The Black Collar: Chapter Sixteen

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Chapter Sixteen

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By the time the rising sun first painted the earth in burnt shades of gold, Alvaranox and Kirra were already in the sky.

Comforted by Kirra’s presence and her determination to somehow make things right, Alvaranox’s slumber had been peaceful. Kirra wrapped herself in a blanket and slept alongside the dragon after he promised to try not to roll over and crush her in his sleep. A blushing bruise was spreading across the inky eastern horizon by the time the dragon was out hunting breakfast. When he returned he found Kirra was awake and waiting on the dragon to light her cooking fire. Once the two of them had filled their bellies, it was time to go collect some trophies. With Kirra’s help, Alvaranox secured a heavy burlap bag around his neck before taking to the skies. At least Kirra managed to avoid screaming during the ascent this time.

Alvaranox took Kirra on a lazy tour of the northwest shore of the Lake Of Teeth. Kirra had never seen trees so large or ground so sodden and wet. The dragon flew fairly low to give her a good look. Though the swampy area where the Va’chaak dwelled took up only a small portion of the lake’s overall shoreline, it still accounted for a large area of land. Wide, shallow rivers drained through that area. Where they could see past the sprawling canopies of cypress, tangled masses of knotted roots stretched across the water-logged ground. Stands of willow and cedar, and a dozen other kinds of trees the dragon could not identify stretched all across the land. Now and then movement caught their attention. Scales of olive green, pale gray and earthen brown occasionally flickered into view then vanished again.

“Are those Va’chaak?” Kirra lifted her voice over the rushing wind.

“Probably,” Alvaranox called back. “There are other creatures with scales in the world besides dragon and Va’chaak, but the Va’chaak are good at hiding in their swamp.”

“Can I get a better look at one?”

“You can get a better look at dozens!” Alvaranox smirked back at her, flaring his spines.

The dragon dipped a wing and carefully spun around in the air. With Kirra on his back he was extra cautious with his turns, dives and ascents. He did not want to do anything that might cause her to lose her balance. With slow, careful flight, the wind was less a teasing lover and more a comforting friend. The wind stroked his wings, soothed his body, and buoyed his spirit whenever he rode her currents.

Alvaranox flew Kirra to a small Va’chaak village. Their village was simple, clusters of small huts made from bricks of mud and clay, straw reeds and moss, baked around fires. The roofs were often composed of layers of intricately woven reed mats. Homes further into the forest used massive tree trunks for a wall, or boughs for the frames of roofs. Several large pits of coals smoldered day and night, used for cooking.

As the dragon swept over the lizard village, chattering cries arose from the alarmed villagers. Kirra leaned over the dragon’s side as he circled the village, wanting a glimpse of them before they all vanished into their homes. There were quite a few lizards running around, varying in color from drab olive and dark green tones to muddy browns and hints of black and gray. Some of them quickly ran into huts or under the trees, while others ran to fetch spears like the one in Alv’s lair. Best Kirra could tell, it seemed both male and female served in protective warrior roles. The creatures did not seem to wear much clothing aside from simple loincloths, though a variety of colored paints and dyes marked the scales of the warriors. Little spines and horns marked their heads and clustered at the ends of some of their tails. A group of stubby-tailed children ran around splashing in the mud, and pointing up at the dragon circling overhead.

“Oh, look at the little kids!” Kirra giggled. “They’re so cute!”

“Yes, they are,” the dragon said, then beat his wings swiftly, speeding away from the village. “Time to go!”

“Why?” Kirra asked, craning her neck to watch the village disappear into the horizon.

“Because, my knowledge of the Va’chaak tongue is as rusty as their knowledge of yours,” Alvaranox said, licking his nose. “And with all those hatchlings running around, they’re going to be awfully protective. I’m afraid I’d accidentally tell them I’ve come to devour their children again.”

“That wouldn’t be…wait, again?” Kirra gasped, and burst out laughing. “When did that happen?”

