FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

*****

Chapter One

Blood

*****

Blood stained the fresh snow, more of it than I had ever seen from one of my kind. Dark crimson splotches and ribbons marred the innocent white ground. From the sky, I followed the trail, dreading what I knew I would find at its end. Nothing could lose that much blood and still struggle on but a dragon. Fear prickled at the base of my spiny frills. Please, I thought, don't be him.

The trail stretched as far as I could see, from west to east. No wounded dragon would ever fly west, to where our enemies dwelled. Whoever it was, they were flying east, to our ancient valley. But there was too much blood splattering the snow, and I already knew they would never make it home.

I ascended till the air smelled of nothing but ice and the wind raked my sensitive wings with frigid talons. Nictitating membranes protected my eyes from the cold, and reduced the harsh glare of morning sunlight glittering on fresh snow. I scanned the ground ahead of me, following the blood trail as deep into the valley as I could.

Far to the east, I saw the peaks of The Elders' Gaze rising, towering granite cliffs carved with the faces of ancestors long turned to dust. The ancient monoliths and their surrounding mountain range stood sentinel above a valley that great dragons had called home for countless generations. These days, though, our valley was nearly empty. Only two so-called grand dragons still lived within that valley, still kept it safe.

One of them was me.

The other one lay in the distance, in a crumpled, bloodied heap.

At the end of the blood trail, sunlight glimmered on wet blood and bronze scales, marked along his spine with deep blue. Cold claws clamped down around my heart. Until that moment, I held out hope it was not him. After all, it had been years since I'd even seen him. But those scales were unmistakable. I dipped closer to the snowy ground, and the scent of his blood wafted from every blotch, every smear. There was something familiar about the smell, something unique to it, a bit of his own scent amidst the hot, coppery stench. I knew that scent all too well.

His name was Melakar, and he was the father of my son.

Horrified, I dropped to the ground, snow crunching beneath my paws. The cold chilled my pads, but my focus was on Melakar. He was not yet dead, but he could go no further. What little blood he had left was slowly dribbling out across his once vibrant-bronze scales, striping them with red. One wing lay at an awkward position beneath him, broken perhaps, when he finally ran out of strength and fell from the sky. He clutched at his rent underbelly with a forepaw, but it did little to stem the crimson tide that now caked his scales. Steam rose from warm blood still running from open wounds, and from his shallow, irregular breathing.

There was no panic in me, only bitterness and grief. He was dying, and there was nothing I could do to help him. All I could offer him now was comfort, in last moments. I padded closer, but he had not even noticed my arrival. Dread and sorrow coiled in my belly, and when I tried to speak, the only sound to escape my muzzle was a pained, strangled-sounding mewl.

At least the sound finally drew his attention. His ears swiveled towards me, and he tried to lift his head from the snow. Even that proved too arduous a task, and instead, he murmured my name.

“Ella?" Blood and saliva alike dribbled from his maw. The raw hope in his voice nearly crushed me. “El-Ella?" He tried again to turn his head, and this time, his burnt-gold gaze focused on my face. Hints of my own black scales reflected back at me like shadows cast across his eyes. His spiny frills lifted up halfway around his head, and a smile parted his muzzle.

“Yes, Melakar." I found my voice, but only just barely. I approached him, and settled on my belly alongside his head. “I'm…I'm here."

“Ella, I…" He sucked in a slow, shuddering breath. His fear was palpable, a talon slicing into my heart. “I think I'm dying…" His tail coiled in pain.

I set a paw atop his bloodied muzzle, and gently stroked the fine, pebbly scales there. “I'm…I'm sorry. There's…nothing I can do."

“You're here, and that…" Every word was a struggle, but he refused to give into death just yet. “That is enough. I had…I had longed to see you one last time, Ellamyriss. I feared…I hadn't made it far enough. I'm…glad it's you with me, at the end."

His every word squeezed my heart tighter. It had been years since we'd said more than a few, passing, angry words to one another. We were friends as hatchlings, rivals as youths, and as adults, we were family, once. Together, we raised a son, but after our child left to start a life of his own, we had a great falling out. Since then, Melakar stuck to his end of the valley, and I to mine. We cooperated to keep it safe, but other than that, we kept to ourselves.

Now, every lost moment felt like a wasted opportunity.

But Melakar was dying, and he did not need to hear of sorrow, or regret. He needed comfort. Gentle as I could be, I cradled his horned head in my forelegs. I lowered my muzzle, and gave him a gentle, tender lick across his nose. All I could taste was his blood, but I forced a smile to my face, and lifted my frills in feigned happy expression.

“I missed you too, you old bastard."

“Old?" Melakar managed a laugh, but it twisted into a pained cough. Through great struggle, he lifted his bronze-scaled foreleg away from his belly, and touched his bloody front paw to my cheek. His pads were as cold as the snow upon which we laid. He did not have long. “You're…older than I am."

It was an old joke we used to share. Once, it made me smile, but now it only brought tears to my eyes. My long throat clenched, and I struggled to fight back a sob. “So…" My voice cracked. “So I am."

Truth was, neither of us had been young for a long time. We were both long into our adulthood, though dragons could live far more years than either of us had yet known. But dragons rarely had the chance to grow old enough to die quietly in their sleep. Death for a dragon was violent, more often than not. And dragons were very hard to kill, which meant when we were mortally wounded, death was often slow and painful.

Melakar's wounds were testament enough to that. He had gaping, jagged holes in his belly. It was a small miracle his entrails had not spilled out along with his blood. They must have ambushed him while he hunted, and shot him down. Just after dawn that morning I heard distant, echoing thuds to the west. Now I knew why. One of his horns was shattered to a broken stump. Smaller wounds marked him everywhere else, gashes and deeply pierced holes. Once, they needed an army to fell a dragon. Now, they had stronger weapons.

“They're coming." Melakar coughed again, and a fresh stream of blood ran between broken teeth. “You…you should go."

I stiffened, and set my jaw. “Someone has to protect the valley."

“The valley…The valley's already theirs." Melakar's paw dropped into the snow, and he heaved a low, weary sigh. His eyes lost focus. “We're all gone, now. All gone."

My already-aching heart sank lower, settling somewhere near my tail. Deep inside, I knew he was right. Our valley was once home to hundreds of Grand Dragons, as if every mountain was once home to another being of legend among the so-called mortal races. The valley was almost a sacred place to us, the greatest gathering of the greatest of dragons. There was even a time when we were at peace with the human kingdoms. Until greed and animosity took hold on both sides. Until peace turned to tributes, legends turned to monsters, and fear and anger led to war.

When I first hatched, hundreds of dragons had dwindled to dozens. Over my lifetime, the oldest among us had grown more and more secluded, and ever more bitter, fixated on treasure and territory, united only in desire to keep this place, this valley, out of human hands. And one by one, they had fallen in that effort or fled its futility. Even my beloved son chose to leave the valley when he came of age. After that, it was only Melakar and I who remained.

Soon, it would be only me.

“We're not all gone." I stroked Melakar's neck with a forepaw. “I'm still here."

“No." With great effort, Melakar slowly shook his head. “Don't be. Don't die for this. Not…not for this place. Let…let me be the last." His eyes focused upon me once more, and regret slipped into his voice, like an insidious poison creeping into his final moments. “I'm sorry, Ella. For the way things turned out. I wish…it had been better, between us…I wish…I'd done more, to…to help us…stay happy, together."

“No," I said, gently nuzzling him. I did not want him to pass from this life with regret in his heart. “The wind that carries, simply carried us apart. It was not meant to be, for you cannot fight the wind."

The wind that carries was an old dragon adage that meant that a dragon's life was at the mercy of the winds, for better, or for ill. I was never sure how much I believed in it, but Melakar always had a place in his heart for the beliefs of old.

“So be it, Ella. Then…may the wind that carries, carry you to a better life, and…" Melakar tried to reach for me, but lacked the strength. I lowered my muzzle and pressed it to his paw, instead. “May the sky that shelters, always protect you."

I still don't know why that broke me, but that was when I began to cry. My tears dripped onto his scales, carving little lines through half-dried blood. Only twice before had I heard him speak those phrases together. He spoke them to our son, on the day he was to leave and start his own life, far from our valley. We had not seen him since. And Melakar spoke the same words to me, the night we angrily parted ways. Somehow, only then did it occur to me, he meant those parting words as a farewell, to those he feared he would never see again.

“Thank you." I hugged his head, struggling just to find words, any words through the sudden flood of tears pouring down my muzzle.

“I…I can't...move." Melakar's voice was getting softer, hoarser. Words were getting harder for him to form. “Ella, the sky? I want…to see the sky. One last time."

By then, I couldn't even find words. I gently eased his head up, tilting it back so that he was staring up. I cradled his head, stroking his frills while he stared at the sky. Though the day before was filled with heavy snowfall, overnight it had cleared up, leaving a vast, cloudless azure expanse. The beautiful blue color reflected in his eyes as memories and ghosts played across them. Their light faded, just a little.

A smile crossed his muzzle, if only for a moment. “When we were young…"

And those were his final words. Wreathed in memories of youth, and shrouded in cold snow and uncaring sky, he died in my arms. There was a last, shuddering wheeze, a twitch, and then he was gone. Given the circumstances, it was a peaceful a death as he could have had. I hoped, in the end, I brought him some small measure of comfort.

When Melakar breathed his last, I knew then that the valley was empty, and I was alone. I hugged his head to mine, and cried into his scales until I had no more tears to give.

*****

Chapter Two

Pyre

*****

I cried myself to exhaustion. After the tears were gone, I lay there a while longer, just stroking his scales. It took me ages to work up the strength to rise again. Even then, if not for his vague warning that 'they' were coming, I might have laid there with him, all day. But I knew well enough who had killed him. They would track his blood through the snow, just as I had. I wanted to be gone before his murderers arrived. Not because I feared them, but because I did not want them to see me coming. It mattered not if they were an army, sent by a kingdom, or if they were a band of slayers, murdering dragons for a living. Whoever they were, I would avenge Melakar, or die in the attempt.

First, though, I had rites to attend to.

When a dragon died, old traditions dictated we build them a pyre. A dragon's pyre symbolized their final flame, and served as a light to help guide them into the darkness. In the generations since the humans first learned how to slay us, our pyres took on new meaning. It kept them from cutting us apart. Where they saw tools and armor, we saw only desecration. I could not save Melakar's life, but I could damn sure keep his murders from butchering him like an animal.

I returned to the sky, but my heavy heart remained earthbound. Regrets and second thoughts swirled in my mind like brittle autumn leaves caught in a biting wind. How many chances to reconcile had we wasted? How many more years could have been spent in happiness together, if not for angry words and pride? I struggled to cast such doubts aside, for now. Regret would not wash his blood from my scales.

For much of the day, I scoured the land for wood. Though we called it our valley, our home included everything from a sprawling mountain range to an enormous, deep blue-lake. Much of the area was flattened floodplain and time-smoothed boulders, a vast tract of land carved in ages long past by a trio of snowmelt rivers. Towering peaks of granite and basalt enclosed it to east. A day's flight to the west, tilted spires of red and gray stone erupted from the earth. Further still were rugged hills capped with ridges of the same hues. Thick forest smothered everything closer to the lake, including its marshy wetlands. Game was plentiful there. To my people, it was all part of our sacred homeland.

The snow that covered everything made hunting for wood arduous and time consuming. Each time I had gathered as much wood as I could carry, I flew back to Mekalar's body and deposited it around him. Dragon scales were resistant to flame, but not impervious to it. I wanted to surround him with enough wood to ensure that once the blaze was lit, it would consume him completely. A dragon could only produce so much flame in a day, but that was not my only problem. If the first attempt did not work out, I knew I would not have the energy left for a second time.

Hunger built in me while I worked, rumble by painful rumble. I put off feeding as long as I could. It seemed somehow disrespectful to Melakar to spend time hunting and eating while his body lay stiff, and unburned. Eventually, though, my hunger grew too painful and I was forced to address it. Usually, I relished the thrill of hunting, and the taste of fresh meat, still hot. But now, it was little more than a chore, some basic requirement I only acknowledged to prevent myself from dropping out of the sky.

Between trips ferrying wood, I snatched a marsh doe out of the swampland. A few wing-beats later, and I hurled her against a tree, shattering her neck and ending her fear and pain. I landed, and spat just enough red-orange flame to singe the fur from her hide. I devoured the rest of her quickly, leaving little more than hooves, a few bits of bone, and the parts of her filled with excrement. Then I returned to my work.

By the time I collected enough wood for a proper pyre, the sun already hung low in the sky, casting fire across the snow. For a time, the valley looked cloaked in molten gold. I paced around Melakar's body, contemplating the inevitable. When this was over, I would never again hear his voice, reminding me of old adages. I would never again see the sunlight glittering on his unusual scales, bronze and with indigo markings that had advanced further down his back the older he grew. We would never fight, or argue, or spar. Or laugh, and reconcile, and mate. Or watch the stars, together. Or talk about the life we hoped our son was leading.

In my head, I already knew those things were gone forever, the moment he passed from this world. But my heart? My heart clung to his physical form, as if fearing all my memories of him would somehow burn away to ash along with his body.

“He's already dead." I spoke aloud, as if to convince myself of the obvious. Hearing the words, even in my own my voice, added uncomfortable but unnecessary finality to them. “Melakar is dead, and you will never see him again. It is time to put him to rest."

I took a slow but very deep breath, filling my lungs until my plated chest expanded. Then I held it as long as I could, till my head throbbed, my lungs burned, and my pulse thumped through my wings. Only when it hurt, only when I could not possibly hold in my breath another second did I let the air back out in a great, rushing exhalation. I squeezed the fire glands at the base of my jaws, spraying astringent, bittersweet fire bile that ignited into roiling, red-orange flame all across the pyre. Immense heat washed across me, triggering my nictitating membranes to close and protect my eyes. When I ran out of air, I took another breath and repeated the process, circling Melakar's body. I bathed him in fire until, like my tears, I had no more flame to give.

Exhausted, I flopped onto my haunches a short distance away. Flames roared and crackled, spirals of whirling embers spun off into the air. Memories spiraled through my head the same way, moments and images of our shared youth. I saw us as hatchlings, playing in the snow and clambering up boulders. There were few hatchlings our age back then, so it was only natural we would grow up as both close friend, and bitter rival.

I remembered him teasing me for being late to learn to fly. Though I was older than him, he had mastered flight long before I ever took my first wobbly trip into the skies. We fought often in those days, often coming home bloodied and bruised to declare to our parents we hated each other. And each time, we'd be right back to exploring the world together only days later. When we were a little older still, we took to slinking off somewhere private together to explore more than just the world.

Later in life, our periods of friendship and rivalry grew longer lasting, and more intense. There were times we were inseparable lovers, and times when we wanted nothing to do with the other. We shared comfort and pleasure, and we fought over territory and treasure, licked each other's wounds and added new scars to our hearts. Dragons were creatures of high passions, and powerful emotions, with deep seated pride, long-lasting grudges, and enduring love.

It was that love that kept us together when our son Vevarek hatched. While we fell in and out of love with each other, there was never anything but love for our son. Those were some of the happiest times of my life, and I knew that Melakar felt the same way. Years and decades flashed through my head while the flames burned. I saw Vevarek breaking free of his egg, tasting air and life for the very first time. I remember Melakar sobbing uncontrollably while he clutched our wriggling child to his chest plates.

We taught Vevarek to hunt, to fly, to use his flame. We taught him to speak the languages of the world, best we could. Melakar taught him the old ways, and the ancient traditions. I taught him to fight, and protect himself. We did all we could for him, to prepare him for a world that all too often would see him only as a monster. And when he was grown, when it was time for him to seek territory of his own, we said our farewells, and we watched him fly off into the horizon.

That night, I remember Melakar crying harder than ever before. I think saying goodbye to Vevarek tore something out of him, something he could never quite get back. After that, things were never the same between us. We argued more than we soothed, and we fought more than we loved. When at last we went our separate ways, our parting had a permanence to it that it never had before.

I lifted a paw to wipe my eyes. Memories of so many years long past had stirred up a reserve of tears. “Goodbye, Melakar. You were…" I sniffed, struggling to force words through my suddenly clenched throat. “A better friend to me than I fear I deserved. You were an excellent father, and I am proud to have…" I sniffed a few times, swallowing hard. “To have called you my mate. To have been part of your family."

A few more hot tears spilled down the scales of my cheeks. I lifted my head, staring out across the valley. Wind blew coils of powdery snow across the vast white expanse, in the distance. The sun had nearly set, it's last radiant gasps painted the sky with layers of purple and pink. It struck me then, that the last official pyre occurred when there were still other dragons around. Since then, others had left and never returned, or fallen to human armies where we could not collect their remains.

In the old days, the clan's Queen would have conducted the pyre, along with the clan's Singer of the Stars. The Singer of the Stars was a title from dragon antiquity. They were, in essence, a high ranking spiritual adviser to the clan's ruler. Melakar and I used to joke about being royalty, but their was little truth to it. The old bloodlines were muddled and the valley had not known a true Queen since before my time, let alone a Singer. Many of the old traditions such leaders would have conducted were forgotten by most dragons. After all, what good was tradition if there was no one else to carry it on?

But Melakar had always held such things dear. During the previous pyre, the funeral rites had fallen to him. He was the only one left who knew them. He'd gathered the other dragons together, granted them antiquated titles, spoken ancient rites, and so on.

Who now would conduct his pyre?

I recalled bits and pieces, but that was it. I stared into the flames that were ever so slowly consuming him. “You deserve a proper funeral rite, old friend. But there's no Singer to cry your name to the skies, no Queen of the Valley to carve your deeds in the ancestral stones." I sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to hold back fresh tears. “There's…there's only me, now."

My throat tightened, but I forced myself to continue. “And I do not know the words, as you knew them." I unsheathed my claws, scratching little lines in the blood-stained snow. Some of it was melting from the heat of nearby fire. “But I should do my best, for you. I suppose that a proper pyre, will require a proper queen." I gazed around the empty valley, silent save for the crackling of the flames. “I'd best make it official."

I pushed myself up onto all four paws, and took a slow breath, this time to steady myself. When I spoke, I filled my voice with as much strength and conviction as I could, calling out each word so that it would rise above the crackling of the pyre, and echo across the snowy valley.

“I am Ellamyriss! Protector of the Valley of Gods' Blood and Earth Flame!"

The name was as old as the tales that spawned it. Stories claimed that the world's first dragons took their very first breaths here, in this valley. It was said that we were all descended from four primal elemental dragons born of the blood of wounded gods, and forged in the fires of the volcanoes that now lay dormant beyond the cliffs of the Elders Gaze. I had always considered such tales to be bollocks, but they had mattered to Melakar. For as long as his pyre lasted, they would damn well matter to me, too.

“I hereby lay claim to the titles of Queen of the Valley, and Singer of the Stars! Let any who would challenge me step forward and declare themselves."

I waited long enough for Melakar's pyre flames pop and crackle in answer, then dismissed their claim and continued. “So claimed. Then, as Queen of the Valley of Gods' Blood and Earth Flame, the ritual falls to me. I shall carve name and deeds of the fallen upon the ancestral stones!" I gazed around, and flattened back my ears and frills. There was nothing else around us but snow. “Which I…" My voice trailed off into a frustrated mutter. “Do not have. I'm sorry, Melakar…" A bittersweet smile parted my muzzle. “I'm bad at this. You'd be teasing me right now, and it would be well deserved."

Whirling embers snapped a reply, and I could almost imagine it was Melakar, chiding me and encouraging me at the same time. You're right, you are bad at this. But I know you're doing your best. Go on, Ella.

Even if only in my head, that still left me sniffling. I wiped my eyes with a forepaw, nodding in response to the words only I could hear. “So be it, old friend. Perhaps the Singer's rites would suit me better. I do hope you'll forgive me for butchering them completely."

I settled back onto my haunches again, in order to cast my forelegs to the sky, spreading them as far apart as I could manage. The flames left the silver stripes along my foreleg scutes burning like molten fire.

“Skies! Hear me!" I threw my wings open to their full extent. “I am Ellamyriss, Singer of the Stars! I call to the Sky That Shelters!" Used as a name, the old adage was more akin to an afterlife, and a protective spirit, spoken of in ancient tales. “Offer your eternal solace, shelter, and comfort to this faded flame!" I made a grand, sweeping gesture towards the pyre. “As the fire dies, guide my fallen kin skyward, one last time!"

I took a breath, and shouted his name with all the power I could muster. I wanted it to echo to the sky, and beyond. “Melakar! His name is Melakar!" My breath ran out, and my words faltered. My wings drooped, and my forelegs dropped back down. “And he has always believed in you. So…" A sob threatened to upend the composure I'd somehow managed to hold together until then. “So please, Sky That Shelters? Please be real. Let him fly with you, forevermore." I blinked away a few more tears, my wings shaking. “Offer him your shelter, at the end of his journey. Because any god who's real, knows he deserves it."

Crying again, I returned to standing on all four paws. My legs wobbled, and shook. By now, the flames were well into consuming Melakar's corpse. With any luck, he would be little more than ash and bone, come morning. At least by then, if I had to reignite it, I would have a little more strength again. I approached the pyre until the heat grew uncomfortable upon the thin scales of my nose, and the sensitive membranes of my spiny frills.

“I'm afraid…"

I meant to say, I'm afraid those are all the rites I know. But a sob stole my voice, and left my words lingering in the air. It hit me then, that I was afraid. Afraid of so many things. Countless fears suddenly coiled around my battered soul. I was afraid of being alone, now. Solitude was one thing, but now I was genuinely alone, in this valley. I was afraid of never seeing my son, again. I was afraid of losing our sacred home, to the same humans who took my former mate from me.

And I was afraid of dying, the way so many others died. It was not death itself I truly feared, but dying badly. Shot from the sky. Alone, swarmed over by humans, put to a slow, painful end. Melakar, at least, had comfort in his last moments. But that had not eased his fear. Don't die for this place, he had told me. Yet I wondered…what alternatives did I have? Flee the valley? Cede it to our enemies, simply because I did not want to die for it?

I forced myself to find my voice, and pushed my fears aside. Once more, I returned to addressing my fallen mate. “I hope, in the end, you know you were loved, however poorly I showed it. You were always a part of me life, even when I hated you. So…thank you, for…for being part of everything I've ever known. I…I genuinely do not know, what I will do without you."

Until that moment, I hadn't even considered it that way. In the last decade, we'd barely even talked. Yet, now that he was gone, I already missed him. I suppose, in the back of my mind, even when I was angry at him, I always knew he was there. That no matter how furious we were, if I needed him, he'd be there for me. There was comfort in that. I had never truly considered what life would be like without him.

The valley suddenly felt emptier than ever.

I leapt into the air, and my beating wings fanned the flames. They grew and swelled, devouring the dragon in one way or another, I had shared my entire life with. As I ascended, I spoke to him again.

“Farewell, dear friend." By then, my voice was little more than a broken whisper. “May the winds that carry, carry you home, and may the sky that shelters, shelter you forevermore."

Melakar may have believed in the sky that shelters, but as I winged away from his pyre, and darkness cast its ebon wings across the land, I felt differently. To me, the sky never seemed so uncaring.

*****

Chapter Three

Scouts

*****

While the pyre burned behind me, I followed the trail of blood back towards Melakar's murderers. I flew low to the ground, both to keep my belly safe, and to prevent myself from being silhouetted against the star-dappled sky. Through bitter experience, I knew dragonslayers often sent a tracking party after wounded quarry. They finished the victim off, if needed, and secured the site around the corpse. The butchering would come soon after, when they had the bulk of their forces there for protection. A large enough group of humans could break down a dragon's body in a day or two, if they were lucky.

But they were not lucky.

They had murdered the only dragon left in the valley who might have deigned to try and speak with them. Melakar always fancied himself the diplomat of our remnant clan. In times of relative peace, he would trade for things with nomadic tribes of humans and other peoples. It was Melakar who had, in decades long past, brought us human vassals and hirelings, trading services and knowledge for coin and bits of treasure. Had Melakar known that slayers were planning to shoot him from the sky, he might well have approached from the ground to try and parley with them, instead.

They would receive no such kindness from me. Melakar believed in diplomacy, but I believed in blood for blood. It was an age old principal, an honor-bound act of vengeance among dragons. I would speak to Melakar's killers only with fang, claw, and flame.

When the flat ground in the center of the valley gave way to rugged, stony hills, I dropped to the ground well away from the blood trail. Snow crunched beneath my paws. The landscape here was littered with tilted spires and slabs of red-gray stone. Weather-beaten boulders were strewn amongst them, and copses of scraggily pine trees grew wherever their roots found purchase. I padded towards a collection of large, rugged outcrops, sweeping my tail behind me to stir some of the snow, and help obscure my paw prints.

The day's sunshine and a blustery nighttime wind had combined to scour most of the snow from the rock. Now, in the darkness the stone all held the same shadowy gray-black hue. My ebony scales were not much different, and would blend in well with the nighttime shadows. I squeezed myself between rugged monoliths, then tucked all four limbs under my body to prevent my silvery stripes from catching the moonlight. I did the same with my tail, and kept my wings tightly folded to keep their crimson edging out of sight.

All I had to do then was wait.

The night passed slowly, and in silence. No birds called, no wolves or coyotes howled. Occasionally, a sharp gale erupted and shrieked across the valley, sounding as if even the wind was in mourning. Snow billowed around me each time, temporarily crusting my scales and wings with white before I shook myself. Each time, a few cold, melted droplets ran down my hide after I'd settled myself once more. My scales rustled and clicked when the feeling made me shiver. Every exhalation left another cloud of steam drifting away. I did not mind the cold, but after a time, laying in snow grew uncomfortable even for a dragon. Despite fatigue, hunger, and the frigid cold, I remained focused all through the night. I would not let them ambush me as they ambushed Melakar. Nor would I let them escape.

It was nearly dawn before I had my first sign of them. I heard them before I saw them. Whispered voices in the distance, the crunch of snow underfoot. My ears swiveled as if of their own accord, tracking all the sounds. Best I could tell, there were several groups of them, with at least one out in front. They moved among distant stones, slinking from rocky spires to weathered boulders, and small copses of pine trees.

The scouting party had brought their own scouts. Clever, but not clever enough. That told me they were well aware another dragon yet dwelled within the valley. They would be ready for battle, armored and armed for dragons. I would alter my tactics as needed, but I had dealt with dragon slayers before, and all the armor, poisons, and increasingly advanced weaponry in the world had not saved them. They had given me scars, and sickness, and I had given them everlasting peace.

It would be no different tonight.

In the distance, I saw the first group of them cresting a nearby hill. There were four of them. One at a time, they slunk from the shelter of a wall of stone, to the shadows beneath a trio of pines. They were wrapped in thick, dark coats, likely with armor of some kind beneath. As each human crossed the snowy expanse, they glanced up, pointing their long, wood and brass weapons at the sky. They probably knew from the distant pyre smoke their quarry was lost. Surely, any moment now, a vengeful dragon would swoop across the skies and descend upon them.

They were half-right. But I was not coming from the sky. Their expectation would be their undoing. I knew I had no chance to sneak up on them, even in the darkness. Even if I were their size, the crunching of the snow would give me away. So I waited until they made their next move, hurrying from the trees to a cluster of boulders not far away. I let three of them reach their new point of shelter, but the fourth was not going to make it to his comrades.

The moment he left the trees, I exploded from my hiding spot. The sudden movement scraped my delicate wings against the stone, but the faint pain only spurred me on. I uttered no challenging roar, I called out no declaration of vengeance. If not for my paws thumping against the snowy ground and my panting breath, I'd have been as silent as the shadow I suspect they mistook me for.

I hurtled across the ground, closing the distance in three heartbeats. Though dragons cherished their flight, we were far faster on the ground than humans ever expected. By the time he realized I was coming, I was already upon him. I did not know what kind of armor he wore, but I knew where it was weakest. As I bolted past him, I lashed out with a forepaw, retractable claws fully unsheathed. My claws caught him in his jaw, his throat, his neck. Between the sharpness of my talons and the strength I hit him with, I tore his head completely off his shoulders. The wrenching impact sent the rest of his body pinwheeling through the air, painting the snow with fresh blood.

Even before his head and body finished tumbling in opposite directions, I turned on the other three humans. One of them screamed out an order, and two of them ran for cover. The third shouldered his weapon and fire blasted from the end of it, accompanied by a roar so loud it left my ears painfully ringing. A projectile shrieked past me, narrowly missing. I winced inwardly. I hated those things. He shouted some human curse, and I closed on him even faster than I had his kin. The slayer backpedaled frantically, struggling with his weapon, no doubt trying to prepare it to belch fire again.

It was too late. He had brought a little fire, but I had brought a lot of it. With a furious roar, I spat flame at him, consuming him within the searing, red-orange tumult. He screamed and dropped to his knees, and something at his waist erupted into a secondary blast of brilliant yellow-white. Whatever that was, it was new to me, but I had little time to ponder it. I had two more humans to kill, and then the rest of the advance party to eliminate. The noise of their weapons now meant they others would know I was coming.

Not that it would do them any good.

Another human clambered up over a boulder as large as he was tall, aiming a smaller weapon at me. I sprang forward and threw myself into the boulder. His armament discharged as the impact jarred him loose from the stone. Despite his weapon's size, its cry was nearly as raucous as its larger brethren. It's projectile tore a hole through wing membrane, sending a bolt of white-hot pain all through my left wing. With a snarl, I threw myself into the boulder again, dislodging it from the frozen earth and rolling it right across the hapless human. He gave a wretched scream that came to an abrupt end.

That left only one of the original four humans. Quick, crunching footfalls in the snow alerted me to his attempt to flee. I pivoted towards him, and saw him running by the way he came, towards the copse of trees. I leapt into the air, and beat my wings once, streaking across the ground. Halfway to the trees, I reached him, and snatched him in my forelegs. He struggled, but before he could take aim with any more dangerous weaponry, I hurled him into the nearest tree as hard as I could, likely breaking most of the bones in his body. He crumpled into a shattered heap, and I banked away from the pines.

I dropped back to the ground, panting. I spread my wing, grimacing at the way it throbbed. Blood ran from the small hole, but the damage would not impair my flight. Curling my neck towards my wing, I stretched it as far as it would go, and lapped at the wound a few times. Our saliva helped to ease bleeding, and after a few thorough laps, I folded my wing again. I was grateful the wound was only minor, as I was not near finished tonight. Four of the murderers were dead, but I still had to eliminate the rest of the scouting party.

The rest of them were probably a few hills away, so I set myself to the east, and hurried across the snow-caked ground. I kept to the ground, to ensure no one had a clear shot at my underbelly. While our chests were heavy plated and well protected, further along our belly the scales grew finer, and easier to penetrate. A deep wound to the belly would not kill a dragon immediately, but if it struck something vital, we would bleed out like any other creature. Poor Melakar was testament to that.

When I was a hatchling it was arrows and poisoned crossbow bolts we had to fear. By the time I had reached adulthood, they had ballistas. Those weapons remained, but now they also had things that belched fire and spat metal, along with cannons on wheels and I imagined, worse things still. I suspected it was those kind of weapons that brought Melakar down, and I did not intend to suffer the same fate.

Distant voices drew my attention. My ears swiveled towards the noise. It sounded like someone shouting orders. No doubt they had heard the echoing booms from the earlier battle, and knew I was somewhere near them. Atop a nearby hill, a towering outcrop of rock loomed over the landscape. I crept towards it, and hunkered down behind the red-gray rock. Keeping my movements as slow as possible, I peered around the edge of the stone.

My quarry occupied the summit of a neighboring hill, where they looked to have set up camp. There were tents and cots, and stacks of wooden supply crates. Hints of smoke rose, from recently doused cookfires. Dozens of humans scurried about, taking up defensive positions. A number of large, shaggy yaks stood around, some yoked to an immense wheeled cart, others laden with heavy packs and cargo harnesses. Two of them pulled smaller wheeled platforms, with metal cylinders affixed atop them, pointed upwards in a sharp angle at the sky. Cannons of some kind, perhaps, I thought. Though I could speak the local human language well enough, I lacked knowledge of all the terms for their recently developed weapons. Given that I saw no sign of ballista, I imagined those strange things were probably what shot Melakar down.

I flattened back my frills and ears, considering that. I would not have thought a scouting party to bring their most valuable weaponry, unless they had even more back at their main camp. Or perhaps I had overestimated their number, and the four I killed were the only real scouts. Melakar might have killed plenty of them himself before he undertook his final flight.

Or maybe, I thought with fearful bitterness coiling in my belly, they just didn't need an army to kill dragons anymore.

*****

Chapter Four

Pain

*****

I took time to observe the humans before deciding how best to proceed. They were setting some kind of defensive perimeter around the hilltop. Some of them took up positions behind spires of stone, or used wood boxes like barricades. Others braced weaponry against their cart. Still more worked to prepare their cannons. Many of them were focused on the sky, but not all. The one giving orders was waving his arms about, pointing his subordinates in different directions. He, at least, was wise enough to watch the ground as well as they sky. Perhaps I'd kill him first.

Several yaks were guided to pull the cannons into new positions. I licked my muzzle, temporarily distracted. If I was not so focused on my bloody task, the sight of such prey would have made my lingering hunger nearly unbearable. But food could wait, for I had vengeance to attend to.

I decided to double back the way I'd come, and see if I couldn't loop around behind them. If there was one direction they might not expect an assault from, it was the way they'd come. Yet I knew I did not have time to tarry. Dawn would arrive soon, and with it, my black scales would become detriment rather than camouflage. If I had not eliminated them by then, I feared I would have to retreat and try again the following night. As deeply as my heart longed for revenge, I had not lived this long by being reckless.

Once I was far enough away, I charged direction, and worked to circle around them. I stayed as far away as I could without losing track of them, using the landscape to my advantage. The rocky hills, the boulders, the trees and all the stone spires all served as cover enough to keep me out of sight, especially at a distance. Now and then I heard shouts, and once, an ear-splitting crack. I smiled to myself. They were nervous enough they were firing at shadows. That meant if any of them did catch a glimpse of me in the distance, there was a chance they'd write it off as their own worried imagination.

When I came upon their own trail in the snow, I knew I was directly behind them. The collection of footprints, hoof prints, and wagon wheel trails was unmistakable. It paralleled the frozen blood that chronicled Melakar's last journey. I flattened my frills, hissing. Something cold and painful squeezed my heart. Poor Melakar, I thought. But what was he doing all the way out here, anyway?

The splatters of his blood ran further to the west than I could see. If I truly believed in miracles, I would have considered it no small one he made it as deep into the valley as he did. But that still left me wondering what he was doing so far west. The rocky hills I hunted dragon slayers in was very near the edge of our ancient valley territory. The poor old fool must have been hunting relics again, or investigating whatever noisy thing the distant humans were building lately. If he'd been spotted in the skies out that way a few too many times, it would have made setting up an ambush that much easier. I resolved to look into it later. After all, I had to head that direction eventually, to see if there were more humans looking to slay dragons.

Slinking as low to the ground as I could, I followed the dragon slayers' trail. When I crept over rises, my belly scales brushed the snow. The sensation made me shudder. We did not normally walk low to the ground like lizards, but higher, like wolves or great cats. While all our scales were sensitive to touch, finer scales of our belly were more so. Laying in the snow was one thing, but feeling it brush and bump me somehow seemed to highlight just how damn cold it was. My paw pads ached as if in sympathy. I was not used to spending this much time in the snow, anymore.

