The Black Collar: Chapter Four

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Chapter Four

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Alvaranox wandered the wasteland. For hours, he had trekked across the place on foot. His wings were too weak to carry him. So he walked across blasted, broken earth. His paws ached from the blistering heat and the many cracked, rugged pebbles and stones upon which he stepped. The scorched red hue of the parched ground stretched on endlessly. The color of it burnt his eyes. The horizon looked infinite, seared and scarred by the baking sun. The endless expanse was only broken by the twisted skeletons of long dead trees. Most of their limbs had rotted away in ages past, leaving only desiccated hunks of gray and black wood.

Somewhere in this wretched place there was a bell. Alvaranox intended to find it, and beat the damn thing into dust.

Yet for as far as Alvaranox walked, he never seemed to get anywhere. For every ten broken trees he passed there were ten more. And no matter how much time elapsed, the sun somehow seemed to rise just a little higher without ever actually reaching a zenith. The sun glared down at him in fury and burned his wings. They stung and ached, and he could not hide them from the ever-present sunlight. When he shifted them against his back they felt raw and blistered.


If only he could get a little water. Once he came upon a dry streambed. A cluster of broken logs dotted the ground around it, testament to the fact that there had once been water there. That there had once been life in this place. But life and water were long gone from here. Nothing living seemed to remain. No birds circled in the sky, no lizards skittered across the ground. Alvaranox even turned over a few of the dried out logs expecting to find a few bugs scrambling for cover. Instead he found only more dry, dead earth.

After a time, Alvaranox began to wonder if he was dead, too. His memories were all vague, almost imperceptible. He recalled something about a town. Something about a grave injury. Yet the more he tried to recall just how he’d gotten to this wasteland, the more ephemeral his memories got. Reaching for his memories was no better than reaching for a dream. He may as well have been snatching at spider webs. The harder the dragon tried to grab them the more they disintegrated all around his paws.

But Alv knew there was a bell, and he knew he hated it.

If only he could find the damn thing at last and shatter it, he might finally get some rest. Wasn’t that what he was supposed to be doing? Resting? A strange thought. The dragon shook his head as if to clear it, but he could not remove the thought. It nettled at him like a tiny thorn in his paw pad. An irritant more than a pain yet inescapable. Should he rest? Had had already been resting?

No! No time to rest. Smash the bell, then rest.

Alvaranox trudged on. He tilted his head black, glaring at the sun. He flicked his flight membranes closed over his eyes to help protect them from the heat. The dragon felt as though his eyes themselves were going to dry out and end up just like all those dead trees if he spent too much more time in the sun. He licked his nose. His tongue felt dry, and sandpapery.

Gods, he was thirsty.

The dragon tried to swallow, but his long throat felt like that dry streambed.

“Help him.”

Alvaranox jerked his head up. Who the hell said that? He turned on his paws, looking around, but the wasteland remained as empty and endless as ever.

“For all the things you can make him do…”

It was a woman’s voice. It sounded like a ghost, whispering in his ear. The words drifted in and out of his consciousness. He must be imagining things.

“…For all the control you seem to have…”

Alvaranox groaned, and pressed a paw to his head. Was that voice real? The words rattled around in his brain like the tolling of some spectral bell.

“…Surely you can help him heal. Damn you, he’s lived through this much, just help him make it through the night! Help him heal! Save his life, you wretched thing! You owe him that much!”

Something grabbed the dragon by the neck. Alvaranox felt something smooth and solid tighten around his throat. He gagged, flopping back onto his haunches. He grabbed at his throat with both paws, choking as the pressure built on his throat. His collar. He wore a collar, and it was choking him. It twisted and turned against his scales as though someone were trying to wrench it free.

Then the feeling eased as quickly as it came, replaced by soothing waves that radiated out from beneath the collar. His burnt and blistered wings were cooled, and the throb in his paws eased. The worst of his parched thirst ebbed away. Even the crushing, relentless heat of the sun faded to a gentle warmth.

The voice drifted to him again, but it was fading quickly. Alvaranox tried to focus on it. Perhaps it was a spirit who could lead him to the damnable bell. Yet whatever tenuous connection the voice may have shared with the dragon seemed broken, and the sound drifted away upon the sudden, refreshing breeze that unexpectedly rolled through the wasteland.

So be it, the dragon thought. At least he felt better now.

Alvaranox trudged onwards until something in the distance caught his attention. A particularly large dead tree stood like an unforgiving sentinel against the horizon. Beneath that tree lay a huddled heap of bones. As though some poor creature had sought shelter beneath the tree back when the land had life, and they had both perished together. Alvaranox altered his course a little, heading towards the skeletal remains.

Even from a distance, he could tell the skeleton once belonged to a dragon. For some reason, that saddened him. It also made him curious. He wondered if the dead dragon sought the bell as well. He padded towards it. The skull lay mostly exposed atop the earth, though part of the bottom jaw was hidden in the broken dirt. From the size and shape of the horns, Alvaranox guessed it might have once been a female dragon. They bore smaller horns and frills than the males. The skeleton was half curled around the base of the dead tree, as though the female had curled there seeking shade and shelter, then never again rose.

