The Black Collar: Chapter Five

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Chapter Five

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Warm, bright sunlight awoke him. Alvaranox opened his eyes to bleary copper slits. Why was so much sun pouring through his windows? Movement drew his attention. People stirred around him, whispering amongst themselves. Why were there people in his home? If Kirra had decided to give another tour, he was going to bite her. Alvaranox shifted and the sudden pulse of throbbing pain deep in his belly and throughout his paw reminded him of the previous night’s events.

Ah, yes. All that sunlight was because he was outside. And all those damn people were there to help tend his injuries.

“Go away,” he muttered without lifting his head. He did not like having so many people around him. The dragon’s words came out as little more than an incomprehensible slur. His tongue felt swollen, pressing against his teeth. His head ached, his spine felt stiff.

No one seemed to pay his words any heed, though the sounds he made quickly drew the attention of the various physicians and gathered attendants. They shifted and buzzed around him like ants swarming about some food that had fallen on the floor. Alvaranox growled under his breath, pinning his frilled ears back.

With a great deal of effort the dragon lifted his wedge shaped head. He forced carefully formed words past his swollen tongue and stiff jaws. “Go. Away.”

“After they change your bandages,” Kirra said, pushing her way through the crowd towards the dragon’s head. “It’s nice to see you awake again. How do you feel?”

“Horrid,” the dragon admitted. “Tongue feels…fat.”

Kirra slipped her hands under the dragon’s jaw line. “Open your mouth.”

Alvaranox growled at her. He was not going to lay here in front of all these people and be openly inspected like some animal on display. “No.”

Kirra sighed, pursing her lips. “You’re still quite feverish. I need to check you for some things.”

“No,” Alvaranox repeated. “Not here.” He lifted his head away from her hands, glancing around. Plenty of humans he did not recognize, but very few that he did. “Where’s…Nylah?”

“Not far, she hasn’t left you.”

“Not…what I asked.” Alvaranox grunted at the effort of working his words so carefully across his uncooperative tongue. He knew Nylah wouldn’t have left him. That wasn’t why he was asking about her location.

“Over there,” Kirra said, a note of annoyance creeping into her voice. She waved her hand towards a small thatched-roof building on the edge of the grassy field where Alvaranox had crashed. “I finally talked her into going to get cleaned up, and get some food in her. She’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Home.”

“What?” Kirra tilted her head quizzically, red curls spilling across her face.

“Home,” Alvaranox repeated. “Go. Home.”

Kirra set her jaw, a bruised look shining in her eyes. “I know you don’t like me, Alvaranox, or trust me the way you do Nylah, but I can’t just leave you here to the attendants.”

“Not that,” the dragon said. He did not argue with her assessment, though. “Not you. Me. Take me. To my. Home.”

“Oh,” Kirra said as she caught on. “I realize you don’t want to be laying wounded in public, but I’ve no way to get you home. It’s not as though we can just load you up on a cart.”

“I’ll walk,” Alvaranox said. Nylah would never allow him to try such a thing. But Nylah wasn’t here right now, and Alvaranox knew how to get his way with Kirra. He’d just push and push until she finally gave in. She always gave in. “Right now.”

“Alvaranox, you can’t just…”

Alvaranox wasn’t even going to give her a chance to protest. “Move,” he muttered, and then began to roll over onto his feet.

If she didn’t move aside, he’d simply bump her and all the others out of the way. Which was exactly what happened as he gingerly pushed himself up. Kirra yelped and stumbled as the dragon shoved her aside along with a few of her attendants. Half furled bandages that had been laying against the dragon’s belly toppled to the ground. Alvaranox grit his sharp teeth. The movement was agonizing but he was not going to let the pain show any more than he had to.

“Gods damn you, Alvaranox!” Kirra fumed at his side. “You’re going to tear your stitches out. You are in no condition to be walking anywhere! And we haven‘t even finished changing your bandages.”

“That’s a shame,” the dragon said, his rumbling voice taut with pain. “Just…help me home. Then…you can do…whatever you must. Alright?”

Kirra gave a long sigh of resignation. “Very well. But I don’t know how you expect me to help you. It’s not as though I can just wrap your arm around my shoulder and support you the way I could if you human.”

Alvaranox would have grinned at her acquiesce if he wasn’t in so much pain. He stood upon three legs, gazing at the bloodied bandage that wrapped his right forepaw. Further up his foreleg more bandages wrapped him where the sword had cut deeply near his shoulder. Between the two wounds he wasn’t going to be able to put weight on that leg for a while. Walking would be difficult.

“Don’t you dare put weight on that paw,” Kirra warned him, folding her arms. Alvaranox resisted the urge to point out the obviousness of that statement. Kirra glared at him a moment, and then shook her red-haired head. “Here. Let me try and support it a little.”

Kirra came forward and pushed both her arms against the underside of the dragon’s front leg. Alvaranox smirked at her, letting her hold the weight of his foreleg. The pain that throbbed in his paw and near his shoulder as the limb was moved did not blunt his smugness. “Yes, you hold onto that for me.”

Alvaranox took an awkward step forward. His hind limb moved easily enough but he had to make a sort of hopping motion with his left front paw. Then when he moved his other hind leg, a jolt of pain in his haunch reminded him he’d taken a few arrows in the battle. Kirra grunted in discomfort as the weight of the dragon’s foreleg rattled her body. She stumbled a little bit, shifting her grip.

“Damn it, Alv, you can’t put your weight on me or you’re going to break my legs.”

“I didn’t,” the dragon muttered, taking another awkward, half-hopping step. Hobbling around like this was going to take some getting used to.

“If you’re going to insist on walking…”

“I am.” The dragon snapped his jaws.

Kirra continued anyway. “Then we’re going to have to make you a sling of some kind. Brace it around your neck so it holds your foreleg up while you walk, make sure you don’t put any weight on your paw. The wound near your shoulder isn‘t as bad but it still needs time to mend.”

“I shall wear no such thing!” The dragon hissed at the very idea of wearing such a foolish looking device.

