The Black Collar: Chapter Seven

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Chapter Seven

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Within a few days, Alvaranox began to adjust to the new rhythms of his life. His recuperation was a frustrating, arduous process and he spent much of it laying amidst his bedding. In the mornings he awoke, ate a bit of breakfast, and limped his way to his copse of trees. Nylah and Kirra attended his wounds, cleaning and re-bandaging them once a day. That in and of itself was a laborious process as the dragon’s injuries were still very fresh and quite tender. Though the women did all they could to minimize his pain it was still an unpleasant undertaking.

When Alvaranox grew weary of laying around in his home all day, he hobbled out into the fields beyond his sleeping chambers. Much as he hated being stared at it, he did enjoy the chance to lay in the sun for a little while. And the guards made sure to keep the crowds at a distance so they did not bother him. The dragon was a bit surprised to see how many people showed up every day as if to keep track of his recovery. He was also pleasantly taken aback to find them delivering gifts to him. Mostly food and treats from pungent and flavorful smoked fish, to iced cakes and honey rolls. A few even delivered bouquets of flowers or potted plants. The dragon had no idea what the hell he was expected to do with those, but Nylah and Kirra set them up around his home.

By the end of the first week he was starting to feel a little better. His wounds were mending at a good rate, and the pain had lessened. Nylah and Kirra had put together some simple slings for his foreleg. They used thick loops of cloth bandage to hold the dragon’s leg up, and secured it by tying them off around the base of his stout green-scaled neck. It was not the most comfortable thing for the dragon to wear and he felt a little humiliated to be seen with it on. Yet he bore it with only a few complaints because it allowed him to hobble about on his own. Better he look foolish than have to ask for assistance.

The dragon’s fever gradually abated and his strength began to return. The herbs he took in the morning left him with a little extra energy, though even that was easily expended. After breakfast Alvaranox sometimes spent a little while walking around in the lands beyond his home. It helped him to burn off that extra energy, gave him something to do, and also ensured the blood would continue to flow properly through his wounded limbs and organs. Nylah and Kirra kept very close watch on him at all times, and never let him wander too far.

As the fever slowly broke and his strength slowly returned so too did the dragon’s appetite. When it was clear his stomach could handle his meals, Kirra began to bring him a bit more to eat each day. The two woman mixed up a new batch of herbs for him with every meal. The mixtures varied a bit by time of day. After breakfast the medicine gave the dragon some extra energy while keeping his pain levels down. The herbs after lunch were to help his body mend, though they also made him a little drowsy. Those he took in the evening made the cleaning of his wounds less uncomfortable. They also helped him slumber deeply through the night.

Alvaranox got into the habit of taking short naps after lunch. They alleviated the drowsiness without preventing him from sleeping well at night. Truth be known it was not long before the dragon was fed up with limping, fed up with dozing off all the time and sick of being in various amounts of pain all day long. He felt as though the barrel in which he was cooped up was growing smaller by the day. No longer was he simply trapped in Asterryl, now he was stuck inside his sleeping chamber and occasionally the fields around it.

In the mornings he made a point to visit Stupid Fish. Though it had not rained in over a week, he made sure Kirra’s attendants kept Stupid Fish’s trough filled with fresh water from the lake. Alvaranox lowered his head to the trough, watching the fat, silvery fish lazily drift about.

Under his breath, Alvaranox whispered to the water as though the fish could understand him. “I think my barrel is nearly as small as yours, Stupid Fish.” The dragon tossed his head. The movement cast a shadow over the water, and the startled fish bolted around in circles a few times. Water boiled where his tail nearly broke the surface. Alvaranox chuckled. “Sorry, sorry. At least we’re still alive though, right? …Survivors, you and I. No matter what they throw at us, no matter how deep they cut us, we just keep breathing.”

Alvaranox settled upon his haunches. The white-cloth sling kept his foreleg snug against his body. With his free paw, he dropped a batch of grain into the fish’s oversized, oblong barrel. Stupid Fish soon glided towards the sinking pellets, probing at them with long, silver whiskers. The dragon chuckled. The fish always investigated his food that way first. As if he didn’t know by now just what he was being fed. One by one, the fish began to suck up the bits of grain. When they were all gone, the fish rose to the surface, big black eyes shifting back and forth. A few whiskers broke the surface of the water and flicked about before splashing back down.