Alvaranox pitied her. It seemed a lonely place to die, even if his species often sought solitude.

The bones of the skeleton’s wings lay draped out on either side of her, though many of them seemed lost beneath the cracked earth. Perhaps when there was still life here, they’d been gnawed upon and carried off by scavengers. Most of the skeleton was intact. The tail curled out across the ground. No sign at all of any spines upon the bones of her tail. Definitely a female, then. Only the males bore by the deadly decorations upon their tails.

Half her neck was buried in the dirt as well. Some of her vertebrae vanished into the earth for long stretches, only to return again near her skull. Alvaranox wondered how long ago she must have died. The bones that were visible were long since bleached by the sun with no traces left of flesh upon them. As he walked around the skeleton to examine it, Alvaranox spotted a few dried up scales here and there. At first he mistook them for pebbles. Then he plucked one from the dry earth and held it up in front of his snout. Though withered, it was clearly a dragon scale. Black from the look of it, or perhaps very dark blue. The color might well have been altered by decades in the sun.

With a smirk, Alvaranox thought it was a shame the female hadn’t arrived here at the same time he had. It had been a while since he’d had the pleasure of female company. Then he scowled to himself. A morbid joke to make given the circumstances. Ah, well. Perhaps he should bury the bones. Then again, dragons were never much for elaborate rituals surrounding death. When a dragon was dead, what good did it do anyone to give the body any special treatment? If the dragon had a mate or relatives, then they would burn the body, and celebrate the life of that dragon with tales, food, and if possible drink.

Alvaranox considered burning the bones of this long-dead female, but he’d have to dig the rest of them up to do that. Seemed a lot of work. Besides, he had a bell to…what was that? Something caught his attention at the female’s neck. That hadn’t been there before, had it? A bulging area of earth marked the spot where the skeleton’s neck plunged beneath the ground.

Alvaranox went to clear the dirt away from the rise. His paw trembled as he dug. He already knew what he was going to find. It took only a few swipes of sharp claws through hard earth to uncover the curved surface of an ebony collar. He brushed dirt away from it, exposing the engraved images of dragons in flight that circled the skeleton’s neck. The ebony surface caught the sunlight, glinting at the dragon as though teasing him. Alvaranox’s whole body shook. His heart railed in his chest as though furious with his sternum. This female had a collar just as he did.

Was he not the only one? Was he not the first?

BRONG!

The terrible sound of the bell shattered the silence of the wasteland. Alvaranox jerked his head up and turned towards the sound. In the distance, a towering black bell loomed over everything, monolithic as a mountain. A roiling dust cloud raced across the land, kicked up by the shockwave of the bell’s terrible toll. Debris hurtled into the air as the power of the wave tore trees, stones and earth apart. An earthen tsunami swept through the wasteland, destroying everything in a terrible cascade of devastation.

Alvaranox screamed in horror, and turned to run. He sprinted back across the wasteland as swiftly as he could, dust kicked up from his paws. If only he had strength in his wings. Behind him, the terrible churning roar of the shockwave grew louder and louder. The earth began to shake beneath his paws as the very world was torn asunder. The tall dead tree and the dragon skeleton beneath it vanished as an instant, sucked into the roiling maelstrom. Moments later and the wave reached Alvaranox. His stomach lurched as he thrown into the air, tumbling head over tail. Tossed like a leaf in the wind, the dragon saw nothing left beneath him now but blackness. As he plummeted towards it, Alvaranox screamed again.

That horrified shriek spilled from nightmare into reality. The sound of it finally yanked Alvaranox from the fever dream and he jumped to his feet with a start. His breath came in great heaving pants, and each inhalation brought a spike of pain to his wounded belly. The dragon’s spines all flared out in alarm and his copper eyes were wide and unfocused. He frantically looked around, the nightmare’s images still influencing his mind.

Where was he, where had he landed? Had he survived that maelstrom?

“Alvaranox!”

That voice again.

“Alvaranox, it’s alright! It’s alright, it was just a dream. Please, calm down before you tear yourself open again.”

That voice.

“Kirra,” the dragon murmured, his vision blurred.

“Yes,” the voice answered. “And Nylah. We’re here, but please, lay down!”

“Gently,” another voice said. “Slowly. Just…ease back down…”

Kirra. Nylah. He knew those voices. Those names. Yes, he knew them. Hesitantly, the dragon tried to grasp at his surroundings, tried to separate dream from reality. Hadn’t he been…in a wasteland? No…No, that was…only a dream. Even as he tried to recall it, it shattered like glass, leaving smaller and smaller fragments for him to piece together and remember. Yet at the same time, memories of Asterryl and Nylah and Kirra flooded back into his brain, assembling themselves again in his mind. That was right. He’d been on a mission. It was…an ambush. Oh, Gods!

He…he’d lived.

“I’m alive,” he murmured, half awed by his own survival.

“By a thread,” snapped the second voice, which he now clearly recognized as Nylah. “Now sit your scaly ass down before that thread snaps.” Only Nylah could tell him how close to death he was and make it sound like she was talking to a child she’d just caught stealing cookies. “Carefully, dragon.”

