FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

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Chapter Thirty One

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Alvaranox flew far beyond Asterryl. Beyond the checkerboard farmlands and past the little villages and hamlets. Away from the spider web networks of paths and roads running between farms and markets and tiny inns. Further than he could ever remember flying to the east. Until at last the signs of civilization mostly died away and human habitation was marked only by a few major roads that stretched on into the distance.

Nylah and Kirra spent the first part of the day’s flight in near silence. They whispered to each other, but their words were lost to the rushing wind and Alv did not ask them to raises their voices. He suspected they were discussing his mental condition. That was fine. Let them worry if they wished too. Perhaps their worry should have dismayed him. Yet the dragon felt glad to have someone to worry about him in the first place. Truth was, he was a little worried about himself.

“My father was a black dragon…”

Now and then Alv broke his own silence with the murmuring of his mantra. The dragon wasn’t even sure why he kept saying it now. Kirra would not let him forget his father. Thanks the repetition of those words, Alv could not forget him either. That had been the point at first, but now it was becoming a habit. A way for him to grasp at a sliver of real memory any time he felt himself sinking beneath the waters of falsehood once more. Yet there was more too it. When his mind felt uncertain, when he wasn’t sure what was real, or when he woke from some glimpse of insanity, Alv clung to that memory. To that phrase. The words were a log bobbing in a twisted illusion, and Alv was the rat that clung to them. As long as he repeated those words, he could not lose his mind.

Right?

Right.

Right?

“Do you think I’m losing my mind?” Alv suddenly spoke up, turning his head to gaze back at his riders. Coppery confusion whirled in his eyes. “Sometimes I worry, lately…”

“Alv…” Nylah pulled back her hood a little as she leaned around Nylah. Strands of gray hair whipped around her face.

“Sometimes I see her.” The dragon turned his gaze back to the horizon. The world ahead of him looked green, beautiful, and still damp from the rain. He wondered if it was real. “Rain. She talks to me. I think it’s the collar, but…”

“I’m sure it’s just the collar, Alv!” Kirra leaned forward, patting his neck. “It’s playing tricks on you.”

“But why?” The dragon bared his fangs, hissing. “It used to be…so direct.”

“You never knew it was affecting you,” Nylah said, lifting her voice over the wind. She encircled an arm around Kirra for stability, and to keep the younger woman from leaning too far in any direction. “It called to you to rise, it told you to fight, and if you resisted it forced you. But beyond that, you did not know how completely it shrouded the world from your eyes, and your memories from your mind. I suspect…” Nylah trailed off.

“What?” Alv glanced back again, watching her for a moment. “What is it? If you know anything, tell me. When I saw Rain this morning, she was…taunting me. I knew it wasn’t her, and she…it…teased me about that.”

Nylah tightened her grip on Kirra as she leaned forward to speak up over her shoulder. “This is just a theory, but…I suspect the more it loses its hold on one part of your mind, the more it affects the rest of your mind. It can alter what you see, what you remember, and its using that against you. Seeing Rain is…it’s as though it is using old memories to try and build new ones, but it can no longer make those memories take hold. So you see them for what they truly are, an illusion. Altered and affected by your own perception. You know Rain is gone, so when the collar tries to make you see her, you own knowledge affects the perception. You see her and yet you know it is the collar that is showing her to you, and that changes her into something negative.”

Alvaranox sighed, turning his gaze back to the horizon.

“It’s only a theory, Alv,” Nylah said, her voice just barely audible over the cold wind rushing against them. She patted the dragon’s scales beneath her body. “We are here for you, Alv. You know that, right?”

“Yes, Alv!” Kirra called out, leaning her body against the back of the dragon’s neck to try and hug him. “We love you, Alv, and don’t you forget it!”

We love you, Alv.

Alvaranox didn’t think that was what Kirra meant to say. Somehow he suspected she meant something like, we care about you. The difference was slight yet ever so important. Kirra was so adept at finding just the wrong words at the wrong time, he wondered if he even realized what she’d just said. He felt the two women shifting against him, Nylah must have heard it. Whatever the case, Alv could not bring himself to correct her. Nor could he bring himself to answer her even as several replies rolled through his head tickled his tongue. They were in turn, sarcastic and bitter, tender yet heartbreaking, and sweet but embarrassing. He cast them all aside.

In the end, Alvaranox simply gave the women a smile. “I know. Thank you.”

The rest of the day was spent in simple conversation as Alv flew on. The clouds slowly cleared and the sun broke through. The ground rolled beneath the dragon’s wings, mile after mile vanishing behind them. Alvaranox hoped one of his riders knew how to get to Delverrix, because he sure as hell didn’t. The dragon supposed if nothing else, he could simply follow the largest roads from town to town. Sooner or later he’d reach his destination.

When the sun began to set, Alv started looking for a good place to camp. If they’d left earlier they could have made one of the other large towns. While he doubted any of them would have an inn room fit for a dragon, at least his riders could have slept in a bed. Still, both women had brought gear for camping out in the moors, and the dragon certainly didn’t mind sleeping under the stars.

Alv decided up on a large, grassy hill with a stand of weeping willows atop it. The dragon had always rather liked willow trees. Something about the way they almost seemed to hug the ground, as if trying to comfort any weary traveler settling beneath them. He remembered in his youth when he was scared, and hurt, there was a willow tree he used to curl beneath. He would cry there alone, where no one could see him until the pain and fear had faded a little. He sheltered beneath his own developing wings, the willow boughs blessing him with their comforting touch.

“I remember something,” Alavaranox said just after touching down upon the gently sloped hill. The dragon lowered himself to his belly to let his riders climb off. The sun had been out long enough to dry the grass. “From my youth. Before I met Nylah.”

“Do you want to share it?” Nylah unbuckled the straps that held her gear against the dragon’s body.

Alvaranox tried not to squirm as the women removed their belongings. The feeling of leather straps sliding over his scales tickled a little. He licked his nose. The dragon’s copper eyes caught the sunset, the pain behind then burned with red fire. “No. No, I do not.”

“Alright, Alv,” Nylah said, coming to rub his nose a little. “Try and remember happier things.”

“Until I met you, Nylah, there was nothing happy to remember.” Alv saw Nylah tense up for just a moment.

Before he could ask her about it, Kirra stepped in front of him. “Try and remember something happy, anyway.” She smiled and stroked under his jaw. “It doesn’t have to be from before Nylah. What’s the happiest thing you can remember, right now?”

“When we went swimming.” The dragon’s reply was soft, almost a whisper. It slipped from his tongue before he could even pause to consider it.

Kirra’s face went red, her eyes widened in surprise. She glanced away, then quickly shouldered her pack. “I would have guessed when you finally got all those stitches out and didn’t have to put up with us any more.”

“No,” Alvaranox said, glancing down at his paws. “It was…well, you were naked. I mean, I was too. I always am…”

Kirra giggled to herself, glancing over at Nylah. Alv followed her gaze, thankful to see if the old lady was listening in she had the decency to pretend to ignore them. “Oh, so that’s why it’s a happy memory. You dirty lizard.”

“No,” Alvaranox said, shaking his head. “Seeing you naked didn’t make me happy at all!” Then his ears pinned back, his crests reddened and his nose flushed. “I mean…it did, actually, quite happy…”

Damn it, what was wrong with him? Where was his quick wit, his smugness? Why were his verbal teeth suddenly so dull? Alvaranox suddenly knew how Kirra must feel every day of her life. He could scarcely find enough words to string together to form a sentence. What words he did catch hold of spilled from his tongue in a fumbling cascade of embarrassment. Kirra may be used to shoving her own foot in her mouth but Alvaranox was just learning the bitter taste of his own hind paws. His crests and inner ears flushed quite purple, his nostrils following suit.

“It isn’t that you were naked,” Alvaranox spat, glancing away. He pinned his ears back, flattening out his spiny frills. “It is…that was when I knew we were truly friends, now.”

Gods, but that sounded embarrassing when spoken aloud. Like something a hatchling would say after a day with a new play mate. He expected Kirra to giggle and tease him. Or to stumble over her own words while attempting to assuage his embarrassment and make him feel even worse. Kirra did none of those things. Instead, she kept her mouth shut. She set her pack back down, and returned to wrap her arms around the dragon’s muzzle, hugging him tightly.

“You silly beast,” she finally murmured. She leaned her face against his head, between his ridged, black horns. “Of course we’re friends. You knew that before then.”

Alvaranox sighed, his warm breath ruffling Kirra’s clothes. “That…that was when it seemed real. I knew you wanted to be friends, and I had grown to like you, but…” The dragon closed his eyes. Kirra slipped a hand under his head to stroke his jaw line, and Alvaranox began to purr. He tried to keep the sound soft, like a couple of rocks rolling around in a barrel lined with velvet. He hoped the old lady wasn’t listening. “You told me how you thought I was beautiful the night before. The words were still in my head the next day. We went for trophies and I…saw things. We went home and all you wanted was for me to feel better. That was all you cared about. You suggested we swim and…well, it was something a friend would say. As soon as you spoke it, I wanted very much just to go swimming with you. It sounds ever so foolish, but I was happy the rest of the day, and I was so very grateful to have another friend.” The dragon opened his eyes, trying to peer at Nylah in his peripheral vision. “Even if the old lady put us up to it.”

“Hmm?” Nylah lifted her head, glancing over as innocent as could be. She was busy putting wooden stakes in the earth to anchor a tarp. “Did you say something, Dragon?”

“Nothing you should be listening in on, anyway.” Alv snorted, but smiled against Kirra. Nylah smiled back at him for a moment and turned away. It was all the thanks he needed to show, and all that she needed to see.

“I think that’s a lovely happiest moment,” Kirra said, kissing the dragon’s head just between his horns. “Its one of mine lately, as well.”

“What is your happiest, then?” The dragon cocked his head a little.

“A three way tie, I think.” Kirra straightened up, fidgeting with her cloak.

“Between what?”

“Knowing you were going to live.” Kirra smiled at him a moment. “That’s probably the real number one, actually. After that…being asked out to your island, and…”

“Yes?” Alvaranox waved his paw, grinning. “I’ve told you mine.”

“It’s embarrassing,” Kirra said, giggling. Her face looked like the sunset, red yet beautiful, her hair shone in the fading fire.

“So is being teased about becoming aroused over the sight of a naked human woman.” Alvaranox snorted, blowing her hair around.

“Good point,” Kirra said, smirking at him. “This isn’t that embarrassing.”

“So what is it?”

Kirra took a deep breath, then smiled. She wrapped her cloak around herself, and went to help Nylah put the tent together. Her words drifted back to the dragon, and lifted his heavy heart. “Waking up alongside you, and knowing you want me there.”

Alvaranox did not bother to try and hide his smile. Nor did he hide the fact he was watching Kirra as she walked away from him. When she reached Nylah the older woman touched her arm and smiled to her. They exchanged a few soft words the dragon couldn’t make out, then they both flashed him a smile. Nylah said something else brought Kirra’s blush back. The younger woman looked away, giggling as she hide her face inside the hood of her cloak.

Alvaranox padded over to them across the soft grass. He passed alongside one of the willow trees. His right wing twitched when the thin leaves of a drooping bough tickled it. “Must you two gossip about me that way?”

“Yes.” Nylah used a little mallet to pound another stake into the ground. “We must.”

“You act as though you’ve never seen a dragon before.”

“Hardly what we’re gossiping about.” Nylah tossed a stake to Kirra. She crouched down, and after Nylah passed her the mallet, she pounded it into place as well.

“Then what are you whispering?” Alvaranox flicked his tail a few times, the spines dragged against the grass.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Kirra said, giggling. She tossed the mallet back to Nylah, and began to tie an anchoring rope to the stake. “Why don’t you go hunt yourself some dinner?”

Alvaranox snorted, narrowing his copper eyes. “Trying to get rid of me, are you? Very well.” He lifted his head, peering out over the moors. He’d never been this far east of Asterryl. At least, not as far as he could remember. Still, it looked much like the lands west of Asterryl. He lifted his paw, gesturing at the beautiful, green-gray vista stretching out before them. “This is…real, isn’t it? I mean, it’s not dead here?”

Kirra rose back to her feet. She put a hand on the dragon’s neck, standing alongside him as she stared out over the land. The sunset cast streamers of fire over the green hills, bathing them in radiance. “It’s real, Alv. It’s beautiful.”

“Good.” The dragon glanced down at Kirra after a moment, grinning. “I should hate to find myself snatching at phantom prey.”

“You’ve never had trouble with that before, have you?” Kirra stroked his neck.

“No, but usually when I’m hunting I haven’t gone so far as to reach the dying lands. There is plenty of prey around Asterryl.” The dragon growled to himself, tossing his horned head. He sunk his claws into the earth, tensing his forelegs. “I suppose because they’ve all been forced to find greener lands on which to graze.”

“It’s plenty green out there,” Kirra said, making a sweeping gesture towards the lands beyond their hill. “Which means maybe Rain’s out there somewhere. Other dragons, too.”

“Perhaps,” Alvaranox said. He wasn’t yet sure he believed that. No sense in getting his hopes up now. As far as he could tell, the dragons were a dying race. They were probably already dead, with only the guardian slave to carry on their bloodline until the day he too fell. Or, fell again, he supposed. “You know, Kirra. Not many dragons can say they’ve survived dying.”

“What?” Kirra gave him a baffled look.

“Nevermind.” Alvaranox grinned at her. He gently pushed her back with a fore paw to give himself some room to take off. “I’ll be back in a little while. I expect you two to be prepared to massage all the ache of my body after I return.”

“Expect to be disappointed then,” Kirra said, returning to Nylah to help her finish putting up their tent. “Hunt well!”

“I always do.” Alvaranox ran down the hill, and leapt into the sky. He spread his wings, ascending swiftly. He spiraled up over the hill, calling down to his friends. “I’ll bring you back the head, Kirra!”

Kirra’s no-doubt insulting reply was lost to the wind.

Alvaranox rose in ever-widening spirals. The dragon took careful survey of the lands to make sure he could find his way back to the hill on which they camped. It was not the largest hill in the area, nor was it the only one capped with a willow grove. He made note of a few landmarks to help him find his way back. A nearby hill was capped with an immense limestone boulder that resembled an oversized dragon’s skull. A bit morbid, but memorable. Another hill had a cluster of trees all topped with sprawling nests that looked to served as homes for an entire village of birds. In different direction, there was a pond that glowed gold in the dying light. It held a distinct shape that resembled a letter he knew from the human alphabet.

With a few landmarks in mind, the dragon flew further from the campsite to find himself some food. It felt strange to be flying above such unfamiliar lands. All his years in Asterryl and he’d flown over the same stretch of ground time and again. Out to his island, or to the Va’chaak swamps. Out to the ruins where he was attacked, or to guard the roads around them. He’d grown accustomed to the familiar landmarks long before he ever realized some of them weren’t really there. But he’d rarely had reason to fly to far to the east.

Come to think of it, he could not recall the collar ever letting him fly too far to the east. Now and then he’d chased prey in that direction, or flown a ways along the lake of teeth. But the lake stretched on much further to the east than it did to the north, and he’d never flown it all the way to its end. Vague memories floated through his mind. He’d flown its banks for a while before the collar made him turn around. Not that his memories were at all reliable. But for whatever it was worth, this was the furthest the dragon could ever remember the collar letting him fly.

This was also the first time he’d ever flown this way with Nylah and Kirra. It must be because his handler was with him that the collar was allowing it. Or could it be something else? The collar had never summoned him too far to the east, aside from the occasional trip to route a nest of bandits or protect some travelers. Maybe it just wanted him to go and put a stop to the Circle before they tried to take his life again.

Alvaranox would be happy to do just that.

The sight of plentiful prey called the dragon back from his thoughts. A herd of Black Spot was just bedding down in a mossy glade below the dragon. Black Spot were a species deer named for the ebony spots all along red-gold fur of the backs of the adults. They were not the largest of deer species, but their flesh had an especially sweet taste to it. Alv hadn’t seen Black Spot in ages. He didn’t even know what the humans called them, but to him they’d always been Black Spot.

The dragon smiled as memories drifted through his mind. Whenever his mother brought back Black Spot he’d always bounced around in excitement. He loved Black Spot as a youth, even more than he loved Three Horn. He called them Spotties. His mother used to laugh and laugh at his antics whenever she brought one home, or when he knew she was going searching for them.

Spotties, Momma! I want Spotties! Spotties, spotties, spotties!

It was all a lie, wasn’t it.

Maybe not all of it. Surely he had eaten Black Spot in his youth. The dragon sighed, shaking his head. He cursed the collar in his mind. He just wanted to know what really happened. He wanted to know what his real childhood had been like, and what happened to his mother. Even if the knowledge was a knife in his heart, it would be better then living in a home built of lies.

“Spotties,” the dragon murmured to himself, tilting a wing to spin back towards the oblivious herd. “I want Spotties! Spotties, Spotties, Spotties. Yes, you’re on the menu tonight!”

Lies or not, he was going to eat himself some Spotties, and he was going to enjoy it, damn it.

Alv folded his wings, and dove towards the glade. The wind rushed across his body, currents stroking his scales and teasing his sensitive areas. As he neared the earth he began to open his wings, pulling out of his dive just in time to shoot over the heads of the terrified Black Spots. The animals jumped to their hooves, bleating in fear as they ran in all directions. Alv lashed out with his fore paws, sunk claws into flesh. The creature squealed as it was carried aloft, all four legs beating at the air. The dragon hurled it in a lichen-yellowed boulder, then spun back around for another. A few wing beats was all he needed to catch up to another black-spotted deer. Then he simply folded his wings and dropped atop it, crushing its skull beneath the weight of a forepaw.

The dragon gathered the two Black Spot corpses together near the center of the glade, then settled himself down upon the lush, velvety green moss to eat his meal. After spending most of the day in flight, the dragon was ravenous. He tore through the first Black Spot in minutes, leaving little more than bones, hooves and shredded hide. He tossed it aside, and ate the second one a little more leisurely. The meat was just as sweet as he remembered it. Hot blood ran down his throat, warming him.

After the second Black Spot, the dragon was full enough he would have preferred just to curl up there on the moss and sleep. But if he did that, the women would wonder where he was. With a sigh, Alv pushed himself to his feet. He muttered under his breath, padding across the glade towards the scent of water.

“I never get to do anything. Those old betties are always nagging me.” Alv chuckled to himself. He didn’t even know where he’d picked up that phrase. “Bunch of bossy, gossiping old ladies.”

The scent of water lead Alv to a small pond nestled within a rocky basin. The water looked a little murky, mossy stones submerged around its edges told the dragon the recent rains had lifted the water level. Clusters of pale, blue-gray mushrooms upon slender, red-spotted stalks sprung up between the wet stones. The pond’s surface swirled as a little green fish darted for deeper water as the dragon approached. Alvaranox lowered his head, sniffed at the mushrooms and the water, and then began to drink. Though it looked a little cloudy, the water still tasted fresh, like rain and hints of moss. Once his thirst was quenched the dragon used the water to rinse his paws and muzzle. He suspected the women would appreciate him not coming back covered in blood.

For a few moments Alvaranox peered at his faint reflection in the water. With the sun going down, his image was barely there, like a spirit frozen on the surface. Eddies of crimson swirled through it from the blood he’d rinsed off his scales. The golden spot at the end of his nose glistened, still wet. The dragon imagined his mother’s face next to his own. He wondered if she would be proud of him if she was still alive. How old would she be, now? Dragons lived longer then men. If she’d been healthy she would not yet have aged to her end. Alvaranox sighed, and turned away. He lashed his spined tail against the pond, splattering the imagined reflection into a thousand glittering droplets.

What did he know. For all his memories were worth, his mother have already been an elder when she first laid his egg. Or perhaps she was not even his real mother. What if she’d stolen that egg from the black dragon? Alv gnashed his teeth and hissed. What the hell was he talking about? His memories might not be entirely reliable, but sure most of them were real. The collar wouldn’t bother to hide something from him if it wasn’t important. Seemed more likely those men who put him in the collar had murdered his mother to take him away from her. Perhaps she was just too sick or starved to be of use to them.

Alv squeezed his eyes shut. A rush of heat tightened his throat. He held his breath while his eyes burned, shaking his horned head. The dragon wasn’t going to break down crying about this now. Then when? If he didn’t let it out while he was alone he’d just end up breaking down in poor Nylah’s lap again. Or Kirra’s. The dragon turned back to the pond to gulp down a little more water to cool his throat. He took a few deep breaths, the green plates upon his chest expanding and falling as he tried to calm his racing heart.

Once the dragon had taken control of his emotions again, he leapt to the skies. The vibrancy of the fiery sunset had long since faded, leaving little more than a purple gloam in its wake. Night dragged dark wings across the world as the dragon flew. Several hills in the area wore willow tree helmets so it took the dragon a little while to find the one he sought. Eventually he spotted the dragon skull rock and the hill with the entire village of birds. He re-oriented himself, and soon touched down upon soft grass near his friends.

“Hello, Alv,” Kirra called out. “Could you do us a favor and get our fire started?”

“Oh, I see how it is.” Alvaranox shook his wings, and then folded them against his body. He stalked across the wide hilltop towards the woman. By now they had a tent constructed of oilskin tarp lashed to a simple framework staked to the ground. Both women were using coiled bedrolls as seats. Between was a little pyramid of sticks and boughs, ready for the fire. “You just can’t wait to put the dragon to work. Can’t you be bothered to start your own fire?”

Nylah cleared her throat, glaring at Kirra. “I was all set to do just that.” She gave a dismissive wave. “Till Kirra here decided you’d feel more useful if we let you start the fire.”

“Feel more useful?” Alvaranox tossed his head. “I feel plenty useful, all the time. Alright you old hags, move your things out of the way, unless you want your beds to be part of the fire.”

Nylah laughed, scooped up her bedroll and moved aside. Kirra was slower to rise, and when she did finally hoist up her bedroll, she promptly hurled it at the dragon’s head. Alvaranox yelped when the padded roll bounced off his skull, nearly wedged between his horns. He shook his head, rubbed between his horns with a paw, and snarled at Kirra.

“What was that for?”

“For calling me old!” Kirra laughed, and stuck her tongue out at Nylah rather than the dragon. “I may be a hag but I’m less than half the old lady’s age.”

“Yes, yes,” Nylah waved her free hand, holding her bedroll under her other arm. “I’ve one foot in the grave, alright.”

“I hear you’ve got a bony old ass, too,” Alvaranox added.

“That seems to be Kirra’s opinion, as I recall.” Nylah smirked at the younger woman. “I hadn’t known she had much of an opinion on other women’s asses. Still, what was it you said, Dragon? You like what you like.”

“Well, I certainly don’t like your ass, Nylah,” Kirra said, stomping a foot like an angry child. “Or any ass! Well, not other women’s asses anyway. At least not in that way. And not that there’s anything wrong with yours, Nylah, I’m sure it’s a perfect acceptable for a woman of your age. Not that you’re all that old. Well, you are old, certainly, but not that old…not as old…as…” Kirra trailed off, then glanced back and forth between the dragon and the other woman a few times. “This is usually where you tell me to quit while I’m ahead.”

“You haven’t been ahead in years, Kirra.” Alvaranox laughed to himself. “But by all means, continue to extol the virtues of Nylah’s bony old ass.”

“You shut it, Dragon!” Kirra shook a finger at him, grinning. “Just because we’re friends now, doesn’t mean you can get away with acting like a scaly ass all the time!”

“Yes, I suppose you have a point.” Alvaranox licked his nose, lifting his spines a little. “The way I recall it, Nylah was far nicer to me before we considered each other friends. She never used to twist my ears or threaten my stones before we were friends.”

“It’s how I show my love,” Nylah said, adding a mock heart-felt sigh.

“Now there’s an idea,” Kirra said. “Keep teasing me dragon, and I shall kick you in the balls.”

The dragon snorted, tossing his head. “If you really had it in you to do that to me, you’ve have already done so. So, continuing to tease Kirra it is.”

“Let’s just say I’m warming up to the idea,” Kirra said, her smirking shining through her voice. “Or I could just have Nylah do it.”

“Now that isn’t fair.” Alvaranox growled, staring at Nylah. “She really would do it.”

Nylah took a few steps towards the dragon. “I’m about to do it right now, if you don’t shut up and light this damn fire already!”

Alvaranox tucked his tail, grumbling as he waved the women aside. “Bossy old lady. Always telling me what to do and where to get kicked.” He took a deep breath, and when the women were safely out of the way, he unleashed a stream of brilliant orange-red fire. The liquid flame ignited the pyramid of sticks and boughs in an instant, and when the dragon cut off the stream a crackling fire remained. “There. Now the cranky old lady can go and warm her weary bones.”

Nylah just laughed, and moved back to the fire. “Thank you, Dragon.”

“Better watch out Old Lady.” The dragon called after her. “I hear a storm front is coming. Your trick knee might start acting up.”

Nylah didn’t look back or reply to the dragon, but she did make a gesture that was impressively obscene. Alv wasn’t even sure that was possible.

“Why did my bedroll go?” Kirra walked around the campground, searching in the wavering firelight.

“You hurled it at me,” the dragon said. His copper eyes flickered just like the flames. “Let me find that for you.”

Alvaranox picked up the bedroll that had settled nearby, and then threw it right back at Kirra. It caught her in the midsection, and with a cough she was knocked straight onto her rump. Alv winced a little, but he couldn’t’ help laughing as well. “Sorry!”

“No you’re not,” Kirra wheezed, though she was soon laughing it off as well. She worked herself back to her feet, then plopped her bedroll near the fire to sit across from Nylah. “Good shot, though. Not as good as mine, but good.”

Alvaranox padded over to join them, sitting near the fire. It was not yet that cold out, but the heat felt good against his scales. He unfurled his wings a little bit to let the warmth spread across them. He glanced at the tent. The tarp shook lightly in the breeze. The dragon didn’t know how they were doing to be comfortable sleeping in that thing. If he was stuck in there he’d spend the whole night worrying it was about come down on him.

Kirra and Nylah chatted a little bit. The dragon tilted his head back, staring up at the ocean of stars spread above them. He searched the forms they made for familiar shapes. When he spotted them, he smiled to himself, murmuring a few words. It had been years now since he’d simply laid outside at night, and stared up at the stars. Probably since his time with Rain. Fragmented memories flickered into being inside his mind. Like embers from the fire, they flared to life, shone for a moment and then vanished again. Sitting in the grass on a summer night with Nylah, when he’d first grown to trust her. Watching the stars. Huddling beneath the warmth of his mother’s wing in winter while she traced constellations for him. Laying against Rain on the sands of his island, when they were both spent, and she recounted for him the constellations her own mother once taught her.

While the dragon lost himself in his thoughts, the women got dinner. Nylah fetched some bread and dried fish. She warmed both over the fire, and then passed some out to Kirra. Nylah ate the bread and the fish separately, while Kirra made herself a simple sandwich.

As Kirra ate, she watched the dragon a moment. “What are you looking for?”

“Just counting the stars.”

“Is that even possible?” Kirra scrunched her nose. “How many are you up to?”

“It’s an expression, Kirra.” Nylah chuckled to herself, eating another bite of dried fish.

“I’m just…” The dragon stretched out a wing. The fire painted the green membranes in scintillating shades of orange and red. He gestured with a wing-tip talon towards the sky. “Trying to find constellations, I suppose. And thinking.”

“Do you have constellations?” Kirra peered up at the dragon. “Dragons, I mean. Not you as a person. Though I suppose any person could come up with their own constellations, if they really wanted to. As long as they had a good imagination.”

“Yes, Kirra.” The dragon cut her off, laughing. “We have a few of our own constellations.”

“I always liked the one about the hatchling who can’t stop chasing his own tail.” Nylah smiled at the dragon. “Can you see that one?”

Alvaranox nodded. He folded his wing again, and lifted paw to trace the outline of a few stars. “It’s right there. That star is the tail tip, those stars are the head, and the legs. There’s the body. He’s running in a circle.”