“More? Alright, alright.” The dragon scooped up another pawful of grain with his free paw and dumped it into the trough. “As if you’re not fat enough already.” Then Alvaranox peered down at his own bandaged body. With the bandages affixed by resin seemingly everywhere, his green scales resembled poorly patched up armor. “If I don’t get to start flying again soon, I’m going to end up just as fat as you, Stupid Fish.”

“About time to head back and take your nap, isn’t it?” Kirra asked as she walked up towards the dragon. She set a hand upon one of the copper pipes that ran from the rain collection funnel down to the nearby trough. “Wouldn’t want to wear yourself out.”

“…Just on cue.” The dragon slowly eased up to three paws, and at Kirra’s confused look, he smirked at her. “Don’t give me that look. I know you’re trying to fatten me up just like the fish.”

“You’ve got a ways to go before you’re half as fat as that fish. If you feed him much more grain I think he’s going to pop.” Kirra moved to peer in at the fish, who waved his whiskers at her.

“If the fish pops we shall have to build a fire around his barrel and make stew,” Alvaranox said, smirking as he began to limp back home.

“That’s horrid,” Kirra exclaimed, though she couldn’t help laughing. “Besides, you’d miss your…” She paused just before she said the P-Word again. “…Fish.”

Alvaranox glared at her a moment. “Smoothly done.”

It was not long before Alvaranox had returned home, eaten some lunch, and settled down into his soft things again. Nylah and Kirra draped a few of his softer blankets across his body, and left the dragon to his nap. Before he dozed off, Alvaranox felt both smug and humiliated. An odd combination even for a dragon. The smugness came from having his every need catered to as he felt a dragon should. The humiliation came from the fact that he was only getting those needs catered to because he was too wounded to properly take care of himself. Made him feel more like some toddling hatchling than a powerful dragon in his own right.

As he napped, Alvaranox dreamt in vivid colors. His dreams were often that way, especially when they were not influenced by the collar. Surreal and bright, streams of images that played through his mind like interconnected stories. One dream continually dissolved into the next. Each story felt so vibrant and important for the moments in which it lasted. It seemed a shame each scene would soon melt away and be forever forgotten as the next moment of dream became all he knew.

Alvaranox awoke thinking of females. Not that the dragon did not often think of females. Bound to Asterryl or not, he was still a male. Drifting on hazy layers of half consciousness, Alvaranox tried to recall the dream. Yes, there was definitely a female dragon involved. He tried to focus on her, but the images were already falling apart. She was blue, he thought. He liked blue. Or was she purple? Perhaps blue but painted with the lavender brush of twilight. Yes, he liked that idea. She had a nice tail. Had she been teasing him in the dream? Lifting it a little for him? Naughty thing.

Still drowsy, Alvaranox’s thoughts drifted to the last female who’d teased him like that. A lovely female, about his age, her scales shades of blue and lilac. She’d been his mate for a short time. Had that been the female he’d dreamt of? It frustrated him that his memories sometimes became as fuzzy as his dreams. He’d taken her to his little island refuge, shared company and pleasure with her. Pressed himself against her belly, climbed upon her back. They had laughed and talked and hunted together in sunshine. Till the damn bell had called him away and she’d returned to her own home outside the limits of his barrel.

That was well over ten years gone, and he’d not seen her or another dragon since. For a time he’d hoped she’d return someday. Even while they were together, they knew it would not last. No dragon would willingly wish to live so near a dangerous place like Asterryl. Too many humans who might seek to end her. Alvaranox knew she was better off in the wilds. She may even find a new mate to have a hatchling with. They’d be welcome to visit him. It would be nice just to share the company of other dragons again.

What was her name? Alvaranox licked his nose. Why couldn’t he remember her name? She had given it to him, hadn’t she? Or had they been too busy hunting and mating to even ask for names? No, he was sure he’d gotten her name. He just couldn’t recall it anymore. Wherever she was, whoever she was, Alvaranox hoped she was happy.

Alvaranox heaved a bitter sigh. Who was he kidding. She was probably dead.

“Alv?” Kirra’s voice was soft but heavy with concern. “Are you alright?”