“Oh, some years ago,” the dragon said. He spoke under his breath, though the wind carried the words to Kirra’s ears. “I had to scare some of them away from some travelers. Later, I went to their village to try and make peace. They had hatchlings running around so I tried to say their hatchlings look adorable.”

“And?”

“And the Va’chaak word for adorable sounds very similar to the Va’chaak word for delicious.” The dragon laughed, his shoulders rolling beneath Kirra’s rump as he flew. “They did not appreciate the humor.”

“I can’t imagine why not.” Kirra giggled, leaning forward to stroke the dragon’s neck. “So where to now?”

“To the moors! And the wilds. To the ruins to claim my trophies.”

Alvaranox flew beyond the edges of the Lake Of Teeth, and across the sprawling sections of land where the wild moors had been transformed into seemingly endless acres of farmland. As they flew, Kirra leaned back and forth, peering down at the ground. She’d grown bolder as she got used to the feeling of flight. Not so bold that Alvaranox was afraid she was going to slip and fall, but he did glance back at her often just to make sure.

“How far outside Asterryl have you been?”

Kirra laughed, shaking her head. “I’m not even sure I’ve been this far. I can’t tell from up here. I’ve been to a few of the tiny villages where some of the farmers live, and a couple markets and taverns out there looking for rare herbs and plants, but that’s it.”

“Well then,” Alvaranox said, grinning back at her. “Welcome to the world, Kirra.”

“Thank you!” Kirra beamed at the dragon. She stretched herself to stroke the crest that ran down the top of his neck.

“Careful,” Alvaranox said, keeping his flight as even as he could while she stretched up against his neck. “As nice as that feels, you shouldn’t be getting so upright. I cannot see incoming turbulence, you know.”

Kirra eased back down against Alvaranox’s back, patting his shoulder. “Right, right, sorry.”

As they flew on, Alvaranox pointed things out. Kirra’s simple joy at seeing new parts of the world from such a height was infectious. The dragon could not help smiling. Alv hadn’t realized how much knowledge he’d pick up in his years serving Asterryl. He pointed out a series of farms where much of Asterryl’s milk shipments came from, and another set of farms that raised cattle and oxen for meat. He pointed out the tavern set at an intersection of lanes that always seemed to have the most people. Perhaps they could stop there for drinks sometime. He showed her the quarries where so much of the stone used in Asterryl’s walls and sturdier buildings had come from. A few wagons filled with stone pulled by massive horned beasts of burden were trudging up the road from one of the quarries, bound for Asterryl.

Before long they were past any signs of habitation aside from the old roads that cut through the rugged moors. At first Kirra seemed awed by the quiet, wild peace of it all. As far as Alvaranox could see, there was almost nothing but green and gray in every shade he could imagine. The dragon could see occasional oceans of colors, rolling seas of blue, red and purple wildflowers waving in the breeze. Bramble with fiery leaves and dark berries crawled across some of the hills, climbed over broken boulders. But the further out he gazed, the more those bright colors faded into the horizon of rugged green hills and gray stone ridges. The homes and villages outside Asterryl gave way to ruins long abandoned.

Kirra fell into silence. Alvaranox glanced back at her now and then. She looked puzzled. “Isn’t it beautiful out here, Kirra?”

“It was,” Kirra replied, her voice a little distance. She glanced up at the dragon, shielding her emerald eyes from the wind. “But now…” She trailed off, sweeping her gaze across the wilds lands. “It’s just…I didn’t know it was so desolate out here.”

“Yes,” the dragon said, flicking his tongue over his nose. “There are a lot of ruins, aren’t there.”

Kirra huddled closer against the dragon’s neck. She wrapped her arms around him again, and lay her cheek against his forest green scales. Alvaranox was surprised that the sight of so many ruins seemed to have disturbed her. He had not meant to upset the woman, he thought the moors would be beautiful to her. Alvaranox wondered if the lack of civilization frightened her. He had grown up in the wild and the ruins, this was home to him. To Kirra, while this land was beautiful it also held decay and failure the likes of which she had never truly known.