Kirra did not argue. She knew she couldn’t win an argument with the dragon. But she also knew Nylah could, and she’d broach the idea to the older woman as soon as she had the chance. For the moment, she focused on supporting the dragon’s weighty foreleg just enough to ensure he didn’t accidentally step down onto it. Walking was an arduous process, but the two of them were soon getting the hang of it. Once the dragon got used to hobbling on his left foreleg he shifted his weight towards Kirra less and less.

Still, after about fifteen minutes of gradual progress, Alvaranox’s head was pounding as much as his belly. His lungs felt tight. Whatever fevers and illness lingered in him from his wounds and their treatment was making physical exertion difficult. Though he hated to admit Kirra was right, he was in no condition to be walking.

“I need to catch my breath,” the dragon said. A suitable compromise, he thought.

“Alright,” Kirra said without pressing the issue of who was actually in the right. “Ease onto your haunches. Rest for a moment. I’ll get you some water, you need to try and drink it.”

Alvaranox slowly settled back into a seated position, curling his spined tail around his paws. His whole body hurt. Though he hadn’t realized he was thirsty until Kirra mentioned water, his entire throat suddenly felt as cracked and dry as the wasteland he wandered in his dreams. The dragon dipped his horned head in a nod, panting a little.

As Kirra went to fetch a bucket of water, the dragon gazed around at everyone. There were dozens of people watching him. Most of them were entirely too close for his liking. Quite a few of them had dried blood smeared on their clothes, others looked as though they were freshly washed up yet returned to offer further assistance. Though Alvaranox had crashed in an open grassy field, he was still within the borders of Asterryl. Not far away ran a long, winding fence made of the twisted boughs of towering ancient willows. Beyond the fence a large crowd had gathered upon the road. Alvaranox growled. He hated it when they stared at him.

It looked as though half the population of Asterryl had come to see the wounded dragon. Men and women alike milled about. Friends pointed to the dragon, whispering to each other. Parents held tight to the hands of children to prevent them from slipping through the openings in the fence and running out to the field. Others children were hoisted and placed upon their parents shoulders so the younglings could get a better view of their battered guardian. And though Alvaranox would hardly consider himself a fan of the local guard force, he was nonetheless glad to see them working to keep the crowd separated from the dragon.

A whole line of burly men wearing blue and gold surcoats over heavy chain mail and plates of steel stood alongside the fence-lined road to ensure no one bothered the assorted healers dealing with the dragon. It was a peaceful enough crowd, and truth be told Alvaranox knew no one in the town would want to cause him trouble. After all while they may think him a monster, he was a monster with many uses. He could hardly blame them for being concerned that their protector’s life had so nearly been snuffed out.

Kirra returned to him with a large bucket of water. Now that he had a moment to focus upon her, Alvaranox noticed she’d changed her clothes again during the night. The red haired woman now wore a loosely fitted, long-sleeved blouse that matched the dark green color of her eyes. It did little to show off the natural curves of her body, but then again being stuck tending a dragon gave her little need to do so anyway. Swirls of golden thread ran down each sleeve in intricate swooping designs. She also wore a pair of breeches with scale-like patterns in overlapping shades of black and gray. Diamond shaped designs ran down the outside of the legs in the same golden thread that marked her sleeves. A bit of dried blood still caked the toes of her dark leather boots. She probably didn’t have a spare pair to change into.

When Kirra set the bucket down in front of the dragon, he dropped his head and sniffed at it. A hint of herbal aroma wafted from it. He lifted his head again, cocked it and narrowed his copper eyes at the woman. “What’s in there?”

“Mostly Sageblossom and Threeblade.”

Alvaranox gave her a blank look. He wasn’t exactly one to take notes whenever Nylah had tried to teach him about herbs in the past.

Kirra nudged the bucket with her boot. The water rippled within. “The Sageblossom helps to ease pain, and Threeblade helps to promote healing, and replenish lost blood. It’s the same thing we give an injured human who needs to rest and recuperate. There’s also some Feathertwig, it’ll help with your fever.”

Alvaranox sniffed the bucket again, and let his tongue play against the water. He tasted something bitter as well. “Is there Redbark in this?”

“A bit, yes.” Kirra held up her hands for the dragon’s silence before he could tell her how much he hated the stuff. “You need it, and you need the water. Just drink it, Alv, alright?”

Alvaranox was desperately thirsty and lacked the energy to argue. So he took a deep breath and lowered his snout to the bucket, ignoring the bitter aroma of muddled herbs. Swollen as his tongue was it was troublesome to make it curl and lap at the water. Natural, instinctive motions became stiff and forced. Still, each mouthful he managed helped slake the burning thirst in the dragon’s long throat. When the water was gone, he licked at the bottom of the bucket. As he lifted his head, Kirra reached out and wiped beaded droplets of water from the dragon’s green pebbly-scaled snout.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It wasn’t so good, either.” Alvaranox pushed himself back to his three good paws with a grunt. “I am ready to proceed.”

Kirra nodded and moved to stand alongside the dragon. She cradled his foreleg, walking alongside him at a grueling pace. Soon Kirra’s arms burned as she sought keep Alv‘s foreleg supported. Still, Kirra knew whatever discomfort she was in paled to the pain that the dragon felt with every step and she bore his limb without complaint. This time they got a good distance further than the first attempt before Alvaranox had to pause to collect himself and catch his breath.

Not long after the dragon had settled down for a few moments, an angry voice called out. “What in the darkest of hells do you two think you’re doing?”

Alvaranox winced, pinning his frilled ears back against his skull. His spiny crests sagged against him. Nylah sounded angry. He glanced down at Kirra. “I shall let you answer that.”

Kirra’s emerald eyes went wide, and a crimson flush quickly tinted her cheeks. This was Alvaranox’s idea, not hers. She swallowed, turning on her heel to face Nylah as the older woman strode towards them. There was a fierceness to her stride that underscored her boiling anger. “Nylah! Well, you see…he wanted to…go home, and before I could…”

Nylah put a hand on Kirra’s shoulder. Kirra went quiet, glancing down, and Nylah pushed past her. Nylah’s polished hazel eyes nearly burned a hole right through the dragon’s coppery gaze. “What do you think you’re doing, Dragon!”