Atop the next hill, I crouched down amidst boulders, surveying my quarry. They did not look to have moved to far from their previous positions. No doubt they were content just to wait out the night there, and continue onward once the light of day made it easier for them to spot me at a distance. Their two cannons were now positioned at the front and back of there expansive cart, pointed in opposite directions. The cannon platforms were no longer yoked to their burden beasts. Instead, each had a team of humans ready to wheel it back and forth, and operate the levers and gears I suspected were used for aiming. Sturdy wooden crates banded with iron sat near each cannon.

I did not know exactly what sort of projectile their larger weapons fired, but I had seen what it could do to a dragon. There was no way beneath the sky that shelters that I was going to give them a clear shot at me. The cannons were aimed towards the sky, and I had no intention of giving them a chance to alter that trajectory. I knew I wasn't going to be able to reach them without being spotted, so I'd have to be swift, and destructive.

That wouldn't be a problem. Dragons liked being destructive.

A quick glance around my surroundings gave me an idea. Quite as I could, I crept around the hilltop, testing the weight of a few boulders. Some were frozen in place, and too heavy even for me to easily move. Others were loose and shifted easily beneath my touch, but too small to serve my purpose. Eventually I found one that was suitable. I glanced towards my enemy's encampment, judging direction and distance, then backed away with the boulder between us.

I took a few moments to center myself, filling my lungs with the frigid air. There was always the chance that this could go wrong, and I tried to convince myself I was alright with that. Everything died, eventually, and dragons were no different. Surely, it would be better to die in battle, than to bleed out like poor Melakar. Yes, I thought, I would not retreat even if things turned against me. I would win, or I would die.

“That makes it easy, then." I whispered aloud to myself, as if to offer the solution to the winds, that they might help me carry out my will. “You're just going to have to win."

With that settled, I sprinted forward, and leapt into the air, propelled off my powerful hind legs. I flicked my wings out and beat them only once, swooping across the ground at a perilously low altitude. At that height, I could not even safely clear the largest of the rocky outcrops, but it was the only way this was going to work. I hurtled towards the boulder I'd selected, and snatched it up in my front paws. The sudden, heavy weight pitted against my forward motion wrenched my forelegs and shoulders alike with painful intensity. I had to clamp my jaw shut to keep from crying out. Hopefully I had not torn anything.

I hurtled down the other side of the hill, and across the jagged landscape between rises. As I feared and expected, someone spotted me. I heard a cry of 'dragon!' in one of the human tongues I knew, and almost immediately, a thunderous boom shattered the pre-dawn quiet. Something shrieked past me, sounding like the angriest hornet to ever exist. It thudded into the ground amidst a spray of snow and earth.

As others scrambled to take aim, I flicked my wings, careering back and forth from cover to cover. At my speed, and my size, and their elevated position, I knew nothing would fully protect me, but I put whatever I could between their weapons and me. As I flew between stony spires and clusters of trees, few more shots rang out. One thumped into a tree trunk, and another splattered a rock pinnacle, sending chips of stone crashing against my wings.

Nearing the base of their hill, I pounded my wings against the air to streak up the slope. I took a deep breath, readying my flame. This was going to be the most dangerous part, as it would leave my underbelly bared towards their weaponry for a few heartbeats. I blasted fire at the hill's summit as I ascended, trying to scatter as many of them as I could. Humans screamed, ran, and dove behind cover.

The moment I crested the hill, I put all strength and upward momentum into hurling my boulder at their cannon platform. The throw left my already sore forelimbs aching, but I was rewarded with an immense, splintering crash as the great stone struck home. The platform exploded and wood flew everywhere. Wheels blasted apart and metal cracked and broke, sending the cannon itself whipping end over through the air. The boulder bounced and continued forward, mangling a human who could not get out of the way in time. It tore a rubble-strewn path through their encampment and smashing through part of the cart meant for a dragon's corpse.

I followed the boulder's path through the air, blasting fire across the earth. Flames billowed across the hilltop, and heat washed across my belly, warmed my wings. I ignited the cart, the second cannon platform, and as many crates and chests of supplies as I could reach in a single pass. Several humans who avoided the boulder were not so lucky now. Caught in the flames, they screamed and stumbled away, burning.

Just before I was able to drop to the ground on the far aside of the camp, hot, sudden pain exploded on the lower, right side of my body. I heard the accompanying crack at the same time. A wave of temporary, cold numbness followed, as though I'd been struck so hard across the ribs my flesh went numb. Blood ran down my scales, dripping to the snow in fresh red splatter. The startling pain tore a cry from my throat, and he realization that I'd been shot left my heart pounding like a caged animal struggling to break free. I snarled and balled up my forepaws, reminding myself I'd been shot before. Agonizing as it was, this felt no worse. Worrying about it now would not carry me through the battle.

“Cover! Get to cover!" Rather their celebrate drawing blood, the humans suddenly sounded panicked. “The dragon lit the powder crate!"

I'd done what now? I knew those words, but the order made little sense. I banked away, and dropped lower to the ground, trying to protect my most vulnerable areas from further injury. But when no more shots rang out, I glanced back. Flames wreathed almost everything made of wood. The panicked yaks were scattering, each running in a different direction. The humans were no better, sprinting and stumbling away from the fire as if the beasts' fear was contagious. They jumped behind hunks of rock, and flattened themselves out on the snowy ground, covering their heads. But why would--

The crate nearest the burning cannon platform exploded with yellow-orange flame, and force enough to blast apart everything near it. The damaged cart disintegrated in a flash. Wooden shrapnel, flaming debris, and iron spheres tore through everything. Any human or beast who had not gotten to safety was ripped apart. Trees blew down, and stone spires collapsed onto those sheltering beneath them. Humans further away were picked and strewn across the snow like leaves caught in the wind.

The same blast wave hit me, and hurled me through the sky just as easily. The unseen impact knocked all the air from my lungs in a great, agonizing cough. I toppled sideways, all my lift gone. I flailed at the air as if I could somehow grasp it and stop my plummet, tried to beat my wings, right myself and regain lift. But I was flying low when the explosion happened, and I hit the snowy ground long before I'd even come close to arresting my fall. I tumbled across the earth in painful, ungainly somersault, vision alternating flashing snowy white and fiery red. It was all I could do just to tuck my limbs in, and try to fold my wings to keep them safe.

At the end of my tumble, I thumped hard against my back, skidding the last few paces through the snow. I ended up sprawled out, wings draped awkwardly at my sides, hind legs splayed apart in a very undignified manner. Though at the moment, dignity was the last thing on my mind. My whole body ached, and the taste of blood caked my tongue. I tried to breath, and that only left my chest throbbing. I curled in the snow, clutching myself in my forelegs. Whatever just happened hurt worse than being shot. Unable to breathe, I writhed in silent agony in the snow, my tail lashing, wings beating. My ears rang steadily, an unceasing bell toll. Motes of angry light danced in my vision, and my pounding heart begged me to take a breath.

For several terrifying moments, I fought just to breathe. Leaden pain thumping in my chest left my lungs frozen, and refusing to obey. A horrible thought hit me that I could be dying. My lungs might have collapsed. I could die there, not from blood loss or gaping wounds, but from something as simple as suffocation. For all our armor, and all our strength, dragons still had the same biological needs as any other creature. The idea of somehow choking to death from unseen forces was both horrifying, and humbling.

When I finally managed a single, wheezing inhalation, relief washed over me like the warm morning sun after a cold night. Getting air inside me, any air, eased the worst of my lungs angry burning. A few more breaths, and the pain elsewhere dulled a little, as well. While still on my back, I quickly stretched each limb out, testing them. Satisfied they weren't broken, I forced myself to roll over and rise. I wobbled back and forth, but soon caught my balance. If only my breath came easily. Each one was less difficult than the last, but still arduous.

In the distance, I saw humans who had survived the explosion rising to their feet, as well. I hissed, and decided to take stock of my injuries while on the move. My wings folded into place with only minor aches and protests, so I did not think I'd broken anything. Blood still dribbled from my side, but best I could tell, while the projectile had penetrated my scales, it had also lodged against my ribs. Painful, but not life-threatening. I coughed, and spat blood. That was a little more concerning, but as I was not struggling to breath quite so much, I'd worry about it later if it persisted.

The blast looked to have killed or maimed more of the humans than not. It was a shame I was too foolish to realize what was stored in the crates near the cannons, and how dangerous it was when set aflame. I could have that on purpose and taken cover immediately. I would have been in better shape to finish off the rest of them. When a distant survivor spotted me, he reached for a weapon at his belt, only to find it was no longer there.

He turned, and ran towards a few of his kin at the base of the hill. His voice cut through the ringing of my ears. “The dragon's still alive! Regroup, regroup!"

The humans all broke around the side of the burning hill, now caked in blood, debris, and gore. Voices from the other side told me there were survivors over there, too. I suppose I should have killed them faster before they had a chance to join back up with each other, but my brain seemed to be operating a wing-beat behind its usual pace.

I suppose I should have killed him faster, but no time like the present.

I spread my sore wing and leapt into the sky. After a few successful wing beats, I was little more relieved they could still carry me than I wished to admit. I rose quickly, and soon circled above the slayers' decimated encampment. Scanning the ground, I spotted the last group of them about the same time they spotted me. When I saw two of them shoulder weapons, I banked sharply and spiraled away, back towards the earth. After the explosion, the two booms sounded soft and distant, and the fire their weapons belched was pale and insignificant. Both shots streaked past, just beyond the edges of my wing tips.

This time when I landed, I had no more tricks in mind, and more stealth. My only intention now was to kill them all. I hoped that others had lost their weapons as well, or had not gotten a chance to reload them after their initial volley, before the explosion. As soon as my paws touched the earth I charged them, engaging their entire group directly. Most of them scattered just before I reached them, but I slammed my horned head straight into one human's torso, even as I kept moving forward. I hit him so hard that armor and sternum alike crumpled beneath my skull, and the force lofted him into the air.

Before the first man even hit the ground again, I was whirling on the others. My tail whipped into two of them, sent them both pinwheeling and screaming through the air. They landed with crunches too loud to have come from the snow, and they did not get back up. Another man, I cut his legs out from under him with my claws. I snatched another one's head in my jaws, and jerked my neck sideways, tossing him into the hillside.

All the while, I kept moving, never presenting a still target or giving any one of them a clear shot at anything vital. I lashed out with a hind paw, and sent another human toppling head over feet. Another spin, and one of them almost managed to raise their loaded weapon at my face. Just as I saw the movement, I surged forward and snapped my teeth down against his arm. He screamed, and I ripped his arm clean off his body, and spat it to the snow. He stumbled away, blood gushing.

Fresh pain erupted near my shoulder, accompanied by a startled crack and the astringent smell of smoke. The shock of it, the sudden agony and the odd, hot numbness, left my stumbling back. I turned towards the one who shot me, and he stared back with wide eye amidst his odd, flat face. Then, panicking, he threw his heavy wood and brass weapon at me, bouncing it off my face. I sucked in a quick breath, and bathed him in fire for his efforts.

As he screamed and crumpled into a burning heap, the last three of them of them broke and fled. In other circumstances, I would have considered letting them live. But these humans had killed Melakar, and there was no mercy left in my heart for them. I sprinted after the slowest of them, and buried my claws in his brain from behind. They lodged in his skull, and with a displeased grimace, I shook his remains loose, then looked for the others.

I hunted the other two down the same way. One, I tore his head from his shoulders. The other, I pinned in the snow and crushed his chest beneath my weight. Though I felt they deserved a slow, terrifying death for what they did to Melakar, drawing out the inevitable would not bring him back. Besides, I imagined there were still survivors from the explosion. Out here, in the elements, any serious wound would eventually be mortal. Those ones, I would leave to die on their own time.

After slaying the last human, I wanted to feel relieved. But no relief arrived. In its place, there was only exhaustion. A heavy, smothering blanket of it settled over me, and I dropped to my haunches in the cold snow. I took slow, deep breaths, my chest still aching. I stared out across the bloodied snow. All that, and what had I achieved? The scene I left in my wake here was no different than Melakar's pyre. Blood, death, and ashes. I was victorious, and yet no joy or elation took hold of my heart. Melakar was still dead, and all the vengeance in the world would not bring him back. But blood for blood was satisfied, at least for now.

With no one left to slay, I turned to watch the sunrise. It broke through the darkness first with a creeping, purple gloam, and later, with cascading shafts of brilliant red and orange. Birds called, somewhere in the distance. Despite the carnage around me, it was a beautiful, peaceful morning. I spent longer than I should have, simply watching the sunrise, and savoring the peace that settled over the battlefield.

For a while, I imagined Melakar was right there watching it with me. Despite all my pain, the thought made smile.

*****

Chapter Five

Army

*****

Hunger and thirst woke me. I jumped to my paws in an instant, baring fang and claw. I could not even remember falling asleep, but exhaustion must have taken a heavier toll than I realized. I whirled in place, scanning my surroundings. Sleeping in the territory of enemies was a good way for a dragon to die. Only when I was certain that a second party of dragonslayers had not gathered around me did I relax and retract my claws.

It was a damn good thing I was still alone, because I hurt everywhere. My triumph had left me battered, bloodied, and with a number of new scars. Dried blood crusted my scales, along with the painful pressure of metal projectiles still lodged in my flesh. I ached, deep in my chest, and breathing too deeply proved uncomfortable. While a wounded victory was victory still, I was not sure I could manage another one until I had rested and healed.

When I collected myself, I picked through the remains of the dragonslayer's encampment for a trophy. Tradition dictated that after surviving a pitched battle, I take something to commemorate my victory. Often I took a weapon that failed to slay me, or armor that failed to protect my foes. But this was different. This was vengeance, and I wanted something fitting, something grand that spoke to the fact that Melakar's life was worth more than all the weapons and soldiers they could ever throw at us.

And then it struck me.

Melakar's life was worth more than all that, so much more. There was no trophy in all the world that could ever measure up to the value of his lost life. The thought brought renewed anger pumping through me like hot blood, and I tore my way through the rubble of their camp. I ripped an intact wagon wheel to pieces. I wrenched a cannon's battered metal husk out of the snow, and hurled it into the distance. I tossed the half-frozen bodies of dragonslayers around like stiff, broken dolls. Anything that had not yet burned, I blasted with fire. Like a furious youngling, I expended my anger in a violent tantrum.

When I was spent, I felt no better. If anything, I felt worse. My wounds throbbed, and leaked fresh crimson rivulets. A coughing fit took me, and I spat blood into the snow. I sat back amidst crackling flames melting nearby slow, and struggled to catch my breath. While I calmed, familiar colors in the distance caught my eye. Part of a torn banner baring my own coloration protruded out from under a charred body at the base of the hill.

I threw the slayer's remains inside, then picked up the black and red banner. It was torn at once end, and burned at the other. Hints of a bright silver insignia edging the burned area. Bloodstained fingerprints marked it. I wondered how it had ended up there. Had one of the humans been trying to carry the symbol of their ruler to safety? That made it important to them, and that, I thought, made it a fitting memento. They had stolen a great life, and in return, I had smote them into ruin. All that remained of them now was their ravaged emblem.

That would be my trophy.

Part of me wished I knew which human nation or group it belonged to. Melakar might have known which human nations and groups flew which colors, but I did not. I could not immediately recall seeing such a banner before, but that meant little. Human lives and breeding were both quick, and their societies changed rulership as quickly as hatchlings lost their egg teeth.

With my trophy decided upon, it was time to address my other pressing concerns. My stomach rumbled painfully, and a gummy, stickiness clung to my tongue and long throat. It occurred to me then that I had not eaten nor drank anything since the pyre the night before. To ease the hunger gnawing at my belly, I helped myself to the remains of one of their yaks. Most of their beasts had escaped into the hills, but a few of them had not made it far enough away from the blast. I tore out parts of blackened, ashy hide and flesh, and worked my way around bits of debris embedded in the beast to reach chooser morsels. Enough meat remained unruined to provide me a nearly full meal.

If only the powerful thirst settling into my long throat were so easy to deal with. Before the battle, there was a trough filled with water for their yaks located near the cart. But the explosion had destroyed it along with anything else. I could eat snow, but the amount of it required to quench a dragon's thirst would have required far more effort than it was worth. Instead, I sought out the dead men's waterskins and canteens. Each time I located one that remained intact, I punctured it with an unsheathed claw and drained the water into my muzzle. I could not find enough of them to truly slake my thirst, but I took the edge off.

By the time I had finished eating and drinking, I had another need that had not been addressed recently. Relieving myself. Normally I would find some isolated place, but considering my feelings for the murderers I had slain here, I chose the center of their ruined camp. Should others of their kind find them, I considered it a fitting message for them to discover. When I was finished, I took to my wings, ready to be rid of this wretched place.

I climbed swift and hard, bound only by the limits of my aching body. Now that it was light out, I needed to fly as high as possible to keep myself safe. The weapons slayers bore these days had far greater range than those my ancestors faced, and I did not wish to take any chances while outside the relative safety of my valley, and my mountains. I rose and rose, spiraling in a tight ascending loop. The air was already cold, but when it grew so frigid as to be almost painful for my sensitive wings, I knew I was high enough. Too high, even, as a inhalation brought tiny, icy needles into my lungs. I winced, and dropped back down just enough to prevent myself from breaking into a coughing fit.

From my elevated position, I could track Melakar's blood trail again. It had led me to his killers, but they themselves had been also been following it. I needed to know where it began, to know if there were more of them or not. It stretched onwards, into the western distance, further beyond the edge of our valley than we usually flew. I had not gone this far to the west in years, if not decades. Again, I wondered just what he'd been doing so far out here. Melakar had always been curious, and always more interested in the rest of the world than I was. It made me all the more heartsick to contemplate that his curiosity may have been his undoing.

Finally, in the distance, I saw the beginning of the blood trail. Humans swarmed the place. The snow there was flattened, and marked by far more blood than Melakar's alone. A great battle had taken place there. Even now, they were still digging pieces of corpses out of the snow. Though it did not ease his loss, it was good to know Melakar had taken plenty of them with him. He may have favored diplomacy, but I knew he had faced and bested plenty of dragon slayers in the past, just as I had. They had claimed his life in the end, but it came at heavy cost.

As I was still out of range, I flew a little closer. It seemed an odd place for an ambush, out in the middle of nowhere, in a desolate place between realms. Surely, if they had come here to slay dragons, there were better places to set up ambushes. Unless Melakar was making frequent trips this far from home, and somehow they knew that. He did have contacts and allies in far flung places, as did I. But I knew of none out this way. Perhaps he had met some other female dragon from beyond our valley and taken a fancy to her. In truth, I had little idea just what he'd been doing the last decade or so.

The last time I flew this far, there was nothing out here but thick forests, and rocky, boulder-strewn hills, along spires of rock like claws rising from the earth. It was pretty, if desolate, but I did not recall any other dragons living out there. In fact, I scarcely recalled anyone living out there at all. An isolated tribe of nomads used to pass through, now and then, but there were no villages or anything else out there. There were human realms, eventually, but those took days and days of flight to reach.

Or at least, they used to.

What I saw in the distance now said otherwise.

Humans smothered the horizon. What was once isolated, peaceful terrain was crawling with more humans than I had ever seen gathered in one place outside their great cities. There were hundreds of them, perhaps even thousands, along with all the structures to support them. Line after line of green tents stretched in one direction. Cookfires dotted the land between them. Other areas were packed with buildings, some of wood, more of stone. Smoke belched from forges, iron chimneys and strange contraptions alike. In one direction, half a hillside was excavated in what looked like some kind of mining operation. In another, a line of humans armed with hammers pounded against great wooden beams and metal rails laid against the earth.

Whatever they were building out here, it was fortified. Great walls rose around everything. They were wood, for now, but lines of stone blocks already formed the foundation for stronger walls to come. Sturdy watchtowers stood at evenly spaced intervals, some topped with ballista. Cannons topped separate, sturdier platforms. Banners matching the one I claimed from the dragon slayers fluttered atop tall poles.

So they had brought an army, after all.

It stunned me. Not even a dragon could stand up to such a force. If there were still hundreds of us, that would have been different. Hell, even a dozen of us might have been enough, if properly coordinated and with a bit of luck. But all the other dragons were gone, and it was only me, now. I fell to me, and me alone to defend our ancient valley. As deeply as it wounded my pride, it was obvious even to a dragon that I would not be enough.

My belly twisted against my spine, and my heavy heart sank into my hind paws. That was it, then. All too soon, our sacred valley would be lost. The wind that carries had at last carried us unto our end.

As much as I wanted to tell myself it wasn't true, what other options did I have? I could stay here, and die for my valley, or I could leave it and let it be taken from our people without a fight. I beat my sore wings, then banked, circling a few times, lost in thought. Though there were many traditions I did not believe in, the sacredness of our valley was one of the few I did. I did not believe in our godly origins, or that the valley was a divine gift to us, but I did believe in my heart it was ours. I had to protect it unto my dying breath, did I not?

And yet, what good would that do? I could take a hundred of them with me. Hell, if my last hours were fruitful, and I didn't blow myself out of the sky again, surely I could take more than that. I reminded myself I was not some paltry swamp dragon, out to claim a swath of land and rile up a few peasants and maidens, who could be slain by a paw-full of knights with luck on their side. I was a grand dragon, the greatest and most powerful our of species.

But so was Melakar, and he had died just the same.

Sooner or later, we all did.

If I stood against them, it would be no different for me. One day, they'd shoot me from the sky, or bleed me out on the ground, and I would breathe my last, alone. No one would comfort me in my last moments. And my death would accomplish nothing. They would still take the valley, despite my final defiance.

The question then was, was defiance worth dying for?

That was a question I could not answer easily. I needed time to consider it. For now, I had seen enough. Just as I was preparing to bank away, I spotted something else even further in the distance. Something monstrous drifted in the distant sky, an amalgamation of wood, metal, and bloated bags. It crawled across the sky at a lazy pace, belching a stream of smoke and steam behind it. It was too far away even for a dragon's eyes to make out the finer details, but whatever the hell it was, I had never seen anything quite like it. It put me ill at ease, and I was all the happier to turn for home, and put my tail towards it.

At least now I understood why Melakar used his dying words to plead with me not to stay and fight. He had seen the same things I had, he had seen the same futility I now witnessed. He knew as well as I that even the greatest of grand dragons could not stand alone against an army and hope to live. So what foolish thing had possessed him to get close enough to try? Maybe it wasn't an ambush, at all.

I was left with the sickening realization that Melakar might not even have been killed by people looking specifically to slay dragons. Maybe he just saw evidence of their army in the distance, and came to investigate. He might have just been a target of opportunity, a dragon in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Or was there more to it than that?

As I winged my way back towards the mountains I called home, I let my thoughts drift. I hated that I had no way of knowing just why Melakar was out here. Much as I hoped to find some reason in all this, some puzzle to piece together, I was forced to admit it was just as likely he was simply indulging his curiosity at the end of a long flight. I also had to admit that if their was some puzzle to solve, I would likely never have all the pieces. Nor would its solution bring me closure. But I knew myself all too well, and I knew I'd continue grasping for strands to weave all the same.

Perhaps I would find some clue in his own lair. Already I planned to visit it, and take some of his things for myself. My kin had done the same for generations. Most dragons accumulated a good deal of possessions during their life, everything from wealth and treasure like coins and jewels, to items of knowledge like books and scrolls, to sentimental trinkets and so on.

Why we felt a need to collect such things, I never knew. The old tales claimed when the gods first forged us, we were intended to protect things of great value. And even when the gods were gone, that need to collect and protect wealth remained. Like most of the old tales, I thought it was a load of gryphon bollocks. Who didn't like wealth and treasure?

When one of us died, blood relatives divided up their possessions, and added them to their own collections. Friends and others took the rest. That way, the accumulated wealth and knowledge of generations remained with the dragons of the valley, even after their passing. Humans called such collections a hoard, and somehow, despite the negative connotations of the word, we had adopted it into our own tongue.

Fresh footprints in the snow interrupted my thoughts as I neared the smoldering remains of the dragonslayer's camp. If not for the direction they went and distance they covered, I might not have noticed them. Where the blood trail ran roughly west to east, these footprints went north. I banked, circling for a few moments. The looked to lead away from the hill. One of the men I'd left for dead must not have been as grievously wounded as I realized. I dipped a wing and spun in the air to follow his trail. If he was healthy enough to walk that far, I may as well go and finish him off myself.

*****

Chapter Six

Survivor

*****

Though he had traveled an impressive distance, considering what he'd been through, from the air it was not hard to find him. His tracks wove first back and forth between rocky outcrops, and boulders, then from hilltop to hilltop. I imagined him running as fast as he could, at first, trying to stay hidden as if he feared I was already hot on his trail. When it was clear I was not, in fact, following him, he must have started trying to figure out which direction to travel to make it home. Despite that, he was going entirely the wrong direction.

When I spotted him, he stood atop limestone ridged, shielding his eyes with his hands. He should have been going west, but instead, he forged onto the northeast, as if he'd somehow convinced himself he knew just where he was going. But all he'd find in that direction was death by exposure, if he was lucky. If he wasn't lucky, he'd find death by wild animals. And if he was truly unlucky, he'd discover the joys of being captured alive by a tribe of warrior gnolls who had suffered their own agonies at the hands of humans. I should have imagined a dragon slayer would at least have enough directional sense not to pick the worst possible direction, and yet, if anything, he seemed almost excited to be going that way, as if he was nearly home.

Then he crested the next hill, and stared out once more across the snowy landscape. This time, he must have realized his error, because he stomped a few times in anger. His furious movements caused him to slip in the snow, and tumbled head over feet down the hillside. I clenched my jaw to hold back laughter. His ineptitude would have been endearing if I hadn't been planning to incinerate him for his murderous ways.

His fall down the hill ended with him sprawled in the snow, not unlike the way I had ended up after the explosion. I circled again, wondering if he'd broken his neck given how long he remained unmoving. Perhaps he'd done my job for me. Or maybe, he'd spotted me in the sky. I decided it was time to end his attempted escape, and folded my wings, going into a dive.

No sooner had I started diving then he jumped to his feet and took off running. So he had spotted me. Did he really think I was going to be fooled that easily? Then again, considering he seemed to lack all basic navigational knowledge, perhaps I should not be surprised. As I hurtled towards the ground, I contemplated waiting to break off my dive until the last second in order to snatch him off the ground and hurl him into the cluster of boulders he was running for. But that would put a lot of strain on my wings I did not really wish to endure. Given my injuries, I decided not to press my luck. Instead, I opened my wings gradually, slowing my descent until I was able to touch down in the snow not far behind him.

As I trotted to a stop, he scrambled for cover behind the massive rocks. I shook my limbs out, approaching his hiding spot. Surely, any moment now, he would call out, begging me for mercy, or declaring himself too stringy to eat. Perhaps he'd try to tell me he wasn't actually part of the dragon slayers, and that he'd only been out there, observing nature. I expected him to tell me any number of stories, and plead for his life alongside them.

Instead, he remained silent and out of sight. I licked my muzzle, staring at his hiding spot. I imagined him flattened up against one of the boulders, just waiting for me to come around the other side, ready to slink around the rock to keep it between us.

I tried to recall what language I heard the dragon slayers speak. I knew a number of human tongues, even if I did not know the names for them. Dragons had an excellent proclivity for languages, and an excellent memory to go with them. When I had human vassals, they all came from different lands, and I used them to keep in practice with human speech.

“Realize, human, you are there, I know!" I arched my neck, only to realize something off about the words. Had I left something out, or structured it incorrectly? I tried again. “Humans! You exist behind the rocks." Closer, but still not quite what I was looking for. And humans was their plural word, for their species. I gave it another shot, and this time, I believe I got it right. “Human! I know you are behind the rocks."

Yes, that was better. But the dragon slayer still did not come out. I wondered if he had a weapon, and was planning to ambush me when I came after him. That was not about to happen. This time, I thought my words out in advance before opening my muzzle. “Come out from behind the rocks! Or I will fire you."

Damn it, I thought. Even that wasn't quite right. I remembered Bebil, one of my former vassals, playfully chastising me about word choice, and other structural issues. He had drilled a lot of things into my head, I was just out of practice. I was also quickly losing patience.

“Come out now, or I will flame everything!" I took a step towards him. “The rock may shield you, but the heat will burn your insides when you breathe, and you will die slow. Come out, and die quick instead."

“Alright, alright!" Finally, the human responded. “Just…don't burn me, please!"

“I shall not, if you-"

He jumped out from behind the rocks, all at once, and brandishing a small fire-belcher in his hands. Only, he hefted it so quickly and abruptly that his cold fingers lost their grip, and rather than fire it at me, all he succeeded in doing was tossing into the snow, halfway between us.

“Shit!" He scrambled after it.

I took two quick steps, and put my paw on his weapon. “Yes. Shit."

He froze staring at me with wide, terrified eyes. I savored his fear a moment, examining him. Like all humans, he had a strange, flat face. He had no frills with which to show expression, and his odd little, motionless ears were mostly hidden within his shaggy brown head-fur. Instead, his face constantly shifted between small, tiny expressions as if his hide was slowly melting. I knew human hide varied from light to dark, and this one was somewhere in the middle. His funny little nose flared, and his lips peeled back to show his mostly-flat teeth. He took a few steps back, holding up his hands.

“You're…you're going to kill me, aren't you?"

“I planned your death, yes." I looked over the rest of him, waiting to see if he was going to run or not. He wore a similar dark coat and leg protection to the others. Unlike the ones I had killed, however, he bore a patch with a red tear drop shape on each shoulder. I tilted my muzzle towards one of them. “What are those?"

“Sh-shoulders?" He took another step back, his tiny eyes darting around.

“On your shoulders," I said, adding a snarl.

“Oh…" He swallowed hard, glancing at the emblem. “It's a blood drop. I'm a medic."

I canted my head, flattening my frills. That was a term I'd not heard before. “Explain this word."

“It…it means, a surgeon, a doctor. Someone who-"

I snapped my jaws to silence him. “Those words I know. Your explanation is sufficient." I picked his weapon as delicately as I could. Though we walked upon our front paws, our fingers were dexterous, and we had opposable thumbs, just as humans did. I had learned the term from Bebil. Examining the weapon, I was careful to keep the end that fired pointed away from me. It was a thing of wood and brass, and it smelt of oil, and sulfur. “What is it called?"

“My pistol?"

“Piss-tall." I sounded out the unfamiliar term, glancing at him. “Is that not also your word for urination?"

The human ruffled the fur on the back of his head. “Not…exactly."

“You say you are a surgeon." I held the weapon closer to him, as if evidence that would decide his fate. “And yet you carry this." With a hiss, I tossed it away. “Do your surgeons often carry implements of injury and death?"

He squared his shoulders, glaring at me. “When we're expected to defend ourselves against dragons? Yes."

Defend himself. I had not missed the implication. I lowered my head until my muzzle nearly brushed his face. His skin turned a paler hue, but to his credit, he did not back away. Then again, given his trembling, he may well have been paralyzed with fear. “You would not need to defend yourself against dragons, if you did not seek to murder them."

“I…I…I wasn't…" While he stammered, his mouth opened and closed, almost out of time with his words. He looked like a particularly ugly fish dragged out of the water. “I just…I was supposed to help, and…gods, you killed…so many of them." A bit of fire returned to him, his eyes flashing defiance. “Most of those men you killed, they had families. They had children."

A low, menacing rumble crept into my voice as I spoke. “The dragon you killed had a family, too. His name was Melakar, and we had a child together. I had a family. Now I only have a son."

All the fire flickered out of his eyes as quickly as it came. The human sagged forward, sighing. His shoulders slumped. He must have realized then just why I had come looking for his people. Why I had killed them. “Just…if you're going to do it…I only ask you make it quick."

He wasn't even begging for his life. For all his ineptitude, there was courage in him in equal measure. I had not expected that. Nor had I expected to speak to him this long. I had long since expended my vengeful fury, and now I was just…tired. Slaying him now sat unpleasantly ill at ease in my belly. I pulled my head back, and settled onto my haunches. “You were here to kill dragons, yes?"

“I was…" The human worked his words around in his mouth, chewing them like food. “Here to treat the wounds of men who killed a dragon. I had nothing to do with attacking one. I work for them, as a medic." He gestured, but if he was trying to point out his distant army, he was once more selecting the wrong direction. “When they were dispatched to follow his trail, I was sent along, in case more soldiers were wounded finishing the beast off. But I was not involved in his death."

“And you think that absolves you?" He curled my tail around my paws, torn.

The human shrugged. “I have no trouble defending myself, but…I don't like the idea of killing something, even something evil, if I don't have to."

Evil. There was that word. In the old days, humans brought that up as an excuse for murdering dragons. I wish I could say I was surprised to see that nothing had changed, but I wasn't. I glanced after his pistol, snorting. “Apparently, you do have trouble defending yourself."

The human crinkled up his face in an odd way, as if struggling to parse threat from sarcasm. “Apparently so." He swallowed, rubbing his hands together. “You…still haven't killed me."

“I am still considering it."

“You're…" The human took a slow step closer, pointing at me. “You're also still bleeding."

I arched my neck, gazing down at myself. Little wet crimson ribbons striped my black scales amidst all the dried blood that already crusted me. The motions of flight and the force of my dive must have reopened my wounds. I hissed, then lowered my head to lap at the wound along my shoulder. “So it would seem."

“Those look like gunshot wounds." He took another small step nearer. “Well, like something akin to them. Your scales probably took most of the force, but…You've likely still got the shot lodged inside you."

I already knew as much, and I was not looking forward to digging them out. I had done so before after battles with humans armed with similar implements. Removing the projectiles was sometimes worse than being struck with them in the first place. “I will deal with them later, when I have returned home."

Actually, perhaps I had a better idea. I had, actually, captured a surgeon.

“Or," the doctor said, his voice soft. “You could let me do it. A favor, of sorts, in return for letting my walk free."

I glared down at him, both impressed by his gambit, and irritated by the fact that the muzzle-less little sneak beat me to it. “And here I thought you weren't going to beg for your life."

“It's not begging. It's…it's bartering." He ran a hand back through his head-fur, then gestured towards the rocks. “I had my medical supplies with me when the blast hit. Knocked me out, and loosened my teeth but-"

I dropped my head towards his, and snorted into his face hard enough to blow his shaggy head-fur around. “So you are offering to treat my injuries, in return for your life?"

The human licked his lips, and nodded once. That gesture I knew, at least, and dragons had one that was similar. “I'm not ashamed to say, I don't want to die, Dragon. I…don't think I'd want to tell my people how I survived this encounter, but…yes, I'd rather help you survive, then die just to spite you."

I snorted again, tossing my head. “I have already survived."

“For now." He folded his arms across his chest. “Until those wounds get infected. Till it's puss dribbling over your scales and not blood. Then your wounds go gangrenous, the infection gets into your bloodstream, and then you die." He stared at me, then faltered. “Assuming…dragons get infections."

A ghost of a smile parted my muzzle. “You're terrible at bargaining."