“Yes, Nylah,” Alvaranox murmured.

Alvaranox slowly lowered himself to the grass again. He glanced around, taking in his surroundings for the first time. It was dark out. Most of the people who’d been working on his wounds were gone, and most of the supplies had been removed. Blankets were now spread around him. Some of them had blood on them. Blood. The treatment must have worked then. Pain roiled in his belly as if to remind him he was still badly injured. The pain was soon echoing in his paw, and a few other places. A heavy bandage was now wrapped around nearly his entire right forepaw. A dark stain was soon spreading across it. Oh, that was right. His whole pad was sliced open, and he’d just jumped up and put weight upon it.

Smart, Alvaranox.

“Wasn’t I on my back?”

“For a time,” Nylah said gently. “You began to thrash about in your sleep, though. Kirra and I had to move back. We were afraid you were going to open up your wounds, but thankfully that doesn’t seem to be the case. You ended up on your side, and seemed a little more relaxed for a while. At least until you jumped up screaming. Looks like you’ve got your paw bleeding again now.”

Alvaranox groaned in pain. He twisted himself a little to lay on his side opposite his wound. “I hurt.”

“I’m sure you do,” Nylah said, moving to sit next to the dragon’s muzzle. “Try and go back to sleep.”

“How long have I…”

“All day,” Kirra spoke up. At some point she’d cleaned up and changed into warmer clothes. She walked to a nearby table, and fetched a bucket of water and a soft cloth. “And well into the night.” When she returned she dipped the cloth in the cold water and then began to run it along the dragon’s neck. “After you calmed again, we’d been trying to tend your fever for a while.”

Alvaranox murmured to himself. He hadn’t felt the fever until she mentioned it, yet now he felt as hot as he had in that damn wasteland. Wasteland. Yes, he’d dreamed of it. No wonder he dreamt of being so damn hot. “Fever…yes, you…warned me about that. I felt it in my dreams.”

“Did you?” Nylah asked, stroking his muzzle. She was still wearing her cream colored nightdress. Still caked with some of his blood. Nylah had stayed by his side the entire time, just as she promised. That made the dragon smile.

“Yes,” Alvaranox murmured, slowly closing his eyes again. He wanted to sleep. “Hot as hell, and parched.”

“You should drink some water then, before you return to slumber.”

Alvaranox opened his eyes once more. “Very well.” He stretched his long neck, and as if just to irritate Kirra, shoved his snout into her water bucket, quickly gulping down the cool water. It felt like cold heaven sliding down his long, dry throat. The irritable growl that Kirra gave only made the water taste that much sweeter. When he lifted his head and licked the dribbling beads of water off his chin, the dragon glanced at Kirra. “I heard your voice in my dream.”

“Did you,” Kirra’s voice was flat as she took the bucket to fill it back up from the nearby well.

“Yes,” Alvaranox said, laying his head back down. “Thought you were a spirit. Something about…helping me to heal. To save my life. I think I felt better after that.”

Kirra stiffened, frozen for a moment. She slowly turned back towards the others, sharing a concerned look with Nylah. “You heard that?”

“Yes,” the dragon said again, letting his eyes drift shut. This time he had no intention of opening them until he’d gotten more sleep. “Was I not supposed to?”

Kirra poured water from the well bucket into her own, and then returned to kneel alongside the dragon again. “I was…talking to your collar.”

“Ah,” Alvaranox murmured, a little smile drifting over his muzzle. “I appreciate you cursing it on my behalf then. Must have heard your voice drifting into my dreams.”

“That’s just it though,” Nylah said, looking at Kirra a moment. “She…didn’t actually say anything.”

“I had my hands on your collar, while you were thrashing,” Kirra said. A chill began to trickle down the dragon’s spine, unrelated to his fever or the cold water Kirra gently washed his neck with to try and cool him down. “My words were only in my mind. More a…desperate prayer than anything else. We’d stopped your bleeding but you were right on the edge of life and death. Then the fever came, and you started thrashing.”

Kirra’s hands trembled against the dragon. Beads of cold water ran down between his scales. Her voice shook a little as well. “I just wanted the damn thing to help you for once. Nylah told me something about coaxing the collar to help you calm when you were young, frightened and filled with turmoil. I thought maybe there was more the collar could do, as well. But I wasn’t…I mean, I didn’t even know what to say. I was just cursing it in my head, really, and thinking about what I was going to say to it. Thinking that after all this, the least it could do was use its damn powers to help you for once. And you just…you went still. Your fever eased a little and you slept quietly after that. You…you heard my voice?”

“Yes,” Alvaranox replied after a moment. Whatever that meant, he was not sure. In truth, he’d been through so much he didn’t even want to think about any new wrinkles the collar might possess. He just wanted to rest. “I think I should like to sleep, now.”

“Sleep, then,” Nylah said, gently rubbing his head. “Rest, Alv. Rest and heal. We will be here when you wake again.”

Alvaranox drifted back into the vividly painted dreams of feverish slumber. This time at least, the dreams were peaceful.