Alvaranox hung his head a little, black-marked wings drooping. She only called him Dragon playfully, or when she was legitimately angry with him. “I wished to return to my home. I do not like being on display.”

“You’ve no right to take advantage of Kirra like that!” Nylah’s words surprised the dragon, and he suddenly wasn’t so sure what Nylah was angry about. Given the odd little noise of surprise Kirra made, neither was she. “If you weren’t already in so much pain, I’d twist your damn ears off.”

“Luckily for my ears I am in pain,” the dragon said with a little hiss. “And lots of it. If it’s all the same to you, perhaps you could help Kirra get me home. Then you can berate me to your heart’s content while Kirra changes my bandages and tries to ensure I don‘t start bleeding again.”

“I…ah, damn it,” Nylah growled through grit teeth. The worst of her anger faded, leaving a smoldering frustration in its place. She was weary of seeing the dragon belittle his current Handler by walking all over her, and just as weary of seeing Kirra do nothing about it. Kirra had held the position over a year now, and so little had changed. “It isn’t fair of you to push Kirra around the way you do, let alone to twist her around your tail to get what you want when I’m not here. How do you think she’d have felt if you tore your belly wide open right after you talked her into letting you walk home?”

“Not as bad as I would have felt should my guts have fallen out,” Alvaranox said softly. The dragon found himself in the rare position of feeling both guilty for taking advantage of Kirra and also convinced his injuries had earned him the right to do just that. “Now, are you going to walk me home or not?”

Alvaranox pushed himself up, and once more began to hobble home. At first he cradled his fore leg against his body, but Kirra quickly moved to support the limb again. Nylah sighed, and walked up alongside Kirra. She put a hand on the small of the younger woman’s back, silently asking for a moment of her attention even as she worked to help the dragon along.

“If you continue to let him walk all over you, he will never stop doing it,” Nylah said, her voice firm and loud enough for both Kirra and the dragon to hear. “There will be many times as his Handler that you will know what is best for him, and though he will not like it, part of your job is occasionally to enforce your own will upon him for his own good. Such as in an instance like this. Yes, he hates being on display, but the risk of further injury was not worth letting him test his limits before he’s even begun to recover.”

Kirra opened her mouth to reply. For a moment, she thought about insisting that she’d done her best to prevent him from going home. That the dragon had simply gotten up and started walking. How was she to stop him? Though they both knew if Nylah had been there she’d have found a way. Then again, the dragon listened to Nylah. He rarely listened to Kirra no matter what she tried. Nylah was right, though, Kirra should have tried harder to prevent the dragon from walking off.

“Yes, Lady Nylah,” Kirra said softly. She rarely used the title anymore. Yet there were times when Nylah instructed her that made her feel as though she were still an apprentice rather than the dragon’s full time Handler. It was hard to avoid falling back on old habits at times like that.

“You needn’t call me that,” Nylah said. “And I do not mean to sound as though I am talking down to you, so I apologize if that is the case. But you are going to be Alvaranox’s Handler for many, many years, and the sooner you learn that sometimes you have to exert your will to keep him safe and healthy, the easier life will be for both of you.”

“I’m just going to keep walking,” Alvaranox suddenly said with a snort, his voice a little slurred.

“I hope you are listening, Alvaranox, because I am fed up with you always trying to take advantage of Kirra.”

Alvaranox glanced at Nylah between hobbling steps. She’d changed into a beautiful, sky blue colored blouse with silver thread clouds that seemed to drift over her chest. Though Nylah often wore a light dress or a skirt on warm days such as this, today she’d slipped into a more formal looking pair of gray breeches. Her usual cloth sandals were replaced with an old pair of nearly worn out leather work shoes. It was the sort of outfit she’d worn on busy days as his Handler, and it told the dragon she planned to stay with him and supervise his treatment.

That was fine with him. Kirra would probably screw it up anyway. The thought made him smirk a moment. Then he looked down at Kirra working so diligently to hold his injured limb aloft for him while he limped along. She was certainly trying hard, he had to give her that. And while he was injured she’d taken charge of the situation as only Nylah had done before. Perhaps he could cut her a little slack.

“To be fair to Kirra,” the dragon said, hating himself already for coming to her defense. “She only relented on my request to return to my home when I promised to let her examine me. She’d been trying to get a look at my tongue and eyes and a chance to feel my throat.” It was a bit of an exaggeration though he suspected Kirra planned as much anyway. “I refused to allow her to do so in front of these legions of slack-jawed gawkers, but promised to allow her to examine me in every way she must as soon as I was back home.”

“I suppose making a bargain with him is better than being trod upon,” Nylah said, squeezing Kirra’s shoulder. “Next time, though, snatch him by an ear. They are very sensitive. Then begin to twist it until he agrees to let you examine him immediately.” A little smirk crossed Nylah’s lips.

“Why must you hate my ears so, Nylah?” The dragon chuckled to himself.

“Would you rather I advise her to grab and twist something even more sensitive?”

That made the dragon cringe, his tail tucked involuntarily. “No.”

“Then behave yourself.”

Kirra giggled a little as she hefted the dragon’s foreleg. Alvaranox shot her a glare, and rather than look away as she often might, this time the red-haired woman stuck her tongue out at him. Alvaranox supposed that was what he got for coming to her aid. He looked around a little, trying to get his bearings between limping steps. At least he’d crashed near the northern outskirts of the town. That meant he wasn’t too far from his home. Yet the fact he could only manage a grinding, painful pace meant the trip was still going to take quite a while.

Home. It irritated him to realize he thought of the place that way. This town was his prison, and the building where his blankets and things were was simply the place where he slept at night. Yet, it was his shelter. It was his refuge from the world, his hideaway from prying eyes and the place in town he felt most comfortable. What else was that but a home?