The human shrugged. “I'm terrible at a lot of things, actually, but medicine is not one of them." For a moment, he stared down at his own boots in the snow. “The way I say it, helping you, or not, it won't bring those men back. And neither killing me or sparing me will bring back that dragon. But…medicine, healing, it's what I do. It's…it's what all doctors and healers do. That's why we become healers. If a dying killer was brought before me, I'd still try to save him. So evil or not, if you want me to help you, I will."

I ignored his comment about evil again, for now. “In exchange for your life, of course."

This time, it was the human's turn to find a way to smile. At least, I thought his was smiling. It was hard for me to tell what each little twitch of their lips and faces meant. “If you were going to kill me when I was done, I'm afraid even I have to draw the line there."

“Very well." I stretched a wing, gesturing towards the rocks he was sheltering behind. “Fetch your supplies, bring them here. Your proposal is acceptable."

“Oh, thank the gods, each and every one." He turned and ran back towards the boulders.

“Slowly, human." I hissed my words as I followed him. I was well aware he could have another weapon stashed out of sight. “Fetch your things slowly. And if you think you have gods that are listening, do tell them to stop sending your people to murder us."

He reached his hiding place, and with slow, deliberate motions, he retrieved a black leather satchel, with the same red droplet symbol on it. “Mortals can't tell gods anything, the gods-"

“Can get mounted, for all I care." I stomped a forepaw, lashing my tail against the snow. “Bring your damn bag over here."

The human shot me a smoldering glare as he carried his things back to me. “I suppose I should not be surprised to hear such horrid blasphemy from a dragon."

“Yes, yes," I said, tossing my head. “We're all profane demons, an affront to good folk everywhere! Dragons are evil monsters spawned by dark gods and their sacrilegious rights." I stretched a single wing, staring at it as if contemplating the red markings that edged the ebony membranes. “Is that about right? Did I leave anything out?"

He dropped his back in the snow, kneeling down to open it. “Well...that's about the gist of what the old tales say, yes."

“And it's all true!" I folded my wing back, and instead, waved a forepaw in a grand, sweeping gesture across the sky. “Why, I have personally both copulated and fornicated with the vilest of deities in your entire pantheon!"

Popping his bag open, he glanced up at me. “You're being sarcastic, aren't you?"

“However could you tell?" I tapped his satchel with a single claw tip. “Dump everything out."

“Well, it's hard to be certain with a dragon." He gave some kind of exasperated sighing noise, and ran his hands over his head-fur. “I can't even tell if you're male, or female. I mean, do dragons even…well, you sound female, anyway, but, you also sound like a bear and a trumpet put together!" He tipped his bag over, upending the contents. “Like…like a bear, growling into a trumpet. A…female, bear, I think."

“Are those ramblings directed at anyone in particular?" I took the bag from him, and shook it a few times to ensure it was empty, then set it on the snow.

“I'm nervous, alright?" He folded his arms, looking away.

“Nervous? You're damn near about to piss yourself." I lowered my head to inspect his supplies. There were rolls of gauze and bandages, tools of all different types, tiny knives, needles and sturdy thread, metal flasks, and all sorts of jars and vials with squiggly writing upon them. Some of the tools and implements I recognized, others I did not. One had numbers in his language etched onto its surface, and something silvery inside. I pointed at it with a single unsheathed claw. “Get rid of that. Carefully."

“But I-"

“Will not be allowed to keep toxic that you might consider using against me. Be rid of it." I let a snarl creep into my voice. “Now."

The human made his odd, sighing noise again, and picked up his tool, walking off with it. “Never heard of anyone worried about being murdered by a thermometer before."

“Why don't you go a long distance from me and break it open under your face, then?" I watched him until deposited the dangerous in the snow. “I know what that silvery liquid is, human."

The human returned to me, muttering under his breath. “Technically, it's a metal."

I cocked my head, frills slightly perked. That was a word I wasn't certain about. I licked most nose, and sounded it out. “Teck…nick…lee." I returned my attention to all his supplies. “This technicklee also contains the poisonous silver metal?"

“I don't even know where to begin unpacking that." He settled on his knees again, separating things out on the snow.

“Your bag is already unpacked." I batted it aside with a forepaw, and it bounced across the snow. “I checked."

“That isn't…" He took a deep breath, and wiped his face with his hand. “Nevermind. Is there anything else you want me to get rid of?"

Nevermind. That word I knew, from my previous vassals. They often used it when exasperated. Good. If I was not going to slay this human, I could at least exact vengeance in other ways. I pointed out a few vials with familiar looking herbs in them. “That, and that. Toss them. Also, be rid of anything containing silver bark, widow's root, red-leaf briar, black thistle, or rot nettle."

“Why the hell would a medic carry widow's root and rot nettle?" Shaking his head, he selected one more vial, and two jars, and tossed them both into the snow.

I was glad he knew the terms, though I could not be certain he knew all of them. I knew the human words for a variety of poisons that could affect dragons, but I only knew them in certain human tongues, not all. When he was finished, I lowered my head, inspecting the rest of his supplies. Bitter, herbal aromas wafted from what was left, but I did not detect the scents of any that I knew to be dangerous.

“Anything else?" He hefted one of his tiny knives. “You sure you don't want me toss my scalpels, too?"

“Are you attempting to return my sarcasm?" I flexed my wings in disinterested shrug. “It's impossible to tell with a voice that high-pitched. You may keep your tiny knife, as I doubt you are suicidal enough to attempt to murder a dragon with a blade smaller than a hatchling's claw." I tilted my head towards my trophy banner, laying in the snow. “Fetch my banner, and pack it away with your things."

The human fetched the emblem, and stuffed it into his bag, then settled down to pack everything else. “Don't you want me to get that rifle shot out of you?"

“Not here." I kneaded at the cold, snowy ground while he stuffed his supplies back into his satchel.

This would not be the first time I had such projectiles dug out of my flesh, and I was not looking forward to it. I was also not planning to let him dig around in my wounds until I was considerably less sober. I had a variety of inebriating liquids back in my home, and held every intention of partaking in them before being treated. “I'm taking you home with me." I cocked my head, staring down at him. “Now take off your clothes."

“What?!" He jerked his head up, wide-eyed.

That was just the sort of reaction I'd hoped for. If I wasn't going to slay the murderous little bastard, I could at least humiliate him. He might not have personally shot Melakar from the sky, but he helped those who did. Not that I did not also have a practical reason for making him strip. Humans often carried hidden weaponry beneath their clothing. I was not about take one into my home without first ensuring he had nothing dangerous.

“Your clothes." I waved a paw at them. “Take them off."

He staggered back to his feet, his face reddening. I'd almost forgotten some of them changed colors along with their emotions. Dragons emotions were displayed more readily in our pointed ears, and our spiny frills. Those could flush, though their positioning was far more indicative a dragon's emotions. Frills flared up to their full extent could indicate surprise, or fury, while half-perked frills were often a sign of curiosity. Splayed ears could be irritation, or embarrassment, and so on.

“Why the hell would I take my clothes off?" He took a few steps back from me.

“To prove you don't have another pistol hidden away." I curled my tail around all four paws, feigning patience. I was ready to put this place behind me, but not until I'd ensured my safety. His humiliation was simply an added bonus, a delicious amusement. “Now take your clothes off, or I will." I flashed him my fangs for emphasis.

“Alright, alright." He unbuttoned his coat, and stripped it off to reveal faintly golden-hued clothing beneath. “How much do I have to remove?"

“All of it." I drummed claw tips against my tail. “Do you not have armor under that coat?"

“They didn't give me any." He bent over, undoing the laces of his boots. He tugged them off his feet, then did the same with the woolen coverings beneath them. Barefoot, he stepped onto his coat. “Are you going to look away, or…?"

“Are all humans this dense?" I beat my wings once, just enough to send a swirl of snow cascading over him. He coughed and wiped his face. “How am I to know if you have hidden weapons without looking at you?"

“Fair point, I suppose." He pulled off the golden hued shirt, revealing a second one in gray beneath it. Then he reached down to unbutton his black pants, and soon, tugged those down as well. Just as with his shirts, he had a second pair of gray pants on beneath. “It's just…dragon or not, it's…it's embarrassing having a woman staring at you while you're disrobing. Or, female, I suppose. You…" He stepped out of his first layer of pants, and peeled off his gray shirt, finally revealing his hide. “You are female, aren't you?"

I kept my voice as even as could be. “Can you not tell?"

“Well, I mean…" He leaned forward, peering along my underbelly. “I didn't see anything, but…then again, lizards and birds don't…I mean, I don't know what male dragons have."

“Far more than you've got, I suspect." I laughed at the way that made the red color return to his cheeks. “Yes, I am female."

“So I was right about that, at least." He fidgeted with buttons of his under-garments. “My name is Nesh, by the way. Maybe…maybe that'll make this a little less…well, do you have a name?"

“Of course I have a name." I did not, however, offer it. Instead I gave him only a toothy smile, my frills perked in curiosity. “What about you, Nesh? Are you male, or female?"

“Male!" He nearly shouted his reply at me, his jaw dropping. “You…you already knew that!"

“I've yet to see the evidence." I lifted a forepaw, casually regarding my own claw tips. “Humans generally like the same to me." I glanced at him again. “Finish undressing."

With a sigh, he turned around and pulled his gray, inner pants down, exposing the rest of his body. He stepped out of them, and now stood naked with his back to me. I saw no sign of weaponry. While I had in fact, seen humans nude before, the strangest part of their anatomy was not something they had, but rather, something they were missing. Of all the speaking peoples in the world, only humans lacked tails. It made me imagine the cleft in their rump was a great scar from when they'd lost their tail.

“Happy now?" Nesh glanced over his shoulder at me. “I'm freezing my damn balls off!"

“Turn around." I circled a finger in the air. “Let me see the front side."

Gritting his teeth, Nesh slowly turned back towards me, both hands clasped in front of his mating parts. “I'm starting to think this is about more than weapons."

I offered Nesh my most innocent smile. Granted, to a human, let alone a naked human, it probably seemed anything but innocent. I pointed a single finger towards his hands. “Why are you protecting yourself down there? What are you hiding?"

“You know damn well what I'm hiding!" He shivered, his teeth clattering.

“Weaponry, I suspect." I tossed my head in mock annoyance. “If you were fearful I would harm you, surely you'd be covering your throat, instead. Now move your hands."

Nesh heaved a great sigh. A cloud of steam drifted away from him. “Must I?"

I lowered my head till my muzzle was nearly brushing his face. I softened my voice to a teasing purr. “Unless you'd rather I do it? I'll try to be gentle, but…"

“C-certainly not!" Nesh swallowed, and slowly moved his hands away, exposing his maleness.

I made a grand show of looking it all over, and even included a few thoughtful murmurs. Finally, I shook my head, arching my neck. “No, there's definitely not any dangerous weaponry down there." I finally let out a rumble of laughter, my wings shaking. “You're right though, you have frozen your balls off."

“Very damn funny!" Nesh went right back to covering himself, face still deeply flushed. “Can I put my damn clothes back on now?"

I waved a paw at him dismissively. “Yes, you may put your damn clothes back on. There's clearly not much to see here."

Nesh pulled his pants back on faster than I would have imagined a half-frozen human could move. “It's…it's cold out, you know? That's not helping matters."

It seemed human males took the same unreasonable pride in their mating parts as male dragons did. Good. That meant I had something I could bruise over and over. His pride, that was, not the parts. I'd leave that for any human females he might someday anger, as they could do so without accidentally killing him.

“No, what isn't helping matters is that you're human." I licked my muzzle while he finished dressing. “Even the most impressively equipped of your people would be but pale, floppy comparison to even a poorly endowed male dragon." I canted my head, ears and frills both flared in smug display. “And there are no poorly endowed male dragons."

Nesh hurried to put on the rest of his clothes. “No, of course not! It would hardly fit your species' deviously hedonistic reputation, and your males' lascivious appetite for maidens and princesses and sacrifices and…and…" He stumbled a few times, trying to put his boots back on. “And whatever other filthy things you get up to!"

“My, the tales humans tell about us." I put a paw against my chest plates. “What exciting lives you think we lead. Or is it only our males, then? Are there not wicked legends about female dragons? Seems rather unfair." I thumped my tail against the snow. “Where's the fun for us?"

“How should I know!" Nesh threw his coat back on when he was dressed, angrily doing up the brass buttons. “I mean really, who would female dragons take captive for such things?"

This time, the smile I flashed him was anything but innocent. “Medics."

And with that, I snatched him, screaming, into the sky.

*****

Chapter Seven

Home

*****

Nesh spent most of the flight home clinging so tightly to my foreleg he nearly cut off the circulation to my fingers. I hoped he wasn't about to piss himself, but at least if he did, none of it was going to get on me. Then again, to his credit, not once did he beg for mercy, or plead with me not to drop him. Any other time I'd carried a unwilling human aloft, those were inevitably the first words out of their mouths. Earlier, Nesh claimed the only thing he was good at was medicine, but perhaps he had another worthwhile attribute.

Courage.

Granted, he'd screamed his head off when I first yanked him into the air, but I was willing to assume that was only because I'd startled him. That, or because he thought I meant to make him my concubine. Either way, his ensuing silence made for a peaceful flight back to the mountains I called home. I clutched him to my chest most of the trip to help keep him warm.

When we had crossed the bulk of my valley, The Elders' Gaze loomed ahead of us. Twelve dragons' faces, carved into the monolithic granite cliffs. They were considered the greatest of grand dragons, the most important of our ancestors. They ruled the valley when our clan was at its peak. Each dragon was credited with great feats. Some negotiated treaties and truces with those who wished peace. Others brought flame and claw to those who sought war. Another had doubled the population of the valley by taking a mate from a rival clan, and inviting them to join with us here, in peaceful union.

Though all those dragons were long gone, their faces remained, ever sentinel above our sacred valley. Whenever I returned home, I felt as if all twelve of our people's greatest ancestors were staring down at me. Though each dragon was carved with a different expression, their stony eyes always seemed fixed on a singular point. No matter which way you flew, they were always watching you. Now, though, it felt like they were doing more than just watching over me.

They were judging me, asking me a shared, silent question.

Would I stay, and give my life for our valley?

That was a question for which I still had no answer.

For now, my throbbing wounds proved to be more pressing concerns.

“You're bleeding again!" Nesh's voice finally broke the silence. He had to shout to call over the wind rushing around us.

I glanced down at him. His head-fur whipped around his head, and his clothes billowed around him. “It's my wing motions. They pull upon my injuries. We are almost there."

Nesh fell silent again, and when next I checked on him, he stared, wide-eyed, at the dragon heads carved into the mountains themselves. I smiled to myself. A little awe would do him good. I had no intention of wasting time nor breath trying to convince him we were not the evil demon-spawn his kind so often believed us to be. But at the same time, if he came away from all this with a modicum of new respect for the things we had achieved in his history, I would consider that a small victory.

The great monuments both stood watch over the valley, and served as gateway to the mountains beyond. The range itself was sprawling beyond measure. It stretched further to the east than I had ever flown, and just as far to the north and south. For all I knew, it might well have hemmed in the entire continent. Most of the peaks I knew were granite, but there was plenty of marble, as well. Further east, the old volcanoes slumbered amidst peaks of basalt. Weathered boulders of obsidian as big as I dotted that far landscape, waiting to be cracked open and their glossy black insides carved into horn ornaments and tail-jewelry.

Caverns riddled the mountain range. Some of them were natural. Others were delved by claws and tools, cut deep into the stone by both dragons and laborers for other races. There were all sorts of ore and mineral deposits in our lands, and when our clan was at its peak, we had forges and things of our own. During times of peace, we also traded things like permission to dig mines in return for alliances, or treasures and tributes.

Many of the caves were interconnected by tunnels and underground rivers, not unlike the roads and drainage areas of a human city. In times long past, that was what this place was, a city for dragons amidst the nation of our valley. But if I was Queen, now, then I was Queen of a nation crumbled to ruin. Our guardians had fallen. At last, our enemies were poised to wrest our sacred land from our claws.

The main entrance to my own home was located amidst a sheer cliff. Snow dusted the gray stone, obscuring the darker streaks that usually marked it. A few scraggly pines, bent and twisted by the wind, protruded from the rock wall, their gnarled roots crawling across the rockface in search of any crevice with a hint of earth. Thousands of gouges and claw scratches marked the ledge jutting out beneath the cavern entrance, evidence of entire generations of dragons that called this place home.

Crosswinds and icy winter conditions often left the ledge treacherous this time of year. A smooth, safe landing was doubly challenging when my forelegs were carrying delicate cargo. I couldn't very well just hurl Nesh into the cave ahead of me the way I might a prey animal, or a stolen sack of treasure. At least today the winds were not too strong, buffeting me only a little as I made my final approach.

“Hold tight, Nesh! I am landing!"

Nesh squeezed my limb harder than ever. “Sure as hell wasn't planning to let go!"

I back-winged a few time, adjusting my course, and stretched my hind legs out towards the ledge. I touched down on cold, icy stone, and hopped awkwardly a few paces, using my wings to catch my balance. Then I lowered Nesh towards the ground, giving him a chance to hop down from my front legs.

“Hurry down, this makes my hips ache!"

Nesh did just that. He scrambled out of my desk, onto the stone ledge, and into the relative safety of the cavern entrance in but a few heartbeats. As soon as he was clear, I dropped my front paws down, and followed him inside. I paused after a couple steps to stretch out my hind legs, one at a time, working out a lingering cramp brought on by the awkward, two-legged stance.

“I shall assume, given that your life is on the line, that I can trust you in here." I shook my right hind paw until the lingering discomfort eased, then padded inside. “Obviously, were anything to happen to me, you would not be able to make it from that ledge back to the ground on your own."

“Obviously." Nesh's voice was flat, and he spun on his heel, taking everything in. “Never thought I'd be torn between wonder, and terror, before."

“You may as well grow accustomed to such mixed feelings." I walked up alongside him in the entry chamber. “Now that you're my concubine."

Nesh whirled around to glare at me, clutching his supply satchel to himself like a shield to ward me off. “Very funny!" He took a step back, swallowing hard. “You…you are joking, aren't you?"

“Suppose we'll find out." I walked past him, and let my tail glide across his body in the most teasingly sensual manner I could manage without accidentally bowling him over. As far as I was concerned, I may as well drag this particular joke, and his uncertainty, out as long as possible. “Come along, Concubine."

“I refuse to answer to that title!"

“And I refuse to grant you another."

My home was a series of large chambers connected by tunnels that crisscrossed through the mountains heart. It also connected to the former homes of other dragons, though I kept most such routes blocked off with boulders, wooden chests, and other various bulky items to keep out unwanted visitors. With most of the dragons gone, some of the caves and tunnels now housed various wild animals. And there were always the braver nomads amongst the wandering tribes who might dare to try and steal treasure from dragons. Thanks to the barricades, I did not think Nesh could wander too far and get himself hopelessly lost. Then again, the man had nearly gotten lost in open terrain, so perhaps he would prove me wrong.

The entry chamber was decorated with colorful items, most of which were gifts from friendly tribes, or tributes from merchant caravans seeking safe passage. There were vibrantly hued rugs spread across the floor. Elaborate beadworks crafted by the small, furry urd'thin people were draped across wooden display stands. Ornate tapestries, and murals painted on woven mats of gryphon feathers hung from one of the walls. Those were made by the va'chaak, a lizard-like species dragons often got particularly well with. I had the skulls of bear, vorloth, and other large predators carved with intricate knotwork and other designs by gnoll warriors who also served as craftsmen among their people. Lamps in brass sconces, and rounded, copper censers carved with dragon scale patterns each waited for fresh flame.

In the corner of the room was a firebox. It was a small, square shaped stove, of sorts, with wood piled around it. I put a few pieces of wood into the firebox, then blew a stream of flame into it until it ignited. Dragons used such things to house little fires, with which to ignite the smaller utensils that could safely light lamps and other devices made by the bipedal races.

While the fire burned, I went to one of the large wooden chests banded with iron that lined one side of the room. I opened it, and retrieved a large hunk of dry, red-brown spice moss. I broke it in two, and placed one piece in each of the censers. Spice moss was the name we gave to a collection of mosses, herbs, and flowers that we dried and used as incense. The aroma it gave off when smoldering was particularly pleasant and relaxing to dragons. Whether Nesh liked it or not, I didn't care, though none of my previous vassals found it displeasing.

I plucked a smaller stick from the wood pile, and plunged the end of it into the flames of the firebox. When it was burning, I pulled it from the fire, and used it to light both the lamps, and to set the spice moss to smoldering. The mirrored lamps sent flickering orange light around the room. Pleasantly spicy smoke soon wafted from the censers. I shook my stick to put it out, then placed the cover over the firebox to douse its flames before they had a chance to fill the cave's entryway with smoke.

“Make yourself useful, human." I padded towards the tunnel that led deeper into my home, flicking my tail at Nesh. “Bring one of those lanterns with you."

Nesh fetched a lamp, holding it at arm's length in front of himself. He turned a slow circle, gazing at everything the light uncovered for him. Human eyes were not as good in the dark, or at great distances, as dragon eyes. “It's…not what I expected."

I paused and waited for him to catch up. “Not enough princesses chained to the wall for your liking?"

“You aren't going to let that go, are you?" Nesh walked along at my side down the tunnel. Before I could reply, he did so for me. “No, I suppose not. I'll admit, I did half-expect to find…" He trailed off, then came to a sudden stop. In the lamplight, his skin looked orange, like the plump, autumn vegetable that grew in the wetlands. “You're not going to chain me to the wall, are you?"

“That depends on how well you behave yourself." I curled my tail around his middle, and from the way he jumped and yelled, I guessed he had not realized dragon tails were partly prehensile. “You have promised me services." I started forward again, forcing him to trot along behind me.

“M-medical services, I should like to remind you!" He squeezed his supplies to his chest, his lamp bobbling with every steps. “That's…that's all you expect of me, right?"

I heaved a sigh, tossing my head. “Nesh, you're taking the fun of teasing you when you're setting me up that way."

“Well I'm not used to dealing with living-" Nesh clamped his jaws shut, but he'd already said too much.

I tightened my tail around him till he squeezed, glaring at him over my flattened wings. “Be very careful, Nesh." I lifted a forepaw, tracing a finger around the still-throbbing rifle shot wound near my shoulder. “If you think these are the wounds you should be most concerned about it, then I assure you, the hole in my heart is far greater. That wound, human, may never close." I hissed, low and threatening. “So I would tread ever so carefully around it, were I you."

Nesh bowed his head, his lantern shaping. “I-I'm sorry. Those…those sort of wounds, I…I can not help with, but…I know they can infect you, just the same."

“So they can." I eased my tail's grip, and continued onward. “Your apology is accepted, if only because I still require your medical services." I let up on the teasing, as his misstep had fouled my mood.

“And just medical services, right?" There was something new in Nesh's voice, some feigned playfulness, as if he was trying to reset things between us to whatever they'd been moments earlier.

With a sigh, I released him, and beckoned him forward with a forepaw. “Walk at my side." When he did so, I curled my neck to gaze at him, face to face. “You are trying, and so I shall offer you this. We have struck a bargain, and a dragon who does not keep to their word is no dragon at all. So while by no means do I like you, I promise that no harm will come to you while you are here, so long as you afford me the same respect." I let that sink in, then bumped his chest with my muzzle. “Just be watchful of what you say."

Nesh bowed his head again. “I shall do my utmost. For what it's worth, I…I appreciate that. I've always felt that…even a captive enemy should be treated respectful. I just…" He shrugged. “Never thought I'd be the captive enemy, let alone to a dragon. Or that my dragon captor would be so damn flirty!" He laughed, a nervous, staccato sound.

“Don't flatter yourself, Nesh." I turned away and led him onward. “This way."

The tunnel from the entry chamber into my personal quarters was one of the longest in my home. My sleeping chamber was near the back along with the rooms containing the bulk of my hoard. The stone that enclosed us was rough hewn along the walls and ceiling, while the floor was mostly worn smooth by generations of dragon footfalls. Trickles of water and streaks of seeping moisture marked the walls. Patches of greenish moss, along with swaths of slimy algae in blue and green added bits of color.

Along the way, I pointed out a tunnel that led to a blocked off intersecting corridor, and another that led to a couple of storerooms. The next passageway lead to a larger room with two bubbling springs in it. The water overflowing from each eventually joined forces as tributaries to a larger underground stream flowing nearby. Each spring was sectioned off by heavy fur blankets hanging over wooden barricades. One served as source for fresh drinking water, while the smaller one served as self-cleansing latrine. I warned Nesh that if he ever got the two mixed up, my promise of his safety would be immediately revoked.

Further in, a looping stone hall connected to both my pantry, and the pathway to the bathing area. These days, the pantry served mostly to house my large collection of inebriating drink, along with dried and preserved foods. Once in a while, I hung elk carcasses and other prey there to age, but with the advent of winter, I had taken to storing extra meat in the icy shadows around a nearby glacier. As for my bathing area, it was a vast spring, hotter than the others, that once served as communal bath for dozens of dragons. Relaxing in hot, bubbling water was once a social event for my kind, a time for us gather and speak and enjoy one another's company. Now…well, at least it was still relaxing.

When we finally reached my sleeping chamber, I let Nesh have a look around. It was one of the largest rooms of my so-called lair. Much of it was occupied by my bed, a sprawling pile composed of everything soft I could get my paws on. There were animal hides, silken rugs, soft quilts and blankets, pillows, luxurious furs, cushions, and on and on. Some of them were dragon-crafted, as our clan had once tanned leathers, turned animal furs into blankets and pillows, and so on. Plush rugs and carpets in various shades of gold covered the floor.

Neatly stacked bins with brass handles sizable enough for dragon paws lined one of my walls. The bins held a variety of things. Some held old dragon tools and utensils, while others were filled with dyes, paints, and other art supplies. Personal jewelry and ornamentation for my horns, tail, and other areas stuffed another few bins. Yet more contained cargo satchels, carrying pouches. Another contained rain-blankets we made from the hides of large, marsh-dwelling beasts with luxurious, water resistant pelts.

Wooden shelves occupied some of my walls. I'd built some of them myself, and hauled others here in pieces from other dragons' empty lairs. All sorts of personal items occupied the shelves, from things with great sentimental value, to trophies of smug pride and everything in between. I displayed the skulls of the animals I killed during my initial attempts to hunt on my own. There was a little pile of dried scales, taken from the first male I mated with. He'd taken some of mine, too. A lovers trade was common, but only when equally agreed upon. It was always an exchange, never a conquest. On another shelf, the weapons of the first dragon slayer who ever sought to claim my life. Nearer my bed, bits and pieces of my son's egg shell.

Vevarek. That was his name. I swallowed hard, wondering anew where he was. I hoped, that wherever he ended up, he had a good life. That he was happy. Though it was not unusual for a dragon mother to lose contact with her children after they left home, that made it no easier a burden to bear. I wondered, if I should have the privilege to see him again, would he want to know his father was dead?

“Who…who are all those dragons?" Nesh's question interrupted my thoughts. I turned towards him. He had set his lamp atop some bins, and his supply bag on the floor. He tilted his head back, staring at a line of portraits across my wall. “And…where did the paintings come from?"

“Family, friends, lovers." I padded over to stand alongside him, gazing at the same images. There was a great variety of them spread across the walls over my bins and shelves. Some were crudely painted on stone and wood worked smooth, while others were gorgeous, realistic depictions lovingly put to canvas. “I painted the less impressive ones myself, while I hired professionals for the others."

“Hired, or threatened?" Nesh glanced my way, a smile tugging at his lips.

I snorted, but found myself smiling a little, as well. “Mostly hired. I only threatened to incinerate one of them." I settled on my haunches, curling my tail around my paws. With a wing tip, I indicated specific dragons in the portraits. “Those two were my parents." I had taken after my father, in terms of coloration. His scales were mostly black, while my silver and red highlights came from my mother's side of the family. I swept my wing out, gesturing to portraits of dragons who all owned a small piece of my heart. “And these here were all dear friends, and lovers of mine."

“That's…sort of sweet, actually." Nesh rung his hands, then spent a moment looking back and forth between a painting of a blue dragon and myself. “You said they were all your lovers?"

“That's correct." I folded my wing back, scratching at my neck with it.

“But…isn't that one…" He stared up at the blue dragon again. “F-female?"

“Oh, suddenly you can tell the difference?" I rumbled laughter, nodding once. “Her name is Liramir, and yes, she's female. And yes, she was a lover of mine." It was not especially unusual for dragons to take lovers from both sexes. I had forgotten that it was far less common among humans. “You tend to make the biggest issues out of the smallest things."

As if fearing he'd somehow set foot where he did not belong, Nesh turned away, ruffling the back of his head-fur. He gave another nervous laugh, his voice slightly higher in pitch than usual. “I can't help but notice I don't see any human portraits. So…lucky for me, eh?"

“Those are in another room." I pointed towards an archway cut in the stone that led towards one of my treasure chambers. Nesh forced more laughter, but I was telling the truth. I really did have human portraits in there. Granted, those were of my vassals, who had earned the distinction through their companionship, but I had no need to tell him that. Instead, I sucked in a breath in mock angry gasp. “You mean you don't want to be my mate?" I snarled low, flaring out my wings. “I warn you, there are few more grievous insults to offer a dragon than to spurn her advances!"

Nesh threw his hands up, backing away. “Whoa, wait, I…that is…I wasn't sure you were advancing, per se…"

“Well," I said, working my voice into a throaty purr. I rose up and sauntered towards him, haunches swaying. “I'm advancing now, so what say you to that?"

Nesh backed up even faster, till he was bumping up against a wall and its assorted bins. “I say, if you ever tried to make good on any of your teasing, you'd crush me! Or…or break me in half! Or one, and then the other." He managed a smile, fleeting as it was, and then shook a single finger at me. “And you promised not to harm me, remember?"

I might have continued the farce, but unknowing to Nesh, he had retreated under the portrait of Melakar. His regal bronze face stared down at me, his blue-tinged frills flared up around his elegant, spiraling horns. In the picture, his burnt-gold eyes were especially sharp, as if they were piercing me straight through my scales and into my heart. I could just about hear his voice, echoing in my head.

That's enough, Ella. Enemy or not, he's a guest now. Stop scaring the poor thing.

His imagined words struck me like a blow across the head, staggering me. I stumbled back from Nesh, and fell back onto my haunches, whimpering. All at once, I missed him so much. Tears brimmed in my eyes, and throat tightened, threatening to close off completely. I quickly lifted a paw to wipe away my tears, not wanting the damn medic to see me fighting back a sob. But it was too late. The sob came, and the tears came with it.

It humiliated me to have a human, an ally of Melakar's murderers there to see me cry but there was nothing I could do. I opened a wing and folded it around myself, as if to hide from Nesh. Hidden from the world, I battled an army of emotion for long, anguished moments. I struggled in vain to swallow back the sobs that wracked me. All I succeeded in doing was making my self cry harder, and louder. Tears spilled down my muzzle in hot streaks.

I did not cry myself completely out of tears, this time, but it took me longer than I care to admit to get control of myself again. I was still sniffling and wiping my ears when I finally withdrew my wing once more. I fully expected Nesh to have fled into my tunnels while I was distracted. Instead, he remained in my sleeping chamber, staring up at Melakar's portrait.

“So, that was him, huh?" Nesh's voice was soft, and gentle. This time, his sympathy seemed genuine. “I'm…I'm sorry."

To my surprise, that actually made me feel a little better. I dipped my head to him, taking a few deep breaths. “Th-thank you."

“Why don't…" Nesh slowly turned around, holding his hands up to me. “Why don't you go have a soak in that hot spring you mentioned?" He gestured at the dried blood caking my scales in a few places. “Those need to be cleaned, and…the less I have to do with alcohol, the less painful it's going to be for you. I promise I won't try and run away." He offered me a smile, moving to his supply bag. “At least not until you're all stitched up."

“Very well." I pushed myself up to all fours, and turned away, careful not to knock him over with my tail. “I shall return eventually. You know where the water and latrine are, and there is preserved food in the pantry. Eat, if you grow hungry."

I left Nesh behind and made my way towards the hot spring, located in the former communal area. Along the way, I found myself left with a simple thought.

I was glad I'd spared him.

*****

Chapter Eight

Bath

*****

The hot springs lay between the boundaries of my home and the former home of another dragon. A few different tunnels all led into the grand, rounded chamber. A few glow-stones set in shallow recesses it the way through the otherwise dark tunnels. Glow-stones were just as they sounded, rare light-emitting rocks dug from hidden places in times of old. They shed a soft blue light that painted the tunnels and chambers with a ghostly hue. A few more of them placed in silvery sconces illuminated the bathing pool area.

It was the largest such spring anywhere near my part of the tunnels. There were bigger ones, but many of them were outdoors, and I'd spent enough time in the cold already. A lightly minerally scent permeated the air, with just a hint of Sulphur to it. Coils of steam wafted from the water, drifting aimlessly like confused ephemeral spirits, wondering where all the other dragons had gone.

The springs themselves were natural, but dragons generations older than I had carved out the stone around them to create a bathing pool large enough to fit at least a dozen of us. Channels cut in the stone allowed the rate of water filtering out to be regulated, or for the springs to be mostly drained and scrubbed clean of algae and other build up. Two sets of sunken steps descended into the water at either end.

In my youth, communal pools like this were popular gathering spots. Dragons appreciated being clean, and such a place allowed us to bath, relax, and also socialize with other dragons. Dragons were sometimes creatures of conflicting interests and instincts. Solitude was not uncommon for us, and many of the legends of great dragons living alone in their mountains with their hoards of treasure were based on truth. But dragons could also be very social, savoring each other's company, conversation, and touch.

The way the clan had been set up offered a bit of both worlds. The communal pools provided a gathering place, while the individual caverns and the tunnels separating them from everyone else's home gave us a place to retreat too when the need for solitude was overwhelming. We were creatures of powerful emotions, and a misunderstanding, or a misplaced touch at the wrong time, in the wrong mood, could quickly lead to claws, teeth, and blood. It was easier and safer for everyone when they had their own home to return too before things went awry.

When there were still enough dragons to require it, the bathing pools had unofficial regulations of use. During the bulk of the daylight hours, anyone was allowed, from the crankiest elder to the bounciest hatchling. Families often arrived together, along with younglings looking to swim and play in the water. Later in the evening, it was just adults. Most were there to bathe and socialize, but the deeper into the night the hour stretched, the more often socializing turned amorous. I suspect hot water and tender touch has predictable effects on all thinking species.

While female dragon reproductive cycles were partly regulated by the seasons, dragon mating habits were not. Dragons were every bit as much sexual creatures as humans were. If anything, we were less burdened by rigid beliefs and expectations. As long consent was clearly decreed, we could mate with and give pleasure to whoever we damn well wanted. I myself appreciated the touch of both sexes. Not all dragons did, but not once had any other so much as shrugged a wing about it.

Such thoughts brought to mind a memory. When Melakar and I were young, and intensely curious about each other's bodies, we snuck out to one of the bathing pools, in the early morning hours when the older dragons were asleep. We thought ourselves clever, with no realization of the fact each generation before us had done the same thing. At the time, we had intended on little more than pressing our muzzles together, and letting our paws wander. But when my paws roamed, they found some new, strange and exciting part of him. I knew what it was, of course, but I had not touched it before. Curiosity that seemed delightfully taboo bid me to do just that. So I touched and held it, and before I really knew what was happening, poor Melakar was shuddering and whimpering…and spent.

