively held their breath and awaited the fate of their adored prince. It had been two decades since a quest had been proclaimed, and the entire city had crowded in for the unusual event.

"You must venture alone with only your dagger and sword to Dragonhall under Tinnar Mountain. But do not touch the treasure there or you will surely perish in the fires of Dragon's Breath." A ripple shivered through the silent gathering. "There, you will geld the formidable Dragon Flentl and return with his mighty gonads to be placed here on Gnar's Altar."

It was all I could do to keep from soiling my breechcloth. Quest, hell! My doom! The people behind me must have concurred, for gasps and moans and muttering filled Temple Gnar. I'd always had their admiration and love, and now I also had their pity. But not their protest: they feared the power of the Temple too greatly for that. I looked again into High Priest's eyes and saw smug triumph. He knew he had at last succeeded in ridding my father's kingdom of me, the threat to his power. I was trapped and had no way to escape him. No one could prove High Priest had not been visited with The Vision. If I obeyed it, I'd surely die. But to forsake the Quest of Temple Gnar was high treason, punishable by forfeiture of my life and eternal disgrace for my family. So if death was my only choice, I'd choose to die with honor and live with the gods. I'd perish in Tinnar's Dragonhall, and the ages would sing the praises of Prince Jernel forever. So be it!

And I would not let High Priest see my fear. I turned my back on him, and strode from the temple hall to the cheers of my father's people. While their cheers did not fill my heart, their tears did.

* * * * *

That night I lay for one last time in the arms of my slave. On the morrow I would head to the mountains. But that was hours away, and we both were in need of passion to cover our pain of parting. "Oh, my prince, do not forbid me to go with you. What does it matter if I die with you there or here of a broken heart?"

"For myself, I would not hesitate to have you by my side. But it is important to the people for you to be here. You will be the symbol of my promise to return, my hope of success. If you vanish, there will be knowing rumors of you being with me, of my ignoring the Quest's order for me to go alone. It will cost my family their esteem. And it would be a sign to the people of Denor that their prince does not intend to succeed. That must not be."

I held Tong tightly in my grasp, relaying the message that he must be strong. Slowly, his sobbing subsided into ragged breathing as I kissed and licked away his tears. We'd been lovers since the day my father gave him to me on my fourteenth birthday. Neither of us could imagine this separation. In all those seven years there had never been a day or night that we had been apart. And now there was no hope that we would ever be together again. The tears gave way to kisses and caresses. And suddenly we were hard against each other. We both needed to tangle in our lust, to share our love just one last time. To feel each others warmth in our conjugal bed for one last night. I abused him roughly at his request. Roughly and long.

* * * * *

The trek to Mount Tinnar was far. I had spent eight weeks on foot following trails and fording the raging spring streams. Had I been allowed to pack food, I could have made better time, not needing to hunt along the way. But it was all for the best. I had grown lean on the healthy fare, and my muscles grew ruggedly defined and strong by the toil of travel. At least I would face Flentl at my fittest. And my horniest. All those weeks without mansex had me randy and aggressive. I refrained from manhandling myself to stay that way. I'd need all the aggression I could muster.

As I trudged along, I tried to mentally review my knowledge of dragon lore. There had been a time long ago when the Dragons routinely visited and ravaged Denor. But that had been centuries ago. No one presently alive in our kingdom had ever seen a dragon. We knew of them only through stories and song. Had the years diminished the reality or enhanced it. Would Flentl live up to his reputation. Or would he be much larger and fiercer than my imagination envisioned him? Or would he even still exist?

And finally I awoke one morning to find myself in the foothills of the Clorentian Mountains. And there it stood in the distance. The tallest of them all, Tinnar. Forbidding and shrouded in clouds. Clouds? Or steam from the dragon's breath? Where would I summon the courage to continue?

Two weeks of wandering about the slopes of Tinnar had been discouraging. Obviously, I hadn't expected a sign pointing the way to the entrance of Flentl's lair, but I had expected to be skillful enough to find it in much less time. I'd located many hopeful openings among the rocky inclines, but none of them led far into the mountain. But suddenly, I knew I'd found it, even before I saw it. It was the stench that led my way. I'd have never located it by sight alone. But there it was, hidden by brush and much smaller than I had expected. Did that mean dragons were smaller than our stories? Or did they have the capacity to compress themselves and slither in? Or maybe this was not the main entrance, only an air passage for ventilation.