The dragon shifted a little beneath his blankets, turning his horned head to peer over at Kirra. “Just memories. I didn’t know you were in here. I’m not used to having people watch me while I sleep.”

“I thought you deserved to have someone watch over you,” Kirra said, peering down at the leather-wrapped book that sat in her lap. “Nylah says sometimes you have nightmares.”

“I do,” Alvaranox said, twisting himself to regard Kirra. He found her sentiments touching.

Kirra sat against the far wall, between bookshelves that now bore more get-well gifts and potted plants than they did trophies of battle. She had the sleeves of her gray and blue tunic pulled halfway up her arms. She sat with her legs crossed, her sketchpad resting against her lap. Smudges of mud and grass stains marked her dark breeches and boots. Messy red curls hung about her face. Charcoal sticks of various shapes and sizes were scattered all around her.

Kirra set down the drawing utensil in her hand, and picked up a smaller one. She smiled at the dragon, rolling the charcoal stick between her fingers. “You seemed to be sleeping peacefully enough today, though.”

“I suppose I was,” Alvaranox said. “I think I was having good dreams.”

“Oh?” Kirra began to draw again, letting the dragon decide if he wished to elaborate or not.

“Yes,” Alvaranox said. He lifted his good paw, rubbing at his bleary copper eyes. “I think I was dreaming of females. Maybe even my last mate.”

Kirra giggled to herself, a hint of a blush tinting her cheeks. Weeks of time spent in the sun keeping watch over Alvaranox had darkened her skin a shade. “Oh! I didn’t realize you meant that sort of dream.”

“What sort of dream?” Alvaranox glared at her, narrowing his copper eyes as if daring her to finish that thought.

Kirra waved her charcoal stick in the air. “The sort where you wake up aroused, get embarrassed and try to hide it. Then I think you’re hiding some new ailment, accidentally find out you’re excited, and then we both have a good, embarrassed laugh.”

“Spell it out, why don’t you.” Alvaranox gave an irritable snort. “No, Kirra. It was not that sort of dream.”

“Do dragons get those sorts of dreams?” Kirra smiled at the dragon. She was curious despite the heated blush spreading across her face. “I mean, things do have that effect on a dragon, right?”

The dragon lifted his spines in bafflement. “Of course. How else would we make more dragons?”

Kirra laughed, red curls bouncing in front of her face. “I realize that, Alv. Thought I actually meant…” She trailed off, scratching at her face in thought. Kirra had to tip toe carefully around the venomous viper of a painful subject. She scowled, trying to decide how best to discuss the lack of other dragons.

“You’re drawing on your face,” Alvaranox said, flicking his tail tip.

“Oh, damn,” Kirra said, hissing through her teeth. She set the charcoal stick down and tried to wipe the gray lines off her cheeks. “Did I get it?”

Kirra had done little more than smear the gray across the rest of her cheek, but Alvaranox only smiled. “Yes, you got it.”

“Thanks,” Kirra said. She picked her charcoal stick up again, rolling it in her fingers. “What I meant was…”

“If you’re trying to ask me if a dragon still becomes aroused from time to time, despite seemingly being the only dragon left in existence…”

Kirra bit her lip, and then nodded. She swallowed hard, and glanced away. That wasn’t how she wanted to put it. She hadn’t meant to upset the dragon. If anything she thought a bit of playful curiosity about an embarrassing subject might make him laugh. “Sorry, Alv, I didn’t mean to…”

“Oh, hush, Kirra,” Alvaranox said. “It’s alright. I know what you were trying to say.” The dragon blinked, tilting his head and lifting his ears. By now a hint of a blush had tinted the dragon’s ears, frills and nose purple. “If you must know, yes. I may be a dragon, but I’m still male. I suspect that sort of thing effects my body in equal measure to any human man.” The dragon gave a humiliated sounding whine, licking his nose. “Perhaps greater measure recently.”

Kirra couldn’t help but giggling at that. It might be juvenile of her to laugh about it, but she didn’t care. She’d just never expected to hear a dragon admit to having frequent such occurrences.

“Yes, yes,” Alvaranox said, thumping his tail spines against the blankets. “Laugh it up at the easily excitable dragon. As if he isn’t embarrassed enough about it.”