He redeemed himself many times over in the ensuing years, but in all our time together it was a memory I never let him live down. Even now the memory brought laughter, not tears. I shook my head as I stepped down into the spring. The look on his face still stood out in my mind. His bronze frills were all fully flared out, their blue edges flushed purple. His eyes were wide and his jaws slack, ears drooping. He looked caught right in the midst of ecstasy and horror, as if even he hadn't expected it to happen that quickly. Perhaps he just knew I'd never let him forget it.

The hot water proved a balm for my soul, if not for my wounds. I hissed as fresh pain ignited in my open wounds. I rolled my shoulder, and I could still feel the shot lodged there. I resisted the urge to dig it out myself. The shot wedged in my ribs was just as painful and suddenly, just as noticeable. I wanted very much to rip the damn things out to let my body start to heal. But I had come this far, I may as well let Nesh do his job. If nothing else, surely he could be able to remove the projectiles more cleanly and with less additional injury than I could. A few fat gray scars littering my hide attested to the fact that while I could remove such things myself, I was not very good at it.

The tub was deep enough for me to submerge myself completely if I laid down. I eased onto my side, away from my wounded ribs. When water sloshed over my wing, the hole in the membranes burned and throbbed a new. I sucked in a pained breath, flexing all four paws against the burning discomfort until it eased a little. When I was able to relax again, I lowered my head to rest it upon the lip of the pool.

I spent a long while there, submerged, and trying to relax. A thousand thoughts whirled around my mind, and few of them were pleasant. I still did not know what to do about the army Nesh came from. I did not want to abandon my home, did not want to forsake my people's sacred valley. But neither did I want to die. I wondered, if I fled to save my own hide, would that not make me a coward? I told myself, plenty of other dragons had left the valley before, to escape the gradual encroachment of humanity and start new lives elsewhere. My own son had done just that. Yet that was different. Never before had there been an army camped just beyond our borders. None of those who lived did so to flee an imminent invasion.

If I fled now, only I would be the coward.

Melakar had already given his life for our people's ancestral home. What would it make me if I refused to the do the same?

Rational.

The word came to me in Melakar's voice, echoing around my head. I snarled, and lifted a forepaw to slap it against the water. “You'd better not be haunting me, Melakar!" I gazed around the chamber, as if expecting to see the steam and the glow-stone's blue light coalescing together into some spectral dragon. “Don't you even think about it!"

There was of course, no reply. In my heart, I knew I was only imagining his voice. But I also knew my imagination was right. That was exactly the sort of thing he'd say. Even in his dying moments, he had begged me to let him be the last to die for this place. I sighed, and laid my head back down, closing my eyes. Damned if that didn't make my choice even harder. I could flee this place like a coward, and honor my old mate's dying wish. Or I could stay and fight until my last drop of blood, and betray that which he spent his final breaths asking me for.

I think in the back of my mind, I always dreaded I would have to make a choice like this. By the time Melakar and I were the valley's last guardians, I think part of me hoped the two us could simply grow ancient there, and cede the valley only through peaceful deaths, when our hearts finally grew too old gave out. It was foolish optimism, I knew, but I had to clung to it just the same. Such optimism was usually Melakar's way, not mine. My way, or so I liked to think, was realism. Now, realism was all I had left. Leave this place, and live a while longer, or stay here and die for land.

A sickening realization hit me. Somewhere, deep in my heart, I was already trying to convince myself to flee. It made me feel a coward, but the truth was cold ice, pumping through my veins. Even the hot spring could not stop me from shivering. I saw Melakar in the snow, bleeding out, struggling to speak. He must have known, long before he ever made it back to the valley, that he was never going to see home again. That he was never going to see me again. I'd only spotted his trail because I'd been out hunting. If not for luck, he'd have died alone, bleeding out into the cold snow.

I knew then, that I did not want to die like that.

I did not want to die at all.

But even dragons died, eventually. The only question was how. Was there meaning to our deaths? I wondered anew what good dying for my valley would do for anyone. There weren't even any other grand dragons left here to know I had died for it. The cold sickness in my belly grew, twisting around my spine like some insidious parasite.

I was closer to my decision than I'd realized. But before any of that, I needed to visit Melakar's lair. It would be a difficult visit for me, but I hoped I might find some measure of closure there. I already knew what choice he would want me to make, but if I was lucky, perhaps I'd find something there to help put me more at ease with it. He had studied schools of thoughts and philosophies and the like. While I had never cared for such frivolous things before, now I found myself clinging to the faint hope they might offer me some kind of bulwark. A shield I could hold aloft, if only in my own head, between myself and my cowardice.

“It was not my decision alone," I said, as if offering defense before some council of long dead ancestor dragons. “It was the rational thing to do, the wisest course of action, as posited by Algakest the Gray."

I scrunched my muzzle, working my tongue against my teeth. The words even tasted funny. And I sounded uncomfortably like Melakar trying to lecture me about something. In our loving years, his lectures were boring at best. In our angry years, they were downright irksome, and self-righteous. I remembered at least one occasional in which he would not stop lecturing me on the values of diplomacy among our ancestors, despite my increasingly aggravated requests for him to shut his muzzle. I finally told him if he uttered one more word about it, I would diplomatically strike him directly in the testicles. That, at least, shut him up.

Movement among shadows drew my attention. Something passed in front of a glow-stone in the adjoining tunnel. Instinct bade me to unsheathe my claws. I shifted my eyes, watching the shadow without giving away that I had noticed it. It was probably just some animal that had managed to make it past my barricades. Yet the army at the valley's borders left me nervous. I would not put it past them to try and send stealthy agents in an attempt to penetrate my lair. Though I doubted humans could scale the cliff beneath the main entrance to my home, there were other, more hidden entrances as well. The shadows shifted again, growing larger, and taking on the shape of a human.

Just as I prepared myself to blast fire from my submerged position and pounce on any survivors, Nesh emerged from the hallway. With a grunt, I lifted my head and glared at him. He spotted me and gave me an awkward wave of his hand.

“I hope I'm not interrupting, but…" He fidgeted with his golden shirt, his coat left some else. “I'm ready when you are. I thought I'd have a look around, and I saw these glowing rocks, and, by the gods, you could fit an army in that springs!"

I sighed, staring at him. “A shame it could not also fit a moment's peace!"

Nesh tugged on his shirt again, scrunching up his face. He turned away, his voice softer. “Oh, I'm sorry. You're right, I…I shouldn't have…I'll just wait in your sleeping area."

“No, no, you're fine." I lifted a drifting paw, beckoning him over. “Come here."

“Very well." Nesh held his hands up as he approached. “Please don't toss me in the water, though. I don't want to spend the night in soaked clothes, and I rather doubt you've anything else suitable." He came to a stop at the edge of the pool. “Or…or do you?"

I pushed myself up onto my haunches. “Yes, Nesh, I keep an entire room filled with human garments." I snorted at him as water dribbled down my scales. Then I flattened my ears when I realized I'd been a little too sarcastic. “Actually, I may have a few things that fit you. Some of my previous vassals left clothing behind." Before he could reply, I curled my neck down to gaze at my wounded shoulder. The dried blood was mostly gone, leaving a puckered, pinkish-red hole in my flesh, surrounded by cracked and broken scales. “Is this clean enough for you to proceed?"

“Let me see." He reached towards my shoulder, then glanced up at my for permission. I nodded, and he gently put his hands around my wound. The pressure made me suck in a breath, but he was gentle as he could be, under the circumstances. “Nearly so. Do you have a cloth or something? I don't know if you ever use something to scrub your scales, but you'll want something softer."

“Not here, but in my bins."

“I'll fetch it." He turned away, took three steps, then paused. “Er…which bins?"

“In my sleeping chamber." I pointed back the way he'd come. “Brass handles, third from the left." I set my paw back down in the water to await his return. “You know, when wandering the home of a dragon, you'd be wise to announce yourself."

“I'll keep that in mind!" Nesh vanished into the hallway. He was gone a few minutes, then returned with a large, soft cloth. “Announcing Medic First Class, Nesh, Fourth Battalion, Aerial Defense Regiment, Blackstone Division." He gave a deep bow, with the cloth tucked across his waist. “Requesting permission to enter, Ma'am."

I chuckled, and beckoned him forward. Aerial Defense Regiment sounded like a fantasy title for dragon slayers, but I had picked on him about that enough, for now. “You may enter, Concubine Nesh." Other things, I might never stop picking him about.

Nesh hurried back towards. “Requesting permission to not be called Concubine."

“Permission denied." I lowered my head, my frills perked in feigned interest.

Nesh came to a stop at the water's edge. “I suppose I should consider myself lucky you aren't forcing me strip off to join you in there."

I tilted my head, making a show of looking him over. “You know, for someone who protests my flirtations, you certainly make a habit of inviting it upon yourself."

“Let me see that wound again." Nesh crouched down and dipped his cloth in the hot water.

I eased up a little more to present my shoulder to him. Thankfully the shot hadn't struck my shoulder directly, or even walking would be especially painful for a while. “If you're thinking about retaliating for my teasing by scrubbing especially harder, I advise you against it."

“Thinking about it?" Nesh smiled at me, bracing a hand against my shoulder. “Certainly. But I wouldn't be much of a doctor if I acted on such impulses." Gentle, he brushed the wet cloth around the open wound, removing the last of the crusted blood, lymph, and other grime. It hurt, but much more than the hot water itself first had. “Besides, it's going to hurt plenty when I douse them with alcohol to make sure they don't get infected." He stepped back and gestured for me to change positions. “Can I see the other wound, please?"

I reared up onto my hind legs, bracing my fore paws on the stone on either side of him. Doing so presented my belly and my ribs to Nesh. He studied my hide for a few moments before applying his cloth to the wound across my ribs. “You've been shot before."

The pressure against the metal ball still lodged inside me made me hiss, and tense up. “Most dragons have."

“I…" His cloth went still. “I suppose they probably have. I hadn't really considered it, that way." He returned to washing me, working in gentle circles.

“Under other circumstances, your touch would be quite pleasant." I rumbled, curling my neck to watch him. “Perhaps I shall have you wash me another time."

“As long as it's only that. Washing." Nesh rinsed his cloth off, and hints of rusty red dried blood dissipated into the water. “Alright, I think you're prepared. From here, your wing looks clean already."

“And where would the fun be if I didn't tease you about expecting more than just clean scales?" Normally, I would climb up the steps to escape the tub. But since it was just so much fun to tease Nesh, I made a point to pull myself up over the wall, instead. I hiked a hind leg up to brace my back paw against the lip of the pool, climbing out directly over Nesh. “Do watch where you're going, human!"

Nesh ducked out from under me with an odd yelping sigh. “I'm trying to! I'm also trying to watch where my eyes are going, but you're not making it very easy."

“Stare if you like, Nesh, I hardly care." I padded away from him, and then shook myself hard. A spray of water droplets fanned out in all directions around me, flashing as a thousand tiny sapphires in the glow-stone light. “We dragons do not find our own anatomy embarrassing the way you humans do."

Nesh wrung his cloth out, and followed me towards the hall. “Is this where I claim I'm not embarrassed by my anatomy, and you retort and tell me I should be? Well, I'll not give you the satisfaction…No, wait! Damn it." He slapped the cloth against his palm, scowling. “You can twist that one back on me, too."

I laughed, waiting for him to catch up and walk along at my side. “I may not have to continue teasing you at this rate. You seem to do a fine job on your own. Do you like inebriating drink, Nesh?"

Nesh scrunched his flat face. “You mean, alcohol?"

I clicked my teeth, nodding. “That's your word for it, yes. I could not recall. I am going to have alcohol before I let you torture me. Do you wish some as well?"

He draped his cloth over his shoulder. “Under the circumstances, I'd certainly not say no." Nesh paused, staring up at one of the glow-stones. “What are these, anyway? Some kind of magic?"

I turned my head to stare at the glowing crystalline lump. It was about the size of my forepaw, placed in a recessed alcove. “I've no idea, if I'm honest. I don't think so, but I wouldn't wear it. Never had much of a knack for understanding things like magic. My people collected them in ages past. As our numbers dwindled, the rest of us have gathered and redistribute them, along with our treasures, relics, knowledge, and the like."

“Fascinating." Nesh stroked his chin, then hurried to catch up with me when I resumed walking. “Wait, how do you redistribute knowledge?"

“By passing down tomes and scrolls and the like." I tossed my head, it seemed an awfully simple concept to me. When we neared my sleeping chamber, I pointed towards it. “Make yourself ready. I shall return with alcohol."

I parted ways with Nesh to visit my pantry. I had no lamps in there, so I took a glow-stone from a nearby alcove, and carried it in my jaws, then set it in the center of the room. All manner of barrels, kegs, and casks were stacked along its stone walls. There were also rows of crates and chests filled with all manner of bottles of every type. Like the rest of my various collected things, I tried to keep them neat and orderly. Many other dragons just scattered their belongings hither and yon, but I actually liked to be able to find what I was looking for.

And right now, I wanted to drink kraalgor. That was what we called an inebriating drink of our own making. In times past, summer when the valley was in full bloom, we held a yearly celebration. We'd paint each other up in the colors of the season, and spread throughout the valley to collect as many fruits and berries as we could get our paws on them. Then we'd mash them all up, along with the blood of elk and other prey, and let the mixture ferment. It was strained, mixed with water and more fruit, and sometimes with honey and wildflowers, more blood, and left to ferment again. Sometimes it was cooked, sometimes it was partly frozen before being strained, and so on. Eventually, we ended up with something akin to a fruit, berry, and blood wine. Dragons quiet liked it, though I wasn't totally sure how Nesh would feel. Luckily for him, I had more human drink than I could ever finish myself.

I dug through my casks of kraalgor. Each had a date and ingredient list scrawled upon it in the old draconic script. I had a few of them left, and I knew Melakar's lair held more. But for the obvious reasons, the stockpile now was limited. I knew the basics to making it, though, and perhaps I'd try creating a batch of my own someday. I selected one that I hoped had not aged too far, and then clutched it under my foreleg, against my body.

I hobbled back to my sleeping chambers, and found Nesh had made himself a chair of sorts by spreading a few soft animal hides over a heavy box. He'd unrolled some bandages and spread them on the floor, then arranged arranged all his various medical utensils atop them. Nesh inspected one of them, muttering to himself until he saw me enter.

“Is that a whole cask of wine?" Nesh stood up as if to offer to help, only to realize the barrel weighed nearly as much as he did.

“Something like that." I eased it to the ground near his tools, then shook out my slightly sore foreleg. “We call it kraalgor."

“You…you make wine?" Nesh rubbed his head-fur.

“Only when we're not busy burning villages, pillaging the countryside, and ravishing princesses." I padded to my storage bins, then glanced back at him over my wings. “And medics."

Nesh did a strange thing with his eyes, looking as if he was trying to roll them back into his own head. “Alright, so you don't all do those things." He shook a finger at me as if chastising a child. “But some of you do." Then he held up his hands, softening his tone. “I'm not saying you or your…unfortunate former mate did such things, but. Stories don't come from nowhere, dragon, they have a basis in history. So some of you did do those horrible, blasphemous things."

“Humans do horrible things to each other all the time." I pulled open a bin containing all sorts of wooden drinking vessels. I was careful with words and my tone, this time. I did not wish to start an argument with him now, nor did I wish to make myself angry. “Do you tell such tales about other humans?"

“Well…" Nesh swallowed, his face tightening. “Yes. Some of them."

I selected a human mug from the bin, and tossed it to him. “And does that mean you believe all humans to be creatures of evil?"

Nesh caught the mug, scowling at it. “No, but, admittedly, some of us are. I…" He turned it over in his hand. “Suppose that's the point you're making."

I plucked a deep, wooden drinking bowl designed for dragons out of the bin, then turned back towards him. I pushed the drawer closed with my tail and returned to Nesh, dropping my drinking bowl at his feet. “There's no sense in pointing out the obvious. Now, fill it up, Concubine."

Nesh picked up my bowl, and went to the barrel. The barrel itself was actually once filled with human spirits, and Nesh had no trouble operating the spigot. He filled my drinking bowl, and set it in the floor before me, then filled up his own mug. The rich aroma of overripe berries and bittersweet, sugar-copper blood filled the air. He sniffed his drink, took a sip, and then made what I believed to be a pleased noise.

“That's tasty, actually. Surprisingly so." He took another drink, then set his mug aside. “Strong, too. I'd better not have too much until I'm finished." Nesh set a hand atop the barrel, glancing up at Melakar's portrait. “I understand the point you're making. I just hope you understand mine, too. Just because some of you make wine…" He patted the barrel. “Doesn't mean you haven't also done horrible things to humanity. In fact, I'm rather certain you can make wine and be evil."

I tilted my head. “You may be focusing too much on the wine."

Nesh laughed, shrugging. “Perhaps so." He swept a hand across his assembled tools and supplies. “Shall we get started, then?"

“One moment."

I picked up my drinking bowl and tipped it back to my muzzle, downing the whole thing in a few long, gulps. The flavor was much like the scent, heavy with all manner of deep, almost too-ripe fruit, balanced by a bit of bitterness from the blood. I wasn't sure if Nesh even knew there was blood in there, but I decided against telling him. Instead, I just handed him my bowl. He sighed, and filled it again. I drained it just as fast, then handed it back once more.

After the third bowlful of kraalgor was empty, I set my bowl aside. “Very well, Medic. Let's get this over with."

This was not going to be pleasant.

*****

Chapter Nine

Doctor

*****

Nesh nodded, and picked up a clean cloth along with a metal flask. “I need to cleanse them first. You…understand this will be quite painful, right?"

“You say that as if any part of this will be anything but." I swallowed hard, licking my muzzle. “I am familiar with the process. Go on then, get started."

Nesh poured astringent smelling spirits over the cloth. He set the flask aside, then counted down from three. I took a deep breath and set my jaw, bracing myself. The moment Nesh reached zero, he pressed the sopping cloth to the rifle shot wound near my shoulder. Searing agony erupted as he squeezed the liquid in. It was as if he'd sprayed my hide with oil and lit it aflame, all while shoving a white-hot poker into the flesh beneath. The pain streaked down my front limb, throbbing in my shoulder.

“Aaaaaah!" Try as I might, I could not keep from crying out. I clenched my forepaws against the rugs beneath me, my tail first lashing, the coiling. I issued a vulgar curse in my native language. When the pain did not fade, and Nesh gave me a confused look, I repeated it again in his tongue. “By the Earth Dragon's scrotum, that hurts! Why don't you just douse me in flame and get it over with?"

“By the what, of the who?" Nesh gave me a baffled look, as if he wasn't sure he'd heard me correctly. Or maybe he was just worried the pain was making me lose my mind. He pulled the cloth back. “Alright, catch your breath, and I'll rinse the other one."

I took a few slow, deep breaths, glancing over at Nesh. “Did you really want an explanation?"

Nesh only shrugged. “I've yelled worse when I stubbed my toe. Though…that did seem awfully specific."

“The Earth Dragon is sort of…" I worked my foreleg in a circle, trying to decide how best to explain it. “He's one of our myths. It was said that were four great elemental dragons, of which, the Earth Dragon was the male. So, he mated with the others, and, that's where the rest of the dragons came from. I suppose you could say his balls were important enough to work their way into our old sayings and insults."

Nesh chuckled, pouring more spirits over his cloth. “You dragons have very strange tales."

I flexed my wings, easing onto my side to give him better access to my ribs. “Oh, shut up! Like you humans don't. I've heard your stories about what you think your gods did with everything and everyone they could get their hands on."

“Our gods did no such thing." Nesh glared at me so hard I half wondered if he believed it.

I tossed my head, thumping my tail. “Do you or do you not have a tale about a god who had his way with a cow, and created a minotaur?"

“Yes, well…" Nesh pursed his lips and trailed off. “That was different." He held the cloth up. “Ready?"

“You're right, at least our mythical figures only had sex with each other!" I took a breath, shaking my head while Nesh kept glaring me. “And no, I'm not ready. Give me a moment."

Nesh pushed his cloth to my wounded side anyway, squeezing the harsh spirits in. A new flame ignited all along my rib cage, roiling pain up and down my side.

I cried out, writhing in place, my paws curling. “Gaaaaaah! Muzzle-pleasure a swamp gryphon, that hurts!"

Nesh gave me another wide-eyed stare. “Do what to who?"

“I said I wasn't ready!" Hissing, I thumped my tail against the rugs a few times.

“That's not the part I was confused about." Nesh worked the rest of the spirits into my wound, then gradually pulled the cloth away. “So…the swamp gryphon? Is that another horny deity?"

“No!" I pounded my forepaw against the floor till the pain eased. “It's just a dirty saying, because that hurt like hell!"

“I'm sure it did." Nesh set his cloth aside, then picked up another one. He poured more spirits over it, and used it to wipe down something that looked akin to an odd set of metal tongs. “It's not going to get better, either. Need to get that shot out of you, and then close up the wounds."

“I'm aware." I stretched out on my side, my wings draped behind me. “You may as well just do it."

Nesh nodded, and knelt down alongside me. “The benefit of the spirits is that, when the pain fades, the leave a wound a little bit numbed. I did have something else that helps with pain…" He shot me a glare and rested a hand on my side. “But you made me throw it away."

“You'll forgive my abundance of caution." I lifted my head a little, curling my neck. Morbid curiosity bade me to see just what he was pulling from my flesh.

Nesh stroked my hide for a moment, staring at his own hand, as if mesmerized by the feeling of my scales, and the sight of his own fingers against them. “You're…awfully warm."

I snorted, flicking my tail tip. “You hadn't noticed earlier?"

“No, I did, I just…" He shrugged, running his head back and forth. “It's sinking in, I suppose, that I'm…touching a living dragon. And helping it."

“Her." I snapped my teeth. “You're helping her. Speaking of which, get on with it. I want this to be over and done with. You my fondle my scales later."

“I'm not fondling anything." Nesh laughing, leaning forward with his implement. “Alright, brace yourself." He pushed his grasping tool into the wound. A bit of fresh blood dribbled out and down my scales.

Sucking in a breath, I snatched the plush golden rug beneath me in my forepaws. The pain was different now, sharper and more focused, digging into my flesh. In a way, it was not quite as bad. Perhaps it was because as Nesh promised, the spirits had numbed the area a little. Or perhaps it was simply less painful by virtue of agonizing comparison, less like all consuming fire flowing from the wound, and into my veins.

Nesh manipulated his retrieval device in my wound, deeper than I imagined it would go. Blood streaked my underbelly, dripping to the rug on which I laid. He set his jaw, the tiny lines of fur above his eyes knit together. “Almost…got it. There!" He tightened his grip, bracing his other hand on my side. Then in a slow, smooth motion, he pulled his arm back, retracting the tool. Clamped in its blood-stained jaws was a deformed looking, somewhat flattened metal lump. He turned and dropped it onto the bandages spread out nearby. “That's one!"

“Crude little things, aren't they?" I stared at the projectile, then hissed my distaste. “Arrows and crossbow bolts seem so much more elegant."

“Outdated, too." Nesh rinsed his tool with spirits, then set it down on a pad of clean gauze. Then he picked up the rifle shot in his fingers, holding it up towards the lamp. “Your scales are awfully sturdy. This thing looks like it had to punch through armor first." He set it back down, then sliced a strip of bandage from a roll, and pressed it to my wound. The pressure made me grimace, but it was nothing compared to the earlier pain. “Let me staunch the fresh bleeding here, and I'll get the other one."

“As you wish." I stared at the blooded, malformed sphere while Nesh held the bandage to me. “I must admit, it is nice not to have to try and pull those things out myself, or have another dragon do it."

Nesh moved the bandage, checked the bleeding, and then held it against me once more. “And I must admit, it's nice to be able to pull rifle shot out of a patient who isn't on their death bed."

That made me grunt, and toss my head. “Is your doctoring that poor?"

“Hardly!" Nesh checked the bandage again, and satisfied, set it aside. “But usually if a human's been shot…well." He made a circle around my wound with his fingers, then held that same circle against his own body. It looked larger on him, than on me. “It'd be harder not to hit something vital. Especially if it fragments, or bounces, or…hell, even a dragon could been slain by an unlucky shot that bounced around in you, or clipped an artery, or…you get the idea." He fetched his tongs, and moved to my shoulder. “Most of my experience removing pistol balls and rifle shots are an attempt to save a life. And even if I get them out, there's only so much I can do for internal damage."

I sighed, glancing away. “I understand. There was…" Though I tried to avoid it, I found my gaze wandering to Melakar's portrait. “Nothing that could have been done for him, either. There was too much…" I waved a fore paw towards my belly. “Damage, inside him."

Nesh nodded, and patted my shoulder. Then he opened his mouth to reply, only to close it just as quickly. Instead, he inspected the wound near my shoulder. “This one looks like it might have been a pistol." He glanced at me, and when I nodded for him to begin, he dug his tongs into the wound. I snapped my jaws shut, grinding my teeth, my tail curling. While Nesh worked, he kept talking. “So, you dragons really take these things out of yourselves? I'd be afraid your claws would do more harm than good."

I wasn't sure if he was genuinely curious or just trying to keep my attention focused elsewhere, but I would take any distraction from the pain I could get. “What choice do we have?" I held up a forepaw, my claws fully sheathed. “Our claws are retractable, though, that makes it safer."

Nesh clamped his tool around the pistol shot, tugged it, then paused mid-wrench to look at my paw. “I noticed that, actually, when you were carrying me. Noticed you've got opposable thumbs, too. You're quite a fascinating species, actually. I was looking forward to-" He snapped his mouth shut so fast I thought I heard his teeth clack. Just as quickly, he returned his attention to removing the projectile. “Ready? I've just about got it."

He pulled it free in another slow, steady motion. It popped free, and a line of dark red blood trickled from the wound, over my black scales. The pistol shot looked a little rounder than the first, though I did not know if it was a different kind of bullet, or simply faced less resistance from the smaller scales near a joint. Nesh dropped it next to the other shot, and then rinsed his tongs. He set them down, gave me a quick smile, and started measuring long, sinewy threads.

“Right!" He snipped off bits of thread. “Let's get you stitched up."

“You were looking forward to studying him." My voice was flat, and even. I knew that was what Nesh was going to say when he cut himself off, even before my suggestion made him straighten up. “Right? To study a dead dragon?"

I took a breath, and for a moment, I was filled anew with fire, and anger, and I was not sure which of them Nesh would face. How dare he, I thought, even consider studying Melakar's body. As if he was nothing more than some decomposing farm animal to poked at by passing gawkers. But my fury left me as quickly as it came when Nesh's shoulders drooped. Maybe I was just exhausted. Or maybe, it was just the understanding that none of this was Nesh's fault, and neither rage, nor flame, could ever bring Melakar back.

Nesh set his stitching thread back down, and for a moment, stared only at his arrangement of tools. “It seemed…an opportunity of a lifetime. They'd already mortally wounded the thing, I thought, why not tag along? I'd…never seen one up close, before. And…medically speaking, you're…you're fascinating."

“And here I thought we were evil." Sarcasm crept back into my voice, but I let him continue, otherwise.

“Evil doesn't make you less fascinating." Nesh chuckled, shaking his head. “If they dragged back the corpse of a demon, straight from the underworld, with entrails of fire and brimstone, I'd want a chance to learn how it functioned, too. I wasn't…" He glanced back at me, his lips drawn into a tight line. “I wasn't assigned to that dragon slayer unit you killed. My unit wasn't going anywhere, but I…I wanted to see a dragon."

I flared out a single wing up into the air, as if to emphasize myself. “And so you have."

Nesh ran a hand back through his head fur. “The dead one seemed safer." He froze, and swallowed hard. “S-sorry."

“It's alright, Nesh." I smiled at him, flashing fangs. “The dead one was safer." I meant it as a teasing jest to put him at ease, but it struck me that I was speaking more truth than I intended. “In many ways, actually. There were only two of us left in this valley, and of them, you slew the diplomat, and enraged the warrior."

“So I noticed." Nesh snipped off a few more bits of thread, then turned back towards me. “Do you want me to…?"

“Go ahead." I licked my nose, and then lowered my head, turning a forepaw over to display my softer pads. Though Nesh wouldn't know it, it was a draconic gesture of acquiescence, a non-verbal admission that, I wasn't all that angry, anymore. And I wasn't going to hurt him for being curious. “I…I understand, Nesh. When…when I was little, I changed upon a dead human, swept away in a flood and washed up upon the stones. I poked and prodded at its strange form, wondering about it. The fact it might have had a family…It did not occur, to me. I…" I splayed my ears, my frills sagging around my head. “I do not begrudge you your curiosity."

Nesh plucked up a disturbingly large needle from his collection of supplies. “Nonetheless, it was…insensitive, at such a time." He scooted closer, examining the wound near my shoulder. “Do you want me to use the spirits again, numb it up a bit more?"

“Do you want me to hurl you off my entry ledge?" I glared at him, thumping a forepaw for emphasis. “Just stitch the wound, Medic."

“As you wish, Dragon." Nesh pushed the needle through the flesh, just around the broken scales. “Have you had stitches before?"

I hissed, my claws unsheathing into the carpet. Again, it was a new sort of pain, and quite unpleasant but not nearly as agonizing as the damn spirits. “Yes, but it has been some time."

“Who gave them to you before?" Nesh worked his needle and sturdy thread with a swift, steady hand. “Your diplomat?"

“No." I set my jaws, kneading the golden rug in time with the in and out of Nesh's needle. “A former human vassal. They were…" I glanced back at him, and found the whole over halfway closed already. “Not as skilled as you."

“Is that a compliment?" Nesh grinned at me, his odd little flattened teeth on display. He put his free hand over his chest. “I didn't think you knew how to give those. I suppose I'll have to start doing this gently now."

I turned my attention away from Nesh, and instead, gazed up at the portrait of Melakar. It almost looked as if he was smiling at me, pleased to see Nesh and I getting along. Or at least, something akin to it.

Nesh finished stitching the wound, and then snipped his thread off. “You know, for a diplomat?" He must have seen where I was staring. “He sure killed a lot of people." Nesh quickly amended himself. “I-in battle, I mean."

I smiled back at Melakar's image, proud to hear confirmation that in his last moments, he had fought valiant. “How many?"

“I don't know. I hadn't heard a final tally by the time they set off after him." Nesh got fresh stitches, and moved to my other wound, along my ribs. “But I think, two or three dozen, at least. Maybe more." He sighed and shook his head. “They had fam…well, so did he, I suppose. Regardless, that's…quite a tally for…" Nesh offered me a little smile, then pushed his needle in. “For a diplomat."

I tensed up, my hind paws splaying in pain. “And if it were I, Nesh, I'd have taken a hundred of you with me before I fell." I tossed my head. “At the least." Nesh was silent as he stitched my second wound. After a few long moments, I licked my muzzle. I supposed since he had shown penitence for his insensitive words, I could do the same. “That was callous of me."

It wasn't quite an apology, but Nesh seemed to appreciate it, nonetheless. He nodded once, then gave a look I could only describe as playful. “You'd have blown yourself out of the sky, anyway."

That actually made me laugh, brassy, raccous draconic laughter. It echoed around my sleeping chamber for long moments. Nesh had to pause his stitching till I'd caught my breath. “I already tried that, Nesh, it did not take. And I'll know better next time."

“I genuinely hope, for both our sakes, there won't be a next time." Nesh snipped off the last of the stitching thread, then eased back. “There, that's done. Let me put some bandages on these, as they're probably going to weep. And then you'll be finished."

“As you wish." I cocked my head, watching him cut square-shaped swaths of bandage. “How did you survive that explosion?"

Nesh laughed, a far more sheepish sound than my own laughter. “I took cover the moment you hurled that boulder, and when someone yelled run, I ran. Still got hurled off my feet and thrown into the snow. Woke up a few hours later, and…vomited, actually. So many dead. But, I figured the gods spared my for a reason, and I started I headed off in the direction of home."

“It was not the gods that spared you, Nesh." I lifted a forepaw, and set it against my chest. “It was me."

Nesh shot me a dirty look. “Don't blaspheme."

“It is isn't blasphemy if I don't believe in your gods." I snorted and tossed my head, then softened my voice. “Nonetheless, I find myself increasingly…pleased. That you have survived."

“That makes two of us." Nesh carried his gauze and bandages back to me, along with a little stoneware jar. “Also, I'm pretty sure that's the definition of blasphemy."

“Well, Concubine." I stretched my hind legs out, shifting into what would have been at least a mildly provocative pose, were Nesh a dragon. “I can redefine blasphemy for you, if you like."

“Oh, Gods." Nesh put a hand over his reddening face, laughing again.

“You think I should invite them, too?" I glanced around as if searching for them. “I fear they may be better at it than you."

Nesh kept laughing, his shoulders shaking. “You are going to send me straight to every hell and underworld there is."

I flourished a forepaw in the air. “Oh, I'm sure they'll pick just one, for you." I lifted my head, flaring out my frills. “And fret not, Concubine, according to your beliefs, if you're in hell, I'll be right there with you!"

“Oh, no." Nesh opened the jar, and dipped his fingers in. He smeared something sticky and astringent smelling around the edges of the bandage square. “In that case, I'd better keep us both alive as long as possible."

I tilted my head. “How does that change anything? If you're stuck with me here, or there, wouldn't letting one of us die be your only means of temporary escape?"

Nesh shrugged, and pressed the bandage to my side. “Look, I'm not used to bantering with dragons, alright?" He worked his fingers around the edges of the gauzy fabric.

“I hadn't noticed." I scratched my neck with a wing-tip talon. “What did you put on that bandage?"

“It's a kind of resin." He moved to my other wound, slathering another bandage with the odd stuff. “Think of it like pine sap. I'm just using it to keep these bandages stuck to your scales, since I can't really wrap them around you." I watched Nesh press the second bandage against me. He smoothed its sticky edges down against my scales until it was properly affixed. Then he leaned back to inspect his work. “Yes, I think that will do. Just don't move too fast or stretch too far, if you can help it. You won't want me to have to re-stitch those."

I curled my neck, examining my new bandages. I did not like the way they smelled, but it was not a strong enough scent to cause me too much irritation. “You do seem to be a competent doctor."

Nesh laughed, putting away the rest of his bandages into his supply satchel. “Speaking of which, do you have any other complaints?"

I knew what he meant, but I could not help myself. I fixed him with a stony glare and thumped my tail against the rugs. “My people are slowly dying out. Thanks to yours."

Nesh scratched his head-fur. “That is…a pretty serious complaint, yes." He swallowed, and he looked away, his face crumpling. “I meant, physically. Specific to the battle, but…I suppose anything, really."

“My chest." I lifted a forepaw to rub my chest plates, grimacing. A thumping pain rang out inside me, as if just the reminder was enough to start me hurting inside all over again. “It hurt immensely after the blast knocked me from the sky." I set my foreleg back down, splaying my ears. “I had trouble breathing for a while, and I coughed out blood a few times."

Nesh's eyes widened, and he hurriedly dug through his tools. “You did? Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"

Spoken aloud, it did sound more concerning. “You were an enemy, before, I hardly saw fit to describe my injuries to you."