“I was never good with constellations.” Kirra brushed off her hands, and began to rummage through her pack.

“Really?” Alvaranox cocked his head, perking his frilled ears in surprise. “I should have thought you’d have more than enough imagination to see them.”

“That’s not the problem,” Kirra said, laughing. She pulled one of her leather bound drawing pads from her pack, and a few charcoal sticks. “I always see them differently because the images just explode in my mind. For instance, what you just showed us? I see that hatchling, but I see him playing with about a dozen other little dragons.”

Alvaranox tilted his head back, staring at the stars again. “Yes. I think I see that too.”

“You’re not going to bed just yet, are you?” Kirra peered at the dragon, spinning a charcoal stick between her fingers.

“Not this instant. Why?” Alvaranox flicked his tail against the grace.

“Because, you looked especially majestic and somber watching the stars.” Kirra gave him a sheepish smile. “…I wanted to draw you.”

“Oh.” Alvaranox felt a blossom of warmth growing inside him, decidedly unrelated to the fire. He gave a sigh of unexpected contentment, and turned his head back to the sky. “Then draw away, Kirra.”

Alvaranox went back to watching the stars for a while as Kirra drew him. It was a lovely way to spend the evening for the dragon. For a little while he was able to forgot all about the barrel in which he was trapped. He pushed aside the whole reason he was on this trip, and simply relished his time with his friends. Now and then he pointed out a few constellations to them, and let Nylah show him some of those they knew in Asterryl.

When Kirra finished her drawing, and the air grew cooler, everyone was ready for sleep. They let the fire die down. Alvaranox crawled beneath the tallest of the willow trees to sleep. He curled alongside the massive trunk, near where ancient roots sunk beneath mossy ground. Drooping boughs gently brushed against his wings when the cool night breeze stirred them.

It took a little doing for Alvaranox to get settled down. He was so used to sleeping on a pile of pillows, blankets, and cushions it felt awkward trying to get a full night’s sleep anywhere else. He’d napped on the ground countless times, but hadn’t slept a whole night away anywhere but one of his two beds in years he could not count. Save for the night he was injured. Though he hardly considered passing out from blood loss to count as a good night’s sleep.

Alvaranox smirked to himself as he heard Kirra and Nylah rustling about in the tent as they both tried to squeeze in. Once they were both inside it did not take long before they were grumbling to each other to watch the elbows. Alvaranox lifted his head. “Perhaps you should have brought a bigger tent.”

“Perhaps you should shut up,” Nylah called back, her voice slightly muffled by rustling canvas.

Alvaranox grinned, laying his head back down. At least the ground was comfortable under the willow. The earth was draped in layer upon velvet layer of emerald moss, as though each spring a new generation of the stuff simply grew atop last year’s mossy blanket. Even in the darkness, Alvaranox could see a few tiny red tendrils poking up here and there from the thickest tufts of moss. They looked so familiar.

The dragon reached out and held his paw just above thick patch of moss. The tiny crimson stalks tickled the puffy scar that ran across his pink and black pad. “Look, Momma.” The dragon murmured to himself without even realizing it. He pushed his paw down against the moss, flattening it. Then he lifted his paw, and watched as the red tendrils sprang upright again, the tiny red bulbs at their tips swaying.

“Drink your water, Alv.” The dragon murmured to himself. He did not know if that memory was real or false or some corrupted mixture of both. But he liked it either way. Alvaranox sighed, and curled a little tighter, closing his eyes. How he missed the mother he barely knew.

Alv did not realize he’d dozed off until he was waking again. Someone was rustling about in the willow boughs. His eyes flew open, and he unsheathed his claws, only to spot coils of red hair bouncing about as Kirra lugged her bedroll up under the tree. The dragon chuckled to himself, and Kirra glanced over at him.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me,” Alvaranox murmured.

“Nylah keeps elbowing me,” Kirra said. “I didn’t mean to wake you, though.”

“It’s alright.” The dragon shifted himself to give her a place to spread her bedroll out on the moss next to him. “Come along then.”

Kirra pulled her bedroll up alongside the dragon, spreading it out at his side. She smiled and stroked his scales a little before she hunkered down into her bedroll. She looked up at him, smiling. “Good night, Alv.”

Alvaranox did not know if Nylah was really keeping Kirra awake, or if Krra just wanted to be near him while she slept. But he knew which one he chose to believe. He smiled at the woman, and gently enclosed her beneath the warmth of his wing.

“Good night, Kirra.”

---

Chapter Thirty Two

---

Alv’s dreams were pleasant for once. For a time, he dreamt of his hatchling days. The tiny little green dragon with the black speckles bound across endless green moors. He scaled boulders and leapt to his mothers back. They laughed and ran together. They ate Three Horn and Black Spot, they drank freshwater. Mother was healthy and the hatchling was happy. The hatchling was always happy in the wilds with his mother.

It may have been a lie, but it was a lie Alv was willing to wallow in just a little longer.

Alvaranox found himself in Asterryl. He stood upon the central plaza, amidst groups of people. Streamers of brightly colored lanterns hung everywhere. Immense blue and white ribbons were tied around lampposts and hung from the eaves of the market stalls. Wreaths redolent with fresh heather and berries hung from doors and over windows. In the distance, strains of pleasant music filtered through the ever-present chatter of so many people discussing the Winter Harvest festival.

It could have been real, were it not for the fact that Alv was suddenly upon his hind legs, dancing a waltz with Kirra. Somehow Kirra was even taller than he was. They waltzed together all around the plaza, with the rest of the crowd all playing a variety of musical instruments. Alv was happy. It was a silly dream and a silly image but it made the dragon happy.

Somewhere in his heart, he knew he could be happy with Kirra. She made his barrel feel so much larger.

Even Stupid Fish was there, dancing his own waltz, with his trough as partner.

Then Alv was dancing with Rain. They waltzed not upon the central plaza in Asterryl, but in the broken courtyard of his island ruins. They danced for long moments before Rain suddenly realized what they were doing. She pushed Alv over, called him weird, and then bound off into the forest. Alv was soon chasing her. Rain always liked to be chased, but the end of the chase was the best part .

It did not take Alv more than a few steps to catch her. In the dream that was all they needed to be out alone on the moors again. Rain lifted her tail, and Alv leapt upon her back. He licked her neck, bit light against her scales. She moaned for him, turned her head to press her muzzle to his own as Alvaranox began to enter her.

“Alv!” Rain cried out.

“Alv!” Wait. That wasn’t Rain’s voice. “Alv, we’ve let you sleep in a bit but we really need to get going. Someone gently touched his nose.

Rain smirked at him. “Pity for you.”

“Oh, damn.” Alvaranox said, opening his eyes. Kirra crouched before him, grinning. Nylah stood nearby. The dragon peered at them a moment. “Yes? May I help you?”

“You’ve got to get up, silly dragon.” Kirra moved back to give him room to rise. “Sorry to wake you. Again.”

“It’s alright.” The dragon lifted his head, struggling to recall his dreams. Something about…Kirra…and…dancing? He pushed his hind end up first, stretching his back. “Think I was having a nice dream, for once. Pretty sure Kirra was there.”

“Was she then?” Nylah sounded incredulous, staring at the dragon before she burst out laughing.

Kirra broke into a fit of giggles as well, clapping a hand over her mouth. Her whole face went scarlet in the span of a single breath or two. The dragon rose the rest of the way up, glaring at her. What on earth was she blushing about, anyway? And what were they laughing? Alvaranox glanced back and forth between the two of them.

After both women kept laughing, and Kirra’s blush deepened, Alvaranox snapped his jaws. “Well? What are you two street corner gossips giggling about now? One of you whispering to the about the man you secretly fancy?”

“A dream about Kirra, you say?” Nylah quirked her brows, grinning wickedly.

Kirra punched the other woman on the arm. “Hush!”

“I had a dream about Kirra? That’s what you‘re giggling about?” For some reason that only made the two of them laugh harder. Kirra still had her hand pressed to her mouth. Alvaranox glared at them for an answer. Something felt unusually cold.

Nylah pointed towards the dragon’s hind quarters, smirking. “We’re giggling at you because your spear is showing.”

“And at full display, from the looks of it!” Kirra laughed so hard she doubled over, nearly stumbling.

Spear? Full display? The dragon’s still groggy mind took a moment to process it. Then he realized where Nylah was pointing. All at once the dragon realizes he felt not only exposed, but cool air against usually hidden flesh. He glanced under his belly, and yelped in alarm as though startled by his own draconic maleness.

“Oh damn!” Alvaranox spun away from the women, and flopped down onto his haunches in an attempt to hide himself. Heat rushed to the dragon’s face, flushing his crests and inner ears purple. “Look away!”

That of course only caused the women to laugh even harder at him. Starting with Nylah. “And here I thought a dragon would be proud of that part of his anatomy!”

Alvaranox snapped his jaws, folding his wings around himself. “I’d be a lot prouder if you two weren’t laughing so hard.”

“So what was that dream you had about Kirra?” Nylah nudged her friend, and Kirra swatted Nylah’s arm.

“None of your damn business!”

Alvaranox considered telling them he’d actually been dreaming of Rain at the end there, but decided against it. Let them think what they wanted. For all he knew, he had been dreaming of Kirra that way, too. At least the sudden realization and the embarrassment that came with it was helping to ease the situation.

“Oh, don’t be so embarrassed Alv.” Nylah laughed. “These things happen, even to dragons. Why, I remember when you were still young, seemed half the time you woke up, you’d…”

“Oh, shut it, Nylah,” Alvaranox grumbled. “Or I’ll find another hay bale to drop you in.”

“You know we’re only teasing, Alv,” Nylah called back to him as she gathered up her belongings. “Because we love you! It’s rather impressive, really.”

Alvaranox lifted his head, glancing back at them. “Is it?”

“Well, you are a dragon, and you are…” Nylah paused, trying to find the right word.

Kirra came to her aid, aiding the dragon’s ego at the same time. “Suitably well equipped, shall we say.”

“Of course I am,” Alvaranox said. He slowly rose to his feet, glancing at himself to ensure that the majority of his usually-hidden flesh was once more hidden. “Though I do appreciate you pointing out the obvious, Kirra.”

“The least I can do, since you’re having such exciting dreams about me.” Kirra picked up pack, the contents clattering.

As the dragon’s maleness went back into hiding, his embarrassment vanished as well. He slunk out from under the willow, nosing Kirra in the small of her back. “Not as though it was something you haven’t seen before, eh Kirra?”

“Hush, Dragon!” Kirra said, laughing. Her face was not as quick to return to its usual color as Alv’s was, and his comment quickly had her reddening again.

“Oh?” Nylah perked up as though sensing an opportunity to tease them both at once. Perhaps she was just looking to get back for all those old lady jokes. “What’s all this about, then? Have you been asking Kirra for an extra thorough examination?”

“Not exactly what happened,” the dragon said, chuckling. Then he yelped when Kirra swatted him on the nose.

“That’s enough out of you, Sour Apples.” Kirra walked around the side of him, and when he lowered himself to the ground, she began to strap her pack to his body. Then she smirked at Nylah. “Though when we were swimming, after he watched me disrobe he did have the same problem. Had to rush into the water to hide it!”

Alvaranox growled, glancing back at her. “That’s enough of you. If I don’t get to bring things up you certainly don’t either!”

“Alright, we’ll all shut up about it.” Kirra tightened the straps down, and then climbed up the dragon’s back. “At least until the next time it happens.”

“And then we’ll tease you mercilessly once again,” Nylah added as she strapped her own packs into place. “Just be glad you weren’t out napping in your field with all those people around. Then you’d really have something to be embarrassed about.”

Alvaranox scowled as Kirra helped Nylah onto his back. The old lady had a point. It was embarrassing to have his two friends see him in such an exposed position. But if all the guards saw, and all those gossipy townsfolk spotted his pride sticking out? He didn’t even want to think what questions and comments he’d get from them from now on.

Suddenly being asked if he was “out for a walk” would be the least of his concerns.

Alvaranox launched himself into the air the moment the two women were settled. He ascended harder than he usually did, and was quite satisfied to wring a startled scream from both of them. Kirra clung to Alv and Nylah clung to Kirra as he rose through the air. There, that ought to teach them to tease a poor dragon about his erection.

“I hope one of you perverts knows which way I need to go,” he called back after he’d leveled off.

“Who are you calling a pervert? You’re the one…”

Alvaranox caught her off. “And you both kept staring at it! Now where am I going?”

Neither of them found a way to argue with that. Nylah eventually spoke up with some directions. “Head towards the lake, and follow the shore!”

Kirra leaned forward to rub his neck. “Have you had any problems with the collar?”

“Not yet, thankfully. Though I do believe I have reached the usual walls of my barrel already.”

“You’ve never been this far from Asterryl before?” Kirra asked the question before she could think better of it.

Alvaranox winced, pinning his spines back. Not since before they put the collar on him, anyway. He saved her from the embarrassment of stumbling over an apology by shaking his horned head. “If I have been, I can’t remember it!”

Alvaranox altered his course a little bit, flying northward until he neared the rocky shore of the sprawling lake of teeth. Even from the air the far shores were hidden beyond the horizon, though to the east and west the near shoreline stretched on like endless stone fangs, tinted green with age and constantly gnawing at the lapping waves. Once Alvaranox reached the water’s edge, he adjusted course, flying alongside the lake for much of the day.

One of the only main roads in the area sometimes turned to run parallel to the lake shore. Though set a ways back from the water, from the air the road was easy to make out even a distance. This far from any major towns, the road was maintained mostly by the traffic of boots, hooves and wheels, a wide brown dirt stripe in the midst of rolling green hills and gray rock caps. In some places, wide flagstones were set into the sides of the road to help prevent erosion, or fill in holes that time and rain had worn away.

In one place the road crossed a span where a small creek ran towards the Lake Of Teeth. The water ran through a rocky gully, with water burbling and swirling around mossy stones. It was spanned by a simple yet elegant bridge. Arches with support beams like the spokes of a wheel stood on either side of the bridge. Hints of dull yellow paint were all that remained of the cheery golden color it had once been painted. Still, the bridge looked sturdy enough to remain safe for crossing.

“Is that bridge really there?” Alvaranox glanced back at his riders. Worry coiled in his eyes, like copper vipers ready to poison his understanding of reality. “Is there really water under it?”

“Yes, Alv,” Kirra said, stroking his neck. She moved her hand towards the collar. “If you want, I could try and show you.”

“Not while we’re flying,” the dragon said, tilting his head. He peered at the bridge while he passed over it. “Now sit back down and stay still.”

“Yes, Father,” Kirra said, snickering. She settled herself back against the dragon and Nylah. Then she patted Alv’s scales. “Everything out here is beautiful, Alv.”

Alvaranox grit his teeth, flaring his central crest. He flattened back his frilled ears, hissing. Kirra was right. It was beautiful out here. It wasn’t quite the way he remembered his own home, many of the hills here seemed more gentle than those he recalled. There a few more trees and a few less rocks, but it was still a beautiful, while place. Gray-blue heather covered large swathes of flat ground between the hills. A few lichen-coated boulders lay in random places, toppled from exposed rock ridges in ages past. In several places, patches of vibrant color remained, wildflowers that thrived despite the late season. One entire hillside was covered in the yellow-red flame of Autumn stars.

Plentiful wildlife and prey populated the land. The dragon’s shadow sent a herd of Black Spot sprinting for the cover of the oaks and willows that lined the banks of another stream. Not long after the small deer vanished beneath the overhanging boughs, Alvaranox soared over a rockier set of hills, scattering a group of Three Horn. The animals bolted in all directions, leaping from one narrow rocky ledge to another. The animals seemed so graceful it was as though their hooves were fused with the stone and they could never topple from it.

“I don’t know why I can see this,” Alvaranox murmured to him. The wind carried his words back to his riders. “But I cannot see my dead home.”

Kirra stroked the dragons neck, wishing her words could fill the hole in his heart or dull the uncertain claws scratching at his mind. “Maybe we’ll find out in Delverrix.”

“Has your town ever been to war?” Alvaranox looked back at Kirra and Nylah. The movement turned his eyes away from the sun, their usual copper sheen looked dull and cold. “Do you think they could fight one if they had to?”

Kirra squinted at Alv from behind red curls whipped about the wind. “Alv, what are you…”

Nylah cut her off. “I don’t know if they have or not. But if they had too, I am confident they would win. Especially with you there.”

Alvaranox snorted, flattening back his spines. He turned his attention the horizon, altering his course a little. He beat his wings a few times, by now he was used to the feeling of the women against his back. It was comforting in its own way. “Good. I would not want to push them into something they could not handle.”

“You wouldn’t be doing the pushing, Alv.” Nylah patted the dragon’s back. “We know who started this.”

“What are you two talking about?” Kirra glanced back and forth between them, her belly twisting.

“Think about it, Kirra.” Nylah leaned forward to speak from the younger woman, but she did not bother to hide her words from the dragon. “These people, this…Circle. We’ve called them a cult, but the guard force in Delverrix wears the same colors. We assume they’re not involved, but if it turns out they are…” She waved at Alv’s head as the dragon flew. “If Delverrix itself was behind the attempts on Alv’s life…”

“If the bell rings while I am in Delverrix, Kirra,” Alvaranox said without looking back. “We all know I must answer it.” The dragon left it unsaid that if he found out those men had murdered his mother, he would answer that as well, bell be damned.

“If it’s war, Kirra,” Nylah said, squeezing her shoulder through the cloak. “It is Delverrix who began it when those men tried to murder Alv.”

Kirra straightened up, clenching her fists. “Is this some secret conversation you’ve been having? Discussing war without me? Not telling me what this trip is really about?”

“Not at all,” Alvaranox replied, shaking his head. “Nylah’s just come to the same conclusion I have. We must hope for the best, and prepare for the worst.”

“I don’t think it was the city, Alv.” Kirra took a deep breath, staring off over the vast, sun-sparkling expanse of the Lake Of Teeth. “I think it was that cult. They think you’re evil or something. But if you ask me, they’re the evil ones.”

Alvaranox chuckled to himself. Somehow Kirra’s simplified take on things lifted his spirit’s a little. “I appreciate your support, Kirra. But if this Circle Of Blood And Shadow is in fact responsible, and the collar makes me kill them to protect myself from future attacks, how do you think Delverrix will respond?”

“Delverrix can get mounted.” Kirra folded her arms, scowling.

“My thoughts exactly,” the dragon said, laughing. “I just…wanted to make sure you two thought Asterryl would be alright, if the worse happens.”

“Alv,” Kirra asked, leaning against the base of the dragon’s neck. The movement caused her cloak to whip around her a little bit, and she ignored the fact that Nylah was batting at it in an attempt to keep it out of her face. “Have you secretly started to care for Asterryl?”

“Certainly not.” The dragon flared all his spines. “Asterryl can collectively kiss my stones. But if Delverrix burned it down, I’d be stuck with both of you on my island. You’d drive me mad.”

Kirra laughed at that, easing back. She gathered up her wind-whipped cloak, clutching it around herself to try and protect Nylah from the rampant green cloth. “You’d have to let everyone come live on your island.”

“Oh, no.” Alvaranox shook his head. “You and Nylah, you can stay in the fortress. Davan can stay outside. But that’s it. Everyone else can find their own hideaway. But as long as I’m letting you two live there, you’ll be expected to make yourself useful. Kirra, you can keep my sleeping chamber neat and tidy. Nylah, you get to do the gardening. Make sure all the thistles are kept happy and relocate them to a place where they won’t be pricking my damn paw pads all the time.”

“There is no way I’m doing any gardening on your damn island,” Nylah said, laughing.

Alvaranox smirked back at her. “I guess you’ll be getting hurled into the lake, then. I’m sure you can find yourself a nice ruin.” The dragon smiled to himself, but his smile soon faded. Cold claws gripped his heart, squeezing. “It’s…it’s just…sometimes I see it burning.”

“You see what burning?” Kirra glanced back at Nylah, but she couldn’t see the woman past the edges of her green hood, flapping in the wind.

“Asterryl.” Alvaranox licked his nose, it felt cold in the wind for a moment. “Since the injury. Those hallucinations I have. Sometimes I see Asterryl in flames. Or gone. A burnt out ruin.”

“That’s just the collar messing with your head, Alv,” Kirra offered, though she did not sound as certain as Alvaranox would have hoped. “It doesn’t really mean anything. It’s probably just a mixed up memory. Something Guardian saw when she lost her city, forcing its way into your mind now and then.”

“Let us hope that is all it is.” The dragon took a deep breath, felt his chest plates expand. He held it till his voluminous lungs began to burn, then the expelled it along with a great gout of fire. He turned his head first to make sure he wouldn’t be flying through his own flames. Nylah and Kirra both turned their faces away from the fire. “I think I see our next destination up ahead.”

In the distance, the far south-eastern corner of the Lake Of Teeth was coming into view. Along with it emerged the near random outlines of a cityscape. It reminded Alvaranox of the way Asterryl looked at a distance. All the different buildings and walls combined into one indistinct outline that rose and fell against blue and green backdrop of sky and earth. Haze drifted above the far city, smoke from cooking fires and hearths. A few tall sails marked the vast expanse of water where the city’s fishing boats were out plying their trade.

“Yes, that should be Korranot!” Nylah patted the dragon’s body beneath her. “Good timing! It’s a lovely little city, should help get your mind off all that darkness for a little while.”

“Assuming they don’t fill me with arrows on sight.” Alvaranox felt warm air tickling his belly. He stretched his vast green wings till the black mottling stood out, savoring the caress of the warm updrafts. “Do you think I should let you off outside the city? I can sweep in, let everyone see you’re on me, then drop you off. Let you talk them into not trying to slay me.”

“Probably wise.” Nylah gave the dragon’s scales a solid thump. “Just don’t go doing anything to make our job more difficult.”

“Like what?” Alvaranox tossed his head as he descended towards the ground.

“Like going around scaring people!”

The dragon laughed, lifting his spines. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll have your nuts in my hand, that’s what!”

Alvaranox merely smirked, ignoring Kirra’s muffled giggling. “Well, aren’t you the kinky sort all of a sudden. If you wish to grope that badly, just say so. I shall scare who I wish. But not that badly.”

“Alv, if you…”

“Just so they don’t think I’m someone’s tamed pet. Bad enough I’m Asterryl’s guard dog. They should know I carry you because we’re friends! Not because you’re somehow turned me into a well-disciplined puppy.”

“No one would ever confuse you for a puppy, Alv!” Kirra was still giggling. “Puppies are adorable!”

“Yes, Kirra,” the dragon said, snorting again. “Thank you for your assistance.”

As the dragon eased down towards the earth and drew nearer the city, the details grew clearer. The city sat upon a large cove with a gentle curve. Lines of long wooden docks extended well out into the water all along the cove. Dozens of boats were moored to the docks, with the largest boats further from shore. Buildings built of the same gray stone comprising many of the old ruins sat all along the water. Beyond them the buildings were more commonly built of wood. Walls encircled the stone in several places, some of them wood, others stone. Several large roads all intersected around the town, the outermost wall held several gateways to allow entry.

Even without getting a good look at it Alv could tell the town was not near as large as Asterryl. It looked perhaps half the size of the town he protected, and maybe not even that large. The dragon would have to wait to get a better look at it though, he couldn’t just fly in and land the way he would in Asterryl. Instead, he circled the town at a distance and a low altitude. With any luck the town would see he carried riders and meant them no harm. Though, given the occasional shout and cry that rose above the wind, and the fact he could already see a few people scrambling through distant streets, luck might not be with him.

“I’d better let you down,” the dragon muttered. He angled his wings, coming in for a quick descent upon one the big roads. There were a few travelers upon it and the dragon made sure to land in an empty stretch where everyone could see him. He lowered himself to the road. Sun-warmed cobblestone pressed against his belly. They felt slightly rough, probably freshly laid. “I will keep watch on you. Give me a wave or something when you’re sure its safe for me to land.”

Kirra slid off the dragon’s back first. Then she offered Nylah her hand to help the older woman down. They quickly unbuckled their packs from Alvaranox. The dragon glanced around, there were already quite a few travelers staring at them. Guards in green and gray surcoats who kept watch over travelers ran towards the dragon and his riders. Some of them had swords drawn, others had arrows nocked in bows. Nylah shouldered her pack, squaring her shoulders to face the oncoming guards.

“Begone, Dragon!” Nylah called out, more than loud enough to ensure everyone could hear her. “We will call for you when we need you once more.”

“Funny.” Alvaranox glared at her, though he decided it might be best to play her game for now. He hissed words of caution through his teeth. “If anything happens I will be there to protect you in an instant.”

Nylah gave a barely perceptible nod. Kirra patted the dragon on the shoulder the way she might pat a horse that just carried her on an evening stroll, and then moved to stand alongside Nylah to wait for the men to approach them. Alv knew Nylah would be good at this game. She played this sort of thing often enough with the Council. Kirra seemed to have picked it up as well. The two women’s posture seemed to say, “We’re only travelers. Yes, we came in on a dragon, what of it?”

Alvaranox leapt back into the sky, beating his wings hard and fast. He pulled himself up through the air as swiftly as he could, wanting to be well out of arrow range as soon as possible in case any of the guards decided to shoot first. The last thing he needed was to have Nylah and Kirra stuck pulling arrows out of his belly all night. Alvaranox ascended in a swift, tight spiral, and soon the whole city was laid out beneath him. He had to admit a little curiosity in the place, this was after all only the second human city he’d ever been too. Yet for now his attention was far more focused on the two women who came here with him.

Alvaranox did not expect the guards to cause them any trouble, especially once they understood who he was. Surely they had heard of Asterryl’s Guardian Slave. But if they got it in their head that they were both some kind of dragon-ensorcelling witches here to harm the city, things might escape his claws in a hurry. Alv was more than prepared to drop right back to the ground and tear a few men apart if it meant protecting Nylah and Kirra.

The dragon watched the proceedings carefully as he circled above them. Staying out of easy arrow range also meant the conversation was too far away even for a dragon’s sensitive ears. The men came to a stop, one of them gesturing with sword. Nylah gave a little bow, and pointed up at the dragon. Kirra pointed back the direction they’d come from. Alvaranox beat his wings, circling again. Seemed they were having quite the discussion.

It occurred to the dragon as he flew circles above his riders that so long as Nylah and Kirra were with the guards, he couldn’t do anything to scare the town. Any fear her instilled in the people might end up taken out on his friends. After all if the guards thought they controlled the dragon, they would do whatever they thought they had to in order to protect their town from him.

Damn that Old Lady. She must have done this just to make sure he didn’t get to terrify the people of Korranot.

At least things seemed to be going well. After a few minutes of conversation, the guards began to put their weapons away. One of them turned and held his arm out towards the city, offering the ladies the road. The armed men escorting them towards the gate, but that did not surprise the dragon. Soon they had taken Nylah and Kirra to a checkpoint in the outer wall, marked with green and gray banners that whipped in the wind. A few more men came from inside. Two wore heavier armor without any sort of surcoat, while the third wore a tunic of green and gray. Once more they all pointed to the dragon circling above them.

Alvaranox wished he could hear what they were saying. It was probably one of two things. “Yes, we’re from Asterryl, and that is the famous Guardian Slave. You can certainly pet him if you’ll let him land in your city. I promise you he won’t harm anyone, he’s quite friendly really.” Or perhaps it was, “Let us in or my dragon will burn down your city.”

The dragon preferred the second one yet somehow he was sure he was already doomed to spend a night with countless sweat-stinking humans putting their hands all over him. Followed by equally countless asinine comments. Oh, isn’t he warm! Imagine that. Why, he’s not slimy at all. Do you think he talks? Just look at those horns! And here I thought dragons were dangerous, but this one’s tame as a kitten.

At which point Alvaranox would tell them all what they could kiss.