“Your people stretched themselves too thin, I think,” the dragon said, speaking his thoughts aloud. “You spread, and grew and wandered. You thought yourselves conquerors of all of nature. Your failures lay all around us, but despair not, Kirra. We both live amidst a shining example of your success. Asterryl is…”

“The boundary,” Kirra said. “The line in the sand. I’ve heard it called that many times, but I never knew they meant it so literally.”

“Yes,” the dragon said, glancing back at her a moment. “Your people decided they had yielded enough ground to the wild, and would let nature take no more from them.” He waved his paw in the air, gesturing at the burnt out ruins of a little village near a streambed. Sometimes the stream was dry, but muddy puddles lingered there thanks to the last rainfall. “This is what they say they need me for. To protect your town from the monsters and the beasts, the bandits and the raiders who helped bring these villages to their end.”

Kirra scrunched her face, sighing against the dragon’s neck. “It isn’t right, though. Especially now. Surely we are big enough to protect ourselves at this point.”

“If not, you’re awfully close. Though I don’t think the collar is one to listen to logic.”

Kirra eased up to peer at the dragon. “So this is where you lived? Where you grew up?”

Alvaranox grinned at her. She sounded dubious. “Yes. Well, not this land exactly, but out here in the wilds.”

“How did you survive?” She narrowed her eyes, concern and confusion swirling in her emerald gaze. “How did you find enough food, and water?”

The simplistic questions made Alvaranox laugh. “Oh, Kirra. You ask the oddest things sometimes. Dragons are excellent hunters. If there was only one animal in all the wilds my mother would have found it. And believe it or not, just because one streambed is dry in the summer does not mean they all are. We can smell water from a great distance.”

Kirra smiled at Alvaranox, and lay her head back against his scales. “I guess you’d have to. It does have its own sort of…empty beauty.”

“It does,” the dragon said, gazing out over the expanse of the moors. Now that Kirra mentioned it, it did seem a little desolate. The ruins scattered here and there seemed lonelier than he recalled. The wind that rustled the grasses and heathers and scattered trees sounded as though it were moaning in despair. Alvaranox shook his head, hissing playfully. “Gods, Kirra. You’re turning me soft.”

Kirra giggled. “I’ll be sure and tell Nylah you admitted it.”

“Oh, very funny.” The dragon grinned a moment, then gestured with his horned head towards a hill in the distance crowned by a familiar, half broken fortress. Slashes of red heather stretched across another hill beyond. “That’s our destination.”

“That’s where you were attacked?” Kirra’s voice tightened.

“Yes. With any luck the corpses will still be there and I can claim a few trophies.”

“Why wouldn’t they be?”

“All manner of scavengers might have found them. Anything from wild beasts tearing them apart to nomads taking the armor and weapons to sell them.” The dragon banked towards the ruined town and its crumbling fortress. “There’s a nice, sturdy bridge over the gorge here, so its fairly well traveled.”

“I do seem to recall hearing something about the guards having to go protect a group of engineers while they maintained some far flung bridge once a year or so.” Kirra sat up straighter on the dragons back. “What if there are more dangerous people here?”

“The collar would have warned me,” Alvaranox assured her. Still, the idea made him feel as though he’d swallowed a mouthful of snow. It sat cold and frozen in his belly, melting into trickles of ice. Surely there was no one dangerous here now. The collar might have its malfunctions but it wouldn’t let him fly Kirra right into an ambush, would it? “Just let me know if you see anything suspicious, just in case.”

“You mean aside from the ruined town filled with corpses mangled by a dragon?” Kirra grinned as Alvaranox began to descend.

“Yes, Kirra, aside from that.”

Alvaranox swept towards the road in the midst of the ruin. The last time he’d been here, the damn bell filled his head. That was the first time the collar itself buzzed around his neck, rattling his scales. It seemed an eternity ago, and yet it was scarcely months. Kirra wrapped her arms around his neck to brace for landing, and Alvaranox soon trotted to a stop upon the old, broken road. He turned his head and stretched his neck a little to nuzzle at Kirra before she hopped down.