Irritable as it might make him to consider it such, the place was his home now. For the time being he would much rather be there, curled amidst his blankets and animal furs and other soft things than he would out in the open with all the townspeople staring at his many wounds. This wasn’t going to be good for his reputation. He much preferred to seem strong, nearly invulnerable if possible. Now they would see that not even their Guardian Slave was invincible. Perhaps they’d decide to cut their losses and let him go. As if he’d be so lucky.

When Alvaranox next paused to catch his breath, Nylah summoned a host of attendants. They’d been trailing behind the dragon, waiting to see if his Handler had any further instructions for them. Others worked on cleaning up the area that had been transformed into the dragon’s temporary field hospital. Alvaranox paid little attention as Nylah gave them orders and sent them scurrying away towards the dragon’s home. From the sounds of things she was sending them ahead to prepare his home for his arrival.

A shame it took a serious injury to get people to start catering to his every need.

While Alvaranox waited for the tightness in his lungs to ease and the feverish pounding his head to slacken, he looked around the field upon which he sat. It was a wide grassy expanse with blotches of heather strewn. Brilliant blue wildflowers provided patches of vibrant color, speckled here and there with single red blossoms atop tall stalks. In the distance, a small herd of goats grazed near a corner of willow fence, undisturbed by the dragon who’d crashed into their field the day before. Alvaranox scowled. Not even the prey was afraid of him anymore.

Alvaranox flicked his frilled ears at the sound of hushed whispers. He turned his head slightly and saw Kirra and Nylah conferring nearby. Occasionally they gestured towards the dragon or made some sweeping movement with a hand. His scowl grew larger till several of his sharp teeth were half exposed. He scrunched up the pebbly scales of his snout a little. He didn’t like being talked about as though he wasn’t right there.

“What are you two gossiping about?” Alvaranox glared at them, flaring up his spines enough display the faint black blotches across the green membranes. “If you’re speaking about me, include me in the conversation.”

“Very well,” Nylah said, turning her still-smoldering brown gaze upon the dragon. A smirk tugged at the corners of her thin lips, and she gently nudged Kirra with her elbow. “Ask him.”

Kirra cleared her throat, and approached the dragon. “Have you felt any urge to urinate yet?”

Alvaranox pulled his head back with a snort. His neck curled into an S. That was what they were conferring about? He was sorry he asked. “Do you often discuss a dragon’s need to piss?”

“Only when we’re worried his kidneys may be injured,” Kirra snapped back at him with a little more vehemence in her voice than he was used to from her. “Answer the question.”

“…No.” Alvaranox grunted. “I wish to walk again. I am ready to be home so half the damn town doesn’t hear you asking me if I’ve pissed lately.”

“We were going to ask you when you got home,” Nylah said, her smirk widening just a little. “In fact we were just discussing how best to broach the subject, and we had concluded privately would be preferable. But you had to butt in and ask us to include you.”

Alvaranox growled under his breath, easing himself back to three paws. “I shall keep my damn mouth shut from now on, then.”

Kirra moved to support the dragon’s foreleg, and once more the three of them journeyed across the field. Up ahead, a group of guards had already pulled down a large section of the fence to give the dragon a place to pass from the field onto the cobbled road beyond without having to take a lengthy detour to the gate. Once on the road, the journey seemed to progress a little more swiftly. Alvaranox tried to keep track of the buildings they passed to remind him he was making progress. Every step seemed to make his body ache worse but he forced himself to keep limping along, knowing his reward was a chance to flop down on his own bed, away from so many prying eyes.

By the time the intricately carved wooden door of the dragon’s home lay open just before him, Alvaranox felt ready to collapse. But he forced himself to walk the last few dozen feet into his home. He’d come this far. He certainly wasn’t going to give up just shy of his goal. At least the herbs he’d ingested with his water had dulled the worst of his pain. He still hurt just about everywhere, but the sharpness of the pain was smoothed away, replaced with a steady, dull ache that thudded in his limbs and belly. His brain felt as though it were thumping against his skull, the fever sapping what little strength he had left.

Inside his home, the scents of freshly cut pine boughs and lavender sprigs greeted him. Alvaranox was a little surprised by just how welcoming the familiar scents seemed to be. He’d grown accustomed to them over the last few years yet never had he actually realized he enjoyed the smell until that moment. The dragon inhaled deeply of it, and then gave a long sigh of relief. He staggered forward towards his bed. It took all the effort he had left not to just flop upon it and split his belly open again.

Alvaranox first gingerly lowered himself onto his haunches atop the spread of blankets. Then he ever-so-slowly eased down onto his left side, away from the worst of his wounds. In the process he tried to avoid putting any pressure on the arrow wounds, but the pain those provided him paled in comparison to everything else he was dealing with.

The dragon held his head up, peering about for his favorite pillow. Someone had donated it to him ages back. It was covered in layers of green fabric with an overlapping pattern designed to look like a dragon’s scales. Fringes of black ringed it and it held golden tufts at every corner. Just as important as the fact it was clearly designed after his own magnificent colors was the fact that it was among the softest of his many soft things.

He spotted the pillow well across the room. No way he could fetch it without rising back to his feet. At that moment the dragon doubted he could stand back up even if he got to knock Kirra over in the process. He could however, have her fetch the pillow for him. The dragon lifted his uninjured paw, and gestured at the pillow.

“Bring me that, Kirra.”

Kirra took a step towards the pillow, but Nylah put her hand on the younger woman’s shoulders. She pursed her lips and gave her head a shake. Kirra hesitated. Alvaranox glared at them a moment, but he didn’t have the patience for a battle of wills. He knew what Nylah wanted, and at least for the moment he would give in.

“Kirra,” Alvaranox said, softening his tone with what he hoped was a decent approximation of respect. “Will you please bring me that pillow?”

“I will,” Kirra said. She stepped away from Nylah and went to pick up the pillow. Then when she turned back towards the dragon, she hesitated. She worked the pillow back and forth between her hands a moment. The soft green cushion easily yielded to her fingers. “But you owe me a full examination.”