Soon enough his friends were strolling into the city. They hadn’t yet waved for him to land, but things seemed to be going well. Alvaranox continued to follow them in circles, and took the opportunity to survey the place from the air. Much like Asterryl, the town was ringed with a variety of old walls all incorporated into the design. It gave the city the same oddly geometric patterns to its design that Asterryl held. They had a market plaza near the center of town, and everything else looked to have sprung up around that. The dragon imagined it a remnant from the frontier days, when they had to have a centralized town square that was easily protected. If anything, the towns more recent outer walls seemed more fortified than those of Asterryl. No doubt because they didn’t have a guardian slave. Still, they were further away from the so-called line in the sand. Further from the wilderness boundary. Probably didn’t even know that wilderness was long gone.

The town did not have as many stone building as Asterryl did though quite a few lined the banks of the lake amongst the docks and fish markets. Probably because they held up better against the water and spray from the waves of the years. Some of them were built right up against the rocky shoreline, others were set a little ways back. An immense, elevated wooden platform stood above the rocks and shore, with many of the docks connected directly to it. Much of the platform was occupied by a fish market, the days catch lay in baskets and barrels and tanks. In some cases fish were still wriggling in freshly drawn nets. The scents of fresh fish permeated the air even high above the city, along with the scents of water and wood smoke. Alv had lived next to a lake so long now that the natural scent of so much water was nearly unnoticeable half the time.

As his shadow swept over the market, people yelled and screamed. Some stared in amazement, others ran for the nearest shelter. Word spread through the town, and before long people were stumbling out of taverns or peering out windows for a glimpse of the great green beast circling in the sky. Alvaranox growled to himself. By the time Nylah finally gave him the signal to land, the whole damn town was going to crowding around him.

Best Alv could tell, Korranot had several main streets, all of which intersected the central market plaza. Unlike the market in Asterryl, organized into rings, the market here was much more disorderly. Stalls and vendors sprung up in random places. Some of them looked to be crowding each other out or elbowing for room, while other merchants had large empty spaces all to themselves. As the dragon swept over the market, a cacophony of sounds rose from terrified animals in pens and cages. Squawks, baas, mooing, bleating. Even from above it sounded as though the dragon had horrified Korranot’s entire livestock population with a single beat of his wings.

At least he got to terrify someone.

Alvaranox spotted what he assumed passed as Korranot’s Grand Hall. It was not near as big as the government complex in Asterryl but it was nicer looking. The building itself was a three story tower-like structure composed of pale marble. It was the only marble the dragon had seen in town, they must have imported it. Probably from Asterryl. The building’s rounded sides were carved to resemble fluted columns with curling tendrils of ivy crawling across them. The edges of the roof were scalloped to resemble giant stone leaves.

Asterryl could do well to learn from their design.

Alvaranox eventually spotted Nylah waving to him from the street. He circled back around, and began to descend. Already a line of guards had formed across either end of the street to give the dragon an empty place to touch down. He back-winged a few times, settling in between two large wooden buildings on either side of the road. He folded his wings against his body, and lowered his head to Nylah when she came to stand in front of him.

Nylah patted the golden spot on his nose. “Good boy.”

“Don’t press it.” The dragon snorted. He tossed his head, then glared at some of the guards. A group of people was already assembling behind them. “Is everything in order?”

“More or less,” Nylah said, laughing. “You need to behave yourself, though. They know you’re Asterryl’s Guardian Slave, and as much as that point may pain you, you’re going to need to act like it. The only experience this place has with dragons is…well, you know.”

“Wonderful.” Alvaranox snorted again. He gazed out over some of the ever growing crowd. “Hello. None of you have anything to fear from me, so long as you don’t go trying to stick me with anything sharp. Before you ask, yes, obviously I can talk, I’m doing so now. I’m not an animal, I’m as smart as any of you, and I don’t like stupid questions. Now.” The dragon licked his nose as the crowd murmured in confusion. “Where can I find some wine?”

Nylah snickered and Kirra giggled. The younger woman patted the dragon’s neck to draw his attention. She gestured to the buildings on either side of the road. It seemed the woman had signaled for him to land right between two competing taverns. One tavern had brought blue walls, with clapboards cut into the shape of waves all along its roof. The other was a bit more elegant looking, with a few wooden pillars out front and little curled beams holding aloft an curved awning. Each building had a large sign out front. One of them proclaimed that they had the best ale in town. The other building’s sign claimed it their ale was better, and that the other tavern was a dirty liar.

“Oh, I like that one.” The dragon grinned, padding towards the blue inn with the fakes waves.

“Thought you might.” Nylah grinned at him, then shook a finger in his face. “But they haven’t got a garden large enough for you, nor a door you can squeeze through. So you’re going to have to sit here on the street if you want to drink. Which means putting up with people and being friendly while we see about some accomodations.”

“Ah.” The dragon scowled, his pebbly scaled face crinkling a little when he flared his spines. “So it was a trick. Lure me to somewhere with good drink, and leave me to the crowds while you wander off.”

“Something like that.” Kirra laughed, stroking his neck. “Though, Nylah is going to find the accommodations‘, and I’m going to stay here with you and make sure you don’t cause trouble.”

Nylah grinned, waving at the dragon. “Remember what I said.” Then she gestured towards the dragon’s hind end, before making a fist. “Nuts. Hand.”

“Yes, yes,” Alvaranox said, waving his paw. “You wish to grope me, I got that the first time.”

“Better behave, Alv,” Kirra said, nudging the dragon with an elbow. “I think she’s serious.”

Alvaranox just glared at the older woman as Nylah made her way down the street. A few guards flanked her. Part of the dragon wished he’d stayed in the air. He would have preferred to keep a closer eye on Nylah, just in case. Not that he expected anyone in this town to cause them any trouble now they knew who they were. When Nylah vanished around a corner, the dragon turned his attention back to Kirra.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Kirra put her hands on her hips.

“Where’s my ale?”

“I thought you wanted wine.”

Alvaranox flicked his spined tail towards the sign. “I did, until they claimed themselves to have the best ale in existence.” The dragon glanced at the crowds that continued to grow. He wished they’d picked him some isolated inn with a big garden and a wall like The Towering Oak. “Go on then, Kirra. Get us some food and drink.”

Kirra glanced at the crowds as well. She chewed her lip a moment, then patted the dragon. “Alright, Alv. I’ll be back soon.”

Alvaranox walked over to an open area at the side of the inn. There was an alley there but it was too narrow for him to comfortably fit any further inside it than the entryway.. Still, there was a patch of grassy ground and Alv felt slightly less exposed to the crowd’s eyes with a few walls around him. He settled down onto his haunches, and before long Kirra returned carrying a mug of ale for herself. A few bar workers followed her, carrying out a table. A few more carried a large wooden keg. As a group they froze when they first saw the dragon staring at them. With a little work, Kirra coaxed them into carrying the table over to the dragon, along with the barrel. But as soon as they had the barrel of ale opened up, they vanished inside the building.

Soon shutters and curtains on windows all around were opening. Children peered out at the dragon around their parents. Bold adults stared openly while others peeked around folded drapes. Down the street, men were hoisting children onto their shoulders. Some of them were starting to clamor at the guards. Alv couldn’t tell if they were curious to get closer to the dragon, or angry that he hadn’t been slain already. It reminded him of his early days laying about injured in Asterryl, when the crowds stared at him whenever he was outside. At least there he knew there was no hostility among those people.

“We told the guards that if people wanted to come and see you, they could do that after you’ve eaten and gotten some drink in you.” Kirra fetched herself a chair. “I put in an order for plenty of food. And obviously, there’s your ale.” She gestured to the table. “Just…try and relax, alright?”

“I shall do my best, Kirra. I appreciate you staying.”

“I couldn’t just leave you here at the mercy of a bunch of sweat-stinking gawkers, could I?” Kirra grinned at him as she settled at the table. “I know how you hate that.”

“Doesn’t seem to bother you.” The dragon flicked his tail. His spines collided with a wall, punching a little hole in the wood. Alv glanced at the nearest guard. “Sorry. Kirra will pay for that.”

Kirra winced, but brushed it off. “Actually I feel a bit like a famous person. Back home, everyone knows I’m your Handler, it’s almost…well, it simply is. Here, everyone is amazed!” Kirra deeped her voice in imitation of a burly guardsmen. “You flew in on that dragon? How did you tame such a beast!” Then she twisted her voice a little more to imitate the surly bartender inside. “You’re the one riding that dragon? That’s incredible!”

“Yes, Kirra,” Alvaranox smirked at her. “Everyone is amazed by your ability to soothe the mighty dragon.”

“It seems like they really are around here.” She sipped her ale, and then wiped some foam from her mouth. “Oooh, this is good.”

The dragon sniffed the dark, golden liquid still roiling in the barrel. It smelled sweeter and stronger than the ale back home in Asterryl. He lowered his head a little more, lapping at the drink. The taste followed suit with the scent, it had a lingering sweetness balanced by a faint tartness unlike any thing he’d enjoyed back in Asterryl. It made him rumble his approval.

“Yes, this is good.” He licked his nose, then spotted a man with a bushy moustache peering out the door. “Yes?”

The man gulped, slinking out a little further. He was quite tall and broad shouldered, though ht looked as though years working behind a bar and enjoying his own products had softened what was once an iron-hard build. Come to think of it, Alv had seen bartenders like that before. Though, this one had a great mass of unkempt bushy gray hair atop his head. The dragon half expected to see birds nesting in it. An unexpectedly tidy apron free of stains and creases offset the messiness of the man’s hair.

“You…did I…well…”

“Spit it out, man.” Alv thumped his tail against the ground, careful not to punch any more holes in walls.

“Did I hear you say you liked my ale?”

“Yes.” The dragon dunked his head, gulping down a bit more. Then he glanced at the bartender again. “It’s quite good. Strong, I think, too. Will help me deal with the crowds.”

As far as Alvaranox could tell, his compliment made the bartender smile. Though considering that his mouth was hidden beneath his slate gray moustache the dragon had no way to be sure. “Excellent! I’m heartened to hear it.”

“Of course you are.” Alvaranox smirked at the man who didn’t seem to know how to take that. “Because now I won’t have to burn your tavern down.”

“Wh…what?” The man faltered, his eyes widening. He leaned against the doorframe as if unsure if he should bolt inside and start evacuating people out the back door.

“He’s joking,” Kirra assured the man. She rose from her chair, opened her coin purse and slipped a few coins into the man’s hand. “A tip for the excellent ale, and for putting up with the dragon’s rather obnoxious sense of humor.”

“Oh…joking.” The man swallowed so hard Alvaranox expected to see his belly bulge out. “Of course.” He closed his fist around the coins and went back inside.

“What did we tell you…”

“Not my fault he can’t take a joke.” Alvaranox dropped his muzzle back into the barrel. “This really is quite good, though.”

A short time later, and the workers from before returned. They seemed less nervous than they were before, but only just. Alvaranox paid them little attention as he was focused upon the heaps and heaps of roasted fish they brought. They set a plate of it in front Kirra, and the other men helped carry a veritable feast. They presented the dragon with several large platters of various fish roasted over an open flame and seasoned with an assortment of herbs and spices.

Alvaranox wasted no time in sampling them all. There were small fish that vanished into his muzzle a few at a time, heavily salted. There were larger fish kissed with garlic and oil and covered with slices of fruit. Then there were even larger fish that had a sweet taste, gently enhanced by the taste of wood smoke and peppery spices. Those were large enough that even Alv needed a few bites to eat each fish.

“Oh, these are delightful,” Alv murmured to himself. Kirra didn’t have any of the large fish on her plate, so he offered her a piece of one, smiling as her eyes rolled a little when she tasted it. “Told you.”

Alv had already eaten several of the large fish before he realized something looked a little familiar about them. They’d been mostly de-scaled for the dragon, but a few large scales clung to one of the fish near the tail. The char from the fire obscured the silvery color till Alv brushed it away. He glanced at the fish’s head. Crispy nubs of whiskers were all that remained of the tendrils burned away by the fire.

“Kirra,” Alvaranox said, gesturing. “These are relatives of Stupid Fish.”

Kirra’s green eyes went wide. Her hand froze in midair. A bit of fish fell from her fork back to her plate. “Alv…I…I didn’t know, I…”

“Nonsense. They’re delicious.” Alvaranox chuckled to himself, eating another bite big of what he assumed must be a distant cousin to Stupid Fish. “I just hadn’t realized, that’s all. It’s not as though I’m actually eating Stupid Fish. But, at least now I know he’d taste delicious.”

Kirra shook her head. She looked more distraught than the dragon did. He didn’t know why. Alvaranox shrugged his wings. Meat was meat, as far as the dragon was concerned. He wouldn’t something he cared about, but he’d happily eat its anonymous relatives. When he’d finished his meal, he took a few moments to lick the immense platters clean, savoring the last of the juices. When Kirra was done, he licked her plate clean as well, ignoring the dirty look she gave him.

Soon the workers had cleared away the platters and plate. All the while the crowds continued to grow until finally a nervous looking guard approached them. The man bore a old, scuffed up helmet, and chailmail rattled beneath his green and gray surcoat. The dragon could smell his sour fear. Alvaranox did not like nervous guards. Nervous guards tended to shoot and stab far too quickly. It was all the dragon could do to bite his tongue and keep from telling them to man to piss off before he pissed himself.

“Is it…alright then?” The guard’s knuckles stood out white, fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword. “For people. To come. And…”

Alvaranox growled in frustration. The guard’s eyes widened, and he drew an inch of steel before Kirra gently put her hand on his arm. “Yes, that’s fine. People can come and see him now. But only small groups at a time, please. In fact, if you’d let me address them first, that would be wonderful.”

The guard looked at the dragon, then at Kirra, then at the dragon. Finally he nodded, and walked off towards the makeshift line. “This way, then.”

“Address them?” Alvaranox hissed at Kirra, flaring his spines. “What are you up too?”

“Shush, Dragon, I’m on your side here. Nylah thought we should tell them a bit aobut you, but she’s not here so I’m going to do it.”

“Oh dear.” Alvaranox lifted a paw to rub himself between his horns, wondering just how much of her own foot Kirra could swallow without choking.

“If I may have your attention please!” No one seemed to pay Kirra much attention at first, till she stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled. Alv hadn’t even realized she could do that. “May I have your attention!”

People began to quiet down, and guards directed their attention towards Kirra. When it seemed like she had most peoples attention, she smiled and spoke up again. “Thank you! My name is Kirra. I’m from the City of Asterryl, as is the dragon here. I’m the dragon’s handler. Now, that’s not to say I literally handle the dragon, he’s far too big for that.”

There were some snickers amongst the crowd, and some confused looks. Alvaranox curled his wing to hide his face, shaking his head. Poor Kirra. Well, she was the one digging this whole, she’d have to claw her way back out of it on her own as well.

“Wait,” Kirra reddened a little. “That’s not what I meant. Not that kind of handling. The point is, I tend the dragon’s needs.” The snickers turned into laughs, and Kirra flushed even darker. Kirra knit her brow, glanced back at the dragon, and then grit her teeth. “Yes, yes, laugh it up. I’d be laughing too in your case. My point is, I take care of the dragon, I am responsible for his health, just as he is responsible for my city’s protection. Protecting my home nearly cost this dragon his life, as you can clearly see.”

Alvaranox pulled his wing back a little bit, glancing at the puffy pink scar that would forever mark his belly. He had to admit, Kirra pulled herself back from the brink nicely. Maybe all that time spent working alongside Nylah and speaking with unreasonable council members was starting to rub off on her. Alvaranox trailed a single finger against his belly scar. It was still a little tender, but it wasn’t as though he could hide it from people.

“You can all see the scar from the sword that nearly took his life.” Kirra pointed back to the dragon. “All he has ever done is spend his life protecting my home, and everyone who lives there. And this is how he was repaid by those outside our community. Though this creature has a kind heart buried under all his scales, though his life is dedicated to protecting us, all they saw was a monster worth a few coins. So they came, laid an ambush for him by threatening our town, and when he rose to our defense they plunged a sword in his belly. The agony the poor dragon must have felt was beyond anything I could imagine. And it is only by the miracles and graces of the Gods we were able to staunch the bleeding and sew him back together again.” Kirra pivoted on her heels, eyes sweeping over the crowd. “So you will please forgive him if he’s still a little nervous around people. A little shy around those he doesn’t know. Or if he’s gruff with you, it is simply his way of dealing with his own fears and anxieties.”

Alvaranox knew Kirra was twisting the truth a little bit to better suit the situation, and yet he could not help feeling her words cut dangerously close to his heart. There was more truth in her speech than she knew. The dragon growled to himself, curling his tail around his paws as he sat. He felt like a prize beast at some auction, waiting for his time to be bid upon.

“Now. As you all seem very curious, you’ll get a chance to come and look at him up close, and touch his scales if you like.” Kirra moved back from the guards, and gestured at them to start letting a few people through. “You can say hello, his name is Alv.”

She ignored the dragon when he glared at her for not only giving away his name, but giving away the shortened form of it. Still, if it helped the people relax around him, perhaps that was best. The more they relaxed, the more he would relax. He’d rather be asked an entire tome’s worth of asinine questions than have to worry about someone getting scared and trying to put a blade somewhere soft.

Kirra let about a dozen people approach him. To the dragon’s pleasant surprise, Kirra took charge of telling people what not to do before he had a chance. “Don’t grab his ears, those are sensitive. Don’t tug his tail spines, they’re anchored to the bone, you know. No, he wouldn’t like it if you tried to climb on his back and sit upon him. If you have questions, by all means, address them to the dragon.”

The first group was all adults, an even mix of men and women. Thanks to Kirra’s timely instructions, none of them did anything too unpleasant. Not that Alv enjoyed having the hands of a dozen people all brushing his scales at once. But they were gentle, especially with his wings, and they didn’t ask too many foolish questions.

Once it was clear that the dragon was in fact, docile, more and more people started approaching. With the guards help, Kirra kept the groups small. Soon some children were amongst them, usually held protectively by a parent as they got a chance to touch the dragon’s scales. A few of them asked him some silly questions. Did he live in a big house? No of course he didn’t…well…yes, actually he did. Could he really breathe fire? Yes, of course he could. Would he demonstrate? As long as no one pissed themselves. Was he magic? Not in the least. Not counting the collar, which he wasn’t about to try and explain. Did it hurt when he got stabbed? More than any pain anyone could imagine. Did he know his eyes glowed? Only in the right light.

So long as they were asking him questions as well, Alv began to ask a few of his own. Mostly, if they’d ever seen any other dragons before. The vast majority of people answered no. A few claimed they’d seen a dragon in the distance before, but that the beasts never ventured close to town. A mercenary group had come through once, selling bits of dragon hide and claws, but from the condition they believed they’d simply found a dragon already dead rather than slain it themselves. For most of them stories about a dragon who protected one of the towns was as close as they’d come to seeing one until now. A few old timers claimed they used to be more common out in the wilds, and that they had moved on as Korranot grew.

How disappointingly familiar.

As the crowds began to wear thin, Alv spotted Nylah standing around behind them. She looked as though she’d been there a while but did not want to interrupt the proceedings. Sneaky old lady, knowing he’d have to behave himself with all these guards around. At least she had a smile on her face. He hoped that meant she’d found a place that could accommodate the three of them. Otherwise, as long as things seemed safe here for the women, the dragon would be just as happy sleeping outside of town somewhere.

After those dreams the night before, he could use the alone time.

The local guards of Korranot did what they could to help. They kept the groups of people surrounding the dragon from ever growing too large for his comfort. When everyone in a group had a chance to touch Alv’s scales or wings, Kirra gave the guards a signal and they began to move people along to give a few more a chance to approach. Some of the guards even took to repeating Kirra’s refrains not to tug his ears, yank his tail spines, or touch his scars.

Alvaranox wasn’t exactly sure what to make of their curiosity. Being curious was better than being hateful, but being examined and prodded made the dragon feel like a festival ham being inspected in the local butcher’s shop. Still, if getting a chance to touch a living, breathing dragon would ease their fear of his kind then it was worth it. Maybe it would mean if the town ever saw another dragon, they would do more than seek to end its life.

If there were any other dragons yet breathing.

Alvaranox pushed the thought aside. Not sense dwelling on such things now. As the crowds continued to disperse the dragon waved his paw at Nylah, beckoning her forward. She hesitated at first, but eventually pushed her way through the remaining people to come and stand alongside the dragon. When Alvaranox noticed quite a few people glancing her way, he smirked.

“There’s my friend,” the dragon said, making sure everyone could hear him. They wanted him to play the part of an affectionate guardian. He could certainly do that. He curled his foreleg around Nylah, yanking her up against his scaly body. She yelped in surprise as Alvaranox hugged her. Then with everyone looking on, he lowered his head and gave her the biggest, sloppiest lick across her face as he could. Laughter burbled amongst the ground, and Nylah tried to shove his muzzle away. Alvaranox just grinned at her, perking his ears and offering the loudest purr he could manage. “I missed you.”

“Yes, yes,” Nylah said, shoving at his muzzle with bony hands. “That’s all well and good, you don’t need to slobber all over me.”

Kirra started laughing as well. She must have thought she was exempt. Alvaranox let Nylah go, and while she struggled to wipe down her face with her fur-lined cloak, Alv pulled Kirra up against himself instead. The dragon hugged Kirra against his chest plates, his rumbling purr vibrating against her. Kirra was happier to accept the hug than Nylah was, and even put her arms as far around him as she could. She was less happy when Alvaranox gave her an even messier lick all across her face.

“Hey!” She yelped, scrunched her nose, and wiped at her face with the backs of her hands. “Drooly damn lizard!”

“You don’t taste as strawberry as your hair might otherwise indicate.”

The dragon laughed to himself, glancing at the crowd. People were smiling and laughing, children were pointing. His frilled green ears swiveled back and forth, picking up words here and there. Someone was comparing him to an affectionate, if oversized dog. Normally the comparison would anger the dragon, but for now he’d let the insult roll right off his wings. Better to be compared to someone’s pet than to be chased out of town at spear point.

“You see?” The dragon lifted his head, grinning over the remaining crowd. “Dragons are not what you think. We think and reason just as you, we hope and fear just as you.” He ran the pads of a few digits over the puffy pink scar on his green belly scales. “We bleed just as you, and we try to survive like any other creature. We care about one another, sometimes even love like you.” The dragon glanced at Kirra, holding her against himself before looking over the crowd again. “We are not monsters. We may do monstrous things when we are scared or angry.” Images of the dead land played through his mind. He bared a few fangs in a silent snarl. “Or when we are starving and desperate. But what creature in this world would not slay another if it was the only way to survive? We have to eat like everything else, but hunger, desperation, and the will to live does not a monster make.”

Alvaranox looked down at his two friends while the crowd murmured. He pinned his ears back. He wasn’t really sure where that little speech came from, nor was he sure he wanted to hear the human’s responses to it. Still, even with his ears flattened his hearing was sharp. Some of them seemed to buy into his words. Others wondered if he was “different” than other dragons because he lived among humans. At least one man seemed surprised by his eloquence. Quite a few of them also seemed to be giving his sentiment serious thought. That was good. Maybe he’d changed a few minds here, today. Not that it would matter if there no other dragons.

“If any of you see a blue female, with purple highlights…” Kirra rubbed the dragon’s chest plates in encouragement. He grit his teeth. What was he babbling about now? Well, he’d started down this path, he may as well finish his journey. “A little larger than I am. Females are often bigger than males. She was…my mate for a time.” It was as close to the truth was the dragon was willing to offer. “But she fled as Asterryl grew. She was always frightened of humans because you tend to try and kill us on site. I could not follow her, obviously.” He tugged at the collar with his other foreleg. “She does not speak your language well, but…she knows the word Rain. I gave her that nickname and it stuck. If you should see her, call to her. Call her Rain. Tell her you have met Alvaranox, and do not draw your steel. I told her once those who know me would not draw steel against a dragon. It was a lie, but a comforting one. I thought she deserved to be wrapped in comfort after years of surviving the dangers of human society. Please, if you see her…call her Rain, and treat her well.” The dragon closed his eyes, heaving a slow sigh. “I expect some so-called hero has already ended her, anyway.” Then he glanced at Kirra and Nylah, his eyes wet and gleaming in the setting sun. “I should like to go now.”

Kirra nodded, stroking his foreleg. She turned and gestured at the guards to help make a path in the crowd. The dragons words seemed to have silenced many of them. Alv had not intended his words as a weapon to bludgeon them into silence, but he was not unhappy to see it had that effect. He hadn’t intended his words at all. They’d just dribbled from his tongue like excess fire bile when he grew hungry. Alv wasn’t even sure why he brought Rain up. She was just on his mind lately. He supposed as long as he was here, and had peoples’ attention, he may as well bring her up. On the off chance she was alive, should she ever venture too closely to Korranot, he hoped they would call her name, show her they meant her no harm if she meant the same. Rain was fearful of humanity, but she was not hateful. She spited them but often did Alvaranox. If it was clear humans did not mean to hurt her, she would not hurt them either. And if they knew her name, perhaps she might even find a friend among them, or somewhere to shelter where she’d be safe.

If she wasn’t dead.

Still, it was something to hope for. Hope was a commodity the dragon could not hoard. Whenever he found hope, he tried to grasp it yet it always slipped through his claws. For now, he clutched the idea of Rain’s survival to his chest, wanting to feel it in his beating heart. He rose to all fours, and with the guards moving people aside, the dragon padded down the street. He gestured with his horned head towards Nylah, and she took the lead. She was the only one who knew where they were going to sleep that night.

“I shall escort you two to whichever inn you’ve tricked into putting up with you.” Alvaranox grinned at Nylah, then extended his wing to ease it across Kirra when he felt her hand upon his side. He knew they’d both want to say something comforting to him about Rain, and about dragons, but he’d rather just change the subject. “Then I shall go and find a place to curl up outside the town. I am weary of their leering eyes and foul scents already.”

“You won’t have to do that, Alv.” Nylah turned towards the dragon, her fur-lined cloak swirling around her as she pivoted on her heel. She glanced to the group of guards still trailing them, then back to the dragon. “I’ve found you a place to stay here, as well.”

“Have you?” The dragon pulled his head back in surprise, his neck arching a little bit. “Don’t tell me they’ve an inn here with doors and a room large enough for a dragon.”

“Something like that,” Nylah said, a hint of mischief dancing in her hazel eyes.

“I find that exceedingly hard to believe.” Alvaranox flicked his tail, careful not to catch any of the guards with the spines.

The dragon padded down the street after Nylah. He looked around a little as they traveled. The street was fairly wide, lined with buildings that were universally wooden and two stories tall. Some held more elegant architecture than others, with arched beams carved with intricate knot work or curved doorframes engraved with ancient runes. Others were little more than boxy, square structures built of thick logs. Signs hanging from sloped eaves or from lamp posts proclaimed whatever the shops sold. Tools, grains, tack, food, farming implements, tailoring, cobbling and so on. Aside from the marble tower and the stone buildings lining the water, Korranot seemed almost entirely built of wood. There were also far fewer metalwork structures. Asterryl had fanciful wrought iron lampposts by the pawful, but here in Korranot, lamps mostly hung from storefronts or simple, inelegant wooden poles. Alvaranox also noticed many of the storefronts seemed to decorate outer walls with pieces of netting and broken bits of old boats. Certainly seemed to take a lot of pride in the fact they were so reliant upon the Lake’s bounty.

For a little while, Alvaranox wondered why the streets seemed so empty. Then he caught sight of another group of guards, far ahead of them, urging people off the streets while the dragon approached. Several of the men in green and gray were directing wagons and carriages pulled by horse and oxen onto side streets long before the animals had a chance to be too frightened by the dragon. As they passed alleyways and smaller streets, small crowds of people watched the dragon pass. Carriages were parked down some of the other streets, with horses tied to heavy posts so they could not bolt even if they spooked. Some of them did whinny and roll their eyes or toss their heads, pulling at their leads. The oxen on the other hand seemed totally unconcerned with the large, green-scaled predator walking down the street.