“This is where it started,” the dragon said. The sound of bowstrings popping and arrows whizzing through the air filled his memories. Alvaranox cringed, his wings twitching. “I landed here, walked into the town with the collar screaming around my neck. A few arrows hit me, a few more missed me.”

Kirra scowled, and stroked the scutes along the dragon’s foreleg. “Are you sure you want to be here, Alv?”

“Of course,” Alvaranox snapped his jaws. “I won the battle, didn’t I? Thanks to you and Nylah, I even survived it. Why wouldn’t I want to be here? Dead men cannot harm me.”

The look in Kirra’s eyes and the twisting of her face told the dragon she did not believe him. But neither did she press him about it. She patted his shoulder and began to wander around a little bit. Alvaranox followed her down the road. Before long Kirra was peeking through ruined windows and doorways, or nudging over crumbling piles of stone with her boot.

“Now, now, Kirra,” Alvaranox said, grinning. “You might be disturbing some poor lizard’s home.”

Kirra snickered at him. “I don’t think that’s too likely.” She put her hands on her hips, peering around the ruined town. “I wonder how long ago people lived here? This place looks as though it’s been dead for ages.”

“Probably since before my lifetime,” the dragon said, padding up the road a little bit. “I’m sure it was around before Asterryl, but it’s hard to say.” Then he spotted Kirra walking towards a ruined home showing more recent signs of smoke and char. “Ah, you might not want to look in that one.”

“Why not?” Kirra asked, though rather than take the dragon’s advice, she leaned against the wall and peered inside. Then she gasped, and turned away, the color draining from her face. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Because I burned a man to death in there. I shall take your reaction to indicate his corpse has not wandered off.”

Kirra shook her head, her red curls bouncing back and forth.

“Are you alright?” The dragon padded closer to her. He flicked his tail, and lowered his head to gently nuzzle at her face.

Kirra lifted a hand to rub at the golden blotch at the end of the dragon’s nose. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I’m fine, Alv. Just…didn’t expect to see that. And…I hadn’t noticed it out here so much, but…when I put my head through the window, the smell…”

“Probably lingers more in the building,” the dragon said. He licked her fingers, then smiled. “I’m going to head up to the fortress. You can look around on your own, if you want.”

Kirra quickly shook her head again. “No, I’ll go with you.”

Alvaranox smiled, and dipped his horned head in a single nod. The sight of one dead body amidst a ruin was enough to put her ill at ease, and he doubted she wanted to wander the place alone. Whatever curiosity she’d held was now outweighed by trepidation. Alvaranox padded up the old lane he’d followed on his first trip here. He opened a black-marked wing and wrapped it around Kirra, sheltering her beneath it. “There are no ghosts here, Kirra. And the men who died…well, I had little choice.”

Alvaranox walked on with his wing draped over his friend. He felt Kirra’s fingers brush the puffy pink scar on his belly. The flesh was still quite sensitive, and the feeling made him shiver. His scales clicked together and Kirra pulled her hand back.

“They got what they deserved.” Kirra’s voice drifted from under his wing, lilting and faint as though haunted by the very ghosts he’d just denied.

As they ventured towards the battered fortress overlooking the village, Alvaranox walked her through the battle. “I ran up this way, trying to avoid getting hit with any more arrows. They were still firing a few of them at me, here and there. I think those were just the rogues they’d hired.” Alvaranox turned and walked past the ruined smithy where he’d toppled a wall onto a man. Then he turned down the path that led by a still-standing wall, where he’d found the broken horse statue.

“Ah! And here is where I got clever. A man was firing at me from that arrow slit up there.” He pointed with his paw. The arrow slit was cracked and broken, stained with soot from the fires the dragon had belched inside. Though he hadn’t burned the man, something inside had certainly caught fire. At the time he hadn’t thought much of that, though now the dragon wondered what was in that room to burn. Perhaps that was where the men had set up their camp. “I threw a horse head at him.”

“You threw a what?” Kirra stepped out from under his wing, staring up at the fortress walls in shock.