Once located, there was no reason to delay entering it. I took a deep breath and plunged ahead. For the first hundred feet or so I moved stealthily and confidently ahead. But soon the complete darkness stole my self-assurance. I was forced to inch along by tentative steps and feeling my way about the walls. The floor was not smooth, and I'd cringe with each stumble that caused an echo of my efforts to preceed me. How could Flentl not be aware of my approach? My fear of an abrupt drop in the tunnel kept me from blindly forging ahead to my fate.

The foulness increased dramatically as I ventured farther and farther into the bowels of the mountain. Soon it was a weapon that assaulted my every step. Suddenly I could see. A soft, golden flickering glow eased the blackness. I could see shapes, then actual objects. Soon I could move with more surety, stealth, and speed. And then I was there: Dragonhall. The myths were true. It existed. And if it did, then the dragons must as well. But I should have known that as soon as I saw the glow. It was the dragon's fiery breath that lit his realm. He lived, and I would have to face him.

I lay down and inched my face around the last bend of the rock wall. I was stunned by the sight. I had seen the treasury in my father's palace. The entire wealth of Denor was a pittance compared to this. It rolled in riotous mounds to cover the floor of this monstrous cavern. Gold, silver, jewels of all description. And it sparkled and gleamed in its hypnotic lure of riches untold. And perched atop the largest knoll was the ruler of this unfathomable hoard, the demon himself.

The glorious, splendid demon was even more breathtaking that his incomparable nest. I had never seen so beautiful, so daunting, so frightening a creature. His body was a full fifteen feet of gleaming armor. His tail slithered and curled out of sight about and under him, but had to me over thirty feet long. His neck was slender, but rippled with powerful muscles as he breathed. And the head. The magnificent head, appeared to be more bejeweled than any piece of loot from those kingdoms he had vanquished. I was bedazzled by his beauty. And "his" was definitely the right adjective. Lulling on his side as he slept, his maleness was fully exposed. And it was more than proportionate to his bulk. And so it was that I first saw the object of my Quest. They lay in a glistening pouch that stretched a full five feet from his abdomen. Whiffs of steam seemed to gently roll off them as they smoldered in their vibrancy. Even should I separate them from his body, it would be a struggle to cart them home. Each orb had to be a foot in diameter and a foot and a half long. How much would they weigh?

Suddenly, some slight shift in his breathing caught my attention. I quickly drew back from the edge of the stone, but not quickly enough for me to not see that his eyes were open and directly on me.

"Welcome to my home, Prince Jernel. I've been expecting you."

His voice was not at all what I expected. What had I expected? Had I even thought that he would be capable of speech? It was a low, deep rumble that had a pleasant resonance. But not thunderous, nor threatening. Actually, he did not sound in the least disturbed by my intrusion upon his slumber. Then it struck me: he'd been expecting me. And he'd known my name!

"Of course I know your name."

I hadn't spoken. How had he guessed my thoughts?

"No guess at all, my Prince. It appears your lore has lost the fact that dragons are not only capable of speech, but are also clairvoyant. You cannot hide your thoughts from me, so even don't struggle to try."

He knew my every thought! I was doomed!

"No such thing, my boy. Had you been doomed, you would never have reached Dragonhall. No, my Prince. We share a common threat, and we must form an alliance for either of us to survive. Come, come. Step out and show yourself. I like to see those I speak to."

Aha! A cunning trick. Lure me with gentle words into the open. There his dragon breath will barbeque me in an instant. I would not move.

"Oh, come now. I have more use for you alive than dead. You will be my salvation. And I yours. Has your lore conserved the knowledge that a dragon's word is sacrosanct? I give you my word that you will leave this place alive. There, it has been said and so it will be. Come forth, my Prince."

True, our stories did report such honor of the dragonbeasts. He obviously knew my quest, and if he wished me ill, I'd have no way to escape. Therefore, I had to trust his word. I stepped free of my rocky protection and strode forward with a confidence I did not have.