In a few places unfamiliar scents tickled at the dragon’s nose. The smells of the people here were a little different than Asterryl. Many of them seemed to have a little darker skin than the average Asterryl resident. Probably because many of them spent their days out in the sun, upon a fishing boat. The horses and oxen smelled about the same, but the dragon did detect scents of animals and beasts he wasn’t so familiar with. Some of them were scents he’d picked up in the wilds before, or when the collar scent him to chase off beasts. Perhaps Korranot had tamed a few of the other so-called monsters that roamed the wilds. Or maybe they’d just captured a few with intent to butcher them for their pelts and meat.

The dragon growled under his breath. For a moment he was tempted to go and investigate those scents. But what was he going to do, free a bunch of caged beasts? Even if that was their idea, it was not different from what Asterryl did with livestock aside from the fact that if he freed a group of Vargeeth people would end up getting killed as a result.

Before he could think too hard about it, Nylah lead him down one of the side streets. This one was just as clear as the main road they’d been striding upon. The guards had already cleared their route for them. Probably for the town’s safety, as well as the dragon’s. They were being awfully kind to their guests from Asterryl. Then again, Asterryl had a lot of things Korranot probably wanted. Asterryl had access to vast amounts of resources, such as plentiful stone quarries. Perhaps Korranot hoped if they showed Asterryl’s Guardian Slave and his Handlers their proper hospitality, Asterryl would cut them a deal on trade. At the least if they treated the dragon and his friends with hostility, Asterryl would no doubt make that trade much more difficult.

At the end of the road was a large, out of the way inn. It sat alongside a large, grassy meadow enclosed by a tall, pine-bough fence. Yet more oxen grazed in the meadow, tufted tails swishing. They did not even bother to give the dragon a glance. The inn next to the meadow was a surprisingly sprawling place. It certainly looked large enough to accommodate the dragon, though there was no way he could fit through the front doors without causing some serious damage to the frame. To say nothing of the bruises his wings would endure if he forced himself inside. The building was three stories tall, with a slightly curved, arch-shape to it. The inn’s rows of windows were all lined with shutters cut and painted to resemble a variety of butterfly wings. On the bottom story a long line of leaded glass offered a peek at the fire roaring in the monumental hearth inside, as well as a crowd of patrons all awaiting the dragon’s arrival.

Several guards stood out front. When they spotted the dragon coming, one of them went back inside, and soon the people inside the inn’s guest hall were crowding the windows. Some pressed faces to the glass. Alvaranox thought it made them looked like smushed insects in the pages of a book.

As they neared the inn, the dragon glanced at Nylah. “That looks lovely, but there is no way I’m going to fit through those doors.”

“No, there isn’t.” Nylah turned towards the dragon, and offered him a smile that seemed far too put-upon for his liking. “That’s why they have prepared an entire second building, just for you.”

“Second building?” The dragon narrowed his copper eyes. With the sun behind him, they looked darker than usual. “That sounds far too good to be true.”

“Oh, but it is true!” Nylah smiled, waving her hand at another building nearby. It was smaller, but still had a high roof and looked large enough to comfortable fit a dragon. It even had an oversized entryway with elegant blue arches over doors cut in the shape of wings. They matched the shutters of the inn’s windows. “You see? They’ve put blankets down in their, they’ve moved out the other occupants, and you’ve got it all to yourself.”

“Really.” Alvaranox smiled. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all. He made his way towards the other building. “Well, that does sound lovely.”

Kirra hurried in front of the dragon to walk alongside Nylah. She pointed at the building Nylah had indicated. “Are you talking about that old stable, over there?”

Alvaranox came to a stop, growling. Nylah punched Kirra on the shoulder, but by then it was too late. The dragon flared his spines. “You’re putting me in a stable?”

“It’s not a stable,” Nylah said, trying to assuage the dragon. “It’s much more luxurious than that. It’s were wealthy travelers have their horses…” Nylah trailed off.

“Stabled.” The dragon finished her sentence, glaring at her. “So you get a warm, comfortable inn room, and I get a stable?”

“You wouldn’t fit in the inn,” Nylah said, reaching out to scratch the dragon’s jaw. “The stable has plenty of space for you.”

“It’s a stable!” The dragon hissed, tossing his head. “It’s going to smell like horse shit.”

“They’ve cleaned it up,” Nylah said, holding back a laugh. “It will smell fine. I even told them to start cutting some pine and spruce and lavender sprigs to tie up in there for you. Make it smell a little more like home.”

“It had better smell pleasant…” Alvaranox glared at a moment before he padded forward, brushing her firmly enough to send her stumbling. “Or you shall be the next one that smells like horse shit, after I toss you in the muck stall!”

Nylah caught her balance, swatting at the dragon’s haunch as he passed her. “Like your house would smell so great if not for us taking care of it! The odor of stink-lizard would hang in the air like a damn pall!”

Alvaranox flared his crests till the faint black mottling stood out. “My home would smell just fine! I do not smell like stink-lizard. Dragons don’t sweat like you humans do, and we certainly do not shit where we sleep!”

“If you don’t like it you’re welcome to go off into the wilds and find yourself somewhere to sleep.” Nylah followed the dragon towards the stables with Kirra at her side, mindful of the dragon’s tail spines. “In fact, why don’t you just do that? I’ll go and get my coin back.”

“I shall sleep here,” Alvaranox muttered, glaring at Nylah over his wings. “But only to spite you and your ill-gained coin.”

The stable doors were ajar, and the dragon pushed one open with a paw. Scents of fresh cut herbs wafted out, which helped to cover up the faint but lingering aromas of old straw and horse muck. The dragon snorted, padding inside. There was plenty of room for him. Looked more like a barn inside than a stable, mostly open with a few stalls down near the far end. Plenty of fresh straw had been laid out, along with a dozen or so blankets and twice as many cushions. Sprigs of fragment boughs and bundles of herbs hung from the arched rafters, along with a few soft willow boughs. Nylah must have gone out of her way to get it as close to home as possible.

Clever Old Lady. Alvaranox suspected Nylah knew he’d grown a bit uncomfortable spending the night out under the stars. It was too embarrassing a thing for him to speak aloud, but seeing him curl up under that willow tree must have been a clue for her. The willow boughs were not a roof over his head, but they did bring him a measure of comfort within their drooping embrace. Flickering fragments of memory spun in his head. He saw himself as a youngling. Curled beneath a willow, in Asterryl. Crying. Nylah came to him. Held him.

That willow. It was small then, but it grew just as the dragon who often sheltered it. He hadn’t remembered it that way for ages. Even now, the memory was foggy. He could feel the collar grasping at it, trying to pull it back into the murk. Trying to hide how long he’d really been there. Even after Nylah told him, the number of years sometimes grew fuzzy in his head when he thought about it.

But Alv remembered that tree. He used to crawl under it when he was…when he was scared. Or lonely. Or hurt. That tree had…it was important to him, once. It was important to Nylah, too. She used to know she could find him there, hiding from the world beneath it’s hanging boughs. He had forgotten the importance of that tree. The collar shrouded it from him even as he saw it every day.

That willow tree stood alongside Nylah’s house. She’d had the house built years ago, when she began to plan her eventual retirement. She always liked that tree, she said. Why not build a home there? All those years, and Alvaranox had forgotten what they tree once meant. But Nylah. Nylah never forgot. Even out here, she tried to bring him as much comfort in a foreign place as she could.

Alvaranox slowly turned. Nylah stood in the doorway with a hand upon the frame. Her sarcasm from only moments ago was already forgotten. Instead she watched the dragon with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. This was the first time he’d slept in another town in almost eighty-three years. Even now, part of him feared the unknown. Feared being alone in some human town he did not know. She’d slipped away while he was occupied to do all she could to try and ease his fearful burden.

Alvaranox stretched his neck out to brush his muzzle against her cheek. He smiled, ever so thankful just to have her there to care about him.

“Thank you, Nylah. It’s perfect.”

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Chapter Thirty Three

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Warm darkness surrounded the tiny dragon. It was soft and comforting, like being back in the egg. It shifted and jostled, moving constantly. Now and then cracks of light shone through onto blue scales. Cool air seeped in. She wriggled away from the light, wanting to sleep. The soft comfort shifted around her and darkness returned. She pressed herself to the warmth of the one who carried her.

Fear and confusion prickled at her sleepy mind. Where was Momma? Where was Father? She had not seen them for days. They were sleeping. She tried to wake them, yet they slumbered on. There were others. Different than mother and father. Smaller. She tried to hide from the fear, losing herself in that warmth.

Guardian stumbled down the broken streets of the town she once protected. It had burned down all around her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Even now her mind flickered from one moment to another. She was so little back then. She had a name. A real name. The people called her Guardian, but her name was…

The little hatchling pushed at the warm blanket with her paws. They had stopped moving. Her blue-purple head emerged into the evening light. The setting sun cast her face in fire, her silver eyes shone with distant flame. She blinked, looked around. All the funny looking people traveling with her were busy making structures to hide under. Others were putting sticks in a pile, and soon setting fire to them.

Mother and Father made fire with their mouths.

“Where’s momma?” The hatchling slipped a paw out into the cold winter to bat at the man’s face. He laughed and pulled his head back, and the hatchling batted at him again. “Where’s Momma?”

“Urrblegrrjf nrrbugglbatta!” His words sounded like gibberish to the hatchling.

“Couldn’t even understand each other,” Guardian mumbled as she nosed around a burnt out bakery where she used to get treats. Once, it smelled of bread and honey cakes and cinnamon. Now it only smelt of ash and death. Why did she keep coming back here? She could not change what happened, nor could she lift the weight it put upon her heart. A weight that was slowly crushing her day by day.

“Momma, it smells scary here!” A hatchling pressed her little blue head against Guardian’s paw.

Her daughter. Her beautiful daughter. The only reason she had to live anymore. Her town was gone. Her loving home. But her daughter needed her, and Guardian had to go on for her daughter. She loved her daughter. Guardian smiled at the hatchling. They looked so much alike.

“I know, Love.” Guardian licked her nose, purring to her daughter. “We’ll go soon. I just…need to look around.”

At least her daughter had her. Guardian would never let them take her or harm her. If they wanted her daughter, they would have to kill Guardian first.

The air outside the blanket was cold, but her tummy would not stop rumbling. She did not want to come out of the blanket. She wanted to wait in there, where it was warm and dark until mother and father came back. But she had to eat. The man who carried her spoke his gibberish. She could not understand him, but she smelled meat. Her little blue nostrils twitched whenever he lifted up the edge of the blanket. She did not try to bite his fingers. He had not hurt her. He was very gentle. But she did not feel like coming out today.

“Where’s momma!”

Guardian flopped down on her haunches, struggling against the flashes of memory that threatened to overwhelm her. She picked her own daughter up in her jaws, then pulled her against her chest plates, wrapping her forelegs around her. “I’m here, Love, I’m here.”

Guardian’s daughter squirmed a moment, then giggled and purred. She licked at her mother. “I know Momma I see you!” She nipped at her mother, then huffed, thumping a purple-hued paw against her mother’s blue-plated chest. “Momma I’m hungry.”

“Drink your water.” A green head flashed into view for a moment, gone just as quickly.

“I’m hungry too,” Guardian murmured, her silver eyes only half-focused. Broken memories drifted behind them. Things she had forgotten all her life, a childhood that was little more than a shattered mirror her damaged mind struggled to piece together. Each shard reflected another moment of another memory taken from her so long ago.

The tiny hatchling slunk out from under the blanket. The scent of cooking meat was too much for her to ignore. She’d never eaten meat touched by flame until these men took her. But the fire made the scent stronger. The man who carried her in the blanket during the day held a piece of half-roasted goat meat out towards her. She crept across the ground, warily eying everyone else. There were a dozen of them, but he was the only one who touched her. The fire in the middle of the group made them look monsters with glowing faces and burning eyes. Some of them wore funny cloth on their backs, lined with blood. Her eyes flicked back to the meat, and she snapped her teeth into it. It tasted good. She ate it, purring, and the man gave her another, and another until she was full.

The hatchling felt lonely. She missed her family. When the man settled on the ground and pulled her into his lap, she did not resist. She curled there, taking comfort in his kindness. She let him stroke her wings until she fell asleep.

In her slumber, voices whispered to her.

Do your duty, and you will be free.

In her waking hours, regret filled her.

She had not done her duty. She was not free.

Burn it down.

Was that her duty now? Avenge her city with fire.

No. She did not want anything else to burn.

Do your duty, and you will be free.

She was free. She had no more city to protect.

All she had now as her daughter. If only she still had a home to share with her young one.

Guardian turned and padded up a narrow street. Broken stone walls stained with soot and ash made for sorrowful sentinels on either side of her. A few scattered bones lay strewn upon the street, and in the grass alongside it. The drought beyond her lost city was growing. In the years after the city fell, beasts had been here looking for scraps of food, and the bones were long since gnawed clean.

Guardian’s daughter bound ahead of her mother, her purple-tipped tail bouncing in the air. She skidded to a halt on dirty, blood-stained cobblestone. She lowered her little wedge-shaped head, nosed one of the bones, and scrunched her snout. “No food left, Momma.”

“Humans aren’t food,” Guardian murmured. She gave her daughter a lick and continued up the road. “Unless they try to kill you first.”

“Humans?” Guardian’s daughter stared up at her, lifting her little spines. “What’s a humans?”

“Humans are a people who talk. Like us. These bones were human.” Guardian turned onto another street. Memories flickered her mind. There was a butcher shop here with a jolly man who loved giving her tidbits of meat when she was little. Further down there was a shop that sold supplies for painting and pottery. As she grew older, the daughter of the woman who ran the shop used to paint on her scales. “Humans lived here, once.” The buildings had been ruins for years. “So did I, once.”

“Why did you leave?” Guardian’s daughter padded alongside her, peering up at her mother. “Cause its all broken and scary smelling?”

Guardian gave her daughter a wistful smile. “Because there was nothing left for me here.”

“Why?”

“Because I failed them. And it burned down. And they died.” Guardian hung her head, closing her eyes. Some days she wished she’d died along with that city. They had all looked up to her, and she failed them all. Guardian trembled, tears running down her muzzle. Her daughter cooed, licking her in an attempt to soothe her mother’s pain. “They called me…Guardian. Yet I was not!”

The hatchling cried under the blankets. She missed her momma. She’d lost count of the days they traveled through the winter cold and the falling snow, and still she saw no sign of her family. The man tried to comfort her. When she came out of the blankets, he stroked her neck. Sometimes she arched into his touch, but when he brushed the black thing around her it made her head feel funny. They put that thing around her the last time she saw her family. She wanted her mother and father to come and make them take it off.

Guardian fought against her tears as she walked to the plaza. She did not want her daughter to see her crying. She nudged the little hatchling, smiling to her. Her daughter smiled back and licked her mother’s nose. Guardian heaved a sigh. She was so happy to have such a joyful thing in her life, and so sad she had no beautiful home to raise her daughter in.

She had a home, once. And she could not save it. She had food and shelter and friends and she could not protect any of them.

They were wanderers now. Following the prey as the world beyond began to fade. Soon she would have to move closer to more human towns. She had called the humans her friends once, and she knew they could be so kind to dragons. Yet the more she remembered, the more pieces of that broken mirror were put back together, the more she feared they might take her daughter.

The little hatchling pushed her head out of the blanket again. Towering lines of rock rose before her. The man who carried her walked into a hole in the rock. Beyond it were many more people. More strange formations of rock and wood stood all around here. They looked like strange, square-shaped caves. People went in and out of them. Sounds and scents like she’d never imagined assaulted her. She pulled her head back into the blanket, hiding.

The noises grew louder. So many people babbling so much gibberish. A few of the sounds she’d heard during her travel made sense to her now. She understood the gibberish for food, and the gibberish for sleep, and the noise to make when she had to pee. But she did not know how to tell them she was scared and wanted everyone to be quiet.

Guardian followed the same path to the plaza she was carried along. She’d kept herself hidden much of the time, but after so many years in the city she knew the route by heart. She fell silent as she padded towards the old fortress. The walls were broken now, the booths and stalls that sprung up in the market held within the central fortress courtyard were long gone. Guardian slowly turned a circle, smiling as her hatchling jumped to snatch at her tail.

She still remembered the unique design the city held. The walls inside the fortress made up several designs. The first set of walls surrounded the courtyard plaza itself. The next made up incorporated the outer curtain wall of the fortress. Then came the walls through town or lines incorporated into the roads. They were all just lines on the earth from above. She’d flown over the city so many times she could draw it’s broken geometric patterns by memory.

Since the city had fallen, she had drawn those lines in the sand countless times. Each layer of walls expanded beyond the plaza had one more lines than the last. One more for the second wall, two more for the third, and so on. The length of lines and the shape they made together never quite the same. Many of those walls were too broken now to even be recognizable. Other lines formed by roads beyond the hill were now so overgrown as to be totally hidden. Even the slowly fading river and its bridge made up lines cut in the earth.

Gods. What was she on about? Guardian sometimes feared she was losing her mind. Fixating on patterns she remembered from childhood, growing lost in hidden memory, trying to forget terrible things. She shook herself, her scales clicking. She had to keep it together for her hatchling. Guardian gazed down at her youngling, watching her pad around the cracked, ruined stones of the plaza.

Guardian’s mind flickered.

Pulled from her warm blanket. Her paws bound in sturdy rope, staked to the ground. The hatchling cried. Where was the kind man? They took her from him. Where was her family? They took them from her. She was alone. She wriggled. The ropes bit into still-soft scales. She cried. No one seemed to listen.

A crowd of humans surrounded her, staring. Beyond them rose freshly-built walls, a plaza built even before the fortress was complete. Where she could see between people’s feet, bits of shadow marked the bottom layer of the wall’s otherwise gray stone. Her belly was pressed to warm flagstone. Smooth but hard, uncomfortable. All around her, lines were drawn upon the stone in black, and red. The hatchling smelled blood. In front of her stood a man, and blood ran from his hands. He crouched nearby, and touched his bleeding hands to her neck. He grasped the black thing that clung to her the way she clung to her mother when they pulled her away. Someone else’s thoughts rattled in her head, poisoning her mind. Pain ignited from the collar, and shot along her spine. Agony burst in her brain, her heart, her soul. The hatchling screamed, writhed, twisted, and fought. The pain lasted only for a moments but it seemed like years to one so unused to such agony.

The man stood up, and the pain began to fade. She saw her mother, blue and purple like her. Sweet and warm and caring. Her father, indigo, with silver eyes. Gruff yet loving. Before her eyes, they burned away. She remembered a stream near which they used to live. The land was sandy and hot, but at the stream it was green and soft. The stream burned away. Her last day with her family. Something put around her neck. A gentle man who gave her food. Every memory before this place burned away.

In their place, new memories. Lines painted on her blank mind. Her new home. She was born here, wasn’t she? Yes. Her new duty. She wanted to protect this place, didn’t she? Yes. The man she must serve, and the town she must protect. Bound here, bound to this town for all of her days. They pulled the ropes away, gave her food, and water. The man picked her up. He was not as gentle. The walls around her. Her collar tingled. A bell chimed in her head.

Over the years those walls grew. The fortress rose around them. More walls were built. Lines of roads were cut into the earth. The city grew. Her handler was not kind, but when he was gone, the city embraced her. They loved her. The bells rang, and she fought for them. For all her life she protected them. Until the day she could not. They had loved her. They had called her Guardian.

But that was not her name.

Her name had burned away.

Why her name?

They wanted her to be Guardian.

Guardian pressed a paw to her head, groaning in pain. Her head ached. She was supposed to be free now, wasn’t she? Should her memories not be free as well? And yet…she fought them. When she remembered being bound to this place, she wished she had not. While she lived here, while she fought for them, she was so sure she’d been born here, an orphaned egg taken in by a kindly down. That…memory…that life…it was so much easier than the truth.

When her duty was done, when her memories began to come back, she fought them. Her town was gone, her heart was broken, and clinging to a comforting falsehood was so much easier than accepting an agonizing truth.

Guardian began to pant. She stumbled away from her daughter, flopped onto her haunches. She groaned, rose to her paws again, and turned around. When she was brought here, the walls were so freshly built. Laid on a foundation of black stone. They rose and grew as she grew with them. When the town burned, many of the walls had fallen. Time had torn many others down.

Time.

How long had it been since she fought her last battle in her town?

She lifted her paw. The purple in her blue scales held hints of gray. Her paw trembled. She peered down at her daughter. The youngling looked frightened. She padded over and nuzzled at her mother, trying to soothe fear she could not understand.;

“My name…” Guardian stumbled over her words, dredging up an ancient memory. Her own name. She had a sudden desire to remember it, to know it. “My name is…Raynamyra…”

Raynamyra pressed a gray-tinged paw to her neck. The collar was still there. When the town fell, she had no more duty to complete. No more power to bind her here. Yet she had failed, and she could not bring herself to remove the collar. It was a reminder that she had let down a town that loved her. Did they love her? …Yes, and she loved them. Her past did not matter. She cared for them, and she…

Their deaths broke her heart.

When her daughter was grown, she would take that collar as far into the waste as she could so that no one would ever have to bear it again.

“Momma,” Raynamyra’s daughter spoke up.

“Yes, Love?” She tilted her head down at her hatchling.

The whole world vibrated around her when her daughter spoke. The voice was not her own. “Do your duty.”

“No!” Raynamyra stumbled away from her daughter, panting.

“And you will be free.” Her daughter followed her. Fear burned in the hatchling’s eyes. This wasn’t real. Her daughter wasn’t saying these things. She wasn’t speaking with that voice. Her words weren’t shaking the world. This was…the collar. Whatever damage it had done…to her mind…

“No…No! I’ve already done it!” Raynamyra fell to the ground in despair, her wings spread across stones still caked with ash and soot years later.

“Burn it down.”

Raynamyra screamed, and Alvaranox screamed with her.

The dragon jerked his head up, leaping to his paws. He cringed, expecting pain to ring out in his head. Only it didn’t. He must have missed the rafters. He murmured to himself, fragmented images of blue scales and burnt ruins drifting across his vision. He felt around the blankets with a forepaw, seeking Kirra.

“Kirra,” Alv said, his voice little more than a murmur. “Kirra, wake up.”

There was no reply. She must have slipped outside. Alvaranox peered around the place, nostrils flaring. He didn’t smell her either. Where was she? And why did it smell like horse shit? The dragon slowly looked around, his real memories returning moment by moment. Oh. That was right. They were in Korranot, he was sleeping in a stable, and Kirra was sleeping in an inn room with Nylah.

It was an unexpectedly lonely feeling to wake up alone. Though she’d only been sleeping alongside him recently, since their trip to the Island she’d slept at his side more often than not. The dragon wished she was there now, if only to pull her against his body, and take comfort in her warmth against his scales. The night air was cool, and though he was not uncomfortable, had the stables a hearth he would have lit a fire. If Kirra was there he’d tell her about that dream.

Alv sat upon his haunches for a moment. He rubbed his wedge-shaped head with a paw, green fingers sliding between black horns. That dream was more vivid than usual. Usually, when he found himself in Guardian’s head, her memories were even more fragmented than his own. They were like skipping through pictures in a book. But that one…While it had been difficult to understand at first, it became clear soon enough.

It seemed Alvaranox was not the only one who had his memories hidden away by the collar. In the dream she’d been recalling things, yet she fought against the memories. She wanted to wrap herself in the warmth of the collar’s falsehood. Alvaranox himself had considered that possibility but chosen otherwise. He wasn’t sure why she’d begun to remember things. Maybe when her town was destroyed, the collar had no more use for guiding her thoughts. She had no more town to protect.

Alvaranox scrunched his muzzle in a fearful grimace. There was another possibility. The collar might have been punishing her for failing to protect her town. Her penance for letting the city fall was to suffer through the truth of her existence, the memories of her real childhood with no one left to comfort her. Stuck with the knowledge that it had all been for nothing because she had failed.

Alvaranox rose to his feet and pushed open the stable doors with his horned head. The night was still deep, but moonlight cast the world in shades of silvery-blue. A quick glance at the inn told the dragon morning was soon approaching. The lamps were all out inside the tavern, and only a few rooms had glowing windows. Wood smoke rose from the kitchen’s chimney, tinted with the scent of sizzling sausages. Faint light shone towards the back of the otherwise dark tavern. Someone must be getting breakfast started in the kitchen.

As the dragon padded from the stable towards the road, he felt the collar’s fingers in his mind. Trying to shift the dream’s images away from his consciousness, seeking to hide what he had seen. Alvaranox refused to let the collar yank it away that easy. He clutched each shard of color and memory to his chest, clinging to them like a hatchling to his mother’s leg. Some things were forgotten while he kept others fresh in his mind. The crowd. The plaza. A young dragon.

That plaza. So, they’d collared Guardian in that plaza, too. Guardian…no, that wasn’t her name. Her name was…Or had they collared her? She had something on her neck. A nice man carried her. Alvaranox growled, grit his sharp teeth and shook his head. Hanging onto these memories was getting them scrambled up with his own. They took her…from her parents. The collar was put on her…before they took her…to that city.

Just like him, if that image in the book was to be believed. Alvaranox always thought they’d put the collar on him in that market plaza. He remembered them putting the collar on him there. He remembered the pain it brought when it was bound to him. And yet…Guardian remembered the pain, too. The pain was real, but…the collaring…

Alvaranox looked around until he spotted a few guards. He knew they’d be posted around the stable. When he emerged the men in green and gray surcoats over their armor began to trail the dragon. He gestured with a paw for one of them to approach. The men all bore heavy spears with swords strapped to their hips, shields strapped to their backs while not in use. The guard came to a stop near the dragon, then leaned against his spear, gulping a little.

“Which way is your market plaza?” Alv saw the place from the air. Now he wanted to see it from the ground. “I wish to visit.”

“The market’s closed at night…” Nervousness flickered in the guard’s eyes, tightened his face.

“Which way?” The dragon sharpened his voice. If he had too he’d just take to the skies and find it from the air.

The guard relented and pointed the dragon in the right direction. Alvaranox mumbled a thank you, too deep in his own thoughts to even bother telling the man to get mounted. He padded off down the road, and soon turned onto one of the main thoroughfares that the guard had indicated.

That image in the book. Scribed of himself being lead into Asterryl on a leash. He already bore the collar in that picture. Nylah was convinced that meant he’d arrived in Asterryl with the collar already locked around his neck. Much as Alvaranox hated to admit it, it seemed she was right. But then where did the collar come from? Did the Circle had it just stashed away, waiting for another helpless hatchling to bind to another city? Why would it hide that from him? Perhaps to keep him from seeking revenge against the Circle. Yet, those were the same people who tried to kill him.

Alvaranox hissed in frustration. Circle indeed. He just kept flying the same path. The more he learned, the bigger the circle got, but it always lead back to the same thoughts. He was like Stupid Fish, they might move him into a bigger barrel but in the end he was still just swimming the same circles all day.

If the visions were to be believed, then Guardian bore that collar before being taken to her city, too. They’d taken her there, tied her up in the plaza just as they’d chained Alv, and then they’d…what? Filled her with pain. A man with bloodied hands touched the collar. Alvaranox recognized that ceremony. The binding of the dragon to the handler. It connected them, it made sure he had to obey. So, the collar was…already on. Perhaps the ceremony was not so much about locking the collar around the dragon’s neck, but binding the collared dragon to their chosen city. As if the collar was already present but not actually activated until they were taken there, put through that ceremony.

There were lines on the ground, painted in the blood and black sand in Guardian’s vision. Alvaranox fought through his memories, trying to focus on his own days being called. Yet all that came to him was a falsehood, a time when he was already halfway through his adolescence, collared in that plaza. He now knew that was not the truth, yet knowing it was a lie was not enough to lead him to reality. Had there been runes like that on the ground when he was collared? Perhaps a better word was bound. He could ask Nylah if she remembered anything like that when she became his handler, but he suspected the ceremonies were quite different.