“Not a real horse head,” the dragon explained, lifting his spines in amusement. “A statue. You can still see broken bits of it at the base of the wall up there.”

“Oh,” Kirra said, giving a sigh of relief. “I was going to say, that poor horse! Then I was going to ask where the hell you got a horse out here.”

Alvaranox laughed, lowering his head to nuzzle Kirra. “You amuse me sometimes, Kirra.”

“I’m glad I can entertain you,” Kirra murmured. She nudged at a tuft of overgrown grass with her boot, stroking the dragon’s neck. Her fingers brushed the collar, and the dragon’s vision flickered. The grass she nudged was dead and dry, crumbling to dust beneath her boot. “So desolate.”

Another blink and everything was normal again. Alvaranox hissed to himself. “Stupid collar.”

“What’s it doing now?” Kirra stroked the dragon’s neck, running her fingers over the collar. This time nothing unusual happened.

“The same as it often does lately,” the dragon said. “Gives me flashes of nightmares, dead worlds, crumbling cities.”

Kirra scowled. “It never did that before, did it?”

“No,” the dragon said, shaking his head. “Not like this. But its gone now, so let’s not dwell upon it.”

“Let me see it.“ Kirra pressed her hands to the collar. She half-expected to feel the dragon’s anger rolling through her, but nothing came. “I don’t feel anything…”

Alvaranox pulled his head away, grumbling. “Cut that out. Your voice echoes when you do that. And you know I don’t want you messing with it outside of emergencies.”

Kirra scowled at the dragon as he padded up the lane towards the outer wall of the fortress. Alvaranox did not look back at her. He did not want to see the worry in her eyes. Though it eased the dragon’s burden to know someone cared for him, it also made him ache to know that brought her worry. He did not wish to discuss it with Kirra and if he met her gaze now he knew she would press him on it. So he walked on until the sound of Kirra’s boot falls against the grass and broken cobblestone caught up to him. He lifted his wing and Kirra moved back under it again. Silent, she stroked the scales over his ribs.

Alvaranox smiled.

At the base of the outer fortress wall, the dragon came to a stop. Bits of broken granite lay mixed with crumbled mortar. The dragon picked up a chunk of stone, a horse’s eye clearly carved across it. He held it out to Kirra in his paw, grinning. “See? I told you.”

Kirra peered at the stone horse eyeball, her face twisting. “That’s creepy, Alv.”

“Why?” Alvaranox tilted his head, waving the eye back and forth in front of Kirra’s face. “Does it feel like its watching you?”

“Cut it out,” Kirra giggled, swatting the broken stone from the dragon’s grasp.

Alvaranox just chuckled. He looked around, trying to figure out how to get into the fortress courtyard. “I’m not sure where the entrance is. Have to find an old gate or a broken spot in the wall.”

“You don’t remember how you got in there last time?”

“I flew,” the dragon said, grinning. He craned his long neck to point his snout at the battered and scorched arrow slit. Soot and smoke stained the area around the shattered granite. “I perched on the edge of the wall there, blasted flame into that room, and then flew into the courtyard. But the men were in there, so there must still be another way in.”

Alvaranox padded around the side of the fortress until they found a way in. The primary gatehouse had collapsed in on itself, a pile of stone rubble and a twisted, rusty portcullis barred their entry. But further around was an area where the outer wall had caved inward. All they had to do was clamber over broken stone, and a few bushes that had long since sprung up between them. They ended up at the side of the courtyard where Alvaranox had fought the last of the men.

Kirra pressed herself against the dragon’s side when she spotted the bodies laying in the ruins. Sunlight glinted off battered silvery armor where it wasn’t tarnished by the rust-colored stains of dried blood. Inside the courtyard, the sickly sweet smell of decomposition wafted around each time the wind stirred the still air.

Alvaranox glanced at the woman huddled under his black and green wing. “Looks like they’re still here.”

“Are you really going to…take things from them?” Kirra scrunched her face.

“I haven’t come all this way to bury them.” Alvaranox snorted.