Nesh retrieved an odd looking device, like a long tube with something akin to tongs at one end, and a flattened circle at the other. “I can't fault you there, I suppose. Are you still having trouble breathing?"

Once again, just the reminder left my chest aching. I took a slow, deep breath to test myself, and was rewarded with a sharp pain digging into something deep within me. The pain made me hiss and flatten back my spiny frills. I exhaled, and while the worst of the pain eased, it lingered as a throbbing ache.

“I'll take that hiss and look on your face as a yes." Nesh put the tongs in his ears, and held the flattened circle up towards me. “I'm going to-"

“Keep your implements to yourself, until you tell me their function." I snapped my teeth, then gestured towards his head. “Why have you poked yourself in the ears with those…what are those, tongs? Some manner of plier?"

“What?" Nesh scrunched his face, staring at the flattened circle in his hand. “Oooh. No, no, this is a stethoscope. It lets me listen to your heart, your lungs, and so on."

That was a word I'd never heard in my life. I lowered my head, nosed at the end of his odd device, and then snorted. “Very well." I pulled my head back. “You may proceed."

Nesh stepped forward. “Do you…know where your heart is?" He lifted his odd little tool, pondering where to place it like some torturous dragon slayer looking for the most painful chink in my armor. “Or your lungs?"

That mental image left me ill at ease. “In my chest," I said, snapping at him. I softened my tone just as swiftly. “It…it isn't going to hurt, is it?"

Nesh gave me a lopsided smile, the lines of fur above his eyes arched. “Why would it hurt?"

“I don't know!" I unfolded a wing and waved it in the air. “Half the things in there look like they're going to hurt!" The nervousness in my own voice left my frills limp in embarrassment. “It's fine if it will be painful, I merely want to be braced for it."

“It won't be painful," Nesh said, patting the scales of my foreleg. “Do you know where in your chest? For example, the human heart is actually more on the left than in the center. Is a dragon's heart…" He trailed off when I just glared at him. “I'll just find it the old fashioned way, then."

No sooner had Nesh put his device to my chest than he made an startled yelping noise, and stumbled back, yanking the things from his ears. “Ah! Good Gods, your heart is loud." He put his fingers into his ears, wiggling them. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I-I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, given that it's probably at least the size of my head." He looked me up and down, crinkling up his little nose. “No, a horse's heart is probably the size of my head. You're bigger than any horse. Although, if I'm honest, you're not quite as big as I imagined a dragon to be, up close." He tilted his head, gazing down at my curled tail. “I've a suspicion that the size estimates I read my have included the length of your tail, and been misappropriated into the overall size of the body-"

“You're rambling again, human." I tilted my head. “Have you broken your ears or not?"

“No, thankfully." Nesh laughed, and put his ear-prongs back in. “But…let's try another location. Could you lift up a front leg, please?"

I did as he asked, and he leaned against the side of my body. I did not mind his proximity, as both his warmth and the softness of his garments were pleasant. He placed his flat circle against my scales again, somewhere below my front limb. “Alright, there. I can still hear your heartbeat clearly, but it's not as deafening. Take as deep a breath as is comfortable, please."

“This is strange." I took a slow breath till it left me hurting, then blew it back out.

“Just be glad you made me throw my thermometer away." Nesh laughed, moving his tool. “Again?"

I took another breath, curling my neck to gaze down at him. “Why?"

Nesh glanced up, grinning. “Actually, it's probably better you don't know." He moved his listening device around my side a few times, each time asking for another breath. Then he moved around the other side of me, and had my lift my other foreleg to give him access. Once again he listened to my breathing. “Your lungs sound clear, at least. Clear, and gods-blessed massive. You mentioned coughing blood, has that happened recently?"

I shook my head, swiveling my ears towards, curious just how much he could tell by listening to my chest. “No, not since you and I met."

“Good." He pulled the prongs from his ears, and hooked them around his neck. Then he gently pressed his hands against my side, moving them up and down my ribs. “I think the blast probably gave you some internal bleeding, and bruised your lungs. Thankfully, it doesn't seem as if they're still bleeding, so it was probably quite minor. I suspect you've cracked a few ribs, as well, and that's what's impeded your breathing. I can't feel them clearly enough through your scales without putting a lot more pressure on them, and I'd rather not." He stepped back, dusting off his hands. “So the bad news is there's not much I can do for that. The good news is it should heal on it's own, but you need to rest, and ideally, not fight any more dragon slayers." Nesh offered what I hoped was a playful smile. “At least not until you're healed."

I snorted, setting my foreleg back down. “So long as your army doesn't sweep into my valley in the very near future, that should not be a problem."

Nesh put his tools away, his face falling. “They'll probably come for you, eventually, after what happened. But…no, not for a while. It would take them ages to cross all those hills, anyway. I…I don't think they expected retaliation."

“Then they are arrogant fools." I arched my neck, lifting my head high. “Dragons do not let murder go unanswered. I suspect even Melakar would have struck back, were it I who they shot down." I licked my nose, considering other possibilities. “Unless they did not realize there were other dragons present, and then their intelligence failed them." Then I softened my voice, lowering my head closer to him. “I…I don't suppose you know what happened? Was…was he ambushed, or…"

“I…" Nesh slowly stood up, putting his satchel atop a bin. “I don't know, I'm sorry. I didn't see it, at the time. It was still early in the morning when it happened, and the cannon fire woke me." He gathered up the bloodied bandages and other discarded bits. “All sorts of rumors spread through the camp, after that. One person said we were under attack, another said we attacked the dragon, others said they were hunting him. Hell, some of the soldiers that you…you know." He turned towards me, tilting his head towards my wounds. “Some of them were talking, about how they heard from their friend, who heard from their cousin, that the dragon had been out there before, making demands, or something. And when the demands grew too steep, someone gave the order to…well." Nesh gave a long sigh, shaking his head.

Some of what Nesh suggested rattled around inside my brain, uncomfortably close to the possible truth. “He did believe in the old ways. And there were times when…when dragons allowed humans to dwell on their lands, in return for tributes. I suppose it's possible he was…" I ground my teeth. If Melakar had discovered these humans and been demanding tribute, why hadn't he told me? Though we had not been talking at the time, protecting the valley was different. “Do you think it's possible he was…negotiating? And your people betrayed his good faith and attacked?"

Nesh just shrugged. “I've no idea. If so, it's just as likely he betrayed us, first." Nesh glared at me just long enough to make his point, then sighed again. “The truth is, he was probably just too far beyond his own lands. Wrong place, wrong time…maybe the wrong order to open fire."

“Probably right." I drummed claw tips against the rug. “He was…always curious, about the world, about everything. Like a hatchling, really. He never grew out of it." A smile parted my muzzle. As often as Mekalar's lectures drove me crazy, I did sometimes enjoy hearing him talk about the world beyond of valley. Some of it he'd read in books, or seen pictures. Other things he'd heard from vassals and passing merchants, or seen himself. “He…he did sometimes like to wander. Tomorrow, we'll go to his home. I should like to gather some of his things. Perhaps there will be a clue there about his intentions, in his final days." I stared at Nesh as he shifted his armful of bloodied bandages and other things. “Why are you carrying those?"

“I…er…" Nesh glanced down at them. “Didn't really know where to put them. Don't suppose you have a refuse bin?"

With a soft laugh, I pushed myself up to all four paws. “This way, Medic. You can dump those off the ledge, where I dump bones of prey. After that, I'll show you where you can sleep tonight."

Nesh gave a little gasp, following me into the tunnel. “You mean I don't have to sleep with you? Oh, thank the Gods!"

“Don't press your luck, Concubine." I glanced back at him, flashing fangs in playful smile. “At least, not until I'm rested."

*****

Chapter Ten

Treasure

*****

I let Nesh have one of my old vassal's chambers. He was quite pleasant surprised to find it had a human style bed in it, though I could not promise him the old blankets were not moth-eaten or otherwise infested. Still, I imagined it was much more than he expected to have to sleep in while stuck in a dragon's lair. The room also had a few other bits of human furniture, from an empty bookshelf, to a mahogany wardrobe with a few bits of clothing still inside, along with a table and chair.

Nesh also pressed curiosity about my former vassals, but by then, an ever-growing fatigue was wearing me down, bit by bit. I did not have the energy or patience for further discussions. In essence, a dragon's vassals were humans, or peoples of other species who lived with us, and served us in various ways. Some dragons had many, others had none at all. Some vassals served willingly. For example, for several years Mekalar had a human vassel, a professional thief who pledged her loyalty to him, in return for protection from the forces of law who sought her. Others were paid for their services, or worked for a dragon in exchange for their lives, and so on.

Nesh, without realizing it, was my latest vassal. I had spared his life in return for his services, and by right, those services would last as long as I wished them to. While I had no intention to keep the man here for his entire life, neither did I intend to return him to his people while he could deliverable actionable and tactical information that his army could use against me.

I returned to my sleeping chamber, and doused the lamps. Darkness smothered the room, but my eyes quickly adjusted. Dragons had excellent night sight, and just enough pale blue light shone in from the nearest glow-stones in adjoining hallways to keep me from wandering the room, blind. I settled down atop my pile of bedding, and curled as much as my stitches and cracked ribs would comfortably allow. Though I feared I would spend half the night lost in thought, consumed with the last few days terrible events, exhaustion proved a stronger foe than I anticipated. I would asleep almost as soon as I laid my head upon my forepaws.

In my dreams, I stood at the edge of my valley as it faced annihilation. A great, black wave swept across the land, a tide of devastation. All it touched crumbled. Hills and spires of stone were washed away in an instant. The wave grew, higher and higher. In my heart, I knew nothing could stop it. Yet I stood before it, defiant and prideful. I threw my wings out to their full extent, and roared, an ancient primal sound, strong and terrible enough to turn back an army.

The wave did not stop. It bore down on me, faster, and faster. Gray foam and debris roiled at its growing crest. In the dream I knew the wave was unstoppable, as inexorable as time itself. And I knew that no matter what I did, how loud I roared or how hard I fought, it was going to obliterate everything my people once held dear. A flood was coming, a flood to drown even the mountains themselves. If I flew now, as high and fast as I could go, I could still clear the wave, I could still survive the coming tide.

But I didn't. I stood my ground, intent it down unto my final breath, for the honor of my people. Terror filled me as the wave rose over head. In the black, churning mass, I somehow an impossible reflection. I saw myself in its surface, staring back at me. In the reflection, I was little more than a battered ruin. My wings were torn to bloodied shreds, my limbs twisted the wrong ways. My head hung limp from my broken neck. And my stomach was rent and torn, opened up by the same sort of horrible wounds that felled Melakar. The dead reflection mouthed words. Though the voice was silent, sorrow dripped from every horrified and imagined syllable.

Why didn't you flee?

“I don't kno-"

And then the wave crashed over me, frigid and terrible. It pulled me in every direction, trying to rip my limbs from my body even as black water filled my lungs. I struggled and fought, but even a dragon was no match for such a force. My heart beat cold and terrified, my bowels twisted. I tried to scream, but I was already drowning. Behind me, loomed the faces of our ancestors carved into the mountains. Though I knew I was dying, instinct bade me to fight it, to struggle.

To live.

But I had already made my prideful choice, and there was no escaping its consequences.

Only when the wave dashed me to shattered pieces against the cliffs did I find respite. I woke from my nightmare with a horrified yowl, leaping to my feet. All four paws were icy, and cold. My back legs tingled, half-numb, and my heart thrashed against my sternum. My wings trembled at my sides. Slowly, I eased back onto my haunches, rubbing my forepaws together in vain attempt to warm them.

“Only a dream." I licked my nose, folding my wings tightly around my body. “Only a dream." Somehow, confirming it aloud for myself helped me shake the lingering dread that coiled in the frozen pit of my stomach. “It was…only a dream."

“Dragon?" Nesh's voice echoed down the hallway. A few moments later, wavering blue light heralded his appearance at the entryway to my sleeping chamber. His hair was damp and slicked down, and he wore only the long underclothes that usually lay beneath the rest of his garments. He clutched a glow-stone in his hands. “I hope I'm not intruding. I thought I heard a scream, I hope you haven't ripped your stitches already." He walked a few steps closer, looking me over. “I don't see any signs of fresh blood soaking through your bandages."

“No, Nesh." My own voice sounded weak, subdued. My tongue was dry, and my mouth sticky. “It was…" I eased back up to my feet, still a little shaky. “It was just a bad dream."

“Ah." Nesh moved aside to give me room to pass. “You too, huh? Mine…" He grimaced, tucked the glow-stone under his arm, and rubbed his face. “Well, a bath in your hot spring helped clear my head. How do you feel, otherwise?"

“Thirsty." I took a few steps past him, then paused, glancing back. “I am sorry for your own nightmare." I could only imagine what sort of frightening images must have filled his sleeping mind, given what he'd been through. In a way, we shared that. We'd both seen too much death, lately. “Is it morning?"

“Mhm." Nesh caught up with me, holding the glow-stone out in front of himself like a pale blue lantern. “Sun's been up a few hours, I think. Oh, I hope you don't mind me pulling this thing out of its alcove. Just seemed easier than having to keep lighting a lamp."

“That is acceptable."

I walked in silence the rest of the way to the chamber with the drinking water. My stitched wounds throbbed, and my chest ached deep inside, but none of my pains were near as intense as the day before. When I reached my destination, I glanced at my bandages and was pleased to find they did not look too discolored. I did not wish Nesh to have to change them until I'd hunted breakfast, and had a bath.

I dropped my head down and gulped great mouthfuls of spring water until my powerful thirst was quenched. I licked droplets from my muzzle, and glanced back to find that Nesh was still near me. In that moment, he reminded me of an old hound, taken by its enemies after they slew its master. It would follow at their heels, confused and uncertain, simply because it had no place else to go, and no one else to turn to.

It dismayed me that I suddenly found myself pitying Nesh. If he was a real hound, I would offer him a treat. I turned towards him, tilting my head. “Have you eaten, yet?"

“A little." Nesh leaned up against a nearby wall. “I found that stockpile of preserved foods, you mentioned. Some of it's gone off, I'm afraid. But some of that salted and cured stuff is damn near ageless, same with hard tack and those old travel biscuits. Taste even worse than the rations the army give us, but it'll keep me going at least." He turned the glow-stone over in his hands, staring at it. “Truth was, I wasn't all that hungry, but I knew I needed to eat something. That's actually what I was doing when I heard you yowl."

I left him ramble, this time, until it seemed clear he had stopped. I gave him a little smile. “You should try to eat more. It's good for you. Later, I'll get you some fresh meat to cook. And Melakar usually kept fresher stores of dried fruits and meats. We'll visit his old home after I hunt, and bathe." I lowered my head, and bumped him with my muzzle. He smelled cleaner than he had, previously. His clothes were a bit damp as well, and I suspected he had washed those while bathing himself. “Now begone. I need to make use of the latrine chamber, and while dragons may not share your anatomical modesty, there are some things I do not want you at my side for."

Nesh laughed, and gave me a little bow. “Understood. Just, uh, find me when you're ready to leave, hmm?"

I flashed him a playful smile, my frills perked, just before we parted ways. “If I remember."

After I'd relieved myself, I hurried out of my home and into the air to hunt breakfast. The air outside was brisk, smelling sharply of ice. It did little to help ease the lingering chill in my fingers and toes, or at the tips of my wings. I beat my wings hard and fast, trying to help warm them with extra blood flow. The cold air left the lingering throb in my lungs pulsing a little more sharply, and the motion left my ribs aching anew. Thankfully, the motions of my wing-beats did not tug too forcefully at either set of stitches.

Though I had a taste for elk, a few mountain goats scaling cliffs drew my attention first. I considered leaving them be to pursue other prey, but decided just to snatch the easiest meal. I was sure Nesh would appreciate it if I didn't spend too long chasing game while he was waiting for me. I snatched a sheep from the cliffside, and opened its throat with my claws.

The animal bled out while I swept through the mountains, eventually settling into a snowy meadow. Footprints and layers of scent told me plenty more animals had been through there recently, seeking grasses, seeds and nuts hidden beneath the snow. A few small predators dwelled nearby, as well, stalking voles and mice. Anything lingering nearby wasn't going to show itself until I was gone, and that was fine with me.

The goat's meat was enjoyable enough but not quite what I had a taste for. Every prey animal had its own unique tastes and textures. Some were richer-tasting, while others had a more minerally or earth tang to their flesh. While I enjoyed them all, Elk were among my personal favorites. Mountain goats could be a bit stringy and tough, though I was pleasantly surprised to find this one was not. Perhaps it had been a younger animal.

When the animal was halfway devoured, I could eat no more. Normally I could devour an entire sheepish without difficulty, but my troubling dreams left my guts knotted. I did not want to press my luck and vomit my breakfast back up as a result. Since I did not want a kill to go to waste, I decided to leave the rest of the carcass behind. It was a gift, of sorts, to the scavengers and smaller predators who shared their meadow with me. No doubt I had disrupted their own hunts. It seemed the least I could do to leave them an offering to make up for it. I licked my forepaws and muzzle clean, and leapt back into the sky.

Before long, I was relaxing in my hot springs. The warm water finally helped remove the last traces of nightmare's cold from my extremities. It also pried dread's chilly fingers from around my belly for the first time all morning. As Nesh promised, relaxing in the warm water also helped clear my head a little bit. By the time I climbed back out and shook myself off, I was in a much better mood, and went to find my vassal. I knew he'd need to change my wet bandages before we left.

I discovered Nesh wandering around one of my treasure chambers in a daze. Like the rest of my home, I tried to keep my hoard as neatly organized as possible, with containers of all types lining the walls, and stacked in even rows through the center of the room. Gold coins were piled high in open bins and hidden inside closed chests. Coins of silver and other metals sat alongside them, arranged roughly in terms of value. Gemstones, jewels, and other precious minerals were grouped in a similar manner. There were crates filled with ornamental goblets, chalices, eating utensils, and so on. Ceremonial antique weaponry occupied a series of crystalline display cases.

“What's the matter, Concubine?" I padded in alongside Nesh. “Never seen a bit of gold before?"

“A bit of gold?" Nesh stared at me with his jaw hanging open, and the lines of fur above his eyes arched. He looked a bit like a fish pulled from the water, frozen in mid-gasp. “This isn't a bit of gold, it's a damn treasury!"

I snorted, and tossed my head. “Nonsense. This is the boring stuff. If you want to be impressed, I'll show you the choicer bits." I turned away, bumping him with my tail. “This way."

“You mean…" Nesh stumbled after me, still in a gold-induced stupor. “This…isn't even the best of it?"

“Not really." I flexed my wings in a dismissively shrug. “This is what you could get robbing merchant caravans, and tax collector wagons. Come, and I'll show you my rarities. Those are the real trophies amongst the treasure."

I took Nesh into a looping tunnel that connected my various treasure chambers. The bulk of my so-called hoard was in the room Nesh had been exploring, but the others contained select items of greater importance or antiquity, or things that I valued more greatly on a personal level. Nesh followed me into the room where my favorite pieces were on display. There were fewer bits of treasure in them, but each was carefully curated, something I enjoyed showing off all in its own, rather than simply keep in a pile with its shiny brethren.

The chamber had a few dozen pieces on display. A heavily bejeweled, golden crown from some forgotten human empire sat atop a stone pedestal. Near the crown was an white scepter, carved from the ivory tusks of some great beast, and inlaid with runes of purest gold. Another display stand featured a beautifully sculpted dragon's head, cut from purest platinum, with bright blue eyes of faceted sapphire and teeth of glittering diamond.

Many of the artifacts were ornamental weapons and armor of great historical value. A long shelf had a ceremonial lance, silver, and inscribed with tiny, intricate reliefs of grand battles between human and dragon. Glittering inlaid rubies represented the blood of dragons, shed by the wielders of the lance. It had meant something to an order of dragon slayers, once, and that made it all the more satisfying for our people to have stolen it.

A wheeled, ebony cannon sat in the corner of the room, inlaid with elegant copper filigree in the shape of leaves and vines. Its wheels spokes caved to look like bones stretching out like some macabre spider web. The two designs clashed, but I imagined it was meant to give the impression of life born anew from death.

In the center of the room laid a nearly complete set of dragon armor. It was missing only a few sections, and sat assembled in the rough shape of a dragon atop a wide, flat platform. Generations had passed since we had last smelted ores and forged metal, let alone since we crafted armor. A dragon's armor was composed of a many different pieces, designed to supplement our own natural defenses and protect vulnerable areas. It often came at the expense of some of our maneuverability, but in the ages before we were worried about rifle shot and cannon fire, it served its purpose well.

This armor, however, was never intended for combat. It was entirely ceremonial, and absolutely gorgeous. Each shiny, silvery plate had scalloped edges in gold. Old draconic runes were inscribed into larger sections. The breastplate bore an ornate image inlaid into it, a snow-white female dragon with wings of striking red flame. Red fire also edged the helmet, to give the appearance of an inferno burning beneath it, waiting to be unleashed. I'd collected it, bit by bit, over my lifetime, and polished every plate back to a mirror sheen.

“Is that armor?" Nesh hurried past me, approaching the helmet.

Some part of me was deeply pleased that of everything on display, it was my beloved armor that enamored my newest vassal. “It is," I said, smugness heavy in my voice. “Very old armor. Ceremonial, of course." I waved a paw at it, then glanced back the way we'd come. “I have old combat armor on display elsewhere."

Nesh turned towards me, grinning. “You have combat armor? Why didn't you wear it into battle?"

“It's old." I shrugged my wings. “I doubt it protects as well against the projectiles your wings fling at us now as it once did against swords and spears." Then I snorted, scratching my neck with a wingtip talon. “Plus, the straps are mostly corroded away. And it doesn't fit. It was designed for a male."

Nesh looked me over, twisting up his face. “Are dragons that different? I just figured a male would have…" He crouched to gesture at my underbelly, towards my back legs. “You know."

I tilted my head. “Testicles?"

“Yes!" Nesh smiled, but only for a second. His smile faded, and his face reddened, as if just the mention of natural anatomical features was enough to embarrass him. “Well, I…basically, yes. See, before I met you, I assumed dragons were more like lizards, but you're too warm. And after you told that story about the Earth Dragon, I assumed you were more like mammals."

“We are, but that isn't why it doesn't fit." I settled on my haunches, curling my tail around my paws. “It doesn't fit because it's too small. Female dragons are usually larger than males. That's why our clan was most often ruled by a queen, not a king."

“Fascinating!" Nesh turned towards the armor, only to turn right back towards me, his brows knitted. “So, does that mean…?"

I knew exactly what he was asking, but there was no fun in it for me if I didn't get to embarrass him. “Yes?"

“Male dragons." He waved at my hind end again. “Do they have…?"

I stared at him. “Yes?"

“Testicles!" Nesh blurted it out, glaring.

I cocked my head, feigning confusion. “How would they reproduce if they didn't?"

Nesh ran a hand down his face, sighing. “I meant externally, like a mammal."

“Oh." A wicked smile parted my muzzle. “Yes, Nesh, since you're so curious, male dragons have balls."

Nesh turned away, reddening. “Surprised you know those words."

“Melakar had a human woman vassal who delighted in teaching us dirty words in your language." I lifted my head, still smiling. “Would you like to hear another?"

“Not particularly."

That only made me laugh. “Oh, Nesh. You're dangerously close to a delight." As I walked around my armor display, I let my tail slide against Nesh's rump. He made an odd, yelping sound and straightened up. “Anyway, I could fit some bits of the combat armor, but not most of it. This, though…" I waved my paw across the helmet. “This fits me."

Nesh stared at the fire-scalloped helmet. “You've tried it on, I take it?"

“Wouldn't you?" I gently picked up the silvery helmet, and brought it up to my own head.

It was padded inside, though the old leather padding was mostly corroded away, along with the straps that once buckled it in place. A dragon's helmet was designed to fit snugly over the top their head, with slats to fit their frills, openings for the eyes, and deeply scalloped areas that rested against the edge of the horns. I settled the helmet over my head, adjusting it until the holes were properly positioned over my eyes. The slats didn't quite fit my frills, so I just flattened them down beneath it, for now. The scents of rotten leather and polished metal filled my nostrils.

I turned towards Nesh, gazing at him through the helmet's eyes slits. “How do I look?"

Nesh folded his arms, chewing his lip. “Truthfully? Magnificent."

The genuine pride that swelled in me from Nesh's admission left my plated chest all puffed out. I licked nose, tasting metal, and then bowed my head in appreciation. “Thank you." I removed the helmet and set it back in it's place. “Some of those other pieces fit me as well, but you're going to have to ask me awfully nicely if you expect me to put the rest of them on for you."

“You know, I'd almost enjoy seeing that." Nesh snorted, offering a lopsided grin. “Except I'm sure you'd find a way to turn it into something sexual, just to embarrass me."

I laughed as he went to the exit, beckoning for Nesh to join me. “Oh, I'd give you such a strutting."

Nesh followed along at my side. “As long as all you did was strut. I suspect if I was a dragon, you'd be hoping I'd do more than just appreciate the sight of you in that armor."

I glanced back at him, playfully flashing fangs. “Actually, when Melakar and I lived together, several times when we were feeling amorous, he tried to get me to put it on for him."

Nesh fidgeted with his gray sleeves, chuckling. “And I'm sure you were all too happy to."

“Oh, no, no." I shook my head, hissing in distaste. “After all the work I put into cleaning and polishing that armor, there's no way I'd ever mate in it!" I rumbled laughter. “Besides, the straps are missing. It would all fall off, anyway."

“Somehow, I cannot help but think 'rutted until your armor falls off', would be a positive thing for a female dragon such as yourself."

I glanced down at Nesh, smiling. “You may have a point. Now, I have eaten and bathed, so are you prepared to depart for the day?"

“Sure." Nesh pointed towards the entryway to my sleeping chamber. “But not till you let my change your bandages. Wet wounds get infected."

“Very well." I went inside, and settled myself on the same golden rug. It was comfortable, and I liked the way its softness felt under my paw pads. A few rusty red stains now marked it after the bullet retrievals, but that didn't bother me. “I am prepared when you are also prepared."

“I think the saying is, ready when you are." Nesh brought his satchel over, and dug out his supplies.

Nesh worked quickly. He stripped off the bandages and inspected the wounds, telling me he was pleased with the way they looked. He delicately wiped each down with cleansing spirits. It stung like mad where the stitches were, but thankfully fell in short measure compared to the previous night. Once they were clean, he reapplied new bandages, and stuffed the rest of his things back into his back.

“You're ready to go." Nesh hooked his bag over his shoulder. “Let me my coat and things on, and I'll be ready too."

I waved him off with a wing. “I will meet you at the entryway."

Since I wasn't sure what I might be coming back with from Melakar's lair, I wanted to bring a few bags of my own. I went to my bins, and opened one filled with a variety of cargo pouches, some of leather and some sturdy fabrics or other materials. My old clan had made some of the pouches, while we'd had humans or other bipeds create the rest. I pulled out a few of them with buckles and snaps appropriate for use by dragon paws. Several of them were designed to be buckled around limbs, and tails, while the larger pouch was meant to settle against a dragon's chest. I stuffed the smaller pouches into the larger, and then picked it up in my jaws and carried to the outside ledge.

When Nesh joined me, dressed once more in his long dark coat, and with his satchel slung over his shoulder, I set my own bag down at his feet. “Here. Make yourself useful, Medic, and buckle this in place."

While I could easily secure the smaller pouches on my own, the larger one was more difficult for a dragon to buckle around themselves. Given enough effort I could get it on, but I saw no reason to waste my time struggling with it when I had Nesh there to do so for me. I lowered my head and gave him instructions. He worked one of straps across the back of my neck, near my body. The other two went around my front legs, just beneath my shoulders, and together, the three of them kept the bag secure against my chest.

“Thank you." I lifted my head again, happy with Nesh's work. “Ready to go?"

“You're welcome." Nesh adjusted his own bag, then rubbed his hands together. “And I think so. I…don't suppose…" He lifted his gaze, staring at my wings. “Do you think I could…?"

“Ride on my back?"

“Yes!" Nesh beamed as he moved closer.

I smiled right back at him. “No." Then I snatched him in my forepaws, and dove off the ledge.

At least this time he didn't scream.

*****

Chapter Eleven

Vassal

*****

I carried Nesh snug in my forelegs as I winged between monolithic granite peaks. Whether he knew it or not, I already considered him my vassal, and so his protection was my duty. As such, I made sure Nesh felt secure the entire way. He sat against the crook of one cradling foreleg, with the other wrapped around his middle. That way he was able to lean back against my cargo bag, and work an arm through one of its straps.

Since he asked about riding upon my back, I explained to him that doing so was an honor to be earned. Riding us was reserved for humans who had truly earned our respect, our friendship, or even our love. Granted, Nesh was closing in on two of those things faster than I cared to admit. But I was still not about to let the medic for some band of dragonslayers climb upon my back as if I'd been captured and beaten tame by his former masters.

Nesh spent much of the flight marveling at the scenery. He seemed much more at ease than the day before. At first I thought perhaps he just felt secure with the way I held him. But once he started shifting back and forth, staring down at everything, I could not help but wonder if he had flown before. While he seemed frightened by our first flight together, that was probably because he still feared I might kill him, at the time. Perhaps he had ridden a gryphon. We had warred with them over territory in the past, it would not be unheard of for them to have joined with humans. Or maybe he'd been aboard that bloated monstrosity I saw sailing in the distant sky, beyond the army of Nesh's people.

Perhaps I would ask him later, but for now, my mind was elsewhere. Visiting Melakar's empty lair was going to be difficult, for me. While I felt confident in my own strength and did not expect to break down crying in front of Nesh once more, that did not mean it would not be an emotional journey. Long before the familiar, claw-like spires around his mountain came into view, I was already mentally girding myself for what I might see. There would be reminders of our time together. He had portraits of the two of us with Vevarek upon the walls of one of his chambers. And whatever hobbies he'd been pursuing, whatever he'd been doing to occupy his time in his last days, it was likely to be spread out across his floor.

Melakar lived closer to the far southern end of our valley, deep in the mountains. The skies around his old home provided a beautiful view of the vast, deep blue lake all the local rivers drained into. Though it was far in the distance, I could still see the early afternoon sunlight glittering off its waters.

Where my home's entrance was cut into a cliff, Melakar's was located alongside a bowl-shaped depression, where an ancient landslide had sheared away part of a mountain. In the summer, it was dotted with wildflowers and tundra grasses amidst boulders and rocky scree. But now, in the winter, it was just snow, and stone. Six great, curved spires rose up all around the meadow, carved there in times past to look like grand claws enclosing the cavern's entrance.

“That's where your former mate lived?" Nesh called out above the rushing wind, sounding incredulous. “Right there?"

“Yes?" I glanced down at him, banking. “Why?"

“Because if I was to imagine the lair of some evil, princess-kidnapping, maiden-ravishing dragon from the old tales?" Nesh pointed towards the jagged claws cut from stone. “That is exactly the sort of place I'd imagine them to live!"

“Awwrrr…" I made a cooing noise. “Melakar would have appreciate hearing that."

“It wasn't a compliment!" Nesh shifted, watching the ground as I descended in a lazy spiral.

“It would have been to him!" I scanned the ground, looking for any signs of hidden obstructions. It wouldn't have done me any good to break my paw tripping over an unseen boulder in the snow upon landing. “Melakar loved those old tales."

Nesh glanced up at me, clinging to my carrier pouch's strap. “He wasn't the sort to actually…well, demand maidens and kidnap princesses and such, was he?"

“Not that I know of," I said, laughing. “Though he'd have loved to have hosted a real, live princess out here. He'd have been ever so excited to show her his-"

“Yes, I know what parts of himself a male dragon would show a princess, thank you very much!" Nesh braced himself for landing.

I curled my neck to flash my fangs at Nesh. “His book collection, you pervert." I lifted my head, snorting. “Where you get these ridiculous ideas, I'll never know."

“Says the dragon who keeps referring to me as her concubine." Nesh braced himself for landing as I swept over the snow.

I touched down on my hind paws first, using Melakar's half-buried paw prints as a guide. I hopped a few awkward steps, then lowered Nesh to the ground, and settled down next to him. “There's a difference, Nesh." I padded past him, my tail sliding against his body. “You're not a princess."

“As if it would stop you if I was royalty." Nesh shifted his pack strap against his shoulder, following me towards the entrance.

“Oh, please, Nesh, if I was toying with someone with a literal army at their command, I would certainly be at least a little more respectful." I shook my wings a few times, then folded them against my body. Snow crunched beneath my paws with every step. “Melakar would have been far more respectful of a guest, anyway. He'd have only shown a princess how impressive a male dragon can be if she asked him too."

Nesh ran his hands through his hair, laughing. “That's your definition of respect?"

“Well if she asks to see, would it not be rude to refuse her request?" I curled my tail around Nesh's middle to hurry him along.

“I'm not even going to touch that." Nesh picked up his pace.

“You'd better not." I glanced at him over my wings, playfully snapping my teeth. “I've not given you permission yet."

Nesh went as red as ever. “I did not mean your…" He sighed, hiding his face behind his hands. “You know what? I'm changing the subject." He dropped his hands down again, staring at the grand stone claws that now loomed above us. “Given how often you remind me that Melakar was the diplomatic one, I half-expected him to live in an old castle. Hell, your lair better fits a diplomat, as neat, tidy and well laid out as it is."

I chuckled, gazing around. Just as I was about to reply, I spotted a few more old pawprints in the snow. My heart sank, just a little, when I realized the prints I'd used as my landing guides were those Melakar left behind, when he went outside the night of his final flight. I padded through the entryway of his cave. Lingering traces of his scent hit me, warm, and familiar, slightly earthy, as if a lifetime spent in the mountains had slowly infiltrated his being.

I stopped, just inside his entryway. Suddenly, all the mental preparation in the world wasn't enough to ready me for something as simple as his scent. I knew his smell so well, lived with it for so much of my life that I was nearly as familiar to me as my own. There was a time that it's absence would have been far more striking than it's presence. A thousand happy memories flashed through my mind. Cradling him under my wings, watching the stars. Mating with him in a field of spring flowers. Curling together around our newborn son. Listening to his lectures on antiquity because I was too comfortable and content in his brace to move.

My throat clenched, and icy claws squeezed my heart. I stumbled, bumping up against the stone wall of his entryway. My tail went limp, freeing Nesh. I forced myself to take deep breaths, willing myself not to break down. Not to cry. I told myself I could do this. I was strong. I was a warrior, and I had already cried all the tears I needed to shed. But it wasn't enough. Tears flooded my eyes, dripping down my muzzle faster than I could blink them away. Frustrated, I smacked a forepaw against the ground. I did not want to start sobbing in front of Nesh, again.

And then…

Then Nesh was there, stroking the scales of my neck. “It's alright, Dragon. You…you don't have to be ashamed to cry. I'll…I'll go somewhere else a while, if you want. Let you mourn."

A great, shuddering sigh escaped me. My battle must have been more obvious than I'd realized. Nesh's comfort brought me unexpected strength, and helped me regain control of myself. I offered him a thankful smile, turning my head towards him. “I am not…ashamed. It is just…not the display I wish to make in front of humans, enemy, friend, or anything in between. But…thank you." I bowed my head close to his.