The night air blowing across the lake was cold, bringing with it the scent water. Alvaranox wrapped his warm wings tighter around himself as he padded through the streets of Korranot. Lost as he was in his own thoughts, the dragon paid little attention to those who shared the night with him. Guards trailed him at all times, gesturing to other guards standing watch on lamp-lit street corners. Late night revelers stumbling home and workers heading to early morning jobs all gave way when they saw the dragon coming. Eyes watched him from the shadows, and whispers in the darkness brushed his ears.

Much of the city was quiet. A few nocturnal birds called night song at the passing dragon from their perches atop trees and angular eaves. Somewhere in the distance, beasts howled. The tones of their primal melody were low, perhaps too far away from the humans in town to hear them. The dragon flicked his ears, swiveling them towards the sound of lapping waves.

The dragon passed through large gateways and ancient arches here and there. Some of them allowed passages through old stone walls constructed around the towns former borders. Others were all that remained of walls long since repurposed. Now and then the dragon felt a hint of a tingle from the collar when he passed through a wall. He heard no bell, which he took as a good sign. The last thing he needed was for that damn bell to ring now and send him hurtling all the way back towards Asterryl.

As the dragon settled deeper into his thoughts, he paid the city just enough attention to avoid walking into anyone, or knocking anything over. He hoped the guards would be mindful of his tail, as it ended to lash with the pace of his thoughts. If he was right, Guardian had been taken from her parents, collared, and then brought to a city to be bound to it just as he was. Was she the first dragon to ever wear the collar? Or was she just the last one to wear it before he did? Why did he see her memories through it? Perhaps it had something to do with the fact she’d lost her town, but the collar stayed on. The damn thing made no sense. And where did that leave the box? In his previous visions, she was trying to dig it up while her city burned around her. But it was entirely possible that was just Alv’s own actions filtered through memory and dream. Or just the way the collar chose to compel him to fetch the box of shadow.

Alvaranox came to a stop. What if there was no Guardian? What if even she was not a memory, but a falsehood the collar used to confuse him, to get him to do what it wished without him even realizing it? The dragon grasped at the collar with a paw, tugging it. He half expected the whole world to tilt and twist with the movement of the collar. Alv pulled in a slow breath, his forest green chest plates gradually expanding. He was putting too much thought into all this. In his efforts to untangle an incomprehensible knot, he was only tying smaller knots all around it.

Guardian must have been real. And her name…

Was Guardian her mother? Or grandmother? There was no way for him to know how long it had been since Guardian had her daughter. Grandmother, perhaps, seemed more likely. Then again, dragons had long life spans and slow growth. The city had already been in ruins when Guardian took her daughter there, if the dream was to be believed. And with the box buried there…if it brought the waste as they feared, perhaps it had accelerated the burnt out city’s fall into utter ruin.

Alvaranox’s lungs burned. The dragon heaved a sigh. He lifted his head, focusing on his surroundings for a moment. Old stone walls rose all around him. Locked up shops lined the bottom of the walls, while shuttered carts and stalls stood in haphazard array all across the area. He’d reached the market without even realizing it. Alvaranox slowly turned around, for a moment his mind was back in Asterryl. The plaza looked so familiar. The walls looked so familiar.

It couldn’t be. Could it? Yet they looked the same.

He had to know.

Alvaranox glanced at the guards to make sure they were out of his way. Then he bound a few steps forward, his spined tail snaking through the air behind him. He leapt into the air, beat his wings and ascended. As he rose his tail spines clipped a wooden stall, tearing the roof from it with a splinting crack. Broken wooden frame and fired clay roofing tiles clattered to the cobblestone plaza. Alvaranox pumped his wings harder, rising into the air. He heard the guards yelling. Might as well deal with that.

“Nylah shall pay for that in the morning!” The dragon down to them as he ascended into the cool night air.

Moonlight caused his golden spot to glow. The dragon flicked his flight membranes closed over his eyes though that did little to dull the silver sheen they’d picked in from the moon. The dragon’s heart thudded in his chest, nearly rattling his scales. Its pounding sent his blood rushing through him, he could feel the echoing pulses in his minor-heart chambers near his tail. As the dragon rose, he gazed down upon the city of Korranot. The dragon’s belly twisted. For reasons his claws could not grasp, the sight of the city spread out beneath him frightened the dragon.

Those walls. Those plaza walls. Alvaranox circled a few times. The city almost looked to be spinning beneath him. As though the roads and walls that made it up were pieces to a puzzle fitting themselves together beneath the dragon.

They were the same. They were the same walls as in Asterryl, and the same walls Guardian saw in my memory. Korranot held a central plaza just as Asterryl. After so many years flying above Asterryl he could have drawn that city’s lines in the sand with his own claws. And Korranot was the same. Their central plaza was ringed by same number of old walls. They held the same irregular shape, the plaza had five sizes but none were quite the same length. The roads that entered the plaza made the same intersections. They made the same lines.

Alvaranox shook his head, squeezed his eyes shut. They could not be the same, could they? He peered down again, blinking. Yet they were. The plaza in Korranot was smaller, but the design was the same simply scaled down. The dragon’s mind flashed to the courtyard he was ambushed in. In Guardian’s day, that too had been a plaza. The walls of the fortress. They were designed to fit the rise and fall of the hill, so each…was a different length. The same irregular shape. The broken walls inside used to be hallways, like intersecting roads. The old gateways into the fortress through the curtain wall once stood open pathways that formed lines that intersected five walls.

Five walls. Oddly geometric patterns. Alvaranox began to pant. He had not paid the city’s walls any attention until now.

Beyond the plaza, an old wall that once ringed the town was now built into its design. He followed the rise and fall of the stone around the midst of the city. Seven lines. Longer than any of those in the plaza, but it was the same shape as Asterryl’s old wall, he was sure of it. The next encircling wall had nine long lines. Oddly geometric. Just. Like. Asterryl.

They were not just walls. Their design was purposeful. Built to a plan that no one in town even knew existed anymore. They were runes upon the earth. Runes designed and built when these towns were founded. Alvaranox always assumed Asterryl had simply outgrown its walls, and built a new one. But now, he wondered if they’d the runes first and simply grew into them? Or did they add a new rune? They must be older than that.

Every city he knew was built upon the same immense rune. But why?

Five lines of blood…

Words forgotten for ages echoed through his mind in Tavaryn’s voice. His first handler. The day he was…

Five lines of blood…

Five lines, five walls. What did that mean? Alvaranox and Guardian both bound within five walls, chained inside five lines of blood. Blood and black sand. When he walked through Asterryl’s walls lately, he felt a tinge. Sometimes he heard a bell.

The walls. Those patterns in the cities, in walls, in the streets. They were all a part of it, all a part of the curse. Were the runes there just to bind dragons?

Gods, that sounded insane. But they all shared the same walls.

…Didn’t they? What if…what if the collar was showing him another illusion?

His mind raced. The dragon felt as though his thoughts were getting away from him. He felt his memories shift, the collar plucking something from obscurity. A whispered word.

The Circle.

The Circle. The Circle of Blood and Shadow. They put the collar on him. They took him from his mother. They bound him to Asterryl, just as they bound Guardian. And then they tried to slay him. It was time. It was time to go and see the Circle.

They would know. Yes.

Yes, they would know about the Runes on the earth. They would know want they meant.

And when they told him, he would burn their citadel down.

In the back of his mind, a bell tolled.

Destroy their citadel.

The bell rang again.

Tear down their runes.

The bell grew louder.

Burn it down.

“Burn it down,” Alvaranox murmured to himself. He folded his wings, heading for Nylah’s inn. It was time to go. “Burn it down.”

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Chapter Thirty Four

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Nylah had trouble sleeping. It was a little unusual for her as she often slept well even when something was troubling her. Then again, it had been a long time since she’d slept anywhere but her own bed. The bed in the inn room was warm and comfortable yet unfamiliar. Nylah spent much of the night tossing and turning. Each time she managed to doze off, her dreams were filled with a sense of eerie unease that followed her into the waking world. She could not recall the images that haunted her sleep nor could she quell the gnawing cold in her belly when she woke.

In the darkness she cast off the blue woolen blankets and the softer sheets, and stepped out of bed. A nightdress hardly seemed appropriate for this uncertain journey, but the inn had provided her a warm robe in its place. The robe was soft and comfortable, she’d worn it to bed. It was beige with grey sleeves, and inn’s emblem embossed on the end of each sleeve. She wrapped it around herself, glancing around the room.

It could be argued whether the rooms they’d been given should be considered cozy or simply small, but they were nice enough. The bed took up a large portion of the room along with a small dresser and a closet. A single chair with a recently repaired purple cushion sat near a scuffed wooden table scarcely large enough for one of Kirra’s sketch pads. Still, they’d gotten a good rate and they’d had to pay to have that stable prepared for Alv. Thankfully it was Asterryl covering the costs.

Nylah went to window, staring out through the leaded panes of glass. The night beyond was clear. The moon cast so much brilliant silvery light across the city, it seemed the moon itself were searching for answers it could not find. Nylah saw movement in the sky. Something dark circled above the city. Silhouetted against the stars, the dragon’s green belly scales looked oily and black even as the moonlight cast the top half of him in shades of silver. So, Alv couldn’t sleep either. For a moment Nylah considered venturing out to call to him but decided against it. The dragon needed some time alone with his thoughts. She also doubted Korranot’s slumbering residents would appreciate the dragon and woman yelling for each other’s attention.

Nylah watched Alvaranox fly for circles for a little while. No doubt the dragon was struggling to sort his thoughts and clear his mind. Sometimes that was the only thing that could calm the dragon down. Nylah just hoped Alv hadn’t broken anything.

Nylah turned away from the window, contemplating returning to bed. Though her body was fatigued, her mind was wide awake. Even if she crawled back under the warm blankets now she would just lay in bed thinking. If that was all she was going to do, she may as well just put her clothes back down. They needed to leave early in the morning anyway. She’d let Kirra sleep in a little while longer, and when the sun began to peek above the horizon, Nylah would wake her.

Nylah discarded her robe and lay it across the back of the single chair. From her pack she fetched herself a soft and warm blouse. It was a pretty light purple, with darker lilac flowers edged in white across the chest, and a line of them down each sleeve. It was a bit more fanciful than something she’d usually wear, but Nylah had a soft spot for it. Given that it seemed her days of wearing comfortable yet beautiful dresses in her retirement had ended as soon as they began, she could at least wear a pretty blouse now and then. She pulled the blouse on, and then put on a pair of silvery-gray breeches with black piping the seams. Nylah had taken to wearing breeches of skirts and dresses while working with the dragon, and they seemed far more appropriate for a trip like this than anything else. She tugged her old work boots on, tied them quickly. Perhaps after they returned to Asterryl it would be time to purchase a new pair.

As Nylah headed for the door, she grabbed her fur-lined riding cloak. She tucked it under her arm, headed out in to the hall and locked the door. The rooms they’d been given were on the second floor, a long, narrow hallway ran the length of the building. Well worn carpeting covered the otherwise wooden floor. As Nylah walked down the hall, she wondered if the carpet had always been so gray. Lamps hung between every other door upon otherwise unadorned walls. In the wavering orange lamplight it was hard to tell if the walls a mottled gray shade or if they were just quite dirty.

Nylah descended the wide flight of carpeted stairs to the first floor. A bit of hunger scratched at her belly. She wanted something to snack upon and a cup of tea, if the kitchen was open. If not, she’d venture out into the town and find some place that stayed open all night or serviced early morning workers. At the bottom of the stairs she walked the short hall towards the large room that served as the inn’s tavern and dining room.

The tavern itself was dark but light glowed from the doorway leading into the kitchen. Perhaps that was a good sign. Nylah strode right up to the kitchen doors and knocked upon them. May as well come right out and ask if she could get something to eat or not. It was fine if not, she just wanted to know so she wasn’t wasting her time waiting around.

A slender woman with bleary eyes came to the door. “Yes?”

Nylah gave the woman a friendly smile even as she looked her over. “Hello there! I couldn’t sleep, and I was just wondering if it would be possible to get some breakfast and some tea? If you’re not ready to serve, that’s not a problem. Just wanted to know if I should go somewhere else or not.”

The woman gave her a smile. “I think we can get you something.”

The slender woman was only about Kirra’s age, but looked as though she might have weighed half what Kirra did. Long, frizzy black hair was tied behind her head with a blue band. Her face looked ruddy, warmth rolled out around her from the kitchen. She wore a black apron tied behind her back, and already smears of grease mingled with stains from wood smoke. Hints of smoke marked her face, too. Behind the woman was a second cook, this one a rotund man in a matching black apron. The woman’s apron looked to large while the man’s apron looked strained, as though it was struggling to hold in his ponderous belly. Any moment now Nylah expected the woman’s bulbous stomach to burst through his apron like some tubby fish wriggling out of an egg. Nylah half considered telling the woman to help herself to a few extra meals at the man’s expense but thought better of it.

“That’d be lovely,” Nylah said. “Whatever you have available and some tea, please.”

The woman nodded and closed the door again. Nylah found herself a seat near the wide glass windows. Each window was taller than she was, from floor to ceiling, and they ran nearly the whole length of the tavern. Quite impressive really. Not that she had much to look at aside from silver-painted roads, fields, fences and the sides of a few buildings back towards the main stretch of town.

The woman working the kitchen soon brought Nylah a tulip-shaped glass lamp, and set it on the center of the circular table. “We won’t be lighting all the regular lanterns for a little while yet, so I brought one for your table.”

“Thank you.” Nylah smiled and touched the woman’s arm in thanks.

When the woman returned to the kitchen, stretched her arms and rested her hands upon the table. The wooden table was quite old, sanded down several times to try and remove a few old knife scars and burn marks. At least one profanity was still faintly visible. Nylah smiled to herself. That would have amused Alvaranox.

Nylah shifted on the thin cushion upon the wooden chair, looking out the window again. From this angle she couldn’t see if Alv was still circling the city or not. Nylah folded her arms, pursing her lips. She hoped flight would ease the dragon’s troubles, yet she knew many of them were not so easily dispelled. Some of those troubles were only going to grow when they reached Delverrix.

Nylah’s belly twisted. She shivered and pulled her cloak tighter though the sudden chill she felt could not be staved off by warm clothes. If the worst was revealed, they would be able to do little more than try and quell the dragon’s anger before he crossed a line from which he could not return. And if he did cross that line?

If Alv laid siege to the Circle, or even the city of Delverrix itself?

“Here’s your tea.” The woman’s voice drew Nylah’s thoughts back from the darkness. She set a cup of steaming tea down atop a wooden saucer, smiling. “Your food will be out shortly.”

Nylah thanked her, and picked up the tea. She blew on it a few times, and then delicately sipped it to avoid scalding herself. The tea had as strong, slightly bittersweet flavor. Nylah recognized some of the flavors, she used similar leaves and herbs at home to brew tea good for helping herself to wake. She’d have to have some more prepared when it was time to go and wake Kirra.

Nylah peered around the empty tavern while she waited. The only sources of light where the golden glow from the kitchen and the lamp on her table, as well the moonlight that poured in through the windows in silver streams. Most of the tables and chairs looked quite old, scuffed and battered but well cared for. A few square tables stood out among the circular ones, they looked much newer. Padded booths along the far wall lead to a large hearth built of rounded stones, though the fire had died to little more than lingering embers. The heads of a few beasts decorated the wall, Nylah did not recognize them all.

Thankfully, none of them were dragons. After so many years of calling Alv a friend, such a sight would have turned her stomach.

When the food arrived, it came on a sizzling platter. Several plump sausages and a hefty slab of grilled fish, plus a few pieces of unfamiliar fruit. The woman smiled when Nylah thanked her, offered her some silverware, and then retreated back into the kitchen to finish getting breakfast prepared for everyone else who would soon awake.

The food smelled delicious, and tasted even better. Yet Nylah had only eaten a few bits when movement caught her eye. Something large swooped in low over the road, landing a little ways off. Nylah smiled as she watched Alv fold his wings and make his way up the street towards the inn. The dragon was probably coming back to try and get a little more sleep before they had to rise to continue their travels. Just like Kirra, she’d let Alv sleep as long as possible. She hoped the dragon’s mind had eased.

Nylah went back to her breakfast. She focused on the spiced sausages and freshly grilled fish to keep her own mind from traveling darkened paths. The food was very good, and while the inn itself could use a little maintenance, the kitchen was certainly cranking out top quality product. No wonder the chef was so rotund, tasting a bit too much of his own cooking. Perhaps the woman could follow his lead and put on a bit of weight herself. Poor woman looked malnourished.

“Isn’t that your dragon?” The slender woman called out from the kitchen, peering through the windows from across the room.

Nylah chuckled at the idea of Alv being “her” dragon. By now it was an idea she’d heard far too many times, yet it still amused her. It was easier just to agree than it was to try and explain otherwise. “Yes, that’s Alv. Don’t mind him, though, he’s harmless.” She smiled at the woman, waving a bit of sausage about with her fork. “So long as you’re not an enemy of Asterryl.”

The woman bit her lip. Nervousness twisted her features. Her voice trembled. “What’s he doing?”

Nylah turned to the window. Alvaranox paced up and down the street that lead from the inn further into town. His spiked tail lashed behind him with every step. He tossed his head, baring his fangs. He snapped his jaws, and snarled at shadows. The dragon’s mouth moved. Alv was talking to the himself again. That wasn’t unusual, though he looked agitated. Nylah rose and walked to the window. She put a hand on the glass, watching the dragon. His frilled green ears flicked and swiveled. He was listening to something.

Nylah sucked in a breath. Alv wasn’t talking to himself. Alv was talking to the shadows and the shadows were talking back.

Alvaranox came a stop. He tilted his head back and spat fire into the sky. The world shone in flickering orange shades. Firelight glinted off steel, some of the guards had taken out their swords. Alv turned and began to pace and mutter again.

“Stay inside,” Nylah said, her voice sharp. Nylah rose to her feet, wrapping her cloak around her. “And send someone to fetch Kirra right away. She’s in room two twelve!”

Nylah walked to the front doors. She unlocked them, stepped outside and closed the doors behind herself. Even without her cloak, she would not have noticed the chill. “Alv?” Nylah spoke gently at first, but her voice rose with urgency when the dragon did not seem to hear her. “Alv? Alv!”

Alvaranox walked away from Nylah, lashing his spined tail. Nylah walked along the inn’s front patio, staying out of range. The patio was covered by a raised awning, supported with several narrow wooden pillars carved with vine work. Nylah set a hand upon one of the pillars, listening to the dragon for a moment. Alv’s words were faintly audible but she could not recognize them. Alvaranox came to a stop. Nylah called to the dragon again and once more he did not seem to hear her.

Alvaranox suddenly threw back his black-horned head. He gave a clipped roar, and blasted fire into the sky. Heat washed across Nylah’s face as the world shone in shades of red. Drawn swords glowed in dangerous reminder that this was not Asterryl, and these guards were not Alv’s friends. When the dragon’s fire ended, he dropped his head, panting. Alv’s wings were heaving at his sides. He lashed at the road with his claws, scratching the cobblestone. Then he turned and stalked back the other direction. As he turned he lashed his tail, and the spines nearly took out a support post on the inn’s patio. They missed by inches but still caused Nylah to jump back.

“Alvaranox!” Nylah yelled at the dragon, struggling to hide her rising concern. The last thing she needed to do was sound like she was panicking, even as her heart seemed to accelerate with every beat. As the dragon walked past her, Nylah glanced at the guards. They’d closed the distance a little. She held a hand up to ask them to stand their ground. “He’s not going to hurt anyone. He’s just…” She trailed off. What was wrong with the dragon? “Don’t crowd him, alright? He’s just a little disoriented, that’s all.”

Some of the guards hide their steel again. Others did not, but at least they seemed willing to take Nylah at her word and give the dragon some room. Nylah followed the dragon along the patio. Alv snarled something, tossing his head. He flared a single wing, flicked it against the air and folded it back against his body. Then he paused, frilled green ears swiveling towards silence. Whatever Alv was listening to was in his head.

The dragon growled, shaking his head back and forth. He snapped his jaws, and snarled a few more odd, angry noises. They were definitely syllables, but Nylah did not recognize them at first. Sound of the syllables sounded vaguely familiar. Nylah pursed her lips, trailing the dragon. He must be speaking in the draconic tongue. In his younger days she heard him practice when he didn’t think she was around. He didn’t want to forget the way his own people talked to one another.

Alvaranox hung his head, and closed his eyes. His body relaxed a little, and Nylah took the opportunity to close in. “Alv.” Nylah called out to him, her voice both strong yet softened by concern, words spun of spidersilk. “Alv, Tell me what’s wrong.”

The dragon’s ears perked when he heard her voice. Alv turned his head towards her, his eyes fixed on the woman speaking too him. The dragon’s eyes looked unusually dark, as though catching only the shadows rather than the moonlight. His pebbly scaled muzzle scrunched a little, the spiny ridges above his eyes slowly knit together. He flared out his crests, pinned back his ears. It was as if he simply could not place the one who knew his name.

Nylah stepped towards him. She kept her voice steady even as she every part of her trembled inside. Something was terribly wrong with Alv. She had theories but this was not the time to concern herself with them. “Alv. It’s me. It’s Nylah…you remember Nylah, don’t you?”

“Nylah.” The dragon spoke her name, but it tumbled from his tongue, an unfamiliar sound.

“Yes.” Nylah took a few more steps towards him. By now her heart was pounding so hard she feared the friction might cause her to combust. Her face felt hot even as her fingers and toes were ice. “You remember Nylah, right? We’ve been friends an awfully long time, Alv.”

“Nylah.” The dragon spoke her name again, cocking his head. Recognition gradually began to dawn across him, and some of the tension eased over the dragon’s features. His spines settled against his head, his ears lifted. “Nylah?”

“Yes, Alv,” Nylah said. She took one more step, then paused. Any closer and she’d be within range of the dragon’s tail if he turned again. “The Old Lady, remember?”

A smile began to stretch across the dragon’s snout. “Of course, Old Lady…” Then the smile faded, and the dragon looked away. “Stay back, Old Lady.” Fear twisted his face, and he bared his fangs at unseen foes. “I am…not myself. I am not safe to be around.”

“Tell me what’s wrong, Alv.”

Nylah glanced at the guards, glad to see they hadn’t come any closer. The sound of a door opening drew her attention. She turned to see Kirra standing in the doorway, her red curls silhouetted by golden light behind her. She could not see the woman’s face but she knew it must be drawn by the same fear Nylah herself felt. She held up a hand for Kirra to remain where she was a moment longer.

“Five walls, Nylah.” The dragon growled the words as some terrible accusation. Then he grabbed at his head, below a horn, muttering. “My father was a black dragon…”

“Walls?” Nylah furrowed her brow. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Alv.”

“The walls, Nylah!” Alvaranox lashed a fore paw through the air as though he were trying to tear down some invisible wall. His black claws were all at full extension. “They’re the same! They’re all the same.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking, Alv-”

“The gods-damned walls, Nylah!” Alvaranox shouted at her, pivoting in the road to face the woman. He splayed out all his spines in threat. In the moonlight, his black mottling looked like shadows drifting across an ocean of silver-green scales. “They’re the same! Here, Asterryl, Guardian’s home, the walls are all the same! They’re all apart of it, don’t you see?” He slammed his paw against the ground, hissing through his fangs. “The Circle knows why, I am certain!”

“Alvaranox,” Nylah said, her voice dropped to little more than a trembling whisper. “You are frightening me. And you have never done that before.”

Nylah may as well have stuck a knife in the dragon. She was the last person he would ever want to frighten. His spines sagged, his ears drooped. The dragon hung his head. He sucked in a trembling breath, trying to hold of himself. “I am…sorry, Nylah.”

Nylah took a step towards the dragon, and he jerked his head back up. “Stay back, Nylah.” He lifted a front paw, flexed his digits, unsheathed his talons and then retracted them again. “I fear for what I may do without meaning it. I could not forgive myself if I-”

Nylah did not let him finish his sentence. “You would never hurt me, Alv.” She meant her words. Her words were a blade in Alv’s heart. While they had the desired and dragged the dragon back from the brink, now she had to pull that blade back out and quell the bleeding. With purposeful strides Nylah closed the distance to the dragon. “My fear is not for myself, Alv. I know you would never harm me. My fear is for you. Something dreadful had taken hold of you, Alv, and we cannot help you escape it if you do not let us.”

Alvaranox lowered his head a little, and Nylah wrapped her arms around his neck. The dragon was trembling. Nylah held him tightly, whispering into his ear. “You will be alright, Alv.”

Alvaranox fought for a few, shaking breaths. Nylah stroked the scales of his neck, then pulled back a little to caress one of his ears. She slipped her hand under his jaw, stroking the fine, pebbly scales there. The dragon did not purr but at least his trembling eased. His breathing began to slow down as he relaxed against her. Nylah pulled back just enough to rub the golden spot on his nose. As the dragon relaxed, the woman’s fear began to ebb away. Until she caught sight of his eyes.

They were black.

“Alv, your eyes…”

“What about them?” Alvaranox pulled his head back a little.

Nylah struggled to find her voice. She felt transfixed by the dragon’s eyes. Their naturally copper sheen was gone. In it’s place was only an inky blackness. They caught no light. They held no reflection. The dragon may as well have been watching her through shadows.

“They’re…different.” Nylah pursed her lips, looking away. She did not want Alv to realize that her fear was already returning. “I’m going to go call Kirra over, alright? You remember, don’t you?”

Alv cocked his head, licked his nose. “Of course I remember Kirra, Old Lady.” He narrowed his eyes at her to unnerving shadowy slits. “Did you hit your head or something?”

Nylah did not remind the dragon that only minutes before, he’d barely seemed to recall who she was, let alone who Nylah was. “Good. Just…” She patted his nose. “Stay here, Alv.”

Nylah turned away from the dragon, checked to make sure the guards had not gotten any closer and then strode to Kirra. Kirra stood on the front patio just before the doorway. Behind her, lamps were being lit all throughout the tavern. The slender woman and the portly man had their faces pressed up against the tall glass windows, staring at the dragon. A few other servants had joined them. Just what they needed, an entire inn full of people and a group of guards watching them. Probably all waiting to see how the witches from Asterryl kept control of their dangerous beast.

Kirra barely even noticed Nylah approaching her. Her emeralnd eyes were locked upon the dragon. Even in the darkness they shone with fear. “Is Alv alright? What’s wrong with him?” She didn’t even look at Nylah. “The woman just told me something was wrong with him and when I got down here you were…”

“Kirra.” Nylah’s voice was a whip, and its crack startled Kirra into silence. Now was not the time for her babbling. “I need you listen right now.”

Kirra pulled her eyes away from the dragon to focus on Nylah instead. Nylah scowled. Kirra was wearing her dark green blouse backwards, and her breeches weren’t even buttoned all the way up. She was bare foot. Poor woman must have thrown herself out of bad, snatched up the first garments she could find and rushed down her. Nylah reached out and took Kirra’s hand. Kirra’s fingers were cold but Nylah knew that was not why her hands were trembling.

Nylah squeezed Kirra’s hand between her own. “Whatever it is you do to the collar to calm Alv down, I need you to do that now.”

“What’s wrong with…”

“Kirra.” Nylah squeezed her hand a little harder. “I don’t know. I think he’s had another vision, and I’m not sure he’s yet pulled himself out of it. He’s talking to shadows, he’s blasting fire in the air, and he’s babbling about walls. And his eyes are…”

“…Black?” Kirra sucked in a breath, her body went rigid.

“Yes.” Nylah glanced back at the dragon, wondering how Kirra could tell from a distance. “How did…”

“I’ve seen it before.” Kirra pulled her hand away from Nylah, and strode towards the dragon. “When he first brought back that damn box. I found him sitting with it, staring at it. All I could see in his eyes was blackness. I knew he was in its grip.”