“Don’t worry, Alv,” Kirra said through her steady giggles. “I won’t tell anyone you’re secretly a horny old beast. Maybe Nylah.”

“I am not old,” Alvaranox replied, a hint of a smile creeping across his muzzle.

Kirra grinned at the dragon. “So I’ll just tell her that other thing, then.”

“She’s called me worse,” Alvaranox admitted, grinning. Mirthful sparkles still danced in the dragon’s eyes. “Perhaps if you tell her, she’ll go and fetch me a female dragon to assist me.”

Kirra laughed and set her sketchbook down. She slowly pushed herself up, stretching her arms up over her head. “Or perhaps she’ll offer to assist you herself.”

Alvaranox snorted, and pulled his head back a little, flaring his central spines. “More likely she’ll volunteer you for the job.”

Kirra gave a mock gasp, covering her mouth with a hand. “What will the townsfolk think!”

“I’d be surprised if such rumors hadn’t already started.” Alvaranox chuckled and began to sit up. “I’m hot under these blankets.”

Kirra walked over and pulled all the blankets off of the dragon as he eased up to his haunches. She folded them and set them aside. He still had plenty of other soft things to lounge about upon beneath him. Without Kirra needing to ask, Alvaranox lowered his head and let her give him the same quick inspection she did several times a day. She felt his throat and fire glands, looked in his mouth and into his eyes. When she was satisfied, she patted his pebbly-scaled cheek.

“Everything looks good,” Kirra said.

“Aside from the multitude of wounds marking my body?”

“Yes, aside from that,” Kirra said, glancing down towards Alv’s hind end.

“What do you think you’re looking at?” Alv asked, curling his tail around himself.

“Just curious,” Kirra said, smirking at him. She walked towards the water trough near the door to check the water level. “There must be a way to truly embarrass a dragon. Pointing out his arousal seems embarrassing enough.”

“That sounds like a quest you can abandon before you begin.”

“It’s probably the Bluestrand actually,” Kirra said, returning to the dragon. “It’s known to cause that effect in men, so I’m sure it has the same effect on dragons.”

“Wonderful.” Alvaranox flared his wings out, stretching them a little bit. He tipped his wedge shaped head back and yawned. Then he licked his nose, glancing down at Kirra again. “I do seem to recall a bit of that effect when I had to take the stuff in my younger days.”

Kirra nodded and stroked the green scales of the dragon’s neck. “I’ll see about cutting down your dosage a little. May have to talk to Nylah about it, though. She should be by later with your dinner.”

“Just what I need. Something else for the old lady to tease me about.”

Kirra just smiled at him. “Do you need anything else before your meal? You’ve got plenty of water. Now you’re awake I’m sure you don’t want me pestering you all evening. So I’ll leave you alone for a while, if you like.”

“Wine.”

“You know you can’t have that, Alv.”

“Just a little, Kirra.” Alvaranox tilted his head. “I assure you I do not want any adverse reactions anymore than you do. Just bring me a little bit? You can stay and pester me, if you wish.”

Kirra pursed her lips, then sighed, relenting. She reached out and gently cupped the dragon’s chin in a hand. “Alright, Alv. Just a little. And if Nylah finds out, I’m going to tell her it was mine and you stole it.”

“You can tell her whatever you like, as long as I get wine in my belly.”

Kirra’s laughter sounded like chimes to the dragon. She rubbed the golden blotch between his nostrils. “You’re a lush Alv. I’ll be back soon.”

Kirra walked to the door, and the dragon followed her over as if to see her out. Though as soon as she was halfway through the door he pushed his head against her back and gave her a playful shove. She yelped and stumbled a few paces, then whirled around to glare at the dragon. Any anger she might have sought to project was decidedly muted by the grin on her lips and the mirth dancing in her green eyes.

“Don’t come back without my wine,” the dragon said, dropping onto his haunches to grab the door handle with his good paw.

“Listen here, you scaly a-” Was as far as Kirra got before Alvaranox slammed the door, grinning.

Alvaranox turned towards his water trough and dropped his head. As he lapped at the water, he could not help but find his thoughts circling around Kirra. His newest Handler was getting unexpectedly playful with him lately. She’d rarely showed anything like that before, especially when Nylah was around. It was as if she’d been lost in Nylah’s shadow. Alvaranox lifted his head, licking beads of water from his pebbly scales as he wondered if Kirra was finally finding her way into the light.