“I shall examine you if I must, but I’ve no idea what to look for.” The dragon smirked at her. A sparkle of smug mischief danced in his copper eyes despite the twin glazes of pain and fatigue that coated them. “Now bring me my pillow.”

“That…that isn’t what I meant…” Kirra faltered a little bit.

She kneaded the pillow again, grinding her teeth in frustration. Why did he always seem to get the best of her? The other night, when he’d been injured had been her finest hour. Kirra hated to think of something so terrible for the dragon as a shining moment for her. Yet she could not help but feel a bit of pride at the way she’d acted, the way she’d pushed her fear aside and simply taken command. She helped to save the dragon’s life, and she knew it. Yet he was not yet even healed and already he was putting his paw prints on her back and turning the words she stumbled over against her.

Kirra glanced to Nylah for assistance, but Nylah merely shrugged. Kirra scowled, and knit her brows. A flush of embarrassment tinted her cheeks scarlet and heated her ears. For a moment she simply stood there, folding her fingers into the dragon’s pillow.

“Are you going to bring me my damn pillow or not?”

“No!” Kirra half hissed, half shouted at the dragon. The force of her voice surprised her as much as anyone else. Then she took a deep breath, collecting herself. “You knew quite well what I meant. You need not take every opportunity to pick and needle at me, Dragon. I will bring you this pillow when you agree to allow me to examine you in as much detail as I require, and to answer any and all questions I have pertaining to your well being. Is that understood?”

Alvaranox glared at her a moment, but he lacked the strength to challenge her newfound resolve. He also lacked the will to tell Nylah to wipe that smirk off her face. Though he didn’t look at the older woman, he knew well enough she’d be beaming to hear Kirra give the dragon a piece of her mind.

The dragon rumbled low in his chest, and tossed his horned head. “Very well. I did promise you as much. Bring me my pillow and get your examination over with.”

A smile slowly replaced the angry storm that threatened to wash over Kirra’s face. Within the few steps it took her to bring the pillow over the worst of the scarlet tone had fled her cheeks as well. She knelt down and placed the pillow on the ground near the dragon’s head, patting it for him.

“Thank you,” Kirra said, her tone easing as well. “I did not mean to yell at you.”

“You need not apologize, Kirra,” Nylah said. “He’d earned a bit of a tongue lashing…”

Kirra continued her streak of uncharacteristic behavior by cutting off Nylah. Alvaranox couldn’t actually recall her ever doing that before. “Thank you, Lady Nylah, but while I agree I still feel it is in the best interest of my relationship with my dragon if I let him know I am willing to apologize when I get angry with him. Otherwise he may never adjust to my…style of handling. It may be different from yours, and trying to mold myself in your image on his behalf will not help him adjust.”

Nylah watched the woman a moment, her grin widening. That was a very polite way of saying, thank you Nylah but let me do this my way, damn it. Which was an excellent and important step for Kirra to take. Nylah was certainly not offended. If anything she was glad to see Kirra taking that particular step. Nylah knew well enough that the dragon would never have two Handlers who were exactly alike. Though he had come to trust Nylah it would be unreasonable of him to expect his next Handler to follow in her path in every way. It would also be unfair to Kirra to be expected to deal with the dragon in exactly the same manner as Nylah had. Kirra had a softer touch and though she had just as much fire in her spirit as Nylah it manifested itself differently.

“Of course, Kirra,” Nylah said. “Why don’t I leave you with your charge for a little while then, so that you may examine him in peace.”

Kirra sucked in a breath, freezing a moment. She hadn’t quite expected that. Nylah likely only wished to give Kirra a chance to deal with the dragon in her own way, without anyone else watching or feeling as though she were being judged. Not that she hadn’t dealt with the dragon on her own many times already. She’d just rarely done so under such serious conditions. Kirra realized Nylah thought it would do both Handler and dragon a world of good, and she raised no argument.

“That would be fine, Nylah,” Kirra said, bowing her head. “When I’m finished with the examinations I’ll put together a list of supplies I’ll need for him.”

“Is there anything I can do before I go?” Nylah asked, easing towards the door.

“I’ll need fresh bandages, resins and salves for his wounds, and if you’d be willing to help me apply them later I’d be grateful.”

“Of course,” Nylah said.

Nylah turned her attention to the dragon, and for a moment her hazel eyes lingered upon his copper ones. Poor Alvaranox. In the years she had grown to consider the dragon an unspoken but very dear friend, she had often pitied him his inescapable tasks. Had she a chance, she would have freed the dragon ages ago. Yet never had she seen him looking so pitiable. Sprawled out upon his side, fear in his eyes, blood caked upon his scales. Her throat clenched a little, and she felt tears brimming in her eyes.

Gods. She’d almost lost him.

The full weight of what that truly meant to her was only starting to settle in on the older woman. She’d considered the beast a friend for many years, but only upon seeing him so close to death had it struck her just how tightly the dragon had wrapped himself around her heart. For over forty years he’d been a part of her life. She had watched him grow, she had felt his fear of this place, she had seen the terrible loneliness that burned his eyes when he thought no one was looking, and she had seen those pains gradually ease as he came to call her friend.

Nylah’s heart pounded in her chest as she fought to hold back sudden tears. She cleared her throat with a little growling noise, and looked away from the injured dragon. The anger she felt earlier had long since melted away, replaced with a growing tide of other emotions she was not sure she wanted to face. “Is there anything I can get you, Alv?”

“Stupid Fish,” the dragon murmured.

“What?” Kirra blinked, not sure she’d heard him correctly.

The dragon glanced back and forth between his old Handler and his current one a few times. “Feed Stupid Fish.”

“I think his fever is growing worse,” Kirra said, concerned but misinformed. “He’s not making any sense. Perhaps he wants you to bring him some fish to eat.”

“No,” the dragon said, growling in frustration. “Nylah…” He sighed, and lay his head against his pillow, closing his eyes. “Feed Stupid Fish.”

Nylah couldn’t help but laugh at Kirra’s confusion and the dragon’s frustration. The laughter felt good, it eased her troubles for a little while. And the request gave her something else to occupy her time with while she allowed Kirra to examine the dragon on her own. “He’s talking about the fish in the barrel, outside.”