Nylah shrugged off her cloak, following after Kirra. Without asking, she tossed it over the woman’s shoulders. Kirra gave her a smile of thanks over her shoulder and deftly tied the cloak around herself as she approached the dragon. Nylah continued to follow but let Kirra get ahead of her. These were the sort of moments where Kirra always seemed to shine, and for once Nylah did not want to be the one in the way.

“Hello, Alv,” Kirra said, reaching towards the dragon’s muzzle. “You’re up early. Can’t sleep?”

“Nightmares,” the dragon muttered, peering up at the moon. His eyes reflected no silver light.

“Let me see your eyes, Alv.” Kirra reached up and stroked the dragon’s cheek till he turned his head for her.

“What’s wrong with them?” Fear hung heavy in the dragon’s voice.

“They’re black, Alv.” Kirra took his muzzle in her hands, easing his head down. She peered into the dragon’s depthless eyes. “Have you…been here all right?”

Alvaranox blinked. Nylah tried to follow his eyes, tried to see who he was glancing at but she could not judge movement while they were so filled with shadow. “I woke up and I went flying…why?”

“The last time I saw your eyes like this, Alv,” Kirra said, tilting the dragon’s head until the moonlight struck him. “Your paws were bleeding and you were staring at a box you’d pulled from the earth without even realizing it.”

Nylah looked at the dragon’s paws. When she saw they were clean, she let out a breath of relief she hadn’t even realized they were holding. “Alv…when you were muttering earlier…what were you saying?”

“When?” Alv sounded half conscious.

“You were pacing, Alv.” Nylah stepped a little closer to Kirra. “You were talking in the dragon tongue, I think. I haven’t heard you use it in years. But you kept saying…well, there was one thing you said several times. Grgryl…evraak?”

“Girrgryl Ev’raak.” The dragon rested his muzzle against Kirra’s shoulder. “I am weary, Kirra.”

“I know you are, Alv,” Kirra murmured to the dragon.

Kirra turned her head and kissed his scales, stroking his ear. She whispered words to him that Nylah could not hear, but they made the dragon smile. Nylah knew they were growing closer by the day, and she was not one to judge. If anything she helped that closeness would help center the dragon.

“Alv,” Nylah said, taking another step. “What does that mean? That dragon phrase you said?”

Alvaranox closed his eyes. The dragon suddenly wanted little more than sleep. He scarcely even seemed to hear himself speaking. “Burn it down.”

Dread trickled down Nylah’s spine. It began as a tingle of trepidation, and soon grew to a roaring cascade of fear that poured through her body. Every hair she had stood on end. “Alv.” She shared a worried look with Kirra. “Burn what down?”

“I don’t know,” Alv murmured.

“Alv,” Kirra said, urgency rising in her voice. “What did you burn? Did you burn something?” Then she glanced back at Nylah, whispering. “You should get the bags.”

“Get the…” Nylah fell silent when she realized what Kirra meant. They couldn’t just leave this town to fend for itself if Alv had burned something down…could they? It wouldn’t be right. Yet, who would listen? If the dragon had gone out and attacked them in the night, when word spread of the flames he’d set upon them they would not accept “the collar made him do it” as an excuse. It made Nylah sick to think to think they might have to abandon the people of Korranot in the face of a tragedy they had brought upon them, yet what other option did they have? If the people came to slay the Guardian Slave, then slave and handler alike would have to put this town behind Alvaranox’s wings.

“Alv,” Kirra asked him again, stroking his jaw. The barest hint of vibration crept up the dragon’s throat. “Did you burn something tonight?”

“No,” the dragon replied. He opened his eyes again. He sounded awfully sure of himself.

“Then what are you talking about burning down?” Kirra eased back to cup the end of his muzzle in her hands and peer into his eyes.

“I don’t know,” the dragon replied. He flicked his tail against the road, the spines clattered against cobblestone. “The walls, I think. And the circle.”

“Alv, I think you’re still…lost…in one of your visions.” Kirra began to ease her fingers back over the pebbly scales of the dragon’s cheeks, towards his neck. “I’m going to try and help you out of it, alright? I know you don‘t like me touching it, but I think right now it’s important.”

“Alright, Kirra.” Alvaranox lowered his head, moonlight slid across green scales but the collar held no gleam.

“Say your mantra, Alv.” Kirra murmured to the dragon, easing her hand along his neck. Then she paused to give him time to try and steady his mind.

“My father was a black dragon.” Alvaranox closed his eyes. He slowly eased himself down onto the ground. The sun was still slumbering, and the dragon did not care if he blocked the road. “He had blue eyes. He loved me very much.”

Nylah put her hand on the small of Kirra’s back. Kirra gave her a quick smile but kept her focus on the dragon. Nylah had heard the dragon muttering that to himself many times, yet she hadn’t realized just how deeply meaningful it had become for him. Kirra called it his mantra, and it certainly seemed to help soothe Alv a little.

While Alvaranox repeated himself, Kirra stroked the scales of his neck. She traced little circles around a few individual scales, and tilted her head towards the dragon. Nylah caught her meaning, and walked alongside Alv to begin rubbing his shoulder. She was happy to help bring the dragon any small comfort she could. Still, as Nylah watched Kirra run her fingers around a single scale, she could not help but think Alv now took more comfort from Kirra than he had from Nylah in ages.

When the dragon was suitably relaxed, Kirra brushed her fingers over the top edge of the collar. She stroked it back and forth a little, then searched it with her fingertips. Her fingers settled upon the collar‘s inscribed surface. Nylah remained silent as Kirra began to work…well…whatever it was she worked. Ever since the moment she’d willed the thing to bring Alv back to life, Kirra exuded a sort of control over that Collar Nylah herself had not even fathomed.

Kirra murmured to herself. Alvaranox’s muzzle twitched and shifted as though mimicking words. Perhaps they were talking in each other’s minds. Nylah shook her head, focusing on the warmth of Alvaranox’s scales. She rubbed his shoulder, leaned against him. She slipped her hands a little further to massage the tender flesh of his wing joint, then ran her fingers back to his shoulder again.

Now and then Kirra spoke aloud. “It’s alright, Alv. It was only a dream. You’re awake now, with your friends.” Other times she spoke directly to the collar. “The harder you fight to keep hold, the more you hurt him. Leave him be, you damnable thing.” Most of the she was silent. Whatever else she had to say was spoken only in her mind.

Alvaranox gave a great heaving sigh, sounding like some achy old man slipping into a steaming bath. The noise made Nylah smile. Whatever Kirra was doing was working. She eased away from the dragon’s body, and walked around to his head. Alv’s eyes were closed, but his ears and spines were gently laid back as they were when he slept. She traced a finger around the golden spot at the end of his nose.

Alvaranox opened his eyes, and Nylah saw the blackness fading from them. It was a black tide, a flood of shadow that slowly receded from copper shores. When the moonlight hit them Alv’s eyes shone silver again. Nylah took a breath, smiled at the dragon, then gave her own sigh of relief almost as great as that of the dragon’s.

“There,” Nylah said, gently stroking Alv’s central crest. “Do you feel better? More clear-headed? You look better.”

“I’m starting to,” Alvaranox said, lifting his head a little. “Thank you.” He turned his head to gaze at Nylah. The moonlight was like a beacon, shining a silver spotlight on the growing pain that shone in the dragon’s haunted eyes. “I am sorry to frighten you both so.”

“Think nothing of it, Alv,” Nylah said, still smoothing his crests down.

The dragon growled but did not argue. As Kirra started to ease away, he spoke up. “Wait. Kirra, I have you show you something.”

Kirra nodded, and kept her hand against the collar. The dragon scrunched his muzzle, his spines flared just a little. Nylah wished she knew what he was doing. He seemed to be concentrating awfully hard on whatever it was. Kirra gave a sudden gasp, her own emerald eyes widening. Nylah gave her an odd look, but Kirra did not immediately explain.

“You see?” Alv rumbled his words, not looking at anyone in particular. “They’re the same.”

“They are.” Kirra’s words were as much acceptance as agreement. “I don’t know what that means but…but…” She trailed off.

Nylah rubbed her arms. Her purple blouse was warm, but without her cloak she was still getting a little bit of a chill. “If you’re alright now, Alv, you should try and get a little sleep. Kirra can get some breakfast, and get her shirt turned around.”

Nylah smirked, expecting Kirra to laugh or blush and fuss over her choice of emergency apparel. Instead, Kirra was focused on the dragon’s collar. She rubbed it with her fingers, then looked up at the older woman, confusion twisting her face. “What is it, Kirra?”

“Alv,” Kirra said. She took her hand off the collar, and stood up. “Lift your head up. Put the collar in the light.”

Alvaranox gave Kirra an odd look, but pushed himself up into a seated position. He stretched his neck out a little bit so that both Kirra and Nylah could see the collar. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m…not sure.” Kirra cast a worried glance at Nylah. “Does it…look different to you?”

The feeling of unease burdening Nylah all night returned. She moved right up alongside the dragon, pressed against his pebbly scales for a better look at his collar. The same images of dragons in flight still encircled it, their heads tilted. Yet now the dragons all flew above roiling flames, as though all the earth was burning beneath them. Nylah blinked, and the dragons were the ones unleashing the fire. Nylah reached out and touched the flames. The collar felt smooth and warm, the engravings felt as though they’d been there since the beginning. And yet she could not recall seeing them that way before.

When neither woman spoke, Alvaranox pinned his spines back in fear. He glanced at the women, then lifted his paw to touch the collar. He worked his pads around it, whimpering.

“Does it…feel different?” Kirra stroked the scutes of his foreleg.

“There’s more fire,” the dragon said. Worry was an anchor upon his voice. He whined and set his paw back down. “It’s changing, isn’t it.”

“It’s just like the bell,” Kirra said, pressing her forehead against the dragon’s shoulder. “The bell on that damn box.” She tilted her head back to peer up at the dragon. “Maybe we should go home Alv.”

“No.” Alvaranox lifted his head, baring his fangs. “No. We need to go to Delverrix.”

“I think Alv’s right.” Nylah took a few steps back to give Alv and Kirra a moment together, but her eyes lingered on the collar. On the dragons and the roiling flames. “We have to know what’s happening to him.”

“Whatever it is?” Kirra slowly turned to gaze back at Nylah. “It won’t matter anymore once I find out how to get this collar off of him.”

Nylah nodded her agreement. She walked down the street to the tell the guards everything was fine now. Part of her felt that was a lie. For whatever reason the collar made Alvaranox dig up that box, whatever it was the collar was doing to the dragon, Nylah feared they were running out of time to stop it.

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Chapter Thirty Five

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Alvaranox flew for Delverrix as fast as his wings could carry him. There was a lot of travel left to do yet the mood had changed. When they left Asterryl there was nervousness but there was also joy at sharing time together, excitement at seeing the world beyond Alv’s barrel. Now there was worry and grinding tension. Alvaranox wished the women had not seen him that way, yet if not for their help things may have gotten worse.

Five walls.

He’d landed before the inn with voices hissing in his head. Images poured through his mind in stuttering cascades. One moment the guards who trailed him were friendly, the next they wore black cloaks edged in blood. The next moment the blood was dripping on the ground. In the shadows a black dragon stalked him, watching, whispering. The cobblestone crumbled to red earth. On that barren earth he saw a box. His father. His mother. Rain. Guardian. They flickered into being and spoke to him yet when he turned his head they were gone.

Seven walls.

The worst part was that he frightened Nylah. Never in his life would he want to frighten her. Nylah meant the world to him. Alvaranox was not lying when he told her she made his life worth living again. Nor was he lying when he told her that if he’d been born a man or she hatched a dragon, he’d have long since asked her to be his mate. He nearly had, anyway, but in the end he decided it may not be worth the hardship. So he tried to let that feeling grow for both their sakes. Now, with Kirra, things were developing faster than they ever had with Nylah and he was not so sure what was best for them anymore. But Nylah came to him in the worst moments of his life, and she built him anew. She made him realize that even here in this terrible place, bearing this collar and this curse, his life was worth living. Nylah was the greatest soul he knew and for a time he could not even recognize her.

Nine walls.

The dragon heard her voice, the dragon saw her face, yet she was as a stranger speaking strange words. She called his name and the sound was unfamiliar. It was as though he was still lost in Guardian’s mind even as the dream was long since broken. Nylah may as well have been calling to some other dragon. When he stared at her he could not place her. Now he feared that in the collar’s struggles to hide his memories it was starting to remove the wrong ones.

Five walls.

He apologized over and over for frightening her. She told him to think nothing of it but it was simply not that easy for the dragon. Once Alvaranox was mostly himself again his own fear began to grow. What if he’d done something to Nylah while he was under the collar’s influence? If he harmed her, he would never forgive himself whether he’d been in control or not.

Seven walls.

It took the dragon all morning to get those damn walls out of his head. At least he was able to show Kirra what was bothering him. The collar had one use, at least. When he focused, he was able to show her images from his mind, and he knew they would match up with her own memories. He showed her Asterryl, the ruins, and Korranot, and from the air. He twisted those images in his mind till they all matched up. They were the same. Kirra seemed more confused than afraid, but at least she knew he wasn’t making it up, it wasn’t some illusion that collar put there. Guardian saw the same walls in her city that he saw every day in Asterryl, as though they were all built to the same plan.

Nine walls.

They couldn’t be built to the same plan. All the cities were different sizes. They each had different layouts, different roads, different buildings. But each city had walls built both within it and around it. Asterryl had seemingly outgrown those walls, the newer walls did not fit the scheme he saw in the other cities. Then again Asterryl was certainly larger than Guardian’s city.

Five walls.

Perhaps Guardian’s city had once been the size of Korranot. It was impossible to say now that the place was little more than a collection of broken ruins. Most the old streets were completely gone, many old buildings nothing more than lines on the ground, crumbled foundations long since overgrown. All the vegetation that grew in their place had died atop them, burying them in layers of dead grass. Wind blew sand and earth over the top of them. If not for the seemingly-growing wasteland the ruins might be even less, but there were no more new plants to overtake them, nor animals or insects to break down what was left.

Seven walls.

Whatever the case, those cities shared the same rune-like walls. Those strangely geometric yet imperfect designs built upon the earth. Every plaza had five walls, but it was not a perfect pentagon. One wall was long, another short, and eventually they met again. Where the lines met were roads or intersections with other walls. But if Alv scribed the image on the earth, all those openings could be closed and the image would be much the same.

Nine walls.

Alvaranox snarled as he flew. He had to stop thinking about the damn walls. He was obsessing over them. Kirra leaned forward and stroked his neck in wordless comfort. He tried to clear his head, but he saw the walls again. The strange designs, the five sided symbol inside the seven sided inside the nine. Five walls inside seven walls inside nine walls.

Five walls. Seven walls. Nine Walls. Alv could not get them out of his head. They rotated inside one another, mismatched cogs with broken teeth.

Alvaranox tried to stop thinking about them. He focused on his surroundings, worked to lose himself in flight. When his wings began to burn, when his back began to ache, he focused on the discomfort and pushed himself harder. The pain and the concentration it began to take to maintain long, strenuous flight helped him forgot about the damn walls. Eventually, he was able to enjoy watching the world shift. The further he flew, the more the landscape changed beneath the dragon’s wings.

As Alvaranox flew further east, the lands grew more rugged. Alv followed the largest road he could find as no one knew exactly how to get to Delverrix otherwise. Yet as Alv flew, he began to realize he could not greatly deviate from his path even if he wished it. There was a strange tugging at his mind, a frighteningly familiar pull that urged him northeastward. The bell did not ring and yet he felt as though the Collar itself wished him to go to Delverrix, and the closer he drew the stronger that pull became. Had he heard the bell the night before? Alv wasn’t sure. Much of that night was new a blur of twisted faces and whispered words.

The moors that stretched on between the towns began to rise to higher peaks and at steeper grades. The familiar ridges of undulating rock were gradually being replaced by jagged spires of stone, gray claws scratching at the sky. Thick forests of pine, fir and aspen grew thicker and thicker across the increasingly rugged hills. The road that the dragon followed wound its way between the smaller hills and the thinner areas of boulder-strewn forest.

They spent the night in a clearing in the forest. Cold descended, and the fire they huddled around was of great comfort even to the dragon. Nylah put up her tend and crawled beneath it after a simple meal. Alvaranox curled near the fire, and Kirra cuddled up under his wing, snug in her bedroll. In the morning Alv hunted, and found himself unfamiliar prey. A creature with very dark, silken fur, twice the size of the deer he usually ate, and with horns nearly as magnificent as his own.

Getting to taste the meat of a new prey species helped the dragon start the day in a better mood. As soon as they all had full bellies he took his friends back into the skies, and pressed on northeastward. With his worries eased for a little while, the dragon was better able to enjoy the beauty of the land below him. With every wing beat the land was changing from the rugged moors he was used too, becoming something even more wild and untameable. Far to the south, the dragon got his first look at something else he’d never seen before.

Mountains.

There were those in Asterryl who referred to some of the highest, craggiest stretches of moors to be mountains, but what Alvaranox saw in the distance now put those to shame. They looked like the spines of some great, gray dragon pummeling the sky. The earth itself looked to have heaved upwards into great spikes, and then frozen in time just as it began to topple over. Layers of jagged rock reaching heights the dragon rarely attained stretched across the horizon. From afar they looked almost uniformly gray, but each bore a white helmet.

“Look!” Alvaranox called back to his riders. “Look to the south! Are those…real?”

“What are those?” Kirra called back to him.

Nylah laughed behind her. “Those are mountains, Kirra! Yes, Alv. They’re real.”

“They’re beautiful,” the dragon said, staring at the mountains even as he flew on. They called to him in some strange, primal way. “Perhaps if I am free some day, I should like to live there.”

“I bet you’d love it,” Kirra said, laughing. “Wild, rugged…no humans in sight!”

“That would certainly be a benefit.” These days, even if Alv was freed, he was no longer sure he would put Asterryl behind his wings and never return. After all, Kirra was in Asterryl. He did like the idea of living out in the moors, somewhere beyond humanity, but he was no longer sure if there was a section of moor where humans did not occasionally soil with their boots. “I should like to visit at least.”

“When this is all over,” Nylah said, calling up to him. “We’ll all visit!”

“Yes, that sounds fun!” Kirra giggled to herself, leaning forward to rub the dragon’s neck with a hand. “I bet they get a lot more snow than we do in the winter. You like the snow, don’t you Alv?”

“You should have seen him when he was half this size.” Nylah laughed, and patted the dragon near his pumping wings. “Romping about in the snow, jumping, giggling a little girl.”

Alvaranox growled low in his throat. He pinned his ears back and glared back at his riders. “At no point in my life have I ever giggled like a little girl.”

Nylah ignored him. She pressed her hooded head near Kirra’s ear, though her voice carried to the dragon as well. “Why, we could all have a snowball fight. He and I did that a time or two when we were both younger. It was always tremendous fun. Even Alv had a wonderful time though I doubt he’d admit it.”

“No,” the dragon said, shaking his head. He growled a gravelly laugh. “I’m happy to admit I enjoyed having a snowball fight. At least until you hit me in the stones!”

Kirra burst into giggles, pulling her arms back into the warmth of her cloak. “Did you really, Nylah?”

“Only by accident!”

Alvaranox snapped his jaws. “Hitting a dragon in the nuts with a snowball is not something that happens by accident!”

“It was too!”

“You had to get behind me!” Alvaranox tossed his head, ears flattened out alongside his ridged ebony horns.

“I was aiming for your haunches.”

“You’re a rotten liar, Nylah.” Alvaranox grinned to himself while neither of the women could see.

“Perhaps.” Nylan laughed, snuggling deeper into her fur-lined cloak, seeking escape from the cold winds buffeting them. “And I’ve excellent aim with a snowball, so you’d best watch your tone.”

“Oooh, I want to be on Nylah’s team.” Kirra giggled again, tucking rogue curls of red hair back under her green hood.

“If either one of you hits me in the balls with a snowball, the next one I hurl at you shall knock you clean off your feet.”

“After you get up, you mean?”

Alvaranox snorted, flattening his crests against his head. “Yes. After I get up.”

At least the playful banter helped Alvaranox maintain his pleasant mood. The last thing he needed to do was get stuck thinking about walls and shadow dragons again. Now and then he glanced towards the distant mountains. They fascinated the dragon. They must be massive, and quite distant, as despite the ground he covered in a days travel they barely seemed to move. Even when they did begin to fade into the distance behind him, more mountains rose up further east to take their place along the horizon.

The distant mountains also made for a beautiful sunset. As the drowsy sun sank towards the comforting embrace of the horizon, shining streamers of golden light struck the mountains. The further the sun sunk, the more its dying light fought to shine on till the mountains themselves were wreathed in brilliant fire. Ever-changing shades of red, gold, orange and pink danced across the gray stone sentinels until dusk doused the flames with deepening shades of purple.

As the last slivers of sunfire scorched the horizon, Alvaranox spotted lights in the distance, away from the road. The dragon was already looking for a good place to spend the night, and curiosity drew him towards the lights. As he got a little closer, he saw it was a small village nestled into a vale that set between two large rocky hills. The surrounding area held a few squares of simple farmland. Freshly tilled soil marked one such square, crops laden with vegetables ready to be harvested another. A few other farms just outside the village’s simple pine-log walls had large fenced fields with oxen, sheep, and goats.

“That looks like a good place to stop,” Alv called back to his riders. “As long as we can convince them that I am in fact, not here to burn their countryside and eat their maidens.”

“I think they’re usually more worried about the dragons in those stories doing something else to the maidens, Alv!” Kirra giggled, blushing just a little inside her hood. She sent her arms back into the cold winds to pat the dragon’s neck. “But if they have an inn, that’d be fine. Nylah and I can talk a couple of simple-minded country bumpkins into letting you stay.”

Nylah drew Alvaranox’s attention to a decent looking landing spot, then squeezed Kirra around her middle. “Let’s start by now calling them simple-minded country bumpkins.”

Alvaranox settled down on the small dirt lane that snaked through the rugged hills from the main road to the village. He landed close enough to the village for them to see him coming, but not so close as to look threatening. Then again, to an isolated village he doubted a dragon could look anything but threatening. Hopefully the fact that he was carrying two exceedingly friendly women on his back would work in their favor. Once the two women were both off of him, he backed away a few steps.

“You two go and chat up the guards and townspeople.” He flared out his wings, grinning. “I shall go and feed myself, then return with a gift for them.”

Before the women could question him further, Alvaranox launched himself right back into the air. Within a few wing beats he up out of easy arrow range, and circling the little village. It seemed a cozy little place. Dirt lanes with simple houses of wood or clay and sod bricks roofed in thatched reeds. People running around screaming “dragon.” The usual. A mother snatched up her child and ran into her home. Alvaranox smirked. It reminded him of when he took Kirra to see the Va’chaak. Human or otherwise, everyone seemed afraid of the dragon.

At least Kirra and Nylah didn’t seem to have much trouble calming things down. A few people came to meet them, and then those people ran off to get other people, who ran to get other people, and soon, some old man came from the biggest house to talk to them. When things seemed to being well, Alvaranox called down to them.

“Hello!” The dragon’s voice echoed over the village, and nearly everyone looked up at him. “My name is Alvaranox!” He didn’t like giving his name to humans, but he was getting used to it. It seemed to put them a little more at ease. “I should like it if my friends and I can stay in your village, though I don’t mind sleeping well beyond your walls if you’re more comfortable! While they arrange some housing I shall fetch you a gift for your hospitality!”

With that, the dragon flew off. If his words left any confusion among the villagers or countermanded anything that Nylah had already said, well that was her problem. As far as Alvaranox was concerned he had done his part. So he soared away from the village to hunt himself some dinner. Though the oxen and sheep in the village’s pens looked delicious, he resisted the temptation to help himself. Instead, he soon found a herd of those giant, dark-furred deer creatures he’d enjoyed earlier. These were even darker, nearly black with a speckling of silver spots along their backs and haunches.

In short order the dragon had slain two of them. He slew a doe for himself, and sprawled out upon a patch of soft grass to eat it. The forests were a little thinner here but the air was still heavily scented with the earthen scent of old woods and the floral aroma of pine boughs. As the dragon ate his prey, the sweet coppery scent of blood added to the many pleasant smells. When his belly was food, he left the rest of the carcass to what he imagined was a very healthy scavenger population.

The other deer he slew was a buck, and he had plans for that. He ascended with the dead animal clutched in his forepaws, and winged his way back to the village. By now every lamp and lantern in the village had lit and brought out to the streets. It appeared everyone wanted to meet the strange travelers who flew in on a dragon. Thankfully for Alvaranox’s comfort, the entire population of this nameless little village was still less than that of the crowds who’d gathered to see him in Korranot.

Most of the villagers were standing about in front of a long rectangular building. Many of the people here had clothing or cloaks with fur on them, which made it harder to spot Nylah. Thankfully, Kirra’s red hair stood out even more than her green cloak, and the dragon soon found her fielding a variety of questions. The dragon swept in low enough for the wind from his wings to buffet all the townspeople. Some of them screamed and ran, others ducked, more gave nervous laughs.

Alvaranox certainly didn’t mind scaring anyone. Especially as this time Nylah hadn’t made any threats to grab him by anything tender if he should terrify people. He did need to clear some space though, so he spun through the air, and then swooped over everyone’s head again. This time a few more people ran, and others scooted closer to the building. Kirra and Nylah shooed others aside and Alvaranox dropped his gift upon the main road before coming in for a landing himself.

Alvaranox named the place Nameless Village in his head. Even Nameless Village’s main street was little more than hard packed dirt, but at least it had not rained here lately. Better dirt than mud. He touched hind paws down on the dirt, then dropped the rest of the way to the earth, and trotted to a stop. While the crowd was still thin, he quickly walked over to Nylah and Kirra, near where he’d dropped the giant deer carcass.

Nylah glared at the dragon, but Alv didn’t much care if she liked his entrance or not. After a moment, she turned and made a grand sweeping gesture with her hand towards an old man dressed heavily in clothes made of silvery furs and pelts. They looked more ornamental than the clothes the others wore.

“Alvaranox, this is Olav, the chief of this lovely little village. He has graciously-”

“Hello, Olav.” The dragon butted right in. He didn’t really need to hear Nylah’s entire speech. “I’m Alvaranox. Yes, I’m a dragon, no, I don’t mean you any harm. I am as happy to live my life peacefully as you are to live yours the same way. My friends here would be happy to have a bed to sleep in tonight if you’ve an inn room to spare. And I’d be happy to sleep near that inn in case they need me. In return for whatever trouble it may be to put up with a dragon in your village, I’ve brought you this.” The dragon set a paw atop the immense black and silver-spotted buck carcass. “Everyone likes free food, right?”

Kirra looked at Nylah, who shook her head and shrugged. Then they both looked at the dragon, who grinned at them. Olav took a few slow steps forward, his surprisingly piercing brown eyes looked on the dragon. His wrinkly forehead crinkled even further as he came to a stop, and gazed down at the dead animal. He nudged the carcass with a single boot, then slowly peered up at the dragon again.

The chief‘s voice was solemn, laced with a thick yet easily decipherable accent. “You have slain our sacred herd’s most sacred buck.”

“…What?” Alvaranox’s stomach lurched. His spines lifted a little, his wings twitched. Kirra and Nylah looked at each other again, and Kirra took a step towards the dragon. “I…didn’t…that is…Er…sorry?”

The old man glared at the dragon for a moment, his hands clasped behind his back. The crowd was silent. Then the old man’s face crinkled again, this time in mirth as a smile further creased his face. He clapped his hands in front of him and gave an odd, halting laugh. “Hah! Hah hah! It is only a joke. We love to eat these.”