It sometimes seemed as though Kirra was so concerned with living up to Nylah’s standards that she simply couldn’t relax around the older woman. Her relaxed attitude was one of the things that first helped Alvaranox grow to trust Nylah. As she grew more trusting of the dragon, she grew increasingly relaxed around him. As the months passed she treated him less like a monster, and more like a friend. Like a person.

Now Kirra was starting to do the same thing. He certainly wouldn’t have ever expected Kirra to joke around with him the way she had only moments before. Embarrassing as it may have been, that was the sort of thing friends would jest about. The sort of thing Nylah would have teased him about in his youth just to make him laugh, or show him they were not so different. Perhaps Nylah and Kirra were not so different either. Kirra just needed a chance to relax without feeling as though Nylah were silently judging her ability as Alv’s handler.

Alvaranox hobbled back towards his bed. The trip to the water trough and back wasn’t enough to wear him out the way it had been when his recovery began. But his body still ached and throbbed in many places and he didn’t feel like walking about too much. When he reached his soft things, he spotted Kirra’s sketchpad and her charcoal sticks out of the corner of his eye. He knew Kirra liked to draw but she rarely shared her work. He’d seen a few of her sketches before, images of herbs and a diagram of his claws while she was first studying him. She certainly had talent, but she did not seem to enjoy sharing the sketches she did for pleasure.

The dragon walked across his sleeping chamber, and lowered his head to peer into Kirra’s sketch book. She’d left it open upon the unfinished drawing she was working on so as not to smudge the charcoal before she had a chance to protect it. Alvaranox expected to find some scenic landscape image or the visage of a man she fancied. Instead the dragon was staring at himself.

Kirra was drawing him.

Alvaranox slowly sucked in his breath, his heart fluttering a moment in his plated chest. Kirra was…drawing him. And not in any manner he’d ever seen a dragon depicted, either. There was no false ferocity to the image. There was no anger or violence. It was not even an image of himself laying in wounded repose, as he might have expected had he known she was drawing him while he slept. Instead, the image depicted Alvaranox as Kirra must have seen him. Regal. Proud. Resigned.

Lonely.

In the image Alvaranox sat upon a hill with his head held high and proud despite his open imprisonment to Asterryl. Well beyond him the town that collared the dragon sprawled along the horizon. Alvaranox’s wings were slightly flared in majestic display. The dragon in the drawing stared into the distance as if hopeful to someday see another of his kind circling in the skies.

Though only an unfinished sketch, the picture held a sort of cold loneliness that cut Alvaranox to the core. How long had Kirra seen him that way? Did Nylah see him that way too? It was not an inaccurate portrayal. Yet somehow the simple fact that Kirra saw him wreathed in such hidden sorrow struck the dragon far harder than the image itself would have.

As delicately as he could, Alvaranox turned back the page to see the previous image. It too was a drawing of Alvaranox. The drawing was completed, lined with inks and long since sanded dry. It was a simpler image that depicted the dragon in flight above the rolling, rocky moors. In that picture the dragon’s spines were all flared around his head, and his maw was split wide as though issuing a joyous roar.

Below the image, simple letters spelled out a word.

FREE.

Only then did Alvaranox realize the dragon in that image bore no collar. Kirra had drawn him free at last from the wretched collar. Free from Asterryl and returning to his home.

“Free,” Alvaranox said aloud. For a moment he wondered if Kirra wished she could make that image come true. If she could have freed him from the collar, would she?

Alvaranox turned the page, leaving the images where he’d found them. They must have been very personal to Kirra. The dragon felt a little guilty for prying, though the images had touched his buried heart just the same. He wondered if she’d ever shown them to Nylah. Alvaranox returned to his bedding and settled down to await Kirra’s return. He found himself smiling, the image of his freedom now locked in his mind’s eye.

The dragon was still smiling when Kirra returned a short time later. Before he had time to wipe the grin from his muzzle, Kirra already spotted it. As she walked over to him, she asked, “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing,” Alvaranox said, snapping his jaws as if irritated with her.