“Oh!” Kirra said, laughing sheepishly. “That Stupid Fish. Of course. I was too busy thinking about how to deal with his wounds and illnesses, I didn’t even think about his pet.”

Alvaranox bristled immediately. He flared the spines out behind his ears and down his neck, lifting his head. He opened his eyes to angry copper slits, glaring at Kirra. “I do not have a pet. I have a stupid little fish that amuses me with its captivity.”

Nylah gave a happy sigh, feeling better already. “I’ll go and fetch the bandages and other supplies. Then I’ll go and feed Stupid Fish. You stay here and deal with the irritable consequences of inferring a dragon would ever keep a pet.”

Kirra smiled as Nylah closed the door. She was actually glad to have distracted Alvaranox from the fact Nylah was leaving. Rather than apologize for using the forbidden P-Word, she simply reached out and gently stroked the dragon’s muzzle. Then she smoothed down his spines a little with her hands, trying to ease them back against his head. While she had no expectation to ever hear the dragon purr for her the way Nylah claimed he did for her in private, she was nonetheless happy to see Alvaranox relax a little. For a little while the two of them were simply quiet as Kirra sought to soothe the beast.

“I know you don’t really like me, Alvaranox,” Kirra said gently as she worked her hands over the spines along his neck. “But I promise you I have only your best interests in mind. I know I can make a lot of mistakes, but I am doing all I can to learn from them. Is that fair?”

The dragon grumbled a little bit. “It is…not that.”

“Not what?” Kirra tilted her head.

“It is not that I dislike you,” the dragon said, working his words carefully around his swollen tongue. “It is…difficult to explain without offending you.”

“Just spit it out, then,” Kirra said. She pulled her hands back a moment, folding them in her lap. “The sooner you offend me, the sooner you can make it up to me.”

The dragon did not seem to share her humor. He watched her through slitted eyes. His green-scaled body slowly rose and fell with his breathing. He flicked one ear back, twisting the other forward in an expression of draconic exasperation. “I do not trust you.” He held up his good paw as if to silence any objection. “I do not mean to say I expect you to harm me, or betray me. It is…deeper than that.” The dragon scrunched his muzzle, unsure how to proceed. “It is difficult to explain. But Nylah is the only one in this place I trust, and it took me over a decade before I came to trust her. So you cannot expect me to feel comfortable around you or to trust your judgment when only a year has passed.”

Kirra wrung her hands together, mulling over the dragon’s words. Her answer surprised Alvaranox. “That is fair of you, dragon.” She smiled at him, and reached out to rub the golden blotch at the end of his nose, working away some of the dried blood that still caked his scales. Bathing the wounded dragon had not exactly topped her list of priorities. “Perhaps if we work together we can…”

“Kirra,” the dragon said, sighing. “I am very tired, and I hurt in ways I did not think possible mere days ago. If I promise against my better judgment to hold this conversation with you another time, will you get your damn examination over so that I can sleep again?”

Kirra blinked, and then burst out laughing. She shook her head, her red curls swaying before her face. “That is also fair, Alv. Very well. Lift your head and open your mouth, please.”

Alvaranox begrudgingly did as she asked. He parted his jaws, and Kirra gently grasped his muzzle to peer into his maw. The back of the dragon’s throat and the ridged roof of his mouth looked a deeper scarlet than usual. His pointed pink tongue seemed very puffy and swollen. Kirra gently pinched the tip of his tongue, feeling its softness and temperature.

“You’ve a lot of swelling, and your fever is still fairly high.” She let go of his mouth, patting his jaw line. “But not as high as it was. Let me have a look in your eyes. Tilt your head towards the light, if you can.”

Alvaranox licked his nose, feeling like some prize farm animal being appraised at the local fair. But he did as she asked. He stretched his neck out until his head reached a patch of sunlight, then turned it a little so the golden rays cascaded across his face. Kirra put her hands upon his head, and held the dragon’s eye open with her fingers. In the sunlight his normally copper eyes shone like freshly polished golden coins. The black pupils quickly shrank to thin slits, though not as thin as she would have liked given the sunlight pouring into them.

The weave of tiny red blood vessels was nearly hidden inside the copper hued irises. A paler shade of that metallic color seemed to tint the rest of his eyes beyond the irises as well. The color gradually faded at the corners of his eyes, where the blood vessels were more clearly visible. She peered into one eye for long moments, then did the same to the other.

When she let him go, Alvaranox blinked profusely a few times, trying to clear the bleariness from his eyes. “You made my vision go all blurry.”

“You’ll be fine,” Kirra muttered, trying to hold back a chuckle. Then she reached out and gently rubbed her thumb against the inside of the dragon’s frilled green ear. She murmured to herself. Soon she pressed a few fingers from her other hand to Alvaranox’s chin to get him to tilt his head back. “Chin up. Let me get to your throat.”

Alvaranox flicked his tail in irritation, his spines thumped against the blankets. He’d made the girl a deal though, and he wasn’t going to go back on his word now. Nor would he make things difficult for her. Slowly, he tilted back his head till the pebbly green scales of his throat were exposed for her. The scales of the dragon’s throat were smallest and finest at the very top where his neck met his jaw line. Further down his throat they grew broader and broader until eventually they reached the greatly expanded plates that protected his heart and lungs.

Kirra set her hands on either side of the dragons throat. She worked her fingers around a little as though massaging the dragon’s neck. Then she slid her hands up to the back of his jaw, rolling her finger tips in little circles just behind the dragon’s jaw bone. She could faintly make out a feeling of firmness on either side. She scowled a bit, though the swelling did not surprise her.

“Your fire glands are a little swollen,” Kirra murmured as much to herself as to the dragon. “That should go down when your fever breaks, though. Do they hurt?”

A smirk of bitter amusement twisted the dragon’s muzzle. “Not enough for me to notice them over all my other pains.”