People began to laugh around the dragon. Alvaranox settled back onto his haunches, growling to himself. Oh, wonderful. The village chief fancied himself a jester. He supposed being tricked for a laugh was better than being threatened with bloodshed, but it irritated the dragon nonetheless. “Very funny. You know, old man, you can kiss-”

“The golden spot at the end of his nose.” Nylah cut the dragon off, turning towards the chief. “He is as grateful for your hospitality as we are! Tragically it is quite difficult for dragons to be given a chance to show how friendly they can be. So we greatly appreciate your giving him a chance.”

Olav shook his head, still laughing at his own joke. “Oh, it is nothing. We do get travelers, but we’ve never had diplomats before, let alone diplomats who ride a dragon.”

“Diplomats?” Alvaranox perked his ears, lifting the spines of his central crest. His copper eyes danced in the fire of a dozen different lanterns. “Is that what…”

“Yes!” This time it was Kirra who cut the dragon off. “Diplomats from Asterryl. Looking to establish new trade ties with Korranot and Deliverrix.” Kirra stepped up to the dragon, placing her hand upon the forest green plates of his chest. “Along with any other village good enough to take us in. You, of course, are our trusty green bodyguard and steed.”

Alvaranox tossed his head. He scratched at the side of his neck with a wing-tip talon. “Bodyguard I will accept. But I’ll be damned before I’ll let you call me your steEEE!”

Alv’s word twisted into a startled yelp when Kirra discretely wedged her boot against the dragon’s testicles. His shimmering copper eyes widened in surprise, and he glared down at her, hissing. Kirra glared right back at him, drumming her fingers against his chest plates.

“Everything alright over there?” Nylah asked. Alv didn’t pull his eyes off of Kirra but he could practically hear the older woman smirking.

“We’re fine, thank you.” Kirra waved her hand over her head, grinning at Alv. “Aren’t we, trusty Steed?”

“Yes, we’re fine.” Alvaranox lowered his head to hiss into Kirra’s ear. “You’ve just earned yourself a toss into the lake.”

Kirra only laughed and pulled her boot back. “Well, someone had to figure a way to shut you up.” She rubbed his chest, laughing. “The important thing is that everything is set here. We’re getting an inn room, you can curl up alongside the building over there, if you want. Actually just alongside the chimney. We’ll get you some blankets to help stay warm.”

“Yes, I think you’d better after the cold reception your boot just gave my testicles.” The dragon tossed his head, then gazed at the crowd gathered around them.

The crowd contained perhaps a few dozen people, with an equal mixture of men and woman and more than a few children as well. The people here had darker skin and hair than some in Asterryl, some wearing thick, colorful clothing, others wrapped in garments made from warm animal hides. From the look of them, they were all used to plenty of hard work. He didn’t spot anyone who was half as portly as say, that grumpy Councilmen from Asterryl. A shame they couldn’t put him to doing the sort of work these villages no doubt had to put themselves to every day. The people seemed just as curious as the people in Korranot, and no doubt thanks to their chief’s levity, considerably less afraid than they were only a short time earlier.

A few people came forward to drag the carcass away, offering the dragon profuse thanks. Before long they began to butcher it right there in the street. They made quick work of it, cutting away the hide and setting it aside to tan later, opening the thing up and removing the guts, and so on. Seemed they intended to use every bit of it. That was good. Humans were often wasteful as far as Alvaranox was concerned.

Kirra turned away from the dragon, thrust her hands out into the cold air in a welcoming gesture. “So! Who wants to meet the dragon?”

Alvaranox glared down at her, flicking his spined tail. What did she mean, meet the dragon? He was not some visiting merchant ready to spin them tales of faway lands and sell them discounted goods. Yet before he could offer protest and claim his gift was as social as he planned to be, people were already crowding again. At this rate the dragon feared he was going to have to get used to tolerating the grubby hands and curiosity of all the dirty people of every backwater dump they spent the night at. Still, as the dragon decided in Korranot, better roaming hands on his scales than a spear in his belly.

So Alvaranox let the people gather around him once more, and fielded their many inane questions. At least there were not so many people now that Kirra had to section them off into groups again. He let the touch him, spread a wing to be examined, flared the spines around his head. He curled his tail to show off the wicked, curved spines that tipped either side of it. He held up a fore paw to show that yes, he did have a thumb, and yes, his claws were retractable. No, he did not like being compared to a cat. No, their children could not climb upon his back, and it wasn’t his fault if they did so anyway and ended up injured. He wasn’t a damn tree.

Just as before, the dragon worked in a few of his own questions as well. Most of them were related to whether or not they’d ever seen any dragons before. This time the answers left Alvaranox a little more hopeful. More than a few of them claimed to have seen a dragon in the past, though they’d not seen one up close until tonight. There were even claims that some years past, a dragon came a few times in the night and stole livestock before flying on. No one had a good look at the beast, and during the daylight hours they’d found no sign of it aside from a few footprints here and there. Others claimed they’d seen a dragon in the distance in the last few years, far to the south. They had no proof, but the claims of wings in the far sky were shared by several.

It was enough to make Alvaranox wish he was free to fly as far to the south as possible. He tried to get descriptions of the mysterious dragons but those varied too widely to be useful to him. The dragon who supposedly claimed their livestock only came at night, and no one had a good look at. One claimed it was purple while another was convinced it was black as the night sky. A third suggested it was not a dragon at all, but some other grand winged beast, some monster from another part of the world on a great migration.

The other men laughed off that assertion, but Alvaranox shared a worried glance with Kirra. It could have been some creature flying the dying expanse of the great wilds. Alvaranox could not recall the collar ever sending him after another creature with wings, but there was much to the world he did not know. A time or two he thought he saw something with vast, feathered wings flying across the horizon, but if it was more than his mind playing tricks on him, such creatures wanted nothing to do with dragons or human lands.

The townsfolk also suggested they had a bit of trouble now and then with other monsters and beasts coming for their live stock. From time to time, a pack of Vargeeth tried to get into their pens, or a vorloth, the rarer and larger cousins of the furred, horned predators. They sometimes encountered bands of Va’chaak far from their swampy home, as well as a few of other more primitive peoples wandering the world. They had few problems with bandits though, mostly because every able bodied person both man and woman was taught to fight to protect their home if necessary.

If only Asterryl had taken such a measure instead of enslaving a dragon.

As the night wore on and the people began to filter back towards their homes, Alvaranox came to the conclusion he found them surprisingly agreeable. They lived simple lives here, hunting and farming, raising livestock, and helping one another. They had only a few shops with general goods, one tavern located inside their only inn. Though they did use coins minted in some of the larger towns, they also bartered for what they needed. It seemed closer to what Alvaranox imagined dragon society might be like if they had one than what he was used too among humans. Simple and self sustaining, self protecting. He liked that.

Perhaps when the collar came off, he’d leave Asterryl and retire to Nameless Village. He suspected they’d be happy to have him in return for his protection. Choosing to offer that protection freely was far more appealing than being collared and forced into it. He’d have to ask Kirra what she thought of that. Maybe she’d like to retire out here with him. Surely the village could use another healing and herbalist.

Hell, he’d even let the Old Lady come along if she begged him well enough. After all, surely Nameless Village needed another old lady to do old lady things.

Eventually, with most of the crowd dispersed, the owners of the inn invited Kirra and Nylah in for a meal. They offered it for free but Alvaranox was sure Nylah would insist upon payment. Alvaranox insisted as well. Insisted that Nylah buy him a cask of a wine, that is. They brought it out to him, and Alvaranox stretched himself out upon the dirt road in front of the inn to enjoy his evening wine.

The dragon made himself comfortable. He lay on his belly, with his fore paws stretched out before him and his hind legs kicked out to the side. Kirra told him he looked like an overgrown cat when he laid that way, and Alvaranox corrected her. Cats looked like dragons when they laid that way. The wine was flavorful, aromatic and warming, and thanks to the inn keeping their front door open, he was able to converse with Nylah and Kirra while they ate their own food and had a drink.

In between snide remarks, the dragon stretched his neck and pushed his head in through the doorway to look around the inn’s dining room. Alv doubted he’d fit inside the room even if he could get through the door. They had a bar along one wall with four stools before it. A row of polished antlers polished and notched to fit together made up a railing along the bar. There were six large tables each with mismatched chairs, and a few booths along the back wall. A soot-stained hearth occupied much of another wall, it looked as though it was cobbled together from whatever random rocks the local urchins could drag in. Some battered leather and bronze armor decorated one wall, with another wall displaying a breastplate intricately carved from large bones.

Hopefully not dragon’s bones. Though even if they were dragon bones, the armor looked quite old. So old that Alv doubted anyone living in this town today would have had anything to do with the dragon’s death. Alvaranox decided against asking about it either way.

When Alv was nearly finished with his wine, and Nylah and Kirra were preparing to head to bed, an older woman with hair far grayer than Nylah’s came out of the kitchen. She walked to the front door carrying a large tray laden with pastries, and stared at the dragon for a moment. Then she glanced at Alv’s friends, and back to the large green dragon taking up most of her street.

“Ain’t never heard no dragon what likes honey cakes before.” She gave the dragon a funny smile, and took a step outside. “I hear you like ‘em, though.”

Alv found himself unable to prevent a crooked smirk at her speech mannerisms. “I do. They’re one of my favorites, actually.”

“I make the best.” The woman spoke it as though it were a known fact the world over, rather than her opinion. “Only chance I’ll see a dragon eat ‘em.”

“I’d be happy to eat them.” The dragon hoisted up his empty wine cask with a fore paw, and set it down out of the way. “Bring them over, then.”

The woman took another step towards Alv, then another, and then set the tray down as close as she dared. Then she retreated for the relative safety of the inn. She rested a hand on the doorway as she watched the dragon. Alvaranox lowered his head to the tray, sniffing at the pastries. The aromas were redolent with sugar, honey, and cinnamon fresher and more fragrant than he’d ever had in Asterryl.

“Ooorrrhhhh.” The dragon rumbled his approval. With tongue and teeth he plucked one of the honey cakes from the tray and chewed it up. The honey icing brought a perfect glaze with a light crunch that melted away upon the dragon’s tongue. The pastry itself was soft and sweet, with a delightful spike of fresh cinnamon to it. “Oh dear Gods.”

“I make the best.” The old chef folded her arms over her icing-stained apron. Alvaranox glanced at her well-creased face, unable to tell if she was smiling or scowling.

“I think you may be right.” The dragon ate another one, groaning in happiness. Oh, these were heaven in every bite.

“Like ‘em?” The woman tilted her head.

“Woman, these are so good I’m nearly unsheathing.” The dragon ate another one, his copper eyes rolling back. The woman stared at him, a few extra lines of confusion added to her well-weathered expression. Alvaranox chuckled to himself. It was probably for the best she didn’t know what that meant. “Yes, I love them! I wish I could carry you back to Asterryl so you could make them every day.”

“Make ‘em here.” The woman shook her head. A ghost of a smile drifted across her lips before she turned and went inside. “Glad to please.”

Alvaranox didn’t want to finish the tray. Each perfect honey cake seemed like a precious treasure he should hoard and savor as long as possible. Yet every moment that passed, the fresh-baked warmth faded and he feared to let them lose even one tiny ounce of their sweet perfection. He called out through the open door to ask Nylah and Kirra if they’d had a chance to try them. They said they had, so Alvaranox finished them off himself. By the time they came back outside to say goodnight to the dragon, he was licking the wooden tray clean.

“I don’t think that woman would appreciate you licking the tray, Alv.” Kirra shook her head, her hands upon her hips.

“Then she should not have put such deliciousness upon it.” The dragon glanced through the door and saw no sign of the older woman. “I hope she knows how much I appreciated them.”

Nylah grasped the tray and tore it away from the dragon before he could give serious thought to eating it, as well. “She does. She said to me, your dragon has excellent taste.”

“I certainly do.” Alvaranox licked his nose, eying the tray in Nylah’s arms.

Nylah smacked the tray against her hand as if thinking about walloping the dragon with it. “She also said you had a filthy mouth.”

Alvaranox laughed, pushing himself up onto his paws. He stretched his back out, splaying out his front feet. “Didn’t think she knew what I was talking about. I told her her honey cakes were so good they were making me unsheath.”

“Making you…” Kirra furrowed her brow, then gasped and covered her mouth with a hand. “You dirty thing!”

“Well they weren’t really.” Alvaranox laughed again, then padded around the side of the inn. “I’m about ready for sleep now. Do be a dear and fetch me those blankets you promised.”

Alv half-expected a fight, but Kirra was unwilling to give him more than a few insulting words before she went to fetch his blankets. She recruited Nylah to help her, and before long both women joined the dragon around the side of the inn. There was plenty of space there before the next building, and lots of grass and moss upon the ground. The women spread a few blankets out for the dragon, and once he settled atop them, they tossed the other blankets over his back. They tugged down the corners until the dragon was snug and warm.

Alvaranox thanked both of them and they each hugged his head before they went inside. Given how little the dragon had slept the night before, he was not surprised to feel the growing warmth bring with it growing drowsiness. Being wrapped in blankets reminded him of his days recovering from his injuries. It measure a measure of sheltering comfort to the dragon. As he closed his eyes, the weight and warmth of the blankets against his back made him think of home. He could almost imagine he was back there now, and everything was back to normal. With no one trying to kill him. Comfortably convinced that all his memories were his own, blissful in his ignorance.

Some of those things would never be true again.

One thing was certain, though the dragon was loathe to admit it.

In the midst of all this uncertainly, Asterryl had become his home.

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Chapter Thirty Six

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Alvaranox flew on. He followed the main road to the east. Though he passed above the occasional traveling merchants or party of mercenaries he could not be bothered to frighten them. His mind was on Delverrix, and the rumors of dragons. Though he flew northeast, he could not keep his eyes from wandering south. He craned his neck for long moments, staring at the mountains that were well past a single day’s flight way. If there were dragons left out here, in the world wilds, perhaps that was where they had gone.

Alvaranox had slept well in Nameless Village, and though his dreams were peaceful they left his mind wandering a forest of uncertainty. The land out here was every bit as wild as the lands he thought he’d grown up in. Just as in Asterryl, the humans seemed to call the world beyond their simple borders the wilds. It was fitting enough, though even when Alvaranox thought Asterryl was only the boundary to a great wilderness, many of the residents still considered the lands in the other directions to be the wilds. After all, though there five large towns like Asterryl, Korranot and Delverrix, the lands that sprawled between them were vast and untamed.

There were no kings here, no empires. There were only the five cities, and their satellite villages. Each of the five cities was a minor state unto itself, each kept its own roads in order, each had its own government and its own guard force. Beyond the roads each city maintained, the thoroughfares across the wilds were more often maintained by boot, hooves and wheels than they were any concerted effort. Some times of the year the roads were nearly impassible. Alvaranox suspected that somewhere much further east than Delverrix, there were more organized human kingdoms. Dragons were likely long gone from such places, but at least there was still more wilderness left than he’d realized.

From time to time he asked Kirra and Nylah if the vast expanse of thick forest and increasingly rugged hills they flew over was real. Each time their assurances put his mind at ease for a little while. Alvaranox longed for a chance to go and explore the forests here. He’d been to forests a few times, had roamed the forest beyond the Lake Of Teeth on a few occasions. The scents of wet earth and leaves always fascinated him. He’d never been to a pine forest though, this would be something new.

For now, he’d have to make do with camping amidst one. They settled in a low clearing where the women could make camp. As they did so, Alvaranox prowled amongst the nearby trees. The pines and spruces were immense here, and their fresh, slightly sharp smell dominated everything. Here and there a few cedar trees stood together, adding a bit of floral aroma to the forest’s perfume.

Covering the ground amongst the trees were immense ferns with delicate, serrated looking emerald fronds. A few had coiled red tendrils poking up from their middles. In other places, immense heart-shaped leaves hung at the end of long, thick stalks. A few boulders half the size of the dragon lay where they’d toppled through the forest in centuries past. Countless years worth of lichen and moss now covered the boulders, softening them with layers of vibrant green and bright yellow. A few blue-gray shelf fungus with drooping edges clustered around the bottom of a tree stump battling slow rot.

Alvaranox dug at the earth with his fore paws, tearing through layers of dry pine needles and rotting sticks down to the soil beneath. Then he shoved his snout in the hole and inhaled deeply. The upturned dirt held its own rich aroma, the smell of the very nourishment of the ancient forest.

“This place is lovely,” the dragon murmured, padding back towards the woman.

“Really?” Nylah gave him a look, shaking pine needles from her bed roll. “I thought you’d be complaining about getting needles in your pads.”

“No,” the dragon said, using his tail to sweep a spot of ground clear of the prickly things. “I’m enjoying this forest too much to complain about that.”

“That’s good to hear,” Kirra said. She had left the clearing to find the nearest spruce tree and was now busy cutting a few bits with her knife.

“What are you doing?”

“Just gathering some spruce tips. I’m going to make tea for Nylah and myself.” Kirra glanced back at the dragon, grinning. “Do you want some?”

“Certainly not.” Alvaranox turned a slow circle, still sweeping out the pine needles from his bed. “Why you humans insist on ruining perfectly good water by boiling plants in it I’ll never know.”

They spent the evening chatting and relaxing, trying to keep Alvaranox’s mind from sinking beneath dark waters. They had a fire to keep warm, and when it was time to sleep, Kirra curled up beneath the dragon’s wing once more, while Nylah snuggled down in her bed roll, inside the tent. By now it was practically second nature for Kirra to sleep alongside the dragon. The nights when she did not Alvaranox felt oddly alone.

In the morning they rose and ate, and took to the skies again. As they ventured further east, the hills stretched onto a large swatch of rugged plateau. Gray-rock buttes jutted up from the landscape, topped by stretches of grass and moss, or small copses of trees. Some buttes had weaves of tree roots stretching down across the sheer cliff faces, with curtains of emerald vines hanging from others. In some places, vast mesas ran for great distances. Some of the larger mesas seemed to have their own little eco systems. One held a deep blue pond in the center of it, surrounded by trees and gray-blue heathers. An immense flock large blue birds with black wings surrounded the water. Some of them screeched and took to the skies when the dragon’s shadow passed over them, others barely even acknowledged the creature’s arrival.

The road they followed wound through the gentlest section of land. Generations of travelers had long since discovered the easiest way to make passage. A few small villages were visible both along the road and in the distance. A collection of mud-brick houses ringed the base of tree-topped butte. A few more houses were built right into the boughs of the trees that capped the rock formation. Strange symbols and pictures were painted in red and black upon the gray stone cliffs. Alvaranox was not even sure that was a human habitation. Part of him wished he had the time to go and satisfy his curiosity about the people that lived there.

Another part of him wanted to fly as far south as he could to look for the remnants of his race. Several times throughout the day the dragon thought he glimpsed wings in the distance. Flickers of movement at the very edge of his peripheral vision. His heart leapt every time he thought he saw a dragon’s wings, then sank anew when he turned his head and found nothing there. There was no sense asking Nylah and Kirra if they saw anything. Whatever it was, it was too far away for them to have seen it anyway. Perhaps they weren’t dragons wings, but some of other great winged beast. Or perhaps it was nothing at all, just another illusion designed to give him hope for reasons he did not understand.

It did not matter. He could not pursue it either way.

They were nearly at Delverrix.

As the dragon flew the gentle pulse in his head he’d felt on and off the last few days grew ever more urgent. Tugging him, pulling him towards Delverrix. He was not sure why the collar wanted him to be there, and when he shared his fears with his friends, Nylah simply told him they would deal with one problem at a time. If the collar was going to force him to Delverrix anyway, they as well be with him.

Alvaranox wondered if the collar was simply reacting to his own desires. If it turned out that these men from the Circle had in fact slain his mother, the dragon was not sure he could stop himself from avenging her. Alv suspected the collar liked that idea. The collar seemed to like having blood on the dragon’s paws. Though these men might be responsible for putting the collar on Alv in the first place, they had also tried to slay him. That made them enemies of Asterryl.

Alvaranox dealt with Asterryl’s enemies with claw, tooth, and fire. The dragon blinked, shaking his head. “Nylah. I fear the collar…”

“Whatever happens, Alv,” Nylah said, leaning forward to reach around Kirra and pat the dragons neck. “They brought upon themselves.”

Alvaranox grunted, lifting his spines a little. That answer did not entirely satisfy him. It sounded as though Nylah already reached the conclusion that Alv might be made to kill people in Delverrix. If that happened, he would have to get the two of them out of there as quickly as possible, and put more distance behind his wings than anyone from Delverrix could cover in a day.

The road Alvaranox followed grew wider, and better maintained. Cobblestone replaced dirt. Little villages began to spring up. Inns popped up at intersections where the main thoroughfare met smaller lanes winding their way to logging villages clearing the forest and farms raising crops and livestock in their wake. The desolate streets bore more and more people. A large intersection bore a local market, wooden stalls vending fruit, meat and clothing. A long, wide dirt road with heavy tracks worn into the earth lead the way to what looked like a distance quarry beneath one of the towering, limestone buttes.

Down below, peopled yelled when they spotted the dragon. Some screamed and scrambled for cover, others simply stared up in awe. A few pointed to the great green beast soaring over head. Alvaranox spotted red and black in a few places. He growled to himself. The collar buzzed around his neck for a moment.

“Easy, Collar,” the dragon murmured to himself. “Those are just guards.” The dragon glanced back at his riders. “What is your plan, exactly?”

“I plan to request an audience,” Nylah explained over Kirra’s shoulder. “With the leaders of Delverrix, or the captain of the guard. And the leader of this whole Circle business.” She waved her hand. “To ask them why they attacked Asterryl’s Guardian.”

“You think they will grant you this audience?” Alvaranox tossed his head, uncertain.

“Yes.” Nylah on the other paw, sounded very certain. “They will.”

“Just because you fly on upon a dragon?” Alvaranox smirked back at her, the air tickling his crests when he flared them.

“I come on riding the dragon.” Nylah grinned from inside her hood, thrusting a bony finger at the dragon’s gold spotted nose. “You are after all, the most famous dragon in all the lands. If Asterryl has sent you here, then this must be important.”

“What else have you got that’s important?” Alvaranox knew Nylah well enough to know she wouldn’t come all the way out here without some other bargaining chip or assurances that this wouldn’t all be a waste of time. They were taking a risk here, and Nylah was not the sort to take a risk unless she had great reason. “Spit it out, Nylah. I know you’ve more than my claws and teeth backing your position.”

Nylah hesitated a moment, cinching her fur-lined hood down. “I have documents from Laan, in the name of the Council Of Asterryl proclaiming me their Ambassador and giving me the rights to make decisions in their stead in foreign lands. They proclaim that Asterryl considers the attempts on your life to be acts of war against Asterryl, and makes clear we have proof these attacks originate from within Delverrix. Furthermore, while we do not believe Delverrix itself was behind it, we do believe the Circle that they once allied themselves with to be directly responsible.” Nylah gave a surprisingly dragon-like growl, folding her arms beneath her cloak. “They will meet with us, Alvaranox. And you will have your answers.”

Kirra twisted around on Alv’s back, glaring at Nylah with wide, angry eyes. “You didn’t tell me any of that!”

“I didn’t tell Alv, either,” Nylah snapped back at her, pushing at her to try and twist her back around. “I didn’t want you two to think…”

“Stop squirming around back there!” Alvaranox snapped his jaws, hissing. “If you two should fall you’ll be lucky if I can save one of you!”

Kirra glared at Nylah for a moment before turning back around. “Nylah should have told…”

“Yes,” Alvaranox said, growling. “She should have. But Nylah doesn’t know what’s going to happen any more than either of us do. I suspect there is more she hasn’t told us, but I trust Nylah. If she believes she has a good reason to withhold something, than I will allow her the benefit of the doubt.”

“Thank you, Alv,” Nylah said. “I am sorry to have to keep this from you…”

“Oh don’t worry, Nylah.” The dragon grinned back at her for a moment. “When we’re all safe and sound again, you are going to get yelled at like you’ve never been yelled at before.”

“By both of us,” Kirra said, pulling her head around her face.

“You two may do your worst then, when this is all over.” Nylah slipped her arm around Kirra’s middle. “Don’t sulk, Kirra. It isn’t becoming.”

“I’m not sulking,” Kirra spat, then snorted, shrugging beneath her green cloak. “I just thought you were making all up all that stuff about being diplomats.”

“In your case I was,” Nylah said, chuckling to herself.

“How come you get to be Asterryl’s Ambassador?” Nylah grinned just a little. “I’m the dragons handler, you know.”

“Because Nylah has the most experience dealing with people in positions of power.” Alvaranox answered before Nylah could. The dragon also suspected it has much to do with the fact that Nylah was less likely to blurt out secrets or inadvertently offend people than Nylah was, but no need to hurt Kirra’s feelings. Something else prickled at the dragon’s mind. “What if they still deny you? What if Delverrix itself was behind the attacks? Nylah, what if this ends in violence?”

Nylah sighed, stroking the dragon’s scales beneath her. “My dear Alvaranox, I think we knew how this was going to end before we ever took to the skies. One way or another, you will have your answers. If those answers stain your claws with blood, no one who knows you would ever say it was not rightfully drawn.”

---

Delverrix was a fortress in the guise of a city. Set atop a towering mesa, built of wood and stone and carved into the earth, Delverrix was built to withstand an invasion that never came. From the first heavy fortification built inside five grand walls atop the tableland, the city grew and grew as the years wore on. It spilled first beyond that set of ancient protective walls, brushed up against the set of seven walls, and in time surpassed even the nine towering walls set up near the edges of the great mesa.

Though the city’s population still lagged behind that of Asterryl, it was a far more impressive place. Where Asterryl had come to rely upon the protection of a furious beast, Delverrix had no one to reply upon but themselves. At every step the city was built with survival in mind. Great wells quenched the city’s thirst even in the harshest of droughts. Gravity fed waterways kept the most crucial of crops and livestock irrigated. The population was protected by fortifications built to survive a sustained assault and well-trained guard force more than capable of dealing with any roving bandit clan or packs of hungry monsters.

When the great wasteland finally swept the other cities away, Delverrix would be the last ember still glowing in the ashes of a dying world. Circle Master Tathys had every intention to keep that ember glowing as long as possible. In ages past this city had taken his people in when they had no reason to, and Tathys would repay that generosity by ensuring Delverrix would be the last light to ever be extinguished.

Not that city’s population knew it. They were as blissfully ignorant of that reality as the beast who bore the collar. It was for the best. Let them get on with their lives, let them live happily. If there were any gods left to answer prayers, the wastes would not lap at Delverrix’s shores for generations. Yet Tathys did not believe in the Gods. Tathys believed in blood and steel, and stones built of shadow.

Tathys stood upon the recently constructed walkway behind heavy wooden spikes serving as battlements at the top of the citadel. In years long past, that citadel suffered heavy damage, and much to Tathys continued dismay they still lacked the coin and the manpower to properly rebuilt it in stone. The place had taken decades to build even when the Circle had far more members with far more coin to spare. For now, heavy wooden poles cut to sharp spikes took the place of crenellated stone battlements upon the upper wall around the central keep.

The Citadel of the Circle Of Blood And Shadow sat upon a separate mesa from Delverrix. It was not as large as that on which Delverrix sat, but it was much higher and let the citadel look down upon the city that had taken them in and given them a home. Wind whipped against Tathys, ruffling his reddish-brown hair slowly turning gray. In his youth his short-cropped hair was of a copper color, but age darkened it first towards brown, and now adorned it with streaks of gray. His ebony cloak lined with crimson snapped behind him till he yanked it forward in irritation and buttoned the silver snaps. With the cloak secured around him, he gazed down at Deliverrix.

From his vantage, he could almost see the city’s history. The fortress it began now served as both the center of town, and the center of their government. Five ancient but well-maintained walls surrounded that fortress, its grand courtyard and its outbuildings. Beyond that, the city grew on its own, a maze of streets and old houses and shops, taverns and inns, stables and blacksmiths all crammed together until at last they butted up against the sections of land set aside to serve as farmland, alternating crops and livestock from year to year.