“You're welcome." Nesh reached towards my face, then hesitated, his fingers hovering above my nose. “I am allowed to…?"

In answer, I pushed my nose into his palm.

Nesh smiled, gently stroking the area between my nostrils. The scales melted away to soft skin there, and it was quite sensitive. His touch was comforting, and pleasant, and I let my eyes drift shut while he stroked my nose. “I know…a little about what you're going through. I don't have any children, or a wife, but…I…I lost my father, when I was young. I know it's not the same, but…"

“Loss is still loss." I opened my eyes a little to regard him. A soft, rumbling purr crept up my throat. “I had forgotten how pleasant human touch can be, in sensitive areas."

A smile twitched at Nesh's lips. “So I'm not your first Concubine?"

That coaxed a hearty laugh from me, which I suspect, was Nesh's intent. “Clever, Nesh, very clever. That must have been a difficult joke for you to make, given how completely it altered your face's hue." I closed my eyes again, savoring his touch when he added his other hand to rub my chin. “But for once, that wasn't the way I meant it."

“Made you laugh, though." Nesh worked his hands further up my muzzle, gently exploring where the soft skin gave me to fine, pebbly scales. “I know when I'm…upset, laughter helps me feel a little better."

“The thought it certainly appreciated." As he kept caressing my muzzle, my purr grew louder, rumbling and clattering.

“Is that nose…" Nesh chuckled to himself, as if unable to believe just what he was hearing. “You're purring, aren't you?"

“Yes." I opened my eyes to slits again. “Why?"

Nesh shrugged. “Just didn't think you dragons did that."

“Well we do." I begrudgingly pulled my head back from his hands. “Thank you, Nesh. I feel…" I almost said 'better', but I didn't feel better. I doubted I'd better for a very long time. I glanced towards Melakar's first main chamber, and my belly twisted. I told myself once more I could handle this. “I feel almost prepared to continue, at least." A thought occurred to me, that amidst all my own grief and anger, perhaps I was being too harsh not just on Nesh, but to anyone else who held him dear. “May I ask you something?"

Nesh tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat. “I suspect you will either way, but yes, go ahead."

“Do you have family who will be worried for you?" The question came out even more bluntly than I'd intended. “Or friends? You said you've no mate, or children, but…do you still have a…?" I couldn't bring myself to say the word 'mother.'

Nesh's expression fell, and he nodded. “Yeah. My mother. That's…who you're asking about, right? She still lives back in the village I grew up in. I haven't seen her in a couple years, but I write her now and then." He shook his head, sighing. “Gods." Nesh ran a hand down his face, groaning. “They're not even gonna know what to tell her, because they won't be able to find my body."

“I am sorry." All my frills drooped as one. In my head, I saw a human overcome with grief, collapsing to the floor, sobbing. Just as I did done when I lost Melakar. And just as I would do if I ever heard such terrible news about Vevarek. “I…I cannot let you go, just yet. Not with your army so near, and…with you now knowing so much about me, and about this valley's defenses." I licked my muzzle, hanging my head. “Or lack thereof."

“No, I…I understand." Nesh held up his hands in acquiescence. “I had a long talk with myself about this last night, actually. I knew I was kidding myself if I thought you were going to let me go anytime soon. I'm just going to take this one day at a time, and go from there." He dropped his hands again, forcing a smile. “If nothing else, assuming you ever let me go, it'll make one hell of a book."

“Don't worry, Nesh." I pushed myself back up to all fours. “I promise, I'll get you back to your mother eventually."

“I'd appreciate that." Nesh patted my shoulder. “But I think she'd appreciate it even more."

I swallowed back a resurgent lump in my throat. “She would, Nesh. She would." I started forward towards Melakar's primary chamber. “But for now, I'm afraid she'll have to endure what dragon mothers often endure. Uncertainty."

Nesh nodded, walking at my side. “Why…did your son leave?"

I flexed my wings in a shrug. “Why does any child leave home? To seek a life of their own. And for dragons of the valley…well, most dragons of his generation left the valley when they came of age. Hell, so did some of my generation. It was just…stubborn old fools like Melakar and I who stayed behind, to protect this place."

“Do…dragons ever return home?"

“Sometimes." I walked slowly, my mind wandering to pleasant fantasies. “I like to imagine him returning home someday, introduce Melakar and me to his mate. Maybe he even has children now. Or maybe he even has a male mate, or he's happy all on his own. I…I'd be happy with any life he chose, as long as he is happy. But…but no matter how much I long to see him again, I hope he never returns to this valley."

Nesh stopped. “Why ever not?"

“Because I fear he'd never make it." I gave Nesh a long, sorrowful look. “Your army now controls the lands beyond. Lands Vevarek would have to fly over to make it here. And even if he made it here safely? What's left for him here?"

Nesh patted my foreleg. “His mother."

The thought made me smile, but I shook my head. “For a little longer, anyway. Sooner or later, your army is going to kill me. Or I'm going to flee." I took a slow breath, then held up a paw to silence Nesh's reply. “Enough of that, for now."

Nesh gave me a little bow. “As you wish." Nesh put his hand on my scales again. “Wait."

I glanced back at him. “Yes?"

“As long as we're…" Nesh gestured between us. “Talking about this kind of thing, treating each other respectfully. May I ask your name? You've never told me."

I paused, and then turned around completely to face him. “Names are important to a dragon, Nesh." Perhaps, in light of his offered comfort, it was time I make something official between us. I lowered my head down until my muzzle nearly brushed his face. “We do not give them lightly to humans."

“I…I understand." Nesh nodded once. “I won't ask again."

“You misunderstand, Nesh." I used his name now as a term of respect. “I simply want you to realize there is a gravity to this." I drew myself up to my full height, lifting my head. I towered over him, stretching my crimson-edged wings as far as the entry tunnel allowed. In that moment, I knew well enough I was all Nesh could see. “I hereby name you my vassal, Medic Nesh, and in so doing, I offer you my name. Ellamyriss." I spoke it slow to help him learn the syllables. “Now, repeat it."

Nesh straightened up, as if trying to match my posture. “Ell…Ella Meer-iss."

It was close enough. “By speaking my name aloud, Vassal, you pledge to me your loyalty, and in return, I offer you my own. For as long as you shall serve me, you shall be under my protection. Rejoice, vassal, for you serve Ellamyriss, Guardian of the Valley of God's Blood and Earth Flame!"

Nesh smiled at me, then abruptly snapped his heels together. He clapped a fist to his chest, and gave me an unusually stiff bow. “Yes, Ma'am!"

I wondered, for a moment, if any dragon had ever before gotten a military salute, from a soldier in an army trying to kill her. “Then it is concluded." I bowed my head to him in return, folding my wings. “You may call me Ella, if you wish."

“Ella, then." Nesh straightened up, still smiling. “I don't suppose the concubine jokes will end, now?"

“Not on your life."

*****

Chapter Twelve

Library

*****

Melakar's home was laid out differently than my own. Where mine started with a short tunnel and an entry chamber, Melakar's begin with a long, wide hallway. Glow-stones were placed in evenly spaced alcoves, illuminating the pale stone in overlapping pools of gentle blue light. Bits of green moss and yellow lichen crusted swaths of wall, while pale shelf fungus clung to particularly damp areas.

The hallway led into an especially large chamber, with a domed ceiling carved by our ancestors. The walls were carved with grand wings, to give the illusion that the room was supported by dozens of dragons all stretching their wings together. The place Melakar chose as his home was once a place of importance for the clan, a hall of law, of sorts. Dragons would gather to air disputes and grievances, and to hear judgements by elders. Occasionally, dragons would instead issue a challenge, and resolve their problems through combat. Such battles were held in places like this as well, where they could be witnessed, and also prevented from going too far. To kill another dragon outside of defending self, family, or home, was considered a grievous crime, worthy of banishment, or permanent imprisonment.

Generations had passed, however, since it had held any such formal function. Melakar had claimed it for himself not long into his own adulthood. I was not surprised at the time. The history of the place drew him to, and many were the days when he'd spent long hours just lecturing me on the former uses of the place, and his own speculations about what else may have occurred there. Many were also the times when I grew so fed up with his ramblings, and his dismissal of my subsequent boredom, that I finally had to threaten to smack him in the testicles to get him to shut his silly muzzle.

The grand, domed room that once served as chamber of justice now served as Melakar's primary living space. Or, at least, it had. Now it was but reminder of the life he once lived. And a messy life it had been. Where I tried to keep my home neat and organized, my treasures separated from my sleeping area, and my pantry, and so on, Melakar had just crammed a vast assortment of everything in the same room.

His bed, a sprawling pile of all things soft just like mine, occupied the center of the floor, and spilled over into various other areas as well. Much of his hoard surrounded his bed, both lining his walls and strewn across the ground. Some of his hoard was gold and jewels, but much of it was comprised of books, scrolls, rolled sheafs of parchment, and anything else containing knowledge. Books, and all their ilk, those were the real treasure to Melakar.

Much of his collection came from human lands. He had grand tomes on world history, and illustrated guides to human cities, alongside anatomical manuals and treatises on military doctrine. There were books of sciences I'd never heard of, astrologies and medicine and on and on. He also had a varied collection of fictional tales, including everything from children's tales, to grand escapades, to bawdy adventures complete with dirty illustrations.

Melakar's hoard contained all manner of dragon books, and other receptacles of knowledge, as well. We had created books much like humans did, albeit often in different ways. Ours were larger, and sturdier, with pages crafted from very sturdy parchment, or layers of animal hides and leather, and so on. Dragons could write the same ways we could paint. We could dip claw tips in ink, paints, or dyes, or use our finger pads. We even had tools for drawing and writing, like sticks of heavily compressed ashes. Some of our inks, dyes and paints we made ourselves from natural sources, others we had traded for when the clan was prosperous.

We had a runic alphabet for our language long before we developed more formal ways to scribe it, however. In older times, we would carve our sigils into stone, be it upon walls, boulders, or tablets. We also used wooden plaques for scribing, as the softer material was easier on our claw tips, though not as long lasting. When the clan was at its peak, there were usually several dragons who dedicated themselves to learning to use their claws to scribe as delicately as possible. Many of our most important tomes, detailing our traditions and rituals and history, were so written by such clan scribes. Others were dictated and written for us by well paid humans or urd'thin.

In addition to the written works of dragons and humans, Melakar owned books and so on from many of the other speaking peoples of the world, too. He had ancient, folding wooden scrolls from gryphons, along with their own leather-bound tomes. He had rolling scrolls from old va'chaak tribes, the lizard-like people I had always gotten along well with. Several bins were filled with the softer books that the wandering urd'thin merchants were fond of, though those were too small to easily be used by dragon paws. And even that was just scratching the surface. If anyone ever managed to forge order from the chaos of his scattered collection, he might well have-

“He had a whole damn library in here!"

I glanced at Nesh, smiling. “I was just thinking that."

Nesh slowly turned a circle after entering Melakar's room. Bookshelves lined the walls everywhere, and all of them were overstuffed, flowing into piles on the floor. Many more were scattered across the ground, some laying open, others stacked atop one another in wobbly towers. Nesh completely ignored the random coins of gold and silver, and kicked aside glittering jewels like worthless pebbles just to make his way towards one of the bookshelves he suddenly fixated on.

“These books are huge!" He craned his neck, gazing up at the shelves. “Are these…?"

“They're dragon books, yes." I followed after him, careful not to topple anything or move things that Melakar had been invested in. I wanted to see what he'd been doing his last few days. “Melakar gathered up every such tome from throughout the valley over the course of his life."

“So, you don't just paint." Nesh reached for one, then glanced at me again. When I nodded, he carefully tugged it from the shelf, then stumbled back under its weight. He caught his balance, then delicately opened the leather tome, and thumbed through the thick pages. “You write books, too. And…this is your people's written language, I take it?"

I peered over his shoulder, then nodded. “Yes, it is. And yes, we write books. I take it the old tales your people tell of our evil deeds did not bother to include such facts." I made sure to keep the sarcasm out of my voice this time. I did not mean to chastise him for beliefs that were, at least to an extent, out of his control.

Nesh scowled, putting the book back. “No, they did not."

I waved a paw around the room. “Feel free to look around all you wish, Nesh. Don't move anything that Melakar had set out, but other than that, you're welcome to read his books, wander around, and so on. I'm sure some of the older tomes are brittle, but…you're likely more concerned about their well-being than I am."

“Not a reader, hmm?" Nesh picked his way through books, coins, scroll cases, and scattered pillows to another bookshelf. That one had sagging shelves badly in need of repair.

I shrugged my wings, wandering after him. “I suppose I am simply not that interested in what may have happened to us a thousand years ago, or which fictional tale makes us look the most vile. I'm concerned mostly with…my daily life. Though, if there was something Melakar was interested in that drove him out to that army, that is something I'd want to read, if only to share his final interests."

Nesh carefully pulled another book down, flipping through it. “I'll be sure to let you know if I see anything like that."

“Thank you."

I left Nesh to his own devices to wander around Melakar's living space. It still seemed odd to think of his 'final' anything. His final interests, his final flights. To know that he was not coming back to this place. That I would never see him or hear his voice again. Suddenly, I would have given anything just to be bored to tears by one of his damn lectures.

It was difficult to tell where to begin. As always, Melakar had left so many things out in so many places it was nearly impossible to say what he may have been using in his last days, and what he might have just left sitting out for six months. His messy habits drove me mad when we were living together, and now they threatened to stymie my search for clues to his final days.

I walked a wide circuit around the chamber, looking for anything that might have seemed out of the ordinary. There were dozens and dozens of books left open, but investigating what he'd been reading about or looking at would take dedicated time and effort. Perhaps I'd recruit Nesh to help with the human language books. But first, I sought anything more obvious, anything that might help me ascertain which tomes he'd been reading most recently. I sighed, shaking my head. At this rate, I'd be looking for which books had the most dust on their pages.

At the north end of the room, a grand portrait on the wall caught my eye. It sat between two of his largest book cases, bathed in the faint light of a glow-stone. I knew the painting well, as it was a painting of Melakar and I, with our son. One of Melakar's former vassals did it for him, and it was one of the best images of the three of us in existence. In it, I stood tall and proud, my red-edged wing draped over Melakar's bronze back. He snuggled up to my side, and the two of us smiled in loving pride at our son, sitting between us.

“It's beautiful." Nesh walked up alongside me, a pile of books in his arms. “You…you look as though you three made a lovely family."

“We did." I snorted, and shook my head, chuckling. “For a while, anyway. This was my painting, once. Melakar stole it in anger, claiming that as his vassal painted it, it was his, by rights." I glanced away, licking my nose, chastened. “Some family."

Nesh shook his head, adjusting his armload of books. “I think…something petty like that just…makes you more of a family. Families do stupid things, no matter much they love each other." He trailed off, then shrugged. “At least, I know my mother and father had their spats. My mother has a story about…being so angry at my father that, when he went to the bathhouse, in the village…she snuck in, stole his clothes, and hid them…and he had to go out naked to find them. In front of…well…everyone."

That made me laugh, and I lowered my head to give Nesh a thankful bump with my muzzle. “Human modesty seems to bite your people in the ass, more often than not."

“Well we can't all just around, with our…" With his arms full of books, he couldn't really wave at me, so instead, he just tilted his head towards my hind end. “Everything on display. Don't you dragons ever get embarrassed?"

I shrugged my wings. “Contextually, yes." I returned to my search without further explanation. It was more fun to let him wonder what I meant by that.

After a little more wandering around, something unusual caught my eye. An assortment of rather dull looking metal plates sat near several open books, at the side of the room. Piles of books and bedding around it told me Melakar had moved things aside to make room for whatever it was. I padded closer, and realized it was a rather mismatched collection of old dragon armor.

Unlike my ceremonial set, this armor was designed for combat. It looked as if it had seen it, too. Gouges, scratches and dents marked some of the sturdy metal plates. Dirt and grime clung to the metallic surfaces, joined in a few places by the red-brown discoloration of blood stains and creeping rust. I picked up a few bits and pieces, sniffing at them. Melakar's scent was light amongst them. He'd gathered them, but I didn't think he'd tried them on.

It was for the better. From the looks of things, there were several different sets of armor involved. In the days when we crafted such things for ourselves, it was often fitted to specific dragons. While some parts might have fit Melakar, others definitely would not. To start with, it was clear to me that he had mixed up pieces from a male dragon's armor, and a female dragons armor. He also had too many leg plates, and not enough neck or tail sections. The breast plate looked sized and a male dragon, while the underbelly plates were larger and proportioned for a female.

I flattened my frills in confusion. Melakar had never cared much for armor. Why would he have taken to gathering it now? I picked through the armor, looking for anything else out of the ordinary. There were wing-spurs in two different sizes, designed to make a dragon's wings dangerous weapons in their own right. I spotted a bumpy, spherical tail hammer sitting beneath a few other pieces, and dug it free. Now that I would take for myself.

A tail hammer was just like it sounded, a heavy implement meant to be affixed to a dragon's tail. Usually, they had a hollow selection to fit over the end of the tail, then straps or a shackle to bind it in place. They were most often used by female dragons. Males had sturdy, curved spines on either side of their tail tips, while females did not. Attaching a club or hammer to our tails before venturing into battle gave us an additional weapon at our disposal.

Even Melakar had to know he couldn't fit a hammer over his spiked tail. So why was he gathering up female armor? I sighed, settling on my haunches, unable to help but wonder if he'd meant it as a gift for me. While he might well have met some other female dragon far from the valley, he had known quite well how much I fancied armor and weaponry. Had he been contemplating reconciliation? Should either of us have ever swallowed our stubborn pride long enough, tradition did dictate we bring the other a gift, a peace offering, of sorts.

Or maybe he'd just collected it because it, like everything else, was part of our history.

I turned my attention to the largest of the open books. Illustrations were scrawled across both pages. They depicted a dragon in full armor, with arrows pointing to various areas, along with draconic runes naming each armored plate and piece. Delicately as I could, I flipped back and forth through a few pages. More diagrams detailed the differences between armor for males and females, and instructed the reader on how such armor was applied.

A sudden mental image hit me. In my head, I saw Melakar trying to put on armor by reading it in a book. He'd probably have gotten it wrong, and put the helmet on backwards, then stumbled around blindly, knocking over all his piles of books. Or he'd somehow strap the helmet between his back legs, and the padded bowl meant to protect his male parts to his head, then show up at my lair to reconcile…only for me to laugh him right back out.

And his voice echoed through my head, and it damn near broke me.

I had longed to see you one last time, Ellamyriss.

He had been looking to reconcile, hadn't he?

“Gods-damn it!" A wave of molten fury erupted in my heart, rolling through the rest of me in a fiery flash. With a furious cry, I lashed out at the armor pile, sending metal plates careering through the air and clattering across the floor. The impact jolted my foreleg and left my pads tingling, but I didn't care. “It's not fair!" I struck out again, upending a tower of books, flinging some all the way across the room. “It's! Not! Gods-damned fair!"

Then, for a moment, I was my anger, and nothing more, a whirling tempest of rage and sorrow tearing apart everything near me. I ripped apart books, I hurled a breastplate into a wall, I took down shelves, I stomped armor flat. Like a petulant hatchling I raged with no purpose and no reason, just pure, unstoppable emotion.

How could they do this to him, I thought? Not now, not when he wanted to make things right between us! What horrible, cruel and heartless fates had decided that we were never meant to know each other's companionship again? They were not new thoughts, I had contemplated such things a lot recently. Yet, the very idea that he might have been planning some surprise visit, some offering of peace and a return to friendship, it only hammered the cold reality that much deeper into my heart.

Melakar was dead, and he was never coming back.

When my rage was spent, I flopped onto the floor amidst battered armor and ruined books. My heart was trapped in a vice, and every moment squeezed it tighter. There were no tears, this time, only a great, heartbroken groan. All at once I just wanted to curl up somewhere dark, and quite, and sleep until the pain was gone. Just as I was stretching my wings out to shroud myself, Nesh appeared from a side hallway, concern etched across his flat face.

“Ella? Are…are you alright?" I could tell from his voice he knew I wasn't, but then again, only a fool would think I doing fine. Still, his concern was touching, and eased just a hint of my burden.

I pulled my wings back, sighing. “I will be, some day, many years from now." I managed a chuckle. “If I haven't joined him in death, by then."

Nesh pointed back the way he'd come, a smile brightening his expression. “I found something you're going to want to see. I…I think it might cheer you up, a little."

“Oh?" I pushed myself up onto my paws. “What have you found, Concubine?"

Nesh rolled his eyes, an expression I only noticed because I recalled watching for such things with previous vassals. He turned away, waving for me to follow. “I'm not sure, exactly. A lot of things, actually, including something mysterious, and something beautiful. I'd know more if I could read your language."

Evermore curious, I followed after Nesh. Whatever he'd discovered, I was happy to have the distraction.

*****

Chapter Thirteen

Mantle

*****

The hallway Nesh led me into connected to a couple of rooms that Melakar used to use for some of his personal projects. He enjoyed art, as I did, but he also enjoyed putting words to parchment. He liked drawing elegant runes with clawtips dipped in ink. He also had a number of blank books and tomes, where he recorded his thoughts and theories, and made notes on whatever else he'd been researching. I hoped perhaps Nesh had discovered some important clue to Melakar's final activities.

As it turned out, Nesh had discovered many clues. An immense map was spread across one of the walls, affixed to it by sticky wax. I recognized portions of the map immediately, as it included a familiar lake and mountain range with carved dragon heads, among other things. But the map depicted far more than just our valley. It showed damn near an entire continent, with lands I had never heard of, and places I had never seen. I'd seen a few maps of the lands far beyond our valley before, but rarely paid much attention to them. Some locations were named in draconic, others in various human tongues, and so on. None of the looked familiar to me.

“So, the first surprising thing?" Nesh waved his hand at the map. “This is really up to date. Like this city-state here." He pointed to a place on the far side of the grand lake. “Just officially founded a decade or so ago. Then, the second surprisingly thing." He indicated a circular marking near a city on the map. It had a number alongside it, the dragon rune for '2'. “I looked around a bit, and I found this same symbol in one of the books he had opened here." Nesh walked over to a wide, leather-bound tome spread upon the floor. “And sure enough, I found that same symbol here, and…it looks like he's been making notes about that city, or writing about it, perhaps? I can't read your language, so I'm only guessing, but…" He crouched, and delicately turned the page. On the other side was a drawing, in ink, of some kind of human building. It looked a bit like a castle but with rounded domes topping everything, and grand bells shaped like tear drops. Nesh smiled at me, tapping one of the bells. “Do you recognize that? Oh, uh, imagine they're red, too."

I licked my nose, glancing at the blood droplet patches adorning Nesh's coat. “Your medic symbol."

“That's right." Nesh's smile only grew wider. “There's a prestigious medical school, in a city called Asharn." He glanced away, huffing. “I didn't go, myself. Couldn't afford it, and Asharn is…well, it doesn't matter. The point is, I think, if your old lover drew this? He must have seen it, right?"

I flattened back my frills, scrunching up my muzzle. “I…I don't know." For a few minutes, I could scarcely find words. The idea of Melakar visiting a human city without my knowledge left me feeling terribly uncertain, all of a sudden. “He was always curious, but…to actually visit a human city? How would he even make it past their walls, without being shot down?"

Nesh shrugged. “I can't answer that. But…I can tell you, that each of those markings on the map? Corresponds to something in this book, where he's made more notes, and often, drawn an image. If he wasn't traveling to those places, than he was in contact with someone who was." Nesh stared at the map for a little while, then shrugged. “At least, that's my guess."

“That's…terribly reckless, but…" I sighed, shaking my head. “It's not impossible. Curiosity, the urge to learn, those things…they drove him on. Before he decided to try and reconcile…" In my head, I'd already convinced myself that was his intention, even with no way of knowing the truth. “Perhaps…perhaps he thought he had nothing left to lose. Maybe he had a new vassal who…who told him of some city's blind spot, or who…" I waved a paw, struggling to make sense of the possibilities. In my lifetime, it was nearly unheard of for dragons to go anywhere near a human city. We'd visited villages, now and then, but that was it. “Perhaps a vassal who paid the city to let him visit, under…under guard?"

“I…" Nesh wrung his hands, offering me a little, hopeful smile. “I don't know Ella, but maybe. I don't think you'll ever know just what he was doing, or what he was thinking, but I hope-"

“He told me they were coming." I licked my nose, staring at the map. I hadn't really intended to cut Nesh off, but my mind was elsewhere, flying in several directions all at once. “When he was dying. He told me they were coming and that…I should leave the valley, to survive. I assumed he meant your army, but…maybe he learned something else, in those cities. Or…or maybe it was your army he was trying to learn about. Your motivations, your weaknesses. If…he grew too accustomed to making it in and out of hostile territory…he might have gotten lost in thought, and just…been too low, over your people."

Nesh came forward and set a hand upon the scales of my shoulder. “I genuinely wish I could give you a complete, and definitive answer, Ella."

I lowered my head to nuzzle his hand in thanks. “Tell me, Nesh. These places you believe he visited. Are any of them part of your realm? Or part of your enemies' realms?" I pulled my head back, tilting it. “And for that matter, do you know what your people are doing here? Have you come for our valley?" I held up a paw, pads up to reassure him. “I promise I will not be angry."

Nesh gave a sheepish sounding laugh. “I wish I could give you a better answer there, too. I only know what I'm told, and what I hear." He folded his arms, smiling. “And, I'm only ever told who needs treatment, and, no one really talks to me, so…" When I growled in frustration, he rubbed his shoulder. “Sorry, that was…supposed to be sort of a joke. I don't know that there are any specific plans to conquer your people's lands, but I do know your mountains and surrounding area are important for two reasons."

He held up a single finger. “One, it's absolutely drowning in resources like ores of all kinds, and coal. Hell, probably oil and so on, too. And two…" He held up another finger. “Those mountains are damn near impassible, and all that land around them isn't much better. But through your valley itself, that's…that's prime terrain for roads and rails, and…it's an incredible trade route, waiting to happen, for whoever can take it, and build it first. It's going to be us, or Shevar, probably. Few others looking into it, but that's why we're there. To make sure Shevar can't slip in and not only lay claim to your valley, but use it to sneak forces into our borders behind our backs."

I huffed, flicking my tail back and forth. “That is a lot of words spent without answering my questions."

“Sorry." Nesh held his hands up. “I don't know of any plans to move into and conquer your valley currently, but…You know you abut human countries, right? Mostly our, actually."

I nodded once, alternating between watching Nesh and looking at the maps. “I am well aware that to fly too far to the west, puts me in the territory of my enemies, yes."

Nesh turned back to the map, dragging fingers down our mountains and all the lands beyond. “This is what you call your valley. It's been considered dangerous, wild territory for…well, forever, probably. Because it's been assumed to be filled with dragons." He shifted his hand to the west. “And here, just beyond your lands? Technically, this is ours. But it's sort of the frontier for us, wild and untamed…again, dragons roaming the fringes of your land tends to keep people away. But here…" He slide his fingers further south and west. “Still frontier, but…more like Shevar's frontier. And here?" He drew a snaking line along the map. “Our harder border with Shevar. Now, we own the trade routes through this northern mountain range, but-"

“Nesh!" I snapped my teeth, cutting him off. “If you've a point, or an answer to my questions, please skip to it."

With a chuckle, Nesh bowed his head. “Right now, my people's army is fortifiing our frontier, expanding our presence, growing our rails lines, working to protect our far flung villages, and so on. Because a rival nation has been moving in on us. So, your valley isn't the priority, but…sooner or later, everyone's going to realize there aren't many dragons left here. And when they know?" He dropped his hand down, sighing. “Between all the resources, and the fact that your valley's an easy way to move supplies and trade…" Nesh grimaced, staring at the map. “Or troops…around the mountains and the rougher terrain? Someone's going to come for your valley, eventually."

I flattened my frills back, curling my tail around my paws. For a few moments, I picked at my scales, fidgeting with my tail. Nesh had only told me what I already knew, but…hearing it from the mouth of an enemy gave the truth all the more weight as it settled against my wings. Even if Nesh wasn't truly in enemy anymore, I had no illusions that any of his people would share that quality with him.

“And the locations we think Mekalar visited?" I tipped my muzzle towards the map.

“Oh, right." Nesh tapped a finger against some of the marked areas. “So these are all cities in my homeland." He shifted locations, tapping more places. “These are in Shevar, and there's a few more that aren't part of either, but are allies to one side or the other. If I'm right, then Melakar had been visiting each nation. Or, spying, or whatever." He nudged the book with his foot. “Now I haven't checked every symbol, yet, so it might be that most of them he was just planning to visit, and…never had the chance."

“I will go through his writings lately, and see what they say." I turned my attention back to Nesh. “You said there was also something beautiful?"

“Oh yes." Nesh's face lit up, a smile returning to it. He turned and headed for an archway in the stone that led to another room. “It's in here. As much as you love old armor and things, you're nearly going to wet your scales when you see this."

“I am not going to piss myself, Concubine." I chuckled, splaying my ears at the idea as I followed him into the next room.

“So you say, and yet…" Nesh moved aside, and swept his arm towards a display pedestal.

Atop it sat an artifact I recognized immediately, and yet thought I'd never see. It was called the Queen's Mantle, and it once symbolized power and rulership over our entire clan. It was akin to an elegant helmet of vibrant gold, inlaid with four dragons of sapphire, ruby, diamond, and topaz. They symbolized the four elemental dragons our ancestry myths, and were depicted with wings and forelegs spread wide towards one another, forming a circle all around the helmet. There were open slats to fit a wearer's ears, and frills. Four lengths of fine golden chain extended from the helmet, two down either side of the wearer's neck, and two more around her face. They were designed to look like the elemental dragons' tails, and each was studded with jewels of the appropriate color.

For generations, the ruler of our clan had worn it. I had seen paintings and drawings and figurines and statues, but never had I imagined I would see the real thing. For even at the height of our clan, my people had enemies. The Queen's Mantle was stolen, after one of our queens and her guards were all slain in a great battle. Rumors persisted about its location throughout my childhood. Some thought dragon slayers had taken it, and put it in on display to symbolize their murderous triumphs. Others said it was sold to some far flung kingdom to be repurposed for their own crowns and treasures. I had even heard it ended up in the paws of a gryphon tribe.

Seeing it now, in person, staggered me. I stumbled back, bumping my tail and haunches up against the stone wall. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets and rolled down my muzzle. “That's…" I struggled just to form coherent words. “Not possible!"

Nesh beamed at me. “You were saying?"

“I still haven't pissed myself!" I spared Nesh a glance, then snorted. “At least, not yet."

“Something to look forward to, then." Nesh folded his arms, still smiling at me. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

When I had collected myself, I moved closer, and patted his head with a forepaw. “Yes, yes, Concubine, you've done very well. Good vassal."

Nesh tried to shove my foreleg away. “I'm not a damn hound." When his attempt failed, he pushed my foreleg with both hands, and then, failing that as well, ducked and whirled away from it. His coat swished around him before he straightened up, pointing at the Queen's Mantle. “That is pretty special though, isn't it?"

I set my front paw back down, licking my muzzle. “I suspect you have no idea. That is one of my people's most prized artefacts, from the time in which our clan was great, and powerful." I walked a slow circle around the pedestal upon which it was displayed, mindful of everything else around it. There were books everywhere, as usual. Some were open to relevant information. There were also charts and diagrams of odd sigils and runes. I made sure not to step on any of them. “The great queens of our clan would wear this, to symbolize their authority."

“So it's like a crown, basically?" Nesh approached it, reaching towards one of the dragon-tail trains hanging down from its side. “Can…I touch it?"

“Yes, that's exactly what it is." I glanced at Nesh. His fingers hovered near a few glittering sapphires, twitching as if in expectation. “There was a time that tradition dictated a human would be eaten for putting their greasy fingers on the Queen's Mantle." I waited just long enough for my lie to cause Nesh's eyes to widen, and then reached out to stroke the inlaid helmet with my paw pads. “But I'm sure as hell going to touch it, and you're my vassal, so you can touch it too."

Nesh cradled the gold and sapphire chain, rubbing a few of the jewels with his fingertips. “This is gorgeous. And I can't even fathom what it might be worth. Do you know how many studies I could commission? Plague pathology and prevention studies, or, or…" He waved his hand. “Detailed studies of dragon anatomy and physiology!" Nesh glanced up at me, offering a sheepish smile. “With willing participants, of course. Possibly, paid or otherwise compensated for their help in advancing our knowledge and understanding of the species." He released one golden chain, and took up another, studded with rubies. “Or I suppose, if there were dragons as genuinely evil as the tales, that the slayers managed to capture alive, those would make excellent research subjects too." Nesh gave me another look, pressing his lips together. “Erm…no offense."

I chuckled, flexing my wings. “At this point, you are less and less likely to offend me, even when you ramble about captive dragons." I tilted my head, gazing down at him. “Is that something your people do? Capture dragons alive? I suppose that would explain why some of them just…" I waved a paw. “Never came back, but never left a corpse to be burned, either."

Nesh scrunched the thin furry lines above his eyes. “I've heard they do, once in a while, but I don't really know for sure."

The thought made me shudder, my scales clicking and wings rustling. “I'd hate to think what they'd do to a captive dragon."

Nesh reached out and set his hand against the scales of my foreleg. “Maybe it's not as bad as you imagine. Perhaps they'll do what you do. For all we know, maybe to make up for all that maiden harassing and princess kidnapping, some princess out there decreed that the local dragon be captured alive." He poked my chest plates, grinning. “To be made into her concubine."

I rumbled my mirth, thumping my tail against the floor. “Now that sounds my kind of captivity. It would make a good story for you to tell, Nesh. I'd suggest you write it, but you'd be too busy blushing to ever get through the naughty parts."

Nesh folded his arms, glaring at me. “I would not."

“You would too." I smiled at him, all my frills lifted, their silvery edges on display. “I can't even say the word-"

“Whatever word you're going to say, your point is already made!" Nesh held his hands up, laughing with me.

“You see?" I waited for him to turn away, conceding, then I lowered my head till my muzzle brushed his ear. “Penis."

“Ella!" He whirled around, shoving my muzzle away with both hands. “Please!"

My laughter echoed around the room. I was ever so glad for the former vassal who taught me all the human words, both naughty and simply anatomical, for such parts. “I knew humans were prudes, Nesh, but you're doubly so. How ever would you handle it, if one of your patients were injured in such an area?" I raised my voice an octave, to what sounded like a human tone. “I'm sorry, Sir, but I'm afraid you've been in your…" I dropped my voice to a trembling whisper. “I can't say it's name. I'll find you a doctor who can."

Nesh just shook his head, chuckling. “It's different when it's medical."

“If you say so."

Deciding I had teased Nesh enough, for the moment, I turned my attention back to the Queen's Mantle, and ran my paw pads across it. The golden surface of the stunning helmet was smooth and cool to the touch. All the inlaid gemstone dragons glowed in the gentle blue light. Each of them was unique, their pose, posture, and details slightly different. I ran my paws down the topaz gems encrusting the Earth Dragon's tail. Everything was in excellent condition. There were a few marks and scratches apparent on closer inspection, and signs of age and wear. Bits of it showed hints of a patina, as well. Wherever it had been for the last few generations, it had been well cared for. And it appeared that Melakar had dutifully cleaned and polished it himself.