Kirra shared his smile a little as she moved her fingers back down the dragon’s neck. “We’ll consider that to mean they do not hurt, then.”

Alvaranox was quiet for a little while as Kirra explored his throat. The dragon scarcely knew what she was looking for, though he supposed as long as Kirra knew, that was what mattered. Her fingers felt soft and warm. Her touch was very gentle, almost soothing. If it had been Nylah rubbing him, he might have even purred a little. As Kirra worked her fingers towards the base of his throat, Alvaranox closed his eyes, rumbling to himself.

“Your touch is quite gentle.”

“You’d rather it was rough?”

“No,” Alvaranox said, giving a little snort. “That is not something I wish to go back to.”

Kirra’s hands paused upon the dragon’s scaly neck. “Your first Handler, right?”

“He was not kind,” Alvaranox said. The dragon’s tone made it clear he did not wish to discuss it further.

“That’s thing you wont have to worry about from me,” Kirra said. She pulled her hands away from his neck, scooting back a little. She gave a nervous laugh as though trying to cover some sort of embarrassment. “If anything, Nylah thinks I may be too gentle with you.” She peered up at the dragon a moment, and when he did not provide answer or commentary, she gestured with her hand. “Can you roll to your back? I need to look at your paw pads and your belly wound. But if its too uncomfortable I can…”

Alvaranox was already rolling over. He’d had more examination than he wanted as it was. The sooner they got this over with the better. Careful to tuck his wings out of the way, the dragon managed to sprawl out upon his back. He groaned in pain, craning his neck to look down at himself. Rusty, reddish brown dried blood caked his green belly scales in many places. Where the dried blood was thickest it added layers of rough texturing to his pebbly scales. The wound itself lay bared where the bandage had come away. It looked red, puckered and angry amidst all the green of his underbelly. Thick sinewy stitches now held the flesh together, a little fresh blood leaked from the wound along with beads of watery lymph. The dragon scrunched his muzzle at the sight.

“I don’t know what you’re fussing about,” the dragon said, laying his horned head back down. “I look like the very picture of health.”

“More like the picture of my hard work,” Kirra said, giving the dragon a little smirk. “I put those stitches in myself.”

“They didn’t pop out when I got up, so you must have done well,” Alvaranox said.

Kirra clambered up atop the dragon’s chest, straddling his plates a moment. She smirked at him when he lifted his head to glare at her. “I shall take that as your way of thanking me.”

“I do not like people sitting on me,” the dragon said. He lifted his head again to glare at Kirra, growling softly at her.

“Be that as it may, you’re in no condition to do anything about it.” Kirra patted the plates over his chest, grinning. “Besides, I need to listen to your heart and lungs soon. First, let me see your left paw.”

With an exaggerated sigh, the dragon lifted his foreleg and held it out to her. Kirra gently took his paw in her hands, turning it over to examine the mottled pink and black pads that covered the underside of it. She was heartened to see those mismatched colors were already more vibrant than the night before. She brushed her fingers over the soft skin, feeling the temperature. Then she pushed a single finger into the center of the dragon’s pad till the flesh went a bit white. She let it go, watching how quickly the color returned to it.

“You seem to have good blood flow to your pads,” she said, pressing upon them and releasing a few more times.

“That one was not injured.”

“I shall check them all, but it is not a test for injury.” Kirra looked up at the dragon. An unusually determined look shone in her green eyes as though she were annoyed to be questioned about the one thing she was actually good at. “When a creature loses too much blood, or experiences symptoms such as an extremely high fever, it often affects the circulation of blood into his extremities. The fact that your pad seems to have good blood flow restored to it means your body has already started recuperating from your blood loss. When we checked your pads while you were unconscious, they were far paler. It also took noticeably longer for them to regain their color.”

“Thank you for the explanation, Doctor.” Alvaranox put his head back down, grumbling. “Shall I just lay here silently then, and only speak when spoken to?”

“It would make things easier,” Kirra said, though her giggle undercut the sharp tone she’d attempted. She released his paw, and then gestured towards his other foreleg. “Let me see the injured one. Go as slowly as you need to, and if you cannot move it that far, I will go to it.”

Alvaranox worked his foreleg towards her. The injury to his shoulder made it difficult, but it did not stop him. Kirra gently cradled the dragon’s wrist in one hand, and unwrapped the bandages already loosened by the journey. The gauzy fabric was heavily stained by blood both old and new. The dragon’s paw was leaking worse than his belly was, but given the long journey over here that was not a surprise to her. A heavy row of stitches now kept the flesh of his paw together. They looked intact. If everything went well they would remain in place for quite some time.

“This will hurt a little,” Kirra warned him.

Alvaranox nodded his consent. Kirra performed the same test as before, poking at his paw pad to make sure it was getting adequate blood flow. Alvaranox cringed, curling his tail as the prodding caused the thudding pain in his paw to accelerate into a sharp pulse. He hissed through his teeth, but did not pull his paw away. Kirra then pushed on the pads at the end of each digit to make sure the dragon’s fingers were all still getting enough blood.

“Everything looks good,” Kirra said, too cheerful for the dragon’s liking.

“Speak for yourself.”

“I am,” Kirra said, then off-handedly added, “I’d have felt terrible if we had to amputate all your toes.”

Alvaranox pinned his ears back against his head, unsure if she was teasing. His heart rattled in his chest at that idea, icy coils twisting in his wounded belly. Rather than give her the satisfaction of letting his fear show, he simply asked, “Are you almost done?”

Kirra ignored the question. She leaned forward and pressed her ear to the dragon’s chest. For a few long moments she listened to the resounding thump that was the dragon’s heartbeat. It sounded strong, if a little faster than usual. She counted the beats in her mind. Definitely accelerated. She’d probably scared the poor beast with that amputation comment. Though she hadn’t exactly been joking. Still, she was happy to hear how strong his heartbeat was. A definitely improvement over the night before.

“Your heart sounds much better, Alv,” Kirra said without lifting her head away from his chest.

“It does?” That time the dragon could not help but allow a little of his fear to bleed into his voice.