"Ahhh, yes. You are indeed a true prince in stature and bearing. Welcome, Prince Jernel, welcome to Dragonhall."

I bowed low to him, but kept my eyes upon his person.

He slowly lifted his great head and gracefully inclined it toward me. "High Priest has not been fair with you. His vile plans have sent you out of his life. But he had no idea that we would unite for his destruction."

At last I found my voice. "And why, Great Flentl, would you wish to help me quit him from my father's kingdom?" I had never before thought my voice puny and tentative.

"Because High Priest is a threat to my existence as well. He has seen my treasure in his Pool and covets it. You are but a forerunner of his plans against me. We are both pawns in his game for power and wealth."

Somehow I could not imagine Flentl being any mortal's pawn. But I did not comment. "And so, Great Beast, how do we fight him?"

He did not immediately reply, but eyed me with a thoughtful gaze. Evaluating my mettle? Who knows the inner workings of the Great Ones. "Think, Prince Jernel. What is the outcome of any quest demanded by the Temple Gnar?"

A tingling on the edge of my memory sparked some thought too illusive to yet grasp. Where was he headed with this? "There are always but two outcomes to any quest: to succeed or to fail."

"And the results of failure?"

"Exile and/or death."

"And the results of success?"

"Praise and adoration."

"And?" He let the question rise at the end as if prodding me to continue the thought."

It took a moment, but then that tingling came into focus, and I for the first time I took hope. "And the High Priest must grant the wish of the successful quester!"

"Yes. And could you not request that he be stripped of his office and imprisoned in your father's dungeons forever?"

"I, I'm not sure. It's never been done, but I don't think our kingdom has ever before had a corrupt person in that post. Yes, I think it could be so. Its outcome would rest in the which the people would back, the quester or the priest."

"And I think you command the respect of the populous, while they dislike and fear the priest. While it would be a gamble, I think the risk would weigh greatly in your favor."

Something about his face gave me the impression of a smile. But wasn't he forgetting something? "But, Great Flentl, to succeed in my quest would mean a momentous sacrifice of your part." The smile was quickly fading.

With a great sigh, he seemed to ignore the comment. "Take a good look at me, Prince. Look past your initial impression. Study me closely and tell me what you see."

Puzzled, I quickly glanced again over his commanding figure. But as I slowed my eyes, I began to observe tiny flaws in his bearing. Aging in his armor. Chinks in his defenses. I also saw that the wrinkles of tough skin, showed that the once mighty underlying muscles had withered and wasted away. He was but an aged, shopworn shell of his once mighty youth. His had acquired the beauty of an antique. A rich and lustrous patina, but not as sturdy as it once was. I was saddened that I had not known him in his day of glory.

"Now you begin to see what High Priest suspects. I am old and weary. Mankind could defeat me. It would be at a great cost with the loss of many lives. But what would High Priest care of that from his distant place of sacred protection? In the end, he would have his loot. But your people are wealthy and prosperous already. It is only his greed, not your peoples need, that would cost so many lives. Therefore, I propose an alliance to defeat him. An alliance that would allow you to return to your people with honor and allow me to remain here in peace to die the natural death of old age."

"But to return with honor, I would need to complete my quest. I would need to return with your ...." I could not bring myself to verbalize that I'd actually have to castrate him.

"Precisely. Yes, that would have to occur."

I gulped. "You'd be willing to give up your very maleness to preserve your life?"

His audible sigh rustled about the dark edges of the echoing chamber. "It has been many decades since they were of any use to me. Oh, for centuries I was vital and ravaged the fairer sex of my species. My progenies were too numerous to count. But the world and it's climates have changed. Much has changed. Including mankind's ability to vanquish my kind. I have become the last of my kind. I am the longest living creature of my species." Another suffering groan escaped him. "I have watched my mates, my challengers, my kin, and my children leave this world. I have nothing left but memories and the desire to live the rest of my days in peace. Your High Priest threatens my final plans."

"But how would the completion of my quest ensure your goal? Surely the confirmation that you are not a myth, that your hoard of splendor exists, that I have bested you. Surely these would bring a string of ne're-do-wells upon you seeking to rob you of your treasures."