Kirra only giggled. “Did I return at a bad time? If you were…”

“I was not,” Alvaranox said, then hissed for emphasis.

“I can come back later,” Kirra said. She had a bottle of wine tucked under her arm, and a large wooden bowl in her hands.

“You really did bring me wine.” Alvaranox hadn’t expected her to actually do it. The dragon licked his snout, mouth watering immediately.

“I did,” Kirra said, backing away from him. “But only a little.” She smirked at him, and pulled the stopper from the wine. She poured a little of the rich red liquid into the bowl. The warm, earthen and slightly fruit aroma quickly permeated the room, overriding the lavender and pine scents. “And when you tell me what you were smiling about, I’ll give you some.”

“You,” the dragon said, lifting his spines. The inside of his ears flushed just a little. “I looked at your drawings.”

“Oh,” Kirra said, her voice trailing off as her eyes fell. “I didn’t really want you to.”

“They’re beautiful,” was the only thing Alvaranox could think to say.

Kirra slowly lifted her face, a hint of unexpected vulnerability laid bare across it. “You really think so?”

“Yes,” Alvaranox said, trying to peer beyond the layers of green mystery that suddenly filled Kirra’s eyes. “I do. I have never seen a dragon depicted so majestically before. Never seen myself shown so…accurately.” Alvaranox tried to swallow the sudden lump threatening to choke him. “The one where I am…” For a moment the dragon struggled to force the word past his teeth. “…Free. It made me smile. Thank you for drawing that. I am sorry I pried, but I am happy I saw it.”

Kirra approached the dragon again, a shy smile brightened her expression and with it, the dragon’s spirits. “Then so am I. Here.”

Kirra poured a little more wine into the bowl and set it down in front of him. Alvaranox eased himself down and stretched his neck to the bowl. He sniffed at the wine, savoring the thick, fruity scent, and then lapped at it. It sent rich, warming waves all down his length throat. The dragon sighed in delight.

“Oh, that’s wonderful.”

“May I sit with you?”

Alvaranox glanced at her. It was an odd thing for her to ask. “Go ahead.”

Kirra settled down near the dragon, found a place without wounds or bandages and leaned against him. “You deserve better, Alv.”

The dragon watched her a moment, lifting a single ear. “Of course I do. I’m a dragon.”

Kirra watched him lap up the rest of his wine. She crawled over, poured him a bit more, and then settled back against his body again. “I mean it.” For a few moments she tried to sort her thoughts, working her jaw as though chewing a bit of gristle. “You deserve to feel appreciated. To feel like someone sees you as something more than just the monster that guards this town. You should be treated like our protector, not our slave. Better than that, even. I had a dream where you were free. It was the first time I’d ever really seen you look happy. When I woke, I had to draw it. I wished I could make it real. I wished I could set you free.”

Alvaranox was silent. He turned his head away from her, choking on sudden emotion. He took a few deep breaths to try and quell the twisting of his stomach and the clenching of his throat. If Kirra saw the dragon nearly in tears, she had the decency not to mention it. Instead, she simply stroked the scutes of his foreleg for a moment.

“For whatever its worth, Alv, Nylah feels the same way. She once told me, if she but had the power, she’d have freed you years ago.” Kirra sighed, leaning against the dragon’s leg. “I know you don’t really like me, but that doesn’t matter. What’s right is right. You’ve suffered enough for my town, Alv. You don’t deserve to be treated like its monster, you deserve to be treated like its savior. I’d take that collar off you now if it was possible.”

Alvaranox smiled to himself a little. He knew in his heart that it was not possible. He was bound to this town for all of his days. But Kirra seemed honest in her sentiment, and that touched him nearly as deeply as the act itself would have. He sniffed a little bit, blinking away a few tears that threatened to mark his pebbly green scales with wet streaks.

“Thank you, Kirra,” the dragon said, a little hoarse.

“You’re welcome, Alv,” Kirra replied. “I won’t tell Nylah you cried, either.”

“I shall bite you if you do.”

Kirra laughed and poured the dragon the last of his wine. Alvaranox lowered his head and began to lap at the wine. As he drank, he begrudgingly admitted to himself he was going to have to start trusting Kirra after all.

Still, it would not be so bad to have another he could call his friend.