Kirra nodded when she finally lifted his head. She put a hand upon his chest and stroked the dragon’s dark green scutes. She looked up, letting her green eyes linger upon his copper ones. The fear that the dragon tried to quell in his voice shone through in his eyes, flickering like haunted copper pyres. “Yes,” Kirra said softly. “You were….not well. Nylah and I were…not sure you would…”

“Till you touched my collar,” the dragon murmured, putting a few pieces together on his own. He lifted his good paw, and ran his pads against the engraved images of the dragons in flight bound around his neck. “Till you told it to heal me.”

Kirra looked down at the dragon’s chest, unable to meet his gaze. Instead, she watched her fingers trace the outline of the hardened plate that lay above the dragon’s heart. “I didn’t tell Nylah, but…I heard it.”

“You heard…what?” Alvaranox swallowed. He suddenly felt as though he were cracking open a door he was going to wish remained shut.

“…The bell.”

The dragon sucked in a breath. Nylah claimed to hear it echo, now and then. But no one had ever heard it the way the dragon heard it. “Are you certain?”

“It was when I was talking to the collar, in my mind…” Kirra worked her fingers back the other way, tracing the same plate’s outline in reverse. She shifted her warmth against the dragon. “I heard…I heard a bell. The way you describe it, loud and vibrant…and terrible. It startled me. But, when the bell tolled, that was when you started to calm.” Kirra’s eyes darted back and forth a few times, her fingers trembling. “I could feel your pulse in your neck, your heart was fluttering, and your pulse was…fading. You were…”

Kirra bit her lip, blinking away a rush of tears that seemed to surprise the girl. She quickly wiped her eyes. “You were dying, Alv, I am certain of it. That was when I told it to save you. Then I heard the bell, and I felt your pulse quicken in your neck. I think that whatever the collar does to force you to fight, it did that to your heart. It snatched your heart up and it kept it beating. When your body was too weary to go on living, when your heart was giving out, I told the collar to heal you and it made your heart beat again.”

Kirra went quiet. She had not yet told Nylah that part of the story, and she hadn’t planned on telling Alvaranox either. She half expected the dragon to laugh at her, tell her that was impossible. She also half expected the dragon to believe it yet snarl at her for interfering, that he would have preferred death to an extended lifetime of forced servitude to this town. But the dragon did neither of those things. He simply stared at her, awe, wonder, and fearful uncertainty all swirling in his fiery copper eyes.

When the quiet became almost unbearable, Kirra spoke up again. “I just…I didn’t want you to die, Alv. You asked me not to let you die here, in this place, and I…”

“Thank you, Kirra,” Alvaranox said abruptly, staring down at her. The words seemed far too simple but they were the only words he could squeeze through his increasingly constricted throat. He meant them with every ounce of blood left in his body and he hoped she understood that.

Kirra smiled at him, and reached forward to gently stroke the end of his nose. After a few heartbeats she gave into the moment. She wrapped her hands around the dragon’s head best she could, hugging it against her body. Alvaranox did not resist or complain. She stroked his cheek a moment, and then let him go. Carefully, she eased herself off of his body and back to the blankets and pillows that surrounded him.

“I think I’ve poked and prodded you enough. You need new bandages but we can do that later.” She patted the dragons scales, and gave him a shy little smile. “I’ll let you rest.”

Kirra slowly made her way out of the dragon’s home. She gave him one last look, smiled, and then quietly shut his oversized door. Once Alvaranox was alone, he heaved a long, trembling sigh. He had been even closer to death than he thought. For a moment he wondered if in fact he had died. He’d been wandering that wasteland an awfully long time, and the memories of his life had been so hard to recall. It almost seemed as though that wasteland was his life, and reality was his dream.

Was that death? If so, he wondered what horrible deeds he had committed in his life to be bound to such a wandering, torturous afterlife. The dragon knew well enough he had done terrible things, yet so often they were by the will of the collar. He could not resist its commands. He ran his paw against the collar, exploring it as if he did not already know every wretched inch of the damn thing.

So. It appeared the collar did have the ability to force his heart to keep beating. And yet it seemed it had only done so when Kirra asked it to. Or…was it because his Handler commanded it? As far as he had known the Handler never had much direct influence over the collar or its abilities. Certainly no one had ever actually heard more than an echoing whisper of the bell before now. He wasn’t totally convinced Nylah had truly heard that much.

Was there something different Kirra? If so, did Nylah know it? Was that why she’d chosen her to be her successor? It was all too much to think about right now.

Alvaranox lay his head back, trying to recall the dream he had when he nearly died. Something about wandering the wastes. Yes, he remembered that part. He remembered scorching heat, perhaps an effect of his fever infiltrating his subconscious. But there was something else. There was…a tree. A skeleton. A collar.

Yes, a collar. Alvaranox had always assumed he was the only dragon who had ever borne the collar, but the thing seemed ancient beyond reasoning. Perhaps he was not the first after all. For a moment, he tried to recall if any of the other dragons he’d known in his youth had ever mentioned anything about a collar. Some of the dragons he’d known since being bound to Asterryl had teased him about it, but they had scarcely known what it was. But in his youth…

…Strange. His memories of his youth before Asterryl seemed so hazy. He pictured his mother a moment, smiling at him. She was green, like him, but a paler shade. The gold blotch that marked his nose was inherited from her, she had many gold markings. Yes, he remembered her clearly. But he could not recall…what became of her. She was gone now, he was sure, and it pained him that he did not remember how, or why. It had been ages since he’d seen her, and it was likely she never even knew what became of him.

For now, Alvaranox gave up on his youthful memories to focus on things he could recall. He began to drift, easing into the sleep his body so desperately needed. He recalled something else from that dream just before he began to doze. The wretched toll of the bell, and the way it tore the land asunder. The maelstrom it caused that ripped him from the earth upon which he ran. Was that when Kirra heard the bell?

As slumber took him, Alvaranox’s last thought was to consider whether that Maelstrom had been his death come to tear him from the world of the living, or the power of the collar and the bell hurtling him back to life.