“Do you…think we should?” Kirra swallowed, brushing her fingers over the sensitive membranes of Alvaranox’s wing. Her voice wavered a little. “Bury them, I mean.”

“No.” Alvaranox growled in his throat, dragging his claws through a patch of earth. “These men tried to murder me. Let them rot.” The dragon turned his wedge shaped head, licking his nose. “I’m a little surprised the scavengers haven’t torn them apart.”

“I doubt there are many scavengers out here, Alv.” Kirra stuck to the dragon’s side as he padded towards the nearest corpse.

“I suppose you’re right.” The dragon tilted his head back, searching the sky for any circling vultures. “Not exactly a place they’d be used to looking for food. But you’d think the scent would have attracted them. Still. Easier for me that everything is still intact.”

“Alv, how are you going to get…”

Alvaranox answered her question before she’d finished asking it by grasping the man’s helmet in his paw, and wrenching it sharply to the side. Something snapped, and when the dragon gave a firm tug, the helmet came away from the man’s body. So too did its contents. Alvaranox peered into the helmet. The man’s half-rotted head seemed stuck inside. Alvaranox shook the helmet, trying to dislodge it.

Kirra gagged. “Alv! That’s disgusting.”

“What?” The dragon grinned back at her, perking his ears and lifting his central spines. “Consider it a bonus.”

“No! It’s…Gods, Alv, put that down.” Kirra put her hand to her mouth, closing her eyes. “You’re going to make me wretch.”

“But I want the helmet…” Alv sounded like a hatchling having his new favorite toy taken away before he’d even had a chance to play with it.

“Put it down!” Kirra pointed at the ground, stomping a foot. “Now.”

Alvaranox snorted, dropping the helmet and head. “I never get to keep anything.”

The helmet rolled across the ground a few paces till it came to rest at Kirra’s feet. The visor pointed up at her, though a smear of dried, rotten flesh across it kept her from getting a good look at the man’s shriveled face. Kirra screamed and kicked the helmet away from her. It flew across the courtyard, bounced off a stone wall with a clatter and then rolled a few paces till it lodged up against a section of toppled battlements sticking out of some long grass.

“That was quite a good kick,” Alvaranox said, laughing.

Kirra jabbed her finger into the golden blotch at the end of the dragons nose. “I’ll give your head a good kick if you pull that trick again!”

“What?” The dragon jerked his head back as though her finger were knife piercing his nose. “I didn’t roll it over to you on purpose. I just dropped it.”

“A likely story.” Kirra shuddered, rubbing her arms. “First that horse eye, now that decapitated head. Gods, that thing was looking at me.”

“The horse was made of stone, and that head was from a dead person.” Alvaranox licked his golden marking, and flicked his tail against the ground. His spines clattered against stone. “Neither of them were looking at you. And I still want to get a helmet.”

“Alright, alright.” Kirra muttered. She looked around a little until she spotted another body laying at the base of a wall. From the crumpled look of his armor and the blood dried across his visor and breast plate, it looked as though the dragon had crushed that one to death. But the helmet seemed intact. “Let me try. Just…I’m going to close my eyes, so…”

Alvaranox lifted his ears, curious to see how she was going to pull this off. Kirra padded over to the dead body, and knelt down alongside it. She took a deep breath, and set her hands on either side of the helmet. Then she closed her eyes, and began to ease the helmet upwards. She twisted it back and forth a little, applying extra force when it got stuck. Gradually the helmet moved, and when it came free it did so with an audible pop. Kirra whimpered, her stomach heaving. Beneath the helmet the man’s skin looked half-dried to his skull already, some of his teeth bared in an eternal grimace.

“It’s free, right?” Kirra rose to her feet with her eyes still closed. “I don’t want to see his face. And that smell is going to make me vomit…”

“Yes, Kirra, it’s free. Bring me that helmet, will you?”

Kirra didn’t open her eyes till she turned away from the man’s remains. Then, holding the helmet at arm’s length, she returned to the dragon and offered him his trophy. “Here. You had better be planning to scrub this thing clean as soon as you get home.”