“Where've you been, you beautiful thing?" I murmured to the mantle as I caressed it. “Where did he find you?"

“While I don't think that's going to answer you," Nesh said, grinning at me. “Some of these books might. There's a few here I can read, like this one." He bumped a book with his boot. “Building a Nation, it's called. But a lot of these are in your language."

I padded around the display pedestal, inspecting some of the tomes scattered around. There was one entitled, Rites of Royalty. It was open to a drawing of a grand dragon with her head bowed, and the Mantle being anointed upon her. Accompanying text on the opposite page described the ritual being pictured. I paged through it a little, careful of the old, leathery, dragon-style parchment. Other drawings depicted draconic sigils from olden days, their meanings long forgotten. Nearby, several canvases and parchment scratchpads lay scattered around, each with another of Melakar's attempts to scribe the same symbols.

“This one is apparently about the rituals once used to install a new queen." I gently tapped the book with my tail tip, then looked through another. “And this one is entitled, Power Through Peace." I glanced back at Nesh. “I'm vaguely familiar with this one, Melakar used to quote it. It discusses the theories and philosophies of Algakest the Gray."

Nesh joined me, crouching down to delicately look through the book. “I hope you don't expect me to pronounce that name."

“Nonsense, Concubine, I can hardly pronounce that name." I laughed, then pointed out an image of two dragons facing one another, a male and a female. “That was him. He's one the dragons carved amongst the Elders' Gaze. Most of our clan's rulers were female, but he was a rare king. He's also credited with greatly expanding our power and influence, by taking a mate from what was, at the time, a rival clan we used to war with. Their mate-ship not only ended our wars, but unite our clans as one, doubling our size and our strength." I waved a paw in the air. “Granted, I'm sure reality was far more fraught and troubled, and bloodshed continued for some time, but…in the end, our histories remember it as one of our greatest moments."

“Interesting." Nesh straightened up, gazing around. “The other books in my language are also all about great alliances from history, and military truces, and things like, the customs that rulers of certain nations expect from visiting dignitaries, and so on." He chewed on his lip, turning a slow circle. “Ella, are all the dragon books in here about the same sort of thing? Building nations, and alliances, and declaring new royalty, and so on?"

“I don't know, but…" Actually, that was an interesting question. I padded around the room, reading titles of other works. Before long, I returned to Nesh again. “It appears that way, yes." I settled onto my haunches, flattening back my spiny frills. “What were you playing at, Melakar?"

“Whatever he was doing, it definitely seems like he'd put a lot of time and effort into it." Nesh brushed his fingers over the muzzle section of the Queen's Mantle. “Given everything he'd been reading, I doubt he discovered this solely on a fluke."

“No, I doubt he just stumbled upon it." I sighed, wishing once more I'd simply gone and…talked…with Melakar again. He might well have been pursuing these strange goals for years, and I never knew. Visiting humans, reading about the customs of their rulers, researching our own rituals for anointing royalty, studying the histories of great alliances. “I cannot help but wonder if he was looking to save our valley in his own way." I sighed, shaking my head. Trying to protect the valley through diplomacy, and truces with our enemies would have been just like him. “You should have come to me, Melakar."

“You two weren't exactly on speaking terms, were you?" Nesh approached, setting his hand gently upon the scutes of my foreleg.

“No, not for some time." I splayed my ears, and my frills drooped around my head. “A sorrow for which we both shared blame. Myself perhaps more than him. I wish…" I cast a glance at the Mantle. “I wish if he thought to make himself King, to…propose alliances with humans, that…that he'd have come talk to me, first."

Nesh tilted his head, giving me an odd look. “Is that what you think he was trying to do?"

“Between the Mantle, and all the books, and his maps, that is my impression, yes." I licked my nose, then realized Nesh was giving me a strange little smirk. “Why? You disagree?"

“I think you're mostly right." Nesh patted my leg, then turned away. “But, I'm afraid I haven't been entirely honest about everything I found. Come over here, if you please." He walked towards a corner of the room, where a fur blanket lay across something leaning up against the wall. “I didn't want to show you this first, because I wanted to see if you came to the same conclusion I did about his goals."

Padding after Nesh, I tossed my head, more confused than ever. “What are you babbling about now, Concubine?"

“His goals." Nesh grinned at me over his shoulder. “About declaring some kind of…dragon royal, to conduct negotiations with other rulers."

“Ah." I licked my nose, slightly embarrassed to realize that Nesh seemed to have put it together more quickly, and more completely than I had. Granted, there was no way to know if either of us were right. But at the least, it seemed like the pieces of the puzzle that was the last few months of Melakar's life were finally starting to come together. “I concur, yes. That seems a reasonable explanation."

“It does." Nesh grasped the fur blanket, smiling. “But I don't think Melakar wanted to be King."

He pulled the blanket away, revealing a beautifully painted portrait of a female dragon. She had glossy black scales, with vibrant silver stripes across the front of her limbs, and the back of her tail. Deep red edged her ebony wings, as if they'd been dipped ever so slightly in blood. Her eyes, piercing and silver-white, stared out from beneath the gorgeous golden hues of the Queen's Mantle. Jeweled chains hung down around her head, and down the back of her neck.

Nesh stepped away from the portrait of me, smiling. “I think he wanted you to be Queen, Ella."

The sight of it hit me like a physical blow. I cried out as if I'd been struck in the underbelly, and stumbled back from the painting. I flopped onto my haunches, banging my tail against the floor. For a moment, my heart swelled with pride, and joy, overwhelmed that despite all our falling out, Melakar somehow saw me that way. But then icy talons clamped down around my heart, squeezing the joy right back out as they dragged it down into the cold pit of my belly.

For all the years we hadn't talked, for all the times we'd screamed at each other, and all the tiny little scars we added to one another's hearts, Melakar still wanted to make me the Valley's final queen. While I was cursing his name, he was scouring the land for Queen's Mantle. While I was lamenting the gradual collapse of our clan, he was looking for ways to bring it back. While I gazed at old paintings of him in my lair, remembering all the petty things we fought over…he was having me painted anew. And while I was lazily soaring above the valley, cursing that it would belong to humans all too soon…Melakar was dying in pursuit of a way to save it.

I had spent the last decade, mourning the death of our relationship, and impending end of our people's reign, and all that time, Melakar never stopped trying to save our valley, the only way he knew how.

A great sense of shame settled over me, hot and unbearable. My frills flushed and went flat, and I forced myself to my feet, turning away from the portrait. All at once I culd not look at it. I did not feel worthy of the beauty Melakar must have still in me, let alone worthy enough to ever wear that mantle. I slipped out of the room, heading back towards the exit of Melakar's lair.

“Ella?" Concern weighed down Nesh's voice as he hurried to catch up with me. “Ella, what's wrong?"

How could I tell him? Where would I even begin? All I could do was shake my head, picking up my pace. In that moment, I did not even feel worthy of the damn medic's concern.

“I…I'm sorry, Nesh!" Soon, I was running to the exit, and out into the cold winter air. Snow crunched beneath my paws. “I…I have to fly! I'll be back later!"

“Ella, wait!" Nesh ran out after me. “Where are you going?"

I had no answer. The truth was, I did not know where I was going. I leapt into the air, and took to my wings. I beat them hard and fast, ascending as swiftly as I could, as if my shame was something I could somehow escape from. I knew it was a futile effort, but I needed to be away from all the reminders of Melakar's life, at least for a little while.

If only I could escape from the sudden realization that I might well have wasted the last decade. Worst of all, my great inaction left the burden of saving our valley to rest entirely on Melakar's wings. He had taken it upon himself, doubtless thinking I wanted nothing to do with him anymore. In that way, it hit me then, that I had pushed Melakar towards his death. Not directly, but if I had been helping him, it was unlikely he'd have ever been in human lands alone, and vulnerable. I could not help but feel my anger, my grudges…they helped kill him.

It was all too much for me, and a tempest of emotions left me in a great roar. I screamed my fury, my sorrow, and my shame to the skies above. I wished I believed as Melakar did that the skies would shelter me. But to me, in that moment, the skies seemed only cold, and uncaring, a baleful blue gaze judging my great—

In the distance, to the west, something screamed back at me.

*****

Chapter Fourteen

Rescue

*****

I snapped my attention to the west, scanning the horizon. Four figures with feathered wings outstretched cut dark outlines against the late afternoon sky. Gryphons. They were too far away for me to make out their fine details, but their size and flight profile were unmistakable. In times past, gryphon clans and dragon clans have often warred over things like territory, food, water, and so on. Though our two species had not warred openly in my lifetime, old hostilities remained.

One of the gryphons screeched something, and the four of them split further apart in the skies. Red-orange fire flashed from atop a distant ridge, one burst of flame after another. A moment later, and four resounding thuds echoed across the land.

“Ella!" Nesh shouted at me from somewhere down below. “That's cannon fire!"

I cursed myself for giving in to that outburst. If not for my roar, they might not yet have spotted me. Not that it mattered now. I folded my wings and dove, trying to make it back down behind the mountains enclosing Melakar's old lair. A few seconds later, and great explosions rocked the mountain. Stone shards blasted everywhere, and shrapnel whizzed past me like a swarm of drunken hornets. At least the mountain protected me from the worst of it. This time, no concussive blast knocked me out of the sky.

“Get inside, Nesh!"

I called out to him as I swept down into the snowy bowl amidst the jagged stone spires. More thuds resounded as I set paws to snow. They might not be able to see me, but they were still firing on my general location. We needed to get to cover. Since Nesh hadn't moved fast enough, I snatched his coat in my teeth, and hauled him off his feet. I sprinted into Melakar's home, Nesh bobbling from my jaws. Just behind me, a projectile smashed through one of the carved granite claws, shattering it. The ensuing detonation blasted another apart, and sent flames licking at my tail as I scrambled into the tunnel.

As soon as we reached Melakar's main room, I spat Nesh onto the pile of bedding. A few more thuds echoed behind us, and the room vibrated around us with the detonations that followed. Bookshelves rattled around the room, a few loose books fell to the floor. Nesh scrambled to his feet, moving up alongside me as if planning to dive for cover beneath my belly.

“What's happening?" Nesh put a hand on my side. He was trembling.

“Your people are trying to kill me!" I snapped my teeth, frustration rising in me. “Again!"

“No, I mean…" Nesh ran a hand over his head fur, then held it in front of his face, watching it shake. He dropped it down, trying to collect himself. “What…what did you see? They…they must have…"

He trailed off, his hand dropping down. Nesh glanced between me and the exit, and when another round of explosions outside left the room shuddering, he pressed up to my scales. Some of my anger melted away, replaced with pity. Poor Nesh, I thought. His own people were shooting at him without realizing it. I wondered if he'd ever been shot at, before. And while they might be his people, this certainly wasn't his fault. I stretched my wing, and gently draped it across Nesh. When he did not pull away, I cradled him against my body with it, cooing to him.

“It's alright, Nesh, you'll be alright." I hugged him with my wing, sheltering him the same way I might a frightened hatchling. “I'll keep you safe."

“That's…" Nesh stroked my scales. “Oddly comforting to hear."

“It's my duty to protect my vassal." I glanced towards one of the other hallways we'd explored earlier. “You should get to shelter. There's going to be a fight, soon."

“Aren't we already in shelter?" Nesh peered up at me when I pulled my wing back a little, his eyes widening. “Wait, what kind of fight?"

For the moment, I held off answering his question. Instead, I waited to see if he was ready to leave the comfort of my wing's embrace. “Are you feeling better?"

Nesh glanced at his hands. They weren't shaking as much. He offered me a smile, nodding. “A little. Thanks, Ella, I…uh…" Nesh reached out and gave me a few awkward pats of gratitude. “I think I needed that."

I snorted. “You did." Then I shook my head. “But I cannot blame you." I paused, tilting my head. Long moments of silence have passed. “They're stopped firing. Go find somewhere to hide."

Nesh took three quick steps away from me, then came to an abrupt halt. He spun on his heel, and walked right back over to me. “No. No, I'm not going to hide. I'm going to help, if I can." He held his hands up, his palms towards me face. “Ella, tell me exactly what you saw, if anything. Who do you think you're going to be fighting with?"

“There's four gryphons." I swept a wing towards the doorway. “They may have been directing the cannon fire, because it started shortly after they screeched something. The cannons have gone quiet now, which means the gryphons will be moving in to see if they've gotten me or not. When they see this place, they'll investigate."

“Four gryphons?" Nesh sucked in a breath. “Shit! Ella, that's a rescue squad! They…" Nesh paced, wringing his hands. “They must have counted the bodies, seen my footprints, and yours. They know you have me, or…or someone, anyway. Usually, a rescue squad would move in on its own, scout the area, but they must have flown up part of an artillery unit, as back up."

I hissed in frustration, unsheathing claws and dragging them against the floor. “How long have your people been enslaving gryphons?"

“Enslaving?" Nesh knit his furry eye ridges. “No, they're…they're part of the empire, now. The Gryphon Legion is part of our aerial division, and the Empress herself has…" Nesh trailed off, waving his hand as if brushing the topic away. “It doesn't matter right now. If a rescue squad is working with artillery, then you're right, the gryphons are sighting for them. Some of the new artillery and cannons, they're set on wheels and gears, so their aim and trajectory can be adjusted on the fly. Hell, they might have glimpsed us earlier and sighted in on the mountains while we were in here."

“I concur." I lashed my tail, considering my options. “That will make it difficult for us to leave. We may have to wait until dark, then I can go after their guns. In the meantime, they will not fire while the gryphons are here, correct?"

“I don't think so, no." Nesh folded his arms, scowling. “Then again, I'm here, so…"

“They may not know that for certain." I padded towards the exit. “As I said before, you should-"

“I'm not going to run and hide, Ella." Nesh grasped at the end of my tail. “Let me talk to them!"

I glanced back at him, splaying my frills. “They're firing cannons at us, Nesh. They haven't come to talk." I gently pulled my tail away from his fingers. “I know what this is, Nesh, and they're as much here to kill me and avenge those slayers, as they are to rescue you. If I give them a chance, they'll fall upon me as a horde of beak and talon. You won't even have a chance to get a word out before we've drawn each other's blood."

Nesh's gaze fell, and he sighed. “I just…I don't want anyone else to get hurt, Ella."

I smiled at him over my wings, bowing my head. “Though you likely meant the gryphons, I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless."

“I meant all of you!"

“All the better then." I hunkered down in the shadows, near the exit tunnel, watching the snowfield outside. Wingbeats were swiftly approaching. “They're coming. Nesh, be honest. Am I correct? Are they going to attack me on sight?"

Nesh took a deep breath, and let it out in a long, heavy sigh. “Yeah." He leaned against the wall, staring at me. “Yeah, probably."

“Then I have to strike first, and take them out swiftly." I glanced back at him again, motioning with my head towards the deeper chambers. “Stay inside. As my vassal, I have a duty to keep you safe now. I can't allow you to get involved. So whatever happens, stay as far away from the battle as possible."

Nesh sighed again, but nodded. “Very well. Just…" He eased away from the wall, holding his hands up to me. “Don't kill them, Ella."

I bowed my head, a smile gracing my muzzle. “I appreciate your confidence."

“It goes both ways, though." Nesh reached out, and gently grasped my tail tip, giving it a squeeze. “Don't get yourself killed, right. Be careful, alright? Promise me."

I tilted my head, still smiling. “Nesh, is that concern you're expression? I should think it quite blasphemous to worry for an evil beast." Outside, wing beats suddenly turned into heavy paws thumping into the snow as the first gryphon landed. I dropped my voice to a whisper, our jovial moment gone as quickly as it arrived. “They're here."

Nesh squeezed my tail tighter. “Promise me."

“I promise, Nesh, I'll try not to die." I arched my tail to pull it from his grasp.

“Good as I'm going to get." Nesh gave me an hard look, then turned and hurried back into Melakar's chamber.

I hunkered in the shadows just inside the entry tunnel, hidden and waiting for a glimpse of the first gryphon who had landed. It did not take long. A brown and gray female gryphon trotted back and forth across the far end of the snowfield. She wore some kind of black cargo harness, with insignia in silver at her shoulders. Pouches and buckles adorned it. The gryphon paused to examine the shattered debris that remained of a few broken stone claws. She tilted her bird-like head, swiveling her ears towards every little sound. The gryphon picked up a hunk of shrapnel, brought it to her beak, sniffed it, and tossed it aside. I imagined she was looking for blood stains, or any other signs that they'd hit me. Wingbeats overhead told me the others were either right behind her, or circling above in support.

May as well give them all a show, I thought. In a single, smooth motion, I pushed myself to my paws and hurtled out into the snow. I leapt off my hind legs and beat my wings, propelling myself forward at incredible speeds, just above the ground. By the time the gryphon had turned towards me, I was already upon her. She screeched at me, but before she had a chance to move, I snatched her sturdy harness in my forepaws, just before her wings. I sunk my claws into the thick material and beat my wings again, pulling with all my considerably might. Between strength and momentum, I hoisted her off her feet, dragging a startled squeal from her gaping beak.

Dragons were bigger than gryphons. Though how much bigger varied by the sub species and the individual, I was probably twice this one's size. Hauling her aloft wrenched my forelegs, but not much worse than that damn boulder I'd thrown into the slayer camp days earlier. Which was exactly what I did with the gryphon. No sooner had I dragged her into the sky, than I hurled her into the nearest spire of stone. She tumbled through the air, the side of her body colliding with the damaged monolith. The gryphon gave an anguished cough, chips of stone fell across her.

I dipped a wing, spun back towards her, and dropped to the ground just as quickly as I'd left it. As the gryphon staggered back to her feet, I charged her again. Above me, her companions screamed out threats and warnings, diving to her aide, but it was too late. Just as she tried to square herself upright, I threw my body sideways, right into hers. Once more my superior weight and momentum proved too much. This time I smashed her right through the remnants of stone spire, sending rock toppling across both of us.

She screamed again as we tumbled over broken rock and snow. The others were diving now, but I wanted to finish this one off before they landed. She struggled against me, her claws scrabbling at my scales as we fought. Her breath came in familiar, wheezing pants. If she'd broken ribs as I had, I certainly wasn't going to offer her my sympathies. She ended up on her back beneath me, and in a heartbeat, I was ready to kill her. Terror flashed in her golden-brown eyes when I raised my claws, prepared to open her throat before her comrades could stop me.

Don't kill them, Ella.

But I had made Nesh a promise, and a dragon was only as good as her word. So I struck the gryphon across the beak with my paw as hard as I could, knocking her whole head sideways as a result. The blow was enough to leave her dazed and drooling, staring into the distance, and probably trying to recall her own name.

A feathery, whistling noise drew my attention, and I realized I'd hesitated a moment to long. I tried to rise, only for another gryphon to crash into me at the end of their dive. Now it was my turn to be knocked off my feet, pain shooting through my body. We rolled together, and he battered my head with his forepaws, claws cutting little lines of fire. I kept my wings tucked to try and protect them. As soon as I had an opening, I hurled him off of me, then rolled to my feet and blasted flame to keep him back. He squawked and stumbled away, shaking singed crimson feathers.

Other gryphons landed nearby. Rather than move in to help fight me, they called out orders in their own tongue, and bound inside the damaged entrance to Mekalar's lair. They were going after Nesh. I cursed, charging after them. While they believed Nesh was in need of rescue, I feared what accidents might befall the smaller, squishier human should he inadvertently end up trapped between battling dragons and gryphons.

“Nesh!" I called to him as I followed the gryphons inside, my voice echoing off stone walls. “They're coming! Shelter yourself!"

A gryphon's voice, a little higher in tone and more musical than my own, answered back. “Do not listen to the dragon's lies, human! Whatever she's told you, we're here to get you home!"

The gryphon speaking sounded male, his voice muffled by distance and stone, and warped by odd echoes inside the cavern system. The two outside were a male and a female, and I was certain the two in front of me were, as well. Unlike dragons, the colors of a gryphon often made their sex as obvious as their scent or a glance between their hind legs. Males bore showier, brighter feathers, while the females were more often the color of earth and stone. Like dragons, the females were sometimes larger and stronger, while the males were even smaller and more agile. Both were equally dangerous, especially in number.

Fast as they were, the two ahead of me were already in the main chamber. I did not want to give them time to set up an ambush, or trap me in the tunnel between them and their red-feathered companion outside. Though I was bigger and stronger, they were far more maneuverable in tight spaces. I made it into Melakar's old chamber just in time to see the two gryphons moving to either side of the room, forcing me to divide my attention.

“Where is the human?" The largest of them snapped at me, claws unsheathed and beak gaping in open threat. Dark blue feathers covered most of his body, fading to pale gray along his belly. Black barring marked his wings and feathered tail. “Turn your prisoner over alive and unharmed, and we will be merciful!"

I ignored him completely. He wasn't going to listen to me anyway, and it was clear he was trying to hold my attention. Instead, I whirled on his squad-mate, a smaller female with feathers of light and dark brown, straighter along her wings and blotched along her paler chest. Even as I was pivoting towards her, she was digging something out a pocket of her cargo harness.

Whatever it was, I had no intention of letting her get anywhere near me with it. I hissed, moving sideways, my wings flared. I did what I could to keep them both in my vision, even as I spotted scarlet feathers skulking in the entryway shadows. The female gryphon matched my movements best she could on three paws, hefting a pouch in the other. The sight tightened my belly into a cold coil. That could be any number of toxic or volatile concoctions, and it forced me to focus my attention on the greatest immediate danger. I sucked in a breath, readying myself to-

“Feast upon this, demoness!" The gryphon hurled her pouch straight at my head.

At the same time, I spat fire, not at her, but at the object. I did not want to have to use my flame inside Melakar's lair, but neither did I want some bag of poison exploding across my head. My flame incinerated it halfway between us, and little charred bits of something bitter and astringent flew in every direction as a whirl of embers. Some of my roiling flame and the embers it spawned put spark to old books and parchment, igniting a few spots around us. The bitter, burning aroma from whatever I'd ignited rolled across me just as instinct bade me to breath, post-flame. The stuff filled my lungs, and they immediately rejected it with a wracking cough, agonizing in its intensity.

I stumbled back, gagging, fighting back a momentary wave of panic. I knew that smell, that sensation. It was an herb the humans called serpent's bane, though we had no name of our own for it. When fresh, it was anathema to a dragon's body. Something in it, some oil in its leaves, caused something akin to a dangerous allergic reaction within us. Dried, and preserved, it wasn't much better. In older days, humans would extract its oils to create poisons for their weapons. Now it seemed they just dried the stuff and gave it to gryphons to hurl at us. At least I hadn't swallowed it. Though it made us cough and choke when inhaled, that reaction passed more quickly than if it got into our blood, or in our bellies.

At least my flame had incinerated most of the stuff. Still, I'd sucked in enough of the resulting smoke to find myself struggling to breath. All the coughing reignited the pain from my broken ribs, and my bruised lungs, as well. I feared I'd soon be back to hacking up blood. I might have been a little more frightened if I wasn't so damn angry.

“You brought Serpant's Bane?" My voice was hoarse and ragged. “You feathery little sack-licking--"

And then the third gryphon crashed into my side, full tilt. The impact forced another painful cough from my lungs, and left me staggering across the floor with the crimson male raking at my body with claws and break. Pain ignited where sharp edges found purchase in my hide. Blood ran down my scales, dripping to the floor of Melakar's lair. As I stumbled away, old scrolls were crushed, books were knocked aside, jewels and trinkets scattered.

I tucked my wings tight, trying to keep them safe, even as the gryphon's claws rent their edges. A dragon's wings worked well to batter a human, but less so against something nearly as sturdy as we were. All the while I struggled to breathe. I knew I had to retake the offensive before the others moved in to assist him, so I forced myself to pivot right towards him. Knowing he'd go for my muzzle, and my throat, I lashed out as I spun, aiming my forepaws for his head. I'd have loved to have ripped his beak right off, but I'd promised Nesh I wouldn't kill them unless I had no choice.

In a strangely detached moment, I found myself hoping Nesh would forgive me if I had to kill anyone else from his lands.

The gryphon darted back as soon as I whirled around on him, and my blows missed his head. He danced back out of the range of my claws and teeth, then sidestepped to try and circle around me again. Which, for once, was perfectly fine for me, because that was exactly what I was hoping he'd do. I hadn't expected to strike more than a glancing blow with my front paws, that was only a feint. Instead, I kept right on pivoting, and brought tail my lashing around like a whip. By the time the gryphon realized what I was doing, my trail struck him hard enough across the side of his head and a shoulder to partly upend him. He gave an agonized squawk, front feet lifted off the ground. The impact turned him halfway around, blood gushing from his cracked break.

He staggered away from me, gasping. I would have dearly loved to have followed up and finished him off, but in an blink, the female was in front of me again, and hurling something else into my face. This time, I had no chance to react with fire. Whatever it was exploded across my head in a shower of reddish dust. Agony filled my eyes, and my nictitating membranes clicked shut a second too late. My vision vanished in a red blur, a thousand tiny fiery claw-pricks digging into each eye.

I shrieked in terrified agony and stumbled back, grabbing at my face with a forepaw. “My eyes! My eyes! Nesh! Nesh, I'm blind!" I barely even realized I called his name. Hell, I wasn't even sure what language I was screaming in at the time. Rarely, in all my life, had I ever felt so panicked. In that moment, I was horribly afraid that even if I won the battle, the gryphons might have stolen my sight.

As I staggered away from the gryphons, I blasted fire to keep them at bay. Feathers rustled and talons scraped the stone, but at least my fire kept them from immediately closing in. Melakar's lair was stuffed with flammables, but what else could I do? My ears swiveled constantly, trying to track them by their sounds. They whispered to each other in their own tongue, regrouping. While I understood gryphon to an extent, I was not practiced with it the way I was with human languages. In my panic, they may as well have been chittering gibberish, and I had no idea whether they were planning a group attack or pleading with each other to be patient enough to wait for an opening.

I tried to stay away from their sounds, their scent, desperately rubbing at my eyes. I shook my head, panting heavily. My breath was coming easier, but my eyes felt as if they'd been melted right out of my sockets. Fear and disorientation left me dangerously shaky. I stumbled over a pile of Melakar's books, and my hind paws slipped against them. I lost my balance, flopping back against my haunches and tail. The moment my hind end hit the floor, I knew I'd made a great mistake. The gryphons did not hesitate to take advantage.

The biggest of them launched himself into my exposed belly, knocking me backwards and smashing me up against one of Melakar's old bookcases. The wood shattered, broken shelves and damaged tomes toppled across me. Pain erupted everywhere. I gagged, coughing up blood and spitting little gouts of flame as the wracking coughs inadvertently squeezed my fire glands. I tried to fight the gryphon off, but I couldn't see, I couldn't breathe. I didn't even know where to aim.

I snapped my jaws at him as he tried to extricate himself from me, only for him to strike me across the face, claws tearing deep gouges in my cheek. White motes of light danced through my otherwise black vision. Blood ran down my face, dripping from my jaw line. I lashed back out at him, my own claws out now, despite my promise to Nesh. But the gryphon batted my paw aside, and then did the same to the next few blows I sent at him.

This one was either well trained, or had fought dragons before, or both. He deflected all my attempts to drive him back, smacking my paws aside and striking back at my nose, my head, my throat. In desperation I went after him with a stronger blow in hopes of connecting forcefully enough to stagger him. But he was ready for it, snatching my forepaw in both of his. He twisted it around in such a sudden, sharp motion I was forced to move with it or have my wrist broken.

As I stumbled to the side, another of them leapt onto my back. The sudden weight bearing down atop me while I was already off-balance and on three legs was more than I could take. I crashed down onto my belly in the debris of the ruined book case, struggling anew to free myself. The weight of the gryphon on my back told me it was the crimson male, and he shifted himself forward to grasp at my neck, shouting orders to his friends in the gryphon tongue.

Claws scratched at stone, and debris shifted and rustled as the female hurried forward again, books and broken shelving knocked aside. The male gripping my paw twisted it harder, pressing it to the floor to make it difficult for me to raise without breaking my own leg. Then the female was grabbing at my horns, trying to push my head down the same way. Together, it was clear the three of them were trying to pin me, now. If the female outside regained her senses and joined in, I might not be able to break free.

Then something soft and stifling pressed against the end of my muzzle, smothering my nose. Whatever it was burned my nostrils, and fresh fear squeezed my heart, knotted my bowels. The female was trying to poison me again. I didn't know what it was, but I knew if I inhaled much of it, that would be end. If I was lucky, I'd be dead a few minutes later. If I wasn't, I might well wake up in chains, being dragged back to be executed for the deaths of those dragon slayers.

I struggled and thrashed, holding my breath. I tried to pull the poisoned cloth away from my muzzle with my free paw, but the female gryphon bit and snapped at my fingers every time. Already, my lungs were burning. Between the battle, the internal bruising, and the poisons I'd already inhaled, my body was desperate for more oxygen. I could not hold out long. Though I twisted and squirmed, I could not get my head free, could not get my foreleg out of danger. My chest screamed with every heart beat, begging with me to breathe. Soon, that plea would turn into an inescapable demand, and then…

Then all this would be over.

Maybe it was better that way.

Maybe…

I should just…breathe.

And let our people's history end…

Yes, I thought. Let it end. The valley's already lost, why fight it? What did I have left to live for, anyway?

If they killed me, at least I'd see Mela—

“Let her go!" And then Nesh's voice came, like a brilliant white of lightning in the darkness. “Let her go!" One of the gryphons hissed at him, and I wondered, in my wandering mind, if Nesh was trying to pull them off of me. “That's enough, leave Ella alone! Stop hurting her!"

Nesh. Brave little medic Nesh, servant and healer of my greatest enemies…

Was trying to save me.

His voice echoed through my head, a memory from when I'd first met him not so long ago.

Medicine, healing, it's what I do. It's…it's what all doctors and healers do. That's why we become healers.

Nesh, who had seen as much death and hand at my paws as I had seen at his people's hands. Nesh, who tended my wounds. Nesh, who had asked my name, and spoke it with respect. Nesh, who had sought to bring my comfort where other humans only brought me sorrow.

Who could have turned against me, and gone home a hero, but instead, sought to save my life. Not because I deserved it, but simply because he believed it the right thing to do.

I knew then, full and completely, two things. One, that Nesh was a better person than I. And two, that I was going to live to ensure his kindness was repaid.

*****

Chapter Fifteen

Strength

*****

Anger and strength anew filled me. I stopped resisting, and instead, braced my hind legs against the floor. I waited a few heartbeats, both to gather my mind and let them think I was slipping away. And then with every ounce of determination I had, I surged forward and rolled sideways, right into the male grasping my forepaw.

The motion caught him by surprise, and forced him to choose beneath releasing me, or end up having both his own front legs snapped and trapped under my weight in the process of trying to break my wrist. It was a risk, but I would take a broken bone to death by asphyxiation or whatever fate they had in mind. He chose caution, releasing my limb to pull his paws free while he still could.

The same rolling motion forced the female gryphon to move with me to try and keep her toxic cloth against my muzzle. She pressed it to me with both forepaws, so I knew she was off balance and on her hind legs. With all four limbs now beneath me, I threw myself forward, plowing into her. The sudden forward momentum combined with equally sudden impact not only bowled her over, but sent her red-feathered friend toppling off my back with a pained squawk.

I ripped away whatever was on my muzzle, then exhaled what little breath I had in mine in a blast of fire, hoping to ignite feathers and poisons alike. I didn't hear any pained screams, but I did hear the frantic scrabbling and squawking of frightened gryphons. Instinct finally forced my to suck in a sharp breath. Lingering traces of something clinging to the scales of my muzzle left my head swimming, but nothing worse.

“Ella!" Nesh's voice rang out above crackle of flames and shouts of gryphons. “Are you alright?"

“No!" I shook my head, still unable to see. “I'm blind!"

“Don't panic, it'll pass, I promise!"

A bit late for that, but I appreciated the sentiment. Heat washed over me, and I shifted away from the fire I had caused. “How bad is the fire?"

“You lit that broken bookshelf! You have to stop using your fire, or--shit!" Thumping footsteps caught him off. “On your left, now!"

Once more, one of the male gryphons charged and leapt at me, but this time I was ready. Between the sounds he made and Nesh's warning, I turned just in time to meet him head to head, and claw to claw. He struck at my face, but rather than drive me back, I powered forward, lashing out with my own forepaw, not to strike him, but to grasp him. I found his shoulder, and sunk my claws deep into the muscle. He squealed and recoiled, but I was not about to let him get away. I reared onto my hind legs, snatching at him with my other forepaw, my claws digging down to the bone. Gripping him just behind his shoulders, I pivoted on my hind legs and hurled him like an oversized children's toy into what I hoped was the nearest wall.

The sound of shattering wood and toppling books joined the gryphon's scream. I wasn't done with him, either. Knowing the other two would be closing in, I dropped back to all fours and whirled around, using my tail to keep them at bay. Pained groans and the sound of shifting debris told me where the injured gryphon lay. Two quick strides brought me to him, and I honed in on the sound of his wheezing breaths. I grabbed his head in both forepaws, jerked it upwards, and then slammed his face and beak right back down onto the stony floor. Then I did it again, even harder. His body jerked and trembled, and I forced myself to let him go. Gryphons were sturdy, so I didn't think I'd killed him, but he wouldn't be attacking me again, either.

“Behind you, right side!" Again, Nesh provided warning. In the back of my mind, I wondered if this would count as treason amongst his people. But that was a worry for later.

This time, as I turned around, bits and pieces of blurry colors wavered in my vision. An orange glow hemmed everything. Something blue wavered and shifted. I blinked a few times, opening and closing my nictitating membranes as well, struggling to clear my vision. At least I could see well enough to make out the blue and gray weaving back and forth. He darted forward, then back, then to the left before lunging at me, snapping his beak.

I snapped my teeth right back at him, forcing him to backpedal. As my vision continued to clear, I saw the brown and beige female frantically digging through her harness, across the room. He was stalling for time, so I shifted strategies. I circled around the blue male until I had him between the female and myself, happy to use him as a shield for whatever poisonous concoction she might next try to use against me. I feinted towards him with three quick steps, and he darted sideways, so I did the same, then charged a few more steps. I herded him towards the female, not letting him out from between us.

The female screeched something at him in gryphon, and he replied with something sharp sounding. In the moment, I couldn't tell what she was saying, but I got the impression she was telling him to get out of the way. Not that I was going to let him do any such thing. As we neared the side the room, I sprinted forward, charging at him. This time it was no feint, and when he tried to go sideways around me, I matched his movements and lashed out for his head.

Once again, he managed to catch my forepaw in his. He was fast, I'll give him that. But I was much stronger, and able to see and breathe better than the first time he tried that trick. It took him both his forepaws to try and twist my paw around, which left him rearing back. All that did was make him a bigger shield against whatever pouch of poisons his companion had ready. And I wasn't about to let him see how far he could wrench my wrist around this time. Instead, I clamped my fingers down around his in crushing grip, and reared up onto my own back legs.

I towered over him, wrenching his arm up and forcing him all the way upright. Now, his underbelly was completely exposed to me. If gryphons were like dragons, his instincts must have been screaming at him to protect himself. He cried out and tried to pull back, struggling to free his paw. He beat his wings, indigo and black feathers flying.