"That is true but for one part of my plan. You must make a supreme sacrifice of your own that would all but ensure my being left alone. We must make a pact to promise a trade."

"Trade? What have I to trade?"

He did not reply. Only patiently waited for me to work it out. When he heard the strangled gurgling in my throat, he spoke. "Yes, if you give up your own manhood, the men of your country would not be willing to risk their personal jewels for the chance of a few bangles from Dragonhall. Your men are brave enough and valiant enough to risk live and limb in time of attack or to protect their women or freedom. But they have wealth enough to see no value in risking their manhood for my gold. By the time your kingdom again tastes the ravages of famine and poverty, I will long be dead. Then they may have my wealth with my blessings at no risk. But to protect my declining years, they must have visual proof that the stakes are too dear. I must have my Princely Eunuch return to vouchsafe my threat. The choice, dear Jernel, is yours. Return as the hero of the quest and the savior of your kingdom form the tyrannous priest. Or forfeit the quest and die on the slopes outside my mountain portal. I gave my word that you would leave here alive, but made no promise from that point."

And it was then that I remembered another of the dragon stories. It was said that a dragon could talk his way into making anything seem logical and inevitable. He again shed his dragon smile my way. He had me, and he knew it. For a split moment, his manipulations reminded me of High Priest. He knew my love of my people would indeed win the argument. He was correct. I would agree if I received his word.

"You have my pledge. I told you earlier you would survive this place, and you will. Now I promise that you will return home alive with the object of your quest in hand. I willingly will allow you to geld me. And in exchange, I will geld you. You have my word, and you may take your prize first. Stand forth and draw your sword. I place my testicles as a sacrifice for you to sever and place on your homeland's sacred altar."

He slithered down the slope of his affluence and positioned the top of his great pouch over a flat stone. "Whenever you desire."

And with his use of that final word, the emotion descended into my groin. I rasped my sword from its sheath. My response to this sound in battle was always the same: my mansword grew and hardened. The soldier's desire for blood fed my prick, and I approached the noble beast. The sound of my sword against the stone was surmounted by his roar of pain. Flames flashed at my steel, and I jumped back thinking he surely meant to fry me in spite of his promise. But then I saw his flames were aimed at his own wounds. Both his crotch and the top of the severed scrotum were seared and cauterized in one swift flash of fire. A shudder slithered along his length and a sigh of resignation escaped his steaming nostrils. "I have kept my part of the bargain."

Now it was my turn to shudder. I had been brave and aroused by my actions. As the sword struck, my seed soiled the lining of my loincloth, and I had tingled with exquisite pleasure. But now my sudden fear deflated my soldierly spear. It withered and died in my crotch. But I, too, had given my oath. I would not dishonor my family and kingdom by reneging my pledge. Slowly I disrobed and placed my sacrifice on the bloody stone. Looking into his eyes, I saw sadness, and realized he was cruel or calculating, only practical. His face reflected on pity and respect.

"Yes, had I seen any other way, I would not have demanded so much of you, a virile youth in the prime of manhood. Other than this, you would yet have many randy years of sexual bliss. I am old and mine were useless to me. You are sacrificing much more. You indeed are a stalwart hero of your people." And with that, his claw lashed out and separated me from my progeny. His flames licked my cut and sealed it in a blink. I looked down to wisps of smoke arising from my transformed crotch.

* * * * *

And so it was, that I returned to Denor a hero. High Priest, received forewarning from messengers that I was returning triumphant. The prudent man fled into the far hills of a distant kingdom. It is said that died a pitiable death in the jaws of some monstrous beast. Only his head was reportedly found. I like to think that Flentl made one last forage from his cave.

And that ancient, wise creature was correct. No right-thinking citizen of my country sought wealth and fame at the risk of sharing my fate.

As for myself, I have adapted better than I dreamed possible. On the return journey, I had despaired that Tong would reject me in my deformity. I need not have worried. We were reunited in our nuptial bed. But now our roles have reversed, and I am the receptacle of his ardor. His passion hardens for us both, and he plants his sword deep into my personal Dragonhall. His passion erupts deep inside me and, again, I feel the flames of Flentl flicker about the remains of my manhood.