“Was hoping you’d do it, actually.” Alvaranox grinned at her, lowering his head so Kirra could deposit the helmet in the bag around his neck. He smirked at her and gave a playful purr, tapping the plates of his chest with an unsheathed claw. “But perhaps you’d rather scrub my armor instead.”

Kirra glared at him as she dropped the helmet into the bag. “So I can either scrub some armor that smells like rancid death, or an old helmet.”

“I do not smell rancid.” Alvaranox waited till she turned around before he sniffed at himself to be sure. Good. He was right. “Come. You wanted that sword, right?”

“One of us wanted it,” Kirra said, chuckling. “Where is it?”

“It’s around…” Alvaranox turned towards the wall. There had been a man there. Alvaranox chased him. He ran around the corner, and…Oh. Gods. Alvaranox suddenly flopped onto his haunches, the memory of agony like he’d never imagined filled his brain. His belly throbbed and he pressed his paw to his scar. He did not want to go back around that corner. “It’s over there…”

“Alv!” Kirra whirled around and took the dragon’s head in her hands. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…I remembered…” The dragon trailed off, his breath coming in quick, fearful pants. The dragon’s massive heart accelerated till blood was throbbing in all his minor heart chambers and pulsing through his folded wings. “Gods, Kirra. It hurt! It hurt so much. More than I’d ever known pain could hurt. I knew he hit something vital…I was…Gods, I was scared.” Alvaranox looked around the place, his copper eyes wild and unfocused for a moment. He half expected dragonslayers to start crawling out of all the little nooks and crannies, coming to finish him off. “I don’t know if I got them all…”

“It doesn’t matter, Alv,” Kirra pulled his head against her body best she could. The dragon gently nuzzled at her, green scales brushing green fabric. “They’re gone. Even if you didn’t kill them all, they’re obviously long gone by now. You’re safe now, it’s alright.”

Alvaranox whimpered something incomprehensible. Kirra stroked his muzzle, and then reached a hand back to gently caress his ear. She slipped her other hand under his jaw, trying to coax a purr from the dragon. While he did not purr, he did relax a little bit. At Kirra’s urging, the dragon took a few slow, deep breaths and held them as long as he could. Gradually his racing heart began to ease its frantic pounding and the pain in his belly began to fade.

“Let me go and get that sword for you, Alv.” Kirra rubbed his nose, and when the dragon pulled his head back, she stepped away. “It’s around that corner?”

Alvaranox did not want to make her get anything else from the corpses, but he was in no condition to argue. His wings trembled against his sides, and the bitter taste of fire bile coated his tongue. The irrational fear that flooded him left his body prepared to fight. Adrenaline coursed through the dragon. He hissed, turned his head and spat a little flame into the air to burn off the excess fire bile he was producing. The heat of the swirling orange flames washed over Alv and Kirra. Kirra held a hand up to shield her face but did not complain.

Alvaranox took a deep breath, and let it out slow. He unfurled a wing to point with a talon towards the corner that lead into the former hallway he’d been ambushed in. “Around there, yes. I chased one man around that corner, and another was hiding in an alcove. As I passed him, he…”

“I know, Alv,” Kirra said, not wanting the dragon to have to continue. She smiled at him and stroked his cheek. “I’ll go get your sword, alright? It…It’s going to have your blood on it.”

“I know.” Alvaranox lowered his head and licked her cheek before she could shove his face away. Her skin glistened as she laughed and wiped it with her sleeve. “Thank you, Kirra.”

Kirra smiled at him, and jogged off towards the wall. She vanished around it, and Alvaranox peered around the ruins as he awaited her return. As he stared around the broken fortress, silence descended over the courtyard. Alvaranox considered calling out to Kirra, but he had made enough of a fool of himself. The last thing he wanted to do now was make it seem as though he was suddenly afraid of the silence. What was there to fear? All the men here were dead and Alvaranox did not believe in spirits or ghosts.

All around him, rocks began to move. The dragon tensed, his copper eyes widening. His spines flared in alarm. Broken pieces of stone rolled up shattered walls like spiders climbing their webs. Crumbled mortar reassembled itself along ruined parapets. Alvaranox began to pant again. Everywhere he looked invisible spirits were piecing the fortress back together.