My own instincts told me to open his belly while I had the chance, to spill his entrails and claim his life as he had tried to claim my own. But Nesh had seen enough people from his realm die at my hands, and I fought back the urge to kill the gryphon. Instead, I'd settle for making him regret putting me through so much hell. I balled up my other forepaw into a fist, and hard as I could, slammed it up between his hind legs.

“AWWRRKK!"

The gryphon gave an agonized squawk, eyes popping out and black beak agape, looking like a blue jay getting the fright of its life. If I hadn't been so furious, I'd have laughed my tail off at his expression. The fight left the stricken gryphon in an instant, and I released him. He slumped to the floor and curled up, making a low, wheezing moaning noise.

As soon as he was down, I stepped over him, and kicked his head to ensure he stayed down. Then I advanced upon the last of gryphons, the female with her poisons. For the first time, I noticed the markings on her harness, golden wings sewn into each side of it, across her shoulders. That must have marked her as their leader. As I neared her, all my anger returned anew. How dare they come to my valley, to my home, and try to kill me. I snarled, low and furious, my spiny frills all flared to their full, threatening extent.

The female backpedaled, trying to hide the fact she had something in her paw. But I already knew, and now I was ready. When she made her move it was in a blur of motion, even faster than the indigo male. She whipped a black pouch at me, but this time I batted it out of the air as if it were nothing more than a particularly obnoxious insect. She cursed in gryphon and went for something else in her harness, but I leapt at her before she could get it out.

She backpedaled away, and tried to use the height of the domed ceiling to her advantage. The gryphon leapt as if to fly, but no sooner had she beat her wings than I snatched her by forelegs, and hurled her right back down to the floor. Her beak and chest struck the ground at the same time, and all the air left her lungs in an explosive cough. Blood dribbled from her beak. She struggled to rise, only for me to step on her head, grinding it against the floor. I ripped at the straps of her harness, tearing them apart. Once it was free, I pulled it from her body, and tossed it across the room.

“No more poisons!" I stepped off her head, only to snatch her by her throat, and drag her across the floor towards the side of the room. “No more tricks!"

She scrabbled at the ground, pried at my fingers, but it was no use. She was mine now, and at least she was starting to realize that. When she tried to call the names of her companions, I tightened my grip, leaving her gagging the rest of the way. I doubted the others were in any condition to come to her aid, anyway.

When we reached the wall, I smashed her back up against the stone, pinning her wings. I tightened my grip around her throat till her eyes bulged out, and beak worked without sound. She kicked at my chest plates, but could not get the leverage she needed to sink her claws in. My claws, however, pushed through the down pinfeathers of throat and threatened the soft flesh beneath. She went still at the implied threat, and slowly stopped fighting me. Instead, she lifted her forepaws, her pads up, a gesture of submission…of surrender.

“You expect mercy?" I tilted my head, then lowered it till my muzzle brushed her beak.

She worked her beak again, gagging, then ever so slightly tilted her head. At first I thought she was nodding, but then I realized she was looking past me, to the two male gryphons laying battered and beaten on the floor. The other female never even made it inside. I think it hit her then, that they had lost.

Only moments before, they'd been so close to subduing me, to killing me if they wished. Now, all her companions lay amidst the ruins of Melakar's lair, scarcely able to stand. Now, it was her life she saw ending, not mine. She mouthed words in the common tongue.

Mercy!

Please!

That only made me angrier. My voice rose with every word, a tempest of rage, and sorrow. “You want mercy?" I snarled at her, shaking my spines and tightening my grip on her throat. “You come to my valley, and you murder my lifelong companion. My oldest friend." My claw tips sunk through her skin, drawing little wells of blood to stain her beige throat feathers. “The father of my son. And you expect mercy? You come here, to my home, and take everything from me, and try to take even my life?"

In that moment, my promise to Nesh was forgotten. I saw Melakar's blood on my scales, I saw the fear of his own death in his eyes. In my head I held him as he died all over again. And in that moment, there was nothing left in me but pyre ashes and a vast ocean of ice and emptiness.

“No. No, gryphon. No mercy for you. For Melakar, you die."

Somehow, she managed to shake her head. Then she lifted a trembling forepaw, pointing at her companions. She wasn't asking for herself. No, she already knew her life was forfeit. She was asking me to spare the others. There was honor in that request, honor I could respect. I stared into her eyes, not relaxing my grip, not letting her breathe. But I nodded. Before she died, I wanted her to know her friends would live.

A few tears materialized in her eyes, and she clutched at my paw. She pried at my fingers, more tears running down the soft feathers of her cheeks. I wondered if she was simply fighting for life, or if she just wanted me to crush her throat and get it over with.

“Ella, don't!"

I barely recognized his voice. I turned my head to snarl at Nesh, baring my fangs. Not to scare him, just to remind him that this was not his place, nor his choice to make. I expected him to startle and back away, but instead, he stood next to me. He reached up, and set his hand upon my foreleg, shaking his head.

“Don't do it, Ella." His voice was soft, and even, but tears brimmed in his eyes, just like the gryphon's. “It won't bring him back. I'm so sorry you lost him, but this won't bring him back. Let her down, Ella. There's been too much death, already." He squeezed my scales, then ever so gently stroked the scutes of my foreleg, his eyes locked on mine. “Let her live, Ella."

“But…" I wavered then my voice shaking. “Melakar…"

“Is dead." Nesh reached up to put his other hand on my limb, tugging it down. “Nothing you do, and no one you kill will ever bring him back. All you'll do is spread that pain and misery to others. Sorrow doesn't have to beget sorrow, Ella, death doesn't have to beget death. If you want to honor Melakar, then do what we both know he would have done. Let her live, Ella. Please." Somehow, Nesh found the strength to smile at me. “You promised, remember?"

My conviction fled in a cold rush. Not long ago, I had been so convinced that Nesh was a better than I. What then, did it say about me if I was not willing to mold myself on his example? I had strength enough to take this gryphon's life, but it was a far harder task still to let her live. But in my heart, I knew Nesh was right. No matter how difficult it was for a creature of blood and vengeance to choose the path of mercy, Melakar would have done it.

For Melakar, and for Nesh, I let the gryphon go.

She dropped to the floor, grasping and clutching her throat in both paws. I backed away from her, turning towards Nesh. For a few moments, all I could do was stare at him. All at once, he seemed like the strongest person I knew. Stepping between beasts intent on death, where rage and grief held sway, and he smoothed my fury like a still in the air calming the waves on a lake. The worst part was that I knew, in my heart, Nesh was right. Melakar would not have killed that gryphon, not after she surrendered. He would have been ashamed of me for coming so close.

“Thank you." Nesh threw his arms around as much of me as he could reach, and hugged me. “Thank you, Ella. Life is…it's precious, and…I hope you see that someday."

I took a shaking breath, forcing steel and fire back into my voice. “Gryphon! Get up!"

The gryphon staggered to her feet, rubbing her throat with a paw. “Th-thank you…"

“Thank him." I tapped Nesh's head with my muzzle.

“I was!" It seemed now that her life was hers again, the gryphon already had her fire back.

“Help your friends to their paws, and leave." I stretched a wing, pointing towards the exit. “Not just this place, but my valley. Be gone, by tonight, or I will kill you."

As the female limped towards the indigo male, Nesh took a few steps towards her. He pointed at the gryphon on the floor. “Take his harness off. Leave it here." Then he pointed at the other male, still wheezing amidst the debris of a shattered book case. “His too. Don't take anything out of them, leave it all."

The female hissed, but worked to unbuckle the sturdy, gryphon-sized straps along the male's harness. “I don't know what brain-washing she has inflicted upon you, human, but you should not listen to her! Come with us, while you have the chance!"

Nesh turned back towards me while the female gryphon helped her companion back to his paws. For a few long minutes, Nesh just stared at me. In the dim light, and lingering flames of burning debris, his eyes held a strangely haunted glow, a spectral flickering in them as if to better illuminate the measure of my soul, and thusly, judge it.

Feeling unworthy of his gaze after nearly breaking my promise to spare that gryphon's life, I looked away. My voice was soft. “Go with them, Nesh. It's alright." I gestured at the exit tunnel, swallowing. “Go back to your own people."

“With respect, Ella…" Nesh returned to my side, and gently set a hand upon my shoulder. Only then did I turn my gaze back to him. “We made a deal, and you still need medical treatment." He turned his attention to the two gryphons, who were soon helping the third to stagger to his feet. “I thank you for your valiant efforts, and…I'm sorry for your injuries. I…I know you're here to try and get me back to my army, but…right now, I think Ella needs me more than they do. They've many other medics, and she…" Nesh glanced up at my face, inscrutable. “She only has me. And I promised her I'd stay, as long as I was needed."

“Just remember." The female gryphon hissed at me as she led her companions towards the exit, the crimson-feathered male leaning against her. "Whatever she's told you, however she acts…you can't trust a dragon! They have already proven their treachery to us! She will do the same to you. Whatever she's told you, however she acts…you can't trust her."

Nesh's words left me tearing up, just a little, but not enough to stop me from snarling at the gryphons. “Just get the hell out of my sight before I change my mind."

The gryphons did not see fit to try my patience any longer. I followed them out the tunnel, to make sure they collected their other companion, as well. Only when the four of them were ascending into the sky, wobblier than before, did I breathe a slow sigh of relief.

“Well," Nesh said, folding his arms. He made a show of looking me over, his eyes wandering from my bloodied wounds, to my no-doubt bloodshot eyes, and my soot covered scales. “That could have gone better."

A great, tension relieving rumble of laughter built within me, and spilled from my muzzle. I shook my head, glancing down at Nesh with a smile. “Yes, Concubine. It could have." I watched him a moment, my laughter fading. “Tell me, Nesh. I heard what you said, but I suspect there is more. Why did you-"

“You scared me you know, Ella." Nesh turned away, heading back inside. “When they had you pinned. Come on, let's go put out those fires you started, and then get you fixed up. We'll talk about the rest later."

*****

Chapter Sixteen

Safe

*****

With Nesh at my side, I limped back into Melakar's lair. The stone spires carved in ancient times were a wreck, strewn across the snow in broken pieces and blackened by the shattering aftereffects of cannon fire. In the heat of the battle, I'd almost forgotten they'd fired a few more volleys at us while we were sheltering in the caves. A few ragged craters now pocked the bowl-like snowfield, blasted down to the loose gray scree and frozen earth beneath.

Smoke drifted from the damaged entrance to Melakar's lair. A few more coils of it drifted from within hidden vents in the stone. I hoped the whole place hadn't burned away to ashes while I was blind and in battle, or ensuring the gryphons left. While I knew the stone itself wasn't going to burn, too many irreplaceable books and things had no doubt already been lost. When my nictitating membranes flicked closed over my eyes, I realized I could scarcely even smell the smoke. I paused long enough to sniff at the ceiling, where it drifted above us in a writhing stream. Inhaling it made my throat hurt, and left me coughing a little, but I still detected only trace amounts of its acrid aroma.

“Nesh," I said, glancing down at my ever-more trustworthy companion. “I cannot smell this smoke properly."

“I'm not surprised." Nesh waved some smoke away with his hands, hurrying forward. “If I'm honest, I'm shocked you can see relatively well already." Then he paused, turning towards me again. “You can, right? See, I mean. You're not just following the sound of my voice or something? I can guide if I need to."

I licked my muzzle. Hints of coppery blood clung to my tongue, along with bitter, less familiar tastes, though all of them seemed greatly dulled. I stared at Nesh. He was mostly in focus, now, but a little blurry. Red-gold light shimmered and wavered in the distance from fires still burning in the main chamber.

“My vision is clearing, but not completely restored. And my other senses seem…weakened."

Nesh nodded, moving forward again. “I'll see what they have in their harness. I don't think they'd carry anything they didn't have some counteracting agents for, in case of accidental exposure. I suspect one of them was just some combination of wyrm blister, and gut-boil pepper, but I'll see what they left behind. But unless you're in desperate need, or you can't breath or anything, we should get these fires out first. They've already eaten a few of Melakar's poor old books."

My heart sank as we entered Melakar's lair. The place was messy before, but it was damn near a ruin now. Bookshelves lay in shattered heaps upon the floor. Some of them were on fire. A section of bedding was on fire, too. Books that once sat in wobbly piles were now scattered everywhere, many of them smashed, torn, and ruined. The smoke that drifted around the domed ceiling was likely going to ruin many more.

“Should we get some buckets, fill them with water?" Nesh stomped on a piece of burning wood, squelching flames beneath his boot.

“No, that will only ruin more of his belongings." I neared one of the largest remaining fires, then turned the side of my body towards it. Gently, I eased Nesh aside with a foreleg. “Stay behind me. This will not be the first inadvertent indoor fire I've had to put out."

Nesh scurried around to get to safety, putting me between himself and the flames. “Oh? You dragons tend to burn your own houses down often, do you?"

Ignoring Nesh, I stretched a wing out to it's full extent. Then beat it hard and sharp, sending a gust of wind across the burning bookshelf debris. Flame whipped and stirred, embers whirled into the air, and smoke billowed away. I repeated the motion several times, each wing-stroke stronger than the last, till the gusts became squalls, enough to blow out the fire and leave a smoldering pile of wreckage in its wake.

“There." I gazed around, and settled on the next batch of flames to quell. “If you want to get some water to pour over it now, Melakar's bathing area was that way." I flicked a wing tip towards a side tunnel we had not been down earlier. “Just enough to ensure the flames do not start up again, though. Melakar will haunt me long enough as it is for the books we've already ruined. Let us not add more."

While my vassal fetched the water, I worked to douse the rest of the fires. I'd set more of them than I realized. Given I'd been blindly blasting my flames, I suppose I should not have been surprised. As I pumped my wing to blow out a cluster of flaming blankets and bed-furs, I tried to recall if I'd ever been in a fight like that before.

Through my life, I had seen many battles. Most of them were with dragon-slayers and other humans, and their occasional allies. But I had fought gryphons before as well, and in greater number than that. I'd even fought other dragons a few times. But until today, humans were the only ones who sought to poison me. Even then, it was through the use of envenomed arrows and other weapons. As times had changed, and their weaponry grew ever more advanced, the humans resorted less and less to trying to poison us. It seemed the gryphons were picking up their tactics, now.

When I heard the whispering rush of water being poured and the hiss of steam, I turned towards Nesh. A pale gray cloud surrounded him as he doused smoldering rubble. I called out to him. “Earlier, you did not have a chance to answer. How long have your people been working with gryphons?"

Nesh emptied out the last of his bucket before jogging back towards the bathing area's hallway. “Longer than I've been alive, at least. There's dozens of them in the city, now, at least four flights, I think."

After he vanished into the tunnel, I returned to my work, but my mind was on the gryphons. Our two peoples had often been enemies in the past. Though our divisions were not as bitter as they were with humanity, they were perhaps older and longer lasting. Long before humans took to shooting us from the skies, and challenging our ancestor's control of the mountains, we fought with gryphons for food, and territory. They were not as large or long lived, but they bred faster, and were often more social, with large tribes eager to forge alliances.

Wars between tribes of dragons and gryphons were bloody stains upon the history of both our species. Such conflicts were long before the time of any living gryphon or dragon that I knew of, but those tensions lingered. I could not help but wonder if gryphons had joined with the humans, specifically to have an advantage over us. I sighed, and shook my head after quelling the last of the flames. All that work it seemed Melakar had done towards forging a truce with humans, and the damn gryphons beat him to it.

As Nesh worked to extinguish the hotspots, I busied myself trying to circulate some of the accumulated smoke out. I used my wings to fan it towards the main exit tunnel, and up into the areas where the air vents were. Nesh assured me the other rooms were not anywhere near as smoky, so at least we had somewhere to retreat too if my efforts failed.

While I slowly made my way around the room, I tried not to let memories of time spent here with Melakar overwhelm me. Before our great falling out, we had spent as much time here as in my own home, perhaps more so. Melakar's main chamber, though messy, had more room for multiple dragons than mine did. Many were the days we spent, lazily curled together atop his bedding, sharing food, conversation, and company. Once we had Vevarek, Melakar would read him stories from his old books till we all fell asleep.

I had many other sorts of memories from Melakar's home, as well, both pleasant and not. We had argued there countless times, fought a few other times. It was not unusual for truly angry dragons to take to combat with one another. After all, fire and war were in our blood. We were sturdily built, and so long as claws and teeth were used only sparingly, and flames kept out of it, no one ever came away with anything more than bruises to body and pride. There were never any hard feelings, afterwards. Most times we fought, I was victorious over Melakar, forcing him to yield or back away and bow his head in submission. He never once held my victories against me. Nor did he ever gloat when he occasionally bested me. After all, such battles were less about victory or survival than they were about relieving tensions, and alleviating anger.

Even when Melakar did force me to yield once in a great while, it was not long before he sought to help ease any lingering pain. Gentle caresses and tender licks went a long way to helping a dragon's bruised body feel better. And as often as not, tender licks soon turned far more intimate. I had such memories of that from around Melakar's home, as well. Perhaps, I thought, when I had healed, and Nesh and I were safe, I would regale my concubine with a few such tales just to see how many shades of crimson he would turn.

“Alright," Nesh said, approaching me. “I think I've got them all. Doesn't look like anything else is going to burst into flame again." He tilted his head, giving me a lopsided smile. “As long as you don't set it on fire again, anyway."

“I'll consider it." I lifted a paw to rub my nostrils. The scent of smoke was ever so slowly growing stronger, even as I'd cleared much of it from the room. “We should gather the Queen's Mantle, and leave this place. The gryphons know where it is, now, and-"

“You're not going anywhere until I've tended your wounds, seen about those poisons, and gotten a good rest." Nesh moved to stand in front of me, shaking a single finger at my snout. “You might be covered in scales and armor, but I'd wager it would still hurt like hell if I grasped one of your ears and twisted it into a knot, so you'd best do what I say."

I tilted my head, lifting my spiny frills. “So…your plan is to threaten me with pain, to get me to behave?"

“I…well…" Nesh faltered, rubbing the back of his shaggy head-fur. “Not quite the way it sounded in my head. But when I was little, my mother used to threaten to drag me around by my ear if I didn't listen."

“How very dragon-like of her." I stretched my wings, gazing back at them. Ribbons of dried blood marked them in quite a places. Both of them were bruised, and one of them was torn all along its edges. Just seeing them seemed to remind my body of just how badly I'd gotten knocked around by those gryphons, and suddenly everything hurt, all at once. My ribs throbbed a sharp protest. Claw-lines cut through my face, my chest, and other portions of my body burned and stung. My lungs ached, and my vision swam as if to remind me of how close I'd come to passing out. I lifted a forepaw to rub my eyes. “Were they trying to kill me, or capture me alive?"

“If I had to guess?" Nesh beckoned for me to lower my head. “Alive. But dead would have been acceptable as well, I'm certain."

“Why would they wish to capture me alive?" I lowered my head for him, allowing him to peer into my eyes. “To publicly torture me in front of humans?"

“Well…" Nesh swallowed, using his fingers to hold one of my eyes-open. “I'd love to say no, but…publicly executing a dragon who wiped out an entire aerial defense brigade would be a morale boost. But just as likely, someone hoped to interrogate you about your valley and its defenses."

I snorted, blowing Nesh's hair around. “You are looking at the valley's only remaining defense. I fact I fear my mercy will allow them to make known."

“Probably." Nesh moved to my other eye, staring into it.

“All the more reason for us to retreat to my-"

“No." This time, Nesh's voice was like forged steel. “No, you're not going anywhere. Your eyes are impossibly bloodshot and wildly dilated, you've got wounds still bleeding, your lungs are probably struggling to oxygenate your blood, and frankly, the fact you can still stand and conduct a coherent conversation after what you just went through is approaching miraculous. I refuse to allow you to fly anywhere, at least until I've treated what I can, and you've rested until the morning."

“And how exactly do you propose to stop me, if I disagree?"

“Incessant nagging." Nesh gripped my muzzle between both hands, chuckling. “And, I dunno, I'll poke you in the eye, or something."

That made me rumble in amusement, despite my pain. “I think my eyes have been through enough already. Very well, Nesh. I will stay and guard the Queen's Mantle until morning. Then we will take it with us. But if the gryphons return, I am not certain I capable of fighting them off again."

“You're definitely not." Nesh patted my nose, then went to fetch his supply bag. “Come on then, let's get you settled in that Mantle Room, if that's where you want to stay."

I padded after Nesh, losing energy with every step. Much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I was certainly not up for another battle, and I was starting to think I might not have even made it home. “If the gryphons do return-"

“Which they won't." Nesh glanced at me over his shoulder as we crossed through the room with Melakar's map. “At least, not without regroup and reinforcements, and that'll take days."

“You'd best hope you're right." I playfully snapped my jaws at him, entering the room that housed the Mantle. “Because if they do return, I'm going to have to negotiate with them."

Nesh spread a few spare fur blankets out on the floor. “I'm not sure why that's a bad thing."

“Because." I eased down onto my belly atop one of the blankets, grinning at my vassal. “When I say negotiate, I mean, offer all four gryphons your services as concubine."

“Oh, Gods." Nesh put a hand over his suddenly red face. “That's not…I mean, how would I…wait!" He dropped his hand, glaring at me. “Two of them are male!"

“That's the part that most frightens you?" I chuckled, draping my sore wings out at my side. “Those two would be the easiest to tend."

Nesh laughed, shaking his head. “And I thought you intimidating." He came forward and patted my neck. “Wait here while I go see what useful things I can find in their harnesses. I'll bring you some water, too."

I gazed around the room while I waited. My eyes wandered across the Mantle, and for a few moments, I stared at it, absorbed in its beauty. Where the hell had Melakar discovered it? I was certain he would have kept detailed notes around, somewhere, that would answer such questions. Yet, with our enemy darkening the entryway to our homes, I was not sure I could linger here long enough to solve all the mysteries I had uncovered.

My gaze fell upon the portrait in the corner. It was so strange to see myself painted wearing the Mantle, as if I was some great queen of old. I was no queen. Hell, given the way my recent battles had gone, I was not sure I could still call myself a warrior, either. In my younger days, I had won my battles far more decisively, or so it seemed. I hadn't blown myself out of the sky, or let myself get pinned by a gaggle of squawking crows. Even if I had bested them all without difficulty, I did not feel worthy to wear such an important part of our people's history. Yet, somehow, Melakar felt otherwise. Even after a decade apart, after bitter words and too much foolish pride, Melakar saw something in me I had never seen in myself.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?" Nesh dragged an entire gryphon's cargo harness into the room. He set it down near me, smiling at the painting. “He must have thought the world of you."

“Perhaps we were more alike than we cared to admit." I sighed, looking away. “He may have preferred words, to claws, but we each had too much pride at the end, to admit that…that we still…" I licked my muzzle, and trailed off, my throat tightening.

“That you still loved each other?" Nesh crouched down and dug through the gryphon's harness. “Not that it makes it any easier, but…humans do that to themselves sometimes, too. Let pride get in the way."

I sighed, hanging my head. My ears drooped. “Is it that easy to tell?"

“Not at first." Nesh pulled a few pouches out and set them aside, hesitating. “It's in your eyes, though. I can see it there, when you talk about him, when you think about him. There's love in you still, and I think…" Nesh gestured at the portrait. “I think it took him believing you lost to him to realize that, and I think it took you…truly losing him, to understand the same."

A few tears ran down the pebbly scale of my muzzle. They made the claw wounds on my cheek burn more harshly. Ever-so-slowly, I turned my gaze towards Nesh. He busied himself taking things out of the gryphon's harness, and adding them to his own stock pile of medical supplies. I wondered just how a human could be so insightful about a dragon, after so short a time spent alongside them. Perhaps it was just in his nature. He wanted to help, everyone and always.

“Why did you stay, Nesh?" I reached out with a forepaw to gently brush his arm. “Now, I mean. Why didn't you go with the gryphons, while you had the chance? I would not have stopped you."

Nesh flashed me a smile, but it was too brief to be completely genuine. “You still needed medical treatment. Speaking of which, let's-"

“No." I put my paw across his supplies, shaking my head. “First you tell me the truth. Why did you stay?"

Nesh's hands went still, and he gave a low, shuddering sigh. “Promise you won't make fun of me."

It sounded like such a childish request I would have laughed it off if he did not speak it so earnestly. I nodded once. “I promise, Nesh."

Nesh tugged his satchel out from under my paws. He retrieved his flask of spirits from it, opened it, and took a swig. He coughed, then took a second, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “When I…when I woke up, after you attacked us." The flask trembled in his hand and he slowly set it down. “Not everyone was dead, yet."

My belly twisted, and I curled my tail around my paws. I remembered planning to let the elements finish a few of them off. In a way, Nesh and I were both lucky I made such a choice. If I'd finished off the survivors, Nesh might well have been among them. I suspected he knew as much, and so I did not interrupt him.

“There were three of them, still alive. I…I wanted so desperately to help them." Nesh ran a hand down his face, grimacing. “But…there wasn't anything I could do, for them. They'd lost too much blood, or…too many internal injuries. All I could do was…was all you could do, for Melakar." He sniffled, wiping his eyes. “I held their hands, cradled their heads. Wished I could save them, but all I could do was watch them die. Tell them I'd…I'd find their wives, tell them how much they loved them, tell their children how brave their fathers were, in their last moments? I didn't even know those men, how…how would I find their families? I…I'd seen men die, before, but…" Nesh squeezed his hands together to try and stop the shaking. “I'd never felt so…so helpless. Like the gods themselves were laughing at the medic who couldn't save anyone. I stumbled off into the snow, wondering…wondering why the gods even bothered to let me live, if not for some cruel joke."

I swallowed hard, half-wishing Nesh had told me that part earlier. But what good would it have done either of us, if he had?

“And then you were there, and I thought I was going to die, anyway." Nesh popped his flask open and took another swig. I doubted that was good for him, but I was not about to deny him its calming effects. “I think, when I tried to pull my pistol on you, it was the only time in all my life, I ever wanted revenge. It was only an instant, a momentary desire, but I wanted to put a pistol ball through your eye, and right into your brain. I wanted to put you down for all the men you'd murdered." He laughed, nervous, shaking his head. “And then I fumbled it into the snow, and I knew once and for all that death was not my place."

“You were brave, Nesh." Gentle as I could, I reached out and squeezed his arm. “Few men would dare try such a thing, let alone ask not for mercy, but for a quick end. You impressed me, truth be told."

Nesh patted my paw with his hand. “Didn't feel brave, but thank you just the same. It was strange, though. Terrified as I was, some…deep part of me was relieved that I dropped the gun. I know I could live with taking a life to protect myself, if I had to, but…it would be difficult, for me. And revenge? That's…that's not me. I thought, if I'm going to die, now…at least I'll die true to myself. And then…" Nesh rubbed the back of one hand with the other, shrugging. “Then I had a chance to help you, instead. And that same deep part of me spoke up, reminded me that…that helping people is what I do. I could not help but think the gods had spared me for a reason, and it would be foolish of me to throw that back in their faces by refusing to cooperate with a monster."

I cocked my head, curious. “Do you still think me a monster? You may answer honestly, I will not be angry."

“No." The swiftness and forcefulness of Nesh's reply surprised me. “I think you've done monstrous things, but no, I don't think you're a monster. Not since I saw you crying, and hiding from the cold, cruel world in your own wings. That…that was when it changed, for me."

I pulled my head back, flattening my ears. Breaking down in front of him was not my proudest moment.

“Truth is, I didn't know what to think of you, before that. In some ways, you were just like the old tales, but in others, you were ever so different." Nesh waved a hand at me, chuckling. “Making jokes, talking about your family…but it…it all became clear to me, when you saw Melakar's portrait on your wall, and you started sobbing." Nesh crawled over to me to rest his hand upon my foreleg. “That was when I knew you were telling the truth, about your family. About Melakar. You were…suddenly in so much pain, and yet you seemed…so ashamed of it. I think I knew, then, that you aren't evil, Ella. You're not a monster. You're just…" Nesh put his hand against my chest, over my head. “You're just broken, inside. That you had lost something truly dear to you, and that you had not slain those men of malice, but because in your mind, they were the murderers. They kill dragons because they believe you're evil, and you kill dragon slayers because they murder those you love. That doesn't make it right, or forgivable, it just makes it a terrible cycle. But then I realized…" Nesh rubbed my chest plates, smiling up at me. “Cycles can be broken." He swept a hand towards the portrait of me, wearing the Mantle. “I think Melakar realized the same thing."

I followed his gesture towards the painting, blinking back tears. Was that what this had been about, for Melakar? Breaking some…age old cycle of bloodshed? It would have been just like him…

“I think…when you were crying, in front of me?" Nesh patted my chest, still smiling his oddly comforting smile. “That was when I realized just how lost you were, Ella. Bereft of the only person left to you, to help…to help moor to something better than vengeance, and violence. And I knew that it was something we had done, something my people took from you. When my people killed Melakar, we had set you adrift. And then I started to see it, the truth of it all, taking shape right before my eyes, in the guise of a dragon, sobbing into her own wings."

I swung my head back towards him, ears splayed. “What truth?"

Nesh held up a single finger towards my muzzle. “This is the part you're not allowed to make fun of me for, as I fear this will sound ever so foolish out loud."

I managed a little smile. “You already have my word, Nesh."

He nodded once. “As silly as it sounds…" Nesh went quiet a few moments. He stacked up gauze and clean bandages and sinewy threads, as if trying to busy himself while deciding how best to put things. “I've made it clear that I believe in the gods, and…I…believe that they have a purpose for everyone, however big or small. And I truly believe that my purpose is to help people, to heal them, to save their lives, to…" He rubbed one of the bandages, staring at it. “To mend them, however I can. I grappled with it, all day, before we met. Why couldn't I save them? Why had I survived, if not to save them? And the truth of it, it struck me like a revelation from the gods themselves, when I saw you crying for Melakar, and I realized, even the dragons have hearts, and souls. That was when I realized that it wasn't the dragon-slayers I was meant to save." Nesh put his hand against me again, his voice a whisper. “It was the dragon."

That stunned me. I pulled my head back, staring down at him in awed confusion. “You think…you think the gods…wanted you to save me?"

Nesh held his hands up. “No making fun, remember? And…and that's not…" He sighed, dropping his arms back down. “That's not quite how it sounded in my head. You see, I believe that…well, the gods want us to have free will, but, that doesn't mean they don't also want the best for us. The gods don't make our choices for us, they just put us in position to make the right choice for ourselves. And they sheltered me, when you attacked us. They led you to us, and they gave you the chance to spare my life. They put us together, Ella, and no matter how foolish it sounds, I believe they did so for a reason. When I saw you crying, I knew what we'd ripped away from you. Your heart. We'd left a ragged void inside your soul that you were going to fill with vengeance, again and again, until it ended you. Because you had no one left, and nothing left to live for but your vengeance, and your valley. You would have died for your valley, and…the cycle would turn again. But now?"

Nesh reached for my forepaw, and when I lifted it, he cradled it between his hands. His touch was warm and soft. “But you're not alone now, Ella. Not anymore." Nesh squeezed my paw, offering a comforting smile. With his every word, my throat grew tighter, and more tears brimmed in my eyes. “I chose to stay, Ella, because more than anything, I know you needed a friend. And now you have one. You're not alone anymore, Ella. It might not be worth much to a dragon, but you have my friendship for as long as you'll accept it. And I promise." He leaned forward to put his hand upon my chest plates. “I'll find a way to fill your void." His smile faltered as soon as the words left his lips. “That also sounded better in my head."

Laughter and tears alike poured from me in an unexpectedly happy flood. I pulled Nesh against me, hugging him with both forelegs. “You'd better find a way to fill it, Concubine, or you won't be much use to me for long!"

“Okay, okay!" Nesh laughed with me, trying to hug me back best he could. “I see how it is. I bare my soul, and it's right back to the filthy jokes."

I lowered my head to nuzzle his cheek. “That's how you know I like you." I took a shuddering breath, easing back from him. “Thank you, Nesh. That…that means more to me than I suspect you realize." I glanced up at the portrait again. “You know, when the gryphons had me pinned, I…I almost gave up. Only when I heard you defending me did I decide to keep fighting. I realized in that moment, that…that you are a far better person than I have ever been. For that matter, so was Melakar. And I told myself that if I survived…I would strive to make myself someone you could be proud of. Someone…someone worthy of your kindness." I closed my eyes, picturing Melakar smiling at me. “Someone Melakar would have been proud of."

Nesh rubbed my forepaw, quiet for several long moments. “I'm genuinely honored, then."

Slowly, I opened my eyes again. “I think…" An idea was forming in my head, small at first, but gradually piecing itself together. “I think I want to carry on in Melakar's stead." I'd need time to put the details together, to decide how far I was willing to go, but if Melakar had the courage to die for an impossible dream, then I was damn sure not about to let that dream die with him. “Maybe…maybe we can still find a way for your people to make peace with dragons, while there are still dragons left."

“I can imagine no better way to honor his memory." Nesh patted my paw, wiping a tear from his eye. “So, now you know why I stayed, will you finally let me treat your damn wounds?"

I rumbled laughter again, curling my neck. “If you haven't drank all the damn spirits."

Nesh tugged his supply satchel closer. “I have more." He waved at the gryphon's harness. “They came loaded for dragons, I'll give them that. I'll whip up some counteragents based on their supplies, but I think at this point, you're over the worst of what they did to you."

“Until you start cleaning and sewing my many wounds." I curled my neck, looking myself over. Blood both dried and fresh stained my scales, along with ash and soot. “At least you don't have to dig any bullets out this time."

“True." Nesh retrieved a metallic flask from the gryphon's satchel, along with a clean cloth. Odd lettering was scribed across it. “But it's going to be a lot of work, and…Ella, do you trust me?"

I snorted, tossing my head. “Yes, but dare I ask why?"

“Because I don't want you to hurt, anymore. I've got to scrub all these wounds, stitch the worst of them together…" He held up the bottle. “This is what they tried to use to knock you out, with. I could use it to ease you into a very deep sleep, but, only if you'll let me. If you don't want me to, I won't."

Allow him to plunge me into unconsciousness? For the amount of trust that required from a dragon, I may as well roll over onto my back, bare my belly, and hand him a lance. And yet…I did not hesitate at all. I realized then, that…in our short time together, I had already grown to trust Nesh completely. Whether that said I was a good judge of character, or just desperate for a companion, I did not know. But I knew now, I could trust him with my life.

How rare it must have been, for a dragon to trust a human so completely.

“Go ahead, Nesh." I made myself as comfortable as I could on the fur blankets, and laid down my head. Fatigue crashed against me in an instant, quickly dragging me towards slumber's dark waters. “I trust you."

“Alright." Nesh leaned forward, stroking my neck. “Don't worry about anything, okay? I'll take care of you. And whatever happens, Ella, I promise. I'll keep you safe."

Safe.

I so very much liked the sound of that. As I drifted into the peaceful darkness, I wondered if a human had ever before promised a dragon such a thing. Just as I dozed off, I made a matching promise in my head.

I'll keep you safe too, Nesh.

*****

And that, for now, is where it ends. I do hope you've enjoyed, and thank you so much for reading! If you've enjoyed the story, please click the FAVE button, and leave me a comment with all your thoughts on the! Your support means the world.