“No,” the dragon groaned. He lifted a paw and pressed it to the base of one of his ridged black horns. He squeezed his eyes shut. “No!”

Alvaranox opened his eyes again. Walls rose around him. Bits and pieces of cobblestone floated through the air, dropping back into their original places all across the plaza that once lay inside the courtyard. Walls stretched and grew across burnt out framework like scar tissue across a wound. A rotten door was once more whole, occupying a doorframe that was no longer broken and bent. Twisted shards of rusted metal fit themselves back together into lampposts and gateways.

“No!” Alvaranox grabbed at the collar, trying to pull it free. As always, it shifted and twisted against his neck but would not come loose. He closed his eyes and shook his head back and forth. “NO!”

Voices drifted to him. The dragon opened his eyes again. The fortress was whole, and vibrant and filled with people. Stained glass covered the windows of a third story that moments ago had not been there. It sparkled, reflecting cascades of color across the ground below. Men in leather armor with bronze studs wielding hefty spears strode across walkways that had not existed for centuries. Wooden poles anchored to the plaza by iron spikes held aloft a snow-white tarp, casting pleasant shade across him. Women in flowing dresses of light blue approached the dragon, smiling and laughing.

“Hello, Guardian,” one of them said. She offered him a tray covered with succulent cuts of meat.

The foreleg that reached for the tray was dark blue, with hints of purple edging the scales. It looked slender, more so than Alvaranox’s leg. The scutes along the front of it were smaller than those of a male. Another woman offered the dragon some sweet fruitcakes. A man in a simple blue tunic and black breeches approached. He held a bucket with some kind of oil in it. He dipped a cloth in it and began to oil the dragon’s scales. Looking back, there were no spines upon the long, blue tail.

Before Alvaranox could truly comprehend what he was seeing, he blinked and with it the world changed again. He stood in another part of the fortress plaza. Men in ebony cloaks edged in red were busy digging a hole. Some of the local soldiers watched. Another blink, and the men were filling in the hole. A heavy flagstone was placed atop it, then more dirt and cobblestone.

Alvaranox took a breath, and the world flickered in shades of orange. The fortress was under attack, and the city beyond it was burning. All around him people screamed in pain and fear. Smoke choked the skies and burned the dragon’s nostrils. A furious roar shook his scales, rattled his skull. He recognized the roar as female, and in that moment, it was his own. The Guardian Slave was fighting back but it was too late. Whatever had brought this fortress to ruin had been too much for the female who bore the collar. Anger and loss and crushing heartbreak rolled through him. That female…had she cared for that city and its people? In their greatest moment of need, it seemed she could not protect them.

“Alv!” A familiar voice cut through the visions. “ALV!” The dragon’s head shook as Kirra grasped his horn and jerked him back and forth till she brought him back to reality. “ALVARANOX!”

Alvaranox cried out in alarm as the world coalesced around him in an instant. Gray, broken walls, battered corpses. A burning sun in a blue sky. The only scents were of death and desolation. And Kirra. Alvaranox focused on her scent, turning his head to look at her. He reached out with a trembling paw and grasped her shoulder. She was real. This was real. The rest was just…a dream. A vision.

A memory.

“Alv, are you alright?” Kirra gently took his muzzle in her hands. Fear trembled in her emerald eyes.

Alvaranox stared back at her, his own eyes still wide and only half focused. He thought for a moment about what he’d seen. There were men there, in cloaks like those who tried to kill him. This place had a dragon, too. They seemed to treat her differently. Not that it made any difference in the end. If those were memories, then she had failed. Why were those men…Alvaranox shuddered. He did not want to think about it.

“I want to go home, Kirra.” Alvaranox pressed his muzzle to her with a sigh. A blood-stained sword lay beyond her. He did not want it anymore. With a whimper that turned into a snarl, he tore the burlap bag from around his neck and tossed it aside. “I just want to go home.”