On and on it went, each section of city its own district with its own character. Until the city had spilled over the edges of the mesa like seeds falling to earth beneath the sheltering boughs of a tree. Now the mesa itself was surrounded by ramshackle houses and huts, filled with people who had more needs than coin in a city that may soon have trouble supporting them all. It was an undesirable place to live, sometimes in the ever-present shade of the mesa, always with the danger of falling rocks or people dumping refuse from above. That also made it cheap. Tathys sometimes wondered why more of them didn’t simply move out to one of the outlying villages, look for a job on a farm or in a quarry, or working as a logger.

Tathys hesitated to admit that the city was growing overpopulated, because he knew what that would mean. It was the same problem Asterryl would soon face if they could not do something to stop it. For now, Asterryl still seemed prosperous, they were certainly becoming the largest and most successful city in the wilds. Yet they relied too much upon that dragon, and not enough upon themselves. They had little infrastructure, happy to live their simple lives reaping the trade benefits of their success. But Tathys feared that simplicity made them weak. When the worst came, and it would, they would not be prepared.

Delverrix was prepared.

At least those people who lived atop the mesa were prepared. Those who did not might not be so lucky. Perhaps the people below knew more than Tathys realized. Those in the huts might be lucky enough to make it inside the walls before those in the outlying villages when they all began to realize what was upon them.

When at last the other embers were extinguished and only Delverrix remained, it would be up to them to ensure as many people survived as possible. Hell, with recent events, it might be up to Tathys to ensure people survived the coming of the wastes. It would be fitting, certainly. After all, it was the fault of the Circle that they were now in this danger. How could they be so terribly wrong? There were signs to be sure, and they had ignored them all until it was far too late.

Their attempts to correct that mistake had all failed, and men had died in the attempts.

Now, the signs of that failure circled the sky above the city of Delverrix. The Dragon himself had come to visit the last ember in the dying world. He had come with riders, landed in a plaza atop the plateau, and soon taken to the skies again. Though it was too far for Tathys to make out who the riders were, he could take an educated guess. One of them was certainly the dragon’s handler. The other was probably either a council member from Asterryl or someone sent in their stead.

Tathys knew what the dragon’s riders wanted. He supposed after what he’d put them through it was the least he could do to meet with them, whatever the cost may be to himself. What he was more worried about was the dragon. There were several reasons the beast might be here. Given the creatures nature, revenge was likely chief among them. They had tried to take his life, and they had failed. The dragon might be here to return the favor. Or, someone might have realized that the Circle had a hand in the beast’s fate. Perhaps the creature simply wanted to how he came to be Asterryl’s slave. It was a truth that Tathys could answer, but the answer was a blade that would peirce the dragon deeper their swords ever could.

Tathys watched the dragon circle the city another time. Tathys could almost smell blood in the air. The was keeping watch on his riders to ensure their safety. Yet the dragons movements were angry, his wings lashed the air. Even in flight the beast was a coiled serpent ready to strike with flame and fang. Tathys knew his men in the city would not cause trouble, but he hoped the affiliated guardsmen knew well enough not to provoke the beast. Inside the walls he would be more dangerous than ever, especially now. The chance that someone might actually slay the beast was not worth the cost in lives it would take to bring him down. They’d had their chance to take the creature by surprise and bury a blade in his entrails and even that had not killed the dragon.

They should have never gone to that forsaken place. They had only made things worse. Yet they had to try. They had to claim that box before it was too late. Perhaps if he’d had more men….No. He’d been down this road before. They’d sent a few men to try and sneak them under Asterryl’s nose, to try and keep the collar from finding them. But as soon as they drew near that box, the collar would send the dragon. Even if they’d sent a legion of men without somehow drawing Asterryl’s suspicions, surely their slave would have told his masters anyway. Then those masters would send an army with their dragon, and Delverrix would be at war with Asterryl.

Delverrix could survive a siege attempt, but Tathys doubted it could win a war waged anywhere else. Asterryl had more men, and thanks to their prosperity and extensive quarries, they had the trade contracts to support an alliance with the other cities. In Tathys memory, there had never been an all-out war among the city states, and he was not about to cause one now. Delverrix was built to survive, but it was not built to invade. So they took a risk to try and claim the box, and slay its guardian beast while they had the chance. The risk did not pay off, but there was still time. Time to convince Asterryl of what they must do, and what would happen if they did not.

One way or another, the waste was coming. Asterryl would either do what they must to stand in its path, or they would be extinguished like the others.

Tathys walked to the ladder lashed to the walkway. He descended it, then passed through a door into the citadel. A few men approached him but he waved them off. He already knew the dragon was here. Yes, they should ready their defenses. No, they should not attempt to strike the dragon down. The fact the dragon flew over the city, watching his riders told Tathys that Delverrix was playing host to them. Tathys suspected the leadership would do whatever they could to please Asterryl, and attacking their guests would likely spell the end of the Circle being welcomed in Delverrix’s walls.

Tathys passed into a bright, sunlit room. It served as the Circle’s current library and archive. The wooden walls built where stone once stood were lined with sturdy book shelves, glass cases for scrolls and maps. Here and there they were decorated with old tapestries. A large, circular table in the center of room sat in the midst of golden sunlight pouring through the windows. The windows bore curtains of dark gold but they were nearly always pulled back. Though the room held lamps on both poles and in sconces, sunlight made for better reading. The windows at the east and west sides of the room were angled to catch as much light as possible. A banner hung over the table, a black circle edged in shades of crimson.

Tathys walked from shelf to shelf, case to case. He examined a few old relics, smiled to himself here and there. Finally, with a well-calloused hand he removed a very large book from one of the shelves. It was one of their older relics, yet it remained in remarkable condition. Set it upon the dark, burled ebony table, and pulled himself up a chair. Tathys ran his hand over the binding of scale and hide. Tathys sighed to himself, and opened the book. Now, he had only to wait to be summoned to meet the dragon and his riders.

Soon he would learn whether the dragon was here to talk, or here to watch the Circle burn.

---

Chapter Thirty Seven

---

Alvaranox flew above a city built on stone. It seemed a strange place to the dragon, with countless staircases carved into the earth or built from rickety wood descending the sides of the mesa. Strange contraptions of rope and pulley ran down the sides of the immense stonecrop. Some ferried wooden platforms laden with goods up and down. Larger gondolas carried livestock or groups of people who seemed totally unbothered by the swaying of the platforms as they rose towards the summit. Some platforms rose vertically while others were stacked to anchor lines well beyond the cliff base and traveled upon an incline.

While Asterryl had lots of little villages spread out in the country beyond the city, Delverrix had smaller settlements spread around the base of the grand mesa on which the city based. Such places looked dingy and overcrowded to the dragon. The farmland beyond and the simple hamlets they’d passed on the way in surely would have made better places to live. Still, this whole city made him nervous. He flew circles above it, watching a procession of men in colors he feared lead his friends down narrow lanes and deeper into town.

Though he kept his focus on Nylah and Kirra, he did take the opportunity to look the place over. Delverrix had the same walls. He expected as much. They were all built atop that sprawling table rock. While in other cities he’d seen those walls incorporated into the city, here they seemed set apart from it. They were taller here than in other cities and better maintained. Each wall another viable layer of defense should they city face invasion.

There was also farmland inside the city, behind each wall were checkerboard patches of crops, or pens with grazing land for livestock. What looked like massive wells and fountains dotted the city here and there. People gathered around them, filling buckets. Channels cut in the stone carried water to the farms and livestock. If anyone ever laid siege to this place, they would be well prepared to withstand it. So long as whoever laid the siege did not have wings.

Alvaranox did not see the plazas other cities used for markets. Instead the markets seemed to fill the winding, twisting lanes that ran through each district. Strings of red banners and black flags fluttered in the cold breeze above wooden stalls. Many of the older stone and clay brick buildings were stained with ages of soot from winter fires. Some districts had more colorful decorations. Nylah and Kirra were lead down narrow lane lined along a single side with a variety of merchant stalls that managed to be both dilapidated and cheerful. The stalls were painted with layers of blue and gold and colorful flags flew from wobbly framework ready to collapse at any moment. As long as they did not collapse onto his friends, the dragon didn’t care how unstable they were.

All the red and black coloration was getting into his head. A group of men with red and black cloaks lead Nylah and Kirra through the city. He told himself those were only the local guards, those were not men of the Circle. Yet even as he flew above them he wanted both to shy away and to strike them down one by one. The cloaks were different, the guardsmen bore the crimson and ebony in equal measure, while the men who attacked him bore black lined with red. Nonetheless Alvaranox did not trust these men, or this city.

Nor did he trust the citadel that loomed above it. He knew what that was. He wanted to…

Burn it down.

…Go and give those bastards a piece of his mind. And a piece of his claws. And maybe some of his…

Burn it down.

…Teeth and a blast of his fire. That place was where the Circle were. The Circle who tried to kill him. The circle who…

Burn it down.

…had taken him from his mother. Who may have put him in the damn collar. Who had left a man in Asterryl to torture him into obedience when he was…

Burn it down!

…Still so small!

Alvaranox shook his head. He had to stop thinking about that. Right now his only objective as to keep Nylah and Kirra safe. All his questions could be answered later. His anger could be addressed another time. And his desire for vengeance….

Burn. It. Down.

The dragon swallowed hard. His scarred belly throbbed as he flew in painful reminder of what these men had done to him. The dragon gazed at the citadel. The collar buzzed a moment, and in the back of his mind a bell tolled.

“Yes,” Alvaranox murmured to himself. “They are dangerous to me. To my friends. But I not your puppet.”

The dragon gathered his will, and forced those desires to the back of his mind. He watched Nylah and Kirra again as they passed through another check point in another wall. They’d been walking through the whole damn city. Alvaranox had dropped them off on the road outside the gates in the outer wall, where the largest bridge the dragon had ever seen provided a long, gentle slope from the road up to the front gates. The bridge was a massive, structurally impressive wooden span supported by every-increasing levels of arches. Long, intricately carved railings ran the length of the bridge, and the front entrance before an elaborate, gated checkpoint which the dragon had simply flown over.

The dragon’s arrival had certainly created a stir. Before he’d even finished touching down a whole legion of guards with drawn steel, arrows nocked in bows and barbed lances were advancing upon him. People ran for whatever shelter they could find. Thankfully no one had jumped off the bridge, though a few did run for the emergency stairs that spiraled back towards the ground below. Nylah quickly dismounted the dragon and did her diplomat thing. She shouted about being representatives from Asterryl and that the dragon was in fact the fabled Guardian Slave. A term Alvaranox hated but he did not mind Nylah using it to ensure their safety.

Once the dragon was back in the air, and his friends were being escorted under what the dragon considered a heavy guard, it did not take him long to realize why the city reacted with a heavier hand than Korronot had. This city had been attacked by a dragon before. At least that was Alvaranox’s theory. There were sections of city that looked as though they’d be repaired after suffering heavy damage, though it had happened long enough ago he could not be sure it was a dragon. It certainly wasn’t bandits with all those walls, gates and soldiers, but it almost could have been some sort of civil disobedience as well.

Or so Alvaranox thought until he saw the damage to the citadel that sat upon the high, distant mesa. When Alvaranox first laid copper eyes upon that place, and first heard the bell ring its warning in his head, he knew two things. That was where the remnants of The Circle Of Blood And Shadow now made their home. And at some point in the past, a dragon had ripped the place apart.

Alvaranox found himself drifting closer to the fortress upon a layer of warm thermal currents. He stared at that citadel, wanting a better look. In some ways it resembled the ruins where the found the box, that Guardian once protected. Several layers of curtain walls made up familiar shapes. The building that once occupied the mesa must have once been an impressive, if someone compact stone structure. Those structures still standing hinted at an ornate look, half fortress and half cathedral Swooping, vaunted arches framed the heavy wooden front doors, as well as large windows. Bits of broken stained glass lingered amidst the simple leaded panes that replaced them. A single remaining tower was capped with elegant stone battlements, each tipped with a graceful spire.

fortress built in some frontier outpost. It was as though they’d melded two different buildings together, the top half of a forest outpost with the bottom half of some grand cathedral. The remnants of shattered towers dotted the top of the mesa, and piled like stone corpses below its cliffs. Blackened scorch marks still marred some of the stone work around doors and windows. It made Alvaranox smile to know a dragon had done this.

By the time men in silver armor and blood-edged cloaks of shadow were lining the walls and walks, ready for a fight, the dragon had re-oriented himself to once more circle Delverrix. There would be time to get to know the Circle later. For now, he had to ensure Nylah and Kirra remained safe. If any harm befell them, all the walls and armor in the world would not stop this city from burning amidst his wrath.

Burn it down.

“Shut up, you.” The dragon snapped his jaws. He was getting tired of the voices in his head lately. Walls, fire, mother, father, Rain, Guardian, they were all just dreams poured into his mind by the slowly-dissolving power of the collar that bound him. “When I am free of you, I shall pitch you into the lake so that no one will ever suffer your madness again.”

At the center of Delverrix was another fortress. This one still stood, sturdy and intact. Five walls surrounded its courtyard. How appropriate. The fortress itself had three tall towers, with arrow slits ringing them at every level. Banners with Delverrix colors hung all around the central keep. Given the number of people walking in and out and roaming the courtyard and its stone-tiled outbuildings, it seemed this fortress served as the hub of Delverrix’s government. It certainly made a more impressive grand hall than in Asterryl.

Alvaranox watched as Nylah was lead inside the fortress. Kirra remained in the courtyard. When Alvaranox circled around again, Kirra waved at him and Alvaranox folded his wings. He dove down over the streets, swept in just above the outer curtain wall, and landed inside the courtyard. The collar tingled around his neck for a few moments. He tossed his head, and when the feeling faded, he padded over to Kirra.

“I do not like this place.”

“This was your idea,” Kirra said, grinning. She placed her hand on the dragon’s muzzle, rubbing the gold spot between his nostrils. “Take a few deep breaths. Just try and relax.”

“I think this was Nylah’s idea.” Alvaranox smirked a moment. “Speaking of which, where is she going?”

“To talk with their leaders.” Kirra took the dragon’s muzzle in both hands, trying to calm him. “She thought it best if she do so on her own.”

Alvaranox snorted. That meant Nylah either feared Kirra was screw things up, or she wanted the younger woman to keep the dragon calm. Probably both. “She had better not be long. This place makes me uncomfortable.”

The dragon’s gaze wandered from guard to guard. More and more of them were filling the courtyard now that he’d landed. They wore varying levels of armor. Some bore simple thick leather with bronze studs, others layers of chain mail atop padding, while yet more wore heavier armor with metal plates. All the civilians in the courtyard were being cleared out. It seemed they feared the dragon was going to attack. Alvaranox did his best to ignore them, though he did flick his spined tail close enough to one man’s face to send him stumbling back.

“Mind the tail,” he muttered.

“Alv,” Kirra said, sharpening her voice. “Sit down.” When Alvaranox begrudgingly did so, Kirra pulled his head down a little to wrap an arm around the top of his neck. “Just try to relax, Alv.”

“I shall do my best, Kirra.”

---

“You know, we’ve been attacked by a dragon before.”

“So have lots of people.” Nylah refused to rise to the bait. “That was not my dragon.”

“And it was not my men that attacked your dragon.”

“I’m not here for your men.” Nylah leaned forward, her voice hardening. “Nor am I here to play games, Councilmen Varel.”

“High Councilmen.”

High Councilmen Varel sat behind the largest, most extravagant desk Nylah had ever seen in the midst of the most fortified structure she’d ever known. The Grand Hall of Delverrix was the closest thing to a castle they had left in their part of the world, and Nylah forced herself not to let it intimidate her. She’d never been to Delverrix, and while she’d heard it was built upon stone, she had never quite grasped that meaning until now.

High Councilmen Varel was as high as authority rose in Delverixx. He reigned as the highest ranking member on a council of ten people. Nine were chosen by the citizens themselves, with the tenth chosen by a group of military minds and merchants as someone to best guide the others. Or so it had been explained to Nylah. Whatever the case was, she was not sure she liked Varel yet she knew she must be respectful to him if she was to fulfill her objectives here.

“High Councilmen,” Nylah said, bowing her head a little. “You’ll forgive me if I’m a bit impatient. I have traveled a very long distance, gotten very little sleep, and have a very pressing matter on my mind.”

Varel steepled his fingers atop his desk, smiling. “We’ll get you fine accommodations, then. Make sure you and your dragon get plenty of rest.”

Something about his tone set her on edge. It was not that she felt threatened by him, not exactly. Rather she could not tell anything about his intentions from the way he spoke. Nylah was unsure of the man was mocking her, toying with her, threatening her, or genuinely offering to help her recover from her long journey. Varel’s voice was a vault, and Nylah had no way to unlock its secrets.

Nylah gave the man an appreciate smile, then glanced around his office. The walls were lined with immense, elaborate paintings. One image depicted the city of Delverrix in its past, its walls and the mesa on which it stood bathed in golden radiance from the shining sun. The painting was wrapped in an alabaster frame. Another image showed the city cloaked in a white blanket of fresh snow, an elegant ebony frame encircled it. A third painting showed a half nude woman in repose upon a plush, burgundy recliner. Beyond the paintings the walls weres were inlaid with alternating panels of dark and light wood. Lamps clutched in elegant silver frames were tucked into alcoves.

Varel’s desk took up half the room and nearly wrapped all the way around the man. The top of the desk was polished inlaid across its entire surface with a map of Delverrix and the surrounding area. Each little image in the map was its own small, flat stone carving, fit perfectly into all the others. Nylah could scarcely imagine the work that had gone into it, let alone the expense. A few neat stacks of papers rested upon the desk, along with a inkpot carved from dark agate in the form of an eagles head. Several quills made from feathers from any bird larger than Nylah had ever seen protruded from holes in the back of the ink pot. Nylah also caught a glance at an extensive array of drawers on the other side of the desk.

“The name of the man you’re looking for is Tathys.”

Nylah straightened in an instant, surprised by Varel’s suddenly decision to cut straight to the point. “Tathys?”

Varel nodded, folding his arms over his broad chest. The man had a sturdy built, perhaps even a former soldier. His hair was so black Nylah suspected some sort of dye was involved for the sake of keeping up appearances. Then again, the man’s eyes were nearly just as dark. A few wrinkles lined his broad, stone-cut face, assisted by the glower that spread across his visage when he mentioned Tathys’ name.

“Yes. Circle Master Tathys.” Varel tugged at the silver threading that ran down the pleated, indigo sleeve of his silken tunic. “I assure you my men had nothing to do with any attack on your dragon. Even if they were kept busy with duty, going on a dragon-slaying expedition is hardly high on the list of vacation activities.”

Once again, Nylah found Varel unreadable. His words sounded sarcastic yet he spoke them as if delivering a sermon. “I believe you, High Councilmen.” She wasn’t entire sure she did, and yet what good would it do to admit as much? “Asterryl’s evidence points to men from Delverrix. But not your men.”

“The Circle.” Varel scowled, still tugging at his sleeve. He shifted slightly in the high-backed, gray-cushioned chair. “Yours would not be the first dragon they have battled.” Before Nylah could follow up on that, Varel waved his hand. “I will give you Tathys.”

“Give him to me?” Nylah quirked a brow.

“Ensure that he is brought to you. What you do with him from there is up to you.” Varel growled, baring a few teeth like an animal. “The last thing Delverrix wants is war with Asterryl. Or with their dragon.”

Nylah had never mentioned war, but the implication was there. “Asterryl appreciates your cooperation. And we look forward to ever-increasing trade ties between our two cities.”

Varel’s snarl turned into a grin. He may have been a soldier once, but Nylah felt it was merchants who put him into power. Increased trade with Asterryl could be very beneficial. Of all the city-states in the wilds, Asterryl had the deepest coffers. After all, unlike Delverrix they did not have to spend so heavily upon fortifications and guards. They had a dragon to keep them safe. Nylah forced herself not to scowl at that thought.

“Tell me, High Councilmen.” Nylah rested her hands on the arms of her chair. It had soft red cushions, and the legs and arms were carved to resemble the paws of dragons. It seemed appropriate to her. “Do you believe this Tathys to be capable of an attack like this?”

“Absolutely.” This time Varel’s tone left no uncertainty in its wake. “The man is unpredictable. He comes here sometimes, with his people. Proselytizing.”

“About his Gods?”

“About the end of the world.” Varel drummed his fingers against the stone desktop. “About being prepared to survive the coming of a great wasteland. About how people need to be defended from monsters and should grow to rely on their own strength. About how his precious Circle has spent so many years protected Delverrix. If you ask me, those years are damn near over. Some people think they brought that dragon attack on us. There’s not that many of them left, anyway, but they still have a few followers.” He waved his hand, scoffing. “Always a few weak-minded individuals willing to listen to someone with charisma. As far as I’m concerned, he’s only interested in earning more coin. I don’t think he cares about the people of this city. I‘d put him under arrest if I could.”

Varel’s words were drowned out in Nylah’s ears as soon as he mentioned the wasteland. Ice built in her heart, pumped through her veins. She wrung her hands together, unable to hide her sudden apprehension. The wasteland? Out beyond Asterryl? So Tathys knew about that, and he sought the box…sought to slay the Guardian Slave…did that mean…

“Are you alright, Ambassador Nylah?” Varel leaned forward, scowling at her. “If you’re ill I can have you attended to.”

Nylah pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “I’m fine, thank you.” She doubted Varel cared aside from the fact that having a diplomat from Asterryl die in his office would look very bad. She tried to collect her thoughts. What else had Varel been muttering about? “You said something about…arresting him. So why don’t you?”

“He’s not really breaking any laws.” Varel thumped a hand against his desk in frustration. “And he does have his followers, and believers. Historically speaking, the Circle has been very good for Delverrix. Frankly, with a leader who wasn’t wading towards the deeper end of insanity, they might do good for the city again. If your dragon should….”

Varel trailed off, and Nylah glared at him. “That isn’t why we are here.”

“Nonetheless.” Varel let his nearly black gaze bore into Nylah’s topaz eyes. “The documents you presented are all signed by Laan. I knew the man’s family. If he’s anything like the rest of them, he rarely gives away his intentions until he’s put them into motion. I suspect he has given you a secondary objective.”

Nylah worked to keep herself from reacting one way or another. “My objective is to find out why people are trying to kill Asterryl’s dragon.”

“Be that as it may.” Varel stood up from behind his desk, and walked towards the door of his office. Black wood, with red runes upon it. “I owe his family a favor. If your objectives are as I suspect, I will offer my men’s assistance. And you will tell Councilman Laan that we are even now.” Then he gave a laugh filled with enough smugness to remind her of Alv when he was drunk. “If anything, perhaps he shall owe me a favor.”

Nylah stood up, swallowed hard when Varel could not see her face. The man was shrewd, cunning, in complete control. He knew the situation even better than Nylah did, and he seemed to have figured things out even as she was still putting pieces together. If anything he seemed eager to twist this situation not just to his city’s advantage, but to his own. Which made it all the more frightening that he seemed so eager to get rid of Circle Master Tathys. Nylah wondered what it was about Tathys that could make even a man like Varel so nervous.

“Thank you for your time, High Councilman.” Nylah gave Varel a little bow, walking to the door.

“You’re welcome.” Varel opened the door for the older woman and held it. “I shall convene my guard captains, instruct them to assist you. And I shall send a summons for Tathys. When would you like to meet with him?”

Nylah paused. Somehow, she suspected Varel would arrange them to have a meeting any time she wished regardless of how it may inconvenience Tathys. Hell, he’d probably prefer to inconvenience the so-called Circle Master. Much as she wanted to get this over with, she needed to talk to Kirra and Alvaranox. They all needed rest, too.

“The morning, I think. Late morning, perhaps.”

“As you wish.” Varel gestured through the open door towards the guard on the other side. “Ensure that they are all given excellent accommodations.” The guard nodded, and Varel smiled politely at Nylah. “Once your accommodations are secure, I’ll have Tathys summoned to meet you there in the morning. I shall make certain he is not late. In the meantime, do try and prevent your dragon from burning anything down.”

Nylah scowled, once more unable to tell if the man was toying with her or not. It didn’t matter. She thanked him, unable to keep a little sarcasm from creeping into her voice. And here she’d thought Laan could be an ass. Nylah quickly made her way through the fortress, heading for the exit. So far, so good. Now she had to put the next part of her plan into action.

Nylah had something she had to tell the dragon.

---

Alvaranox awoke to the buzzing of the collar. He was not certain when he had fallen asleep. Though his mind was heavily laden with thoughts he could not silence, this trip had taken a lot out of him. The dragon’s body needed the sleep. Delverrix gave Kirra and Nylah rooms in a comfortable inn, and housed the dragon in a storage building next door. They’d done a good job with the storage building, layering the floor with blankets and pillows and doing what they could to make it comfortable for him. Comfortable enough that he must have fallen asleep even while his mind was racing.

Groggy confusion clung to the dragon’s mind like half-formed spider webs. He struggled to his feet. His whole body ached from days of near-endless flight. His wings were tender, his back sore. He looked around in the Kirra before he recalled she slumbered in the inn next door. The dragon took a deep breath as the collar rattled against his scales. Any moment now the damn thing would whisk his mind away to that blasted wasteland, make him the bell ring. Since it was buzzing, that might mean a warning.

The dragon waited but the bell did not ring. The collar continued to vibrate around his neck. It was not buzzing as intensely as the day he was hurt, and if the bell was not tolling then it did not have a task for him. Did it? What the hell was it warning him about then? Alvaranox licked his nose, closing his copper eyes. The dragon breathed deeply, focusing his mind upon the collar. What was it warning him about?

Fragments of darkness and color flitted through his mind. They met in the center of his imagination, assembling themselves outward into an image of an empty, moonlight street. Building of cold gray stone rose on either side of the street, layers of moss and lichen along the lower crevices betrayed the buildings age. A man strode down the street. Reddish hair, with a golden tunic beneath his cloak. A cloak of blood-edged shadow.

Alvaranox snapped his eyes open. He padded to the door. Though large enough for cargo wagons to pass into the warehouse it was not designed for dragons to open it. He’d left it slightly ajar to ensure he could push the thing open when he needed to leave his bedding. The sliver of moonlight that shone through the opening grew into a silvery cascade when the dragon pushed the door open.

Alvaranox walked out onto the empty street. The dragon’s great heart begun to thud in his chest, his blood pulsed through his body, thumping in the minor-heart chambers near his tail. His mouth felt dry, his throat constricted. He looked up at the inn where his friends slumbered. He knew which windows where their rooms, their lights were out. Down the street a guard called out to him, but the words fell on deaf ears. The dragon turned his head, staring at the man walking towards him.

Claw tips clacked against age-smoothed cobblestone. Alvaranox did not even know he’d begun to extend his claws. Anger coiled in his belly. The dragon flared his spines all around his head, his wings began to unfurl. His spiked tail lashed, spines drew sparks when they grated against the street. This was the man. Images flashed in Alv’s mind. His mother, smiling. Men in blood-lined cloaks pulling him from her. Men driving blades into his belly. Men like this dragging him down the street, on a chain.

Men like this…

“I know who you are!” Alvaranox snarled at the man. Guards yelled at him, and still Alv ignored them. “Did you kill my mother?”

The man did not reply, but he did come to a stop. Alvaranox dragon stalked towards him, his claws all unsheathed. His fangs glinted in the moonlight. The dragon’s eyes stole the moon’s mercurial fire, burning so brightly Alv’s gaze alone was nearly enough to burn this man’s flesh from his bones. Every step, the collar buzzed harder around his neck. This man was dangerous. Dangerous to Alv. Dangerous to Nylah. Dangerous to Kirra.

Every muscle on the dragon’s body tensed, ready to strike this man down in the streets. If the guards sought to stop him, he would strike them down as well if he must. But first he had to know. He had to be sure. The dragon came to a stop just before the man with red hair streaked with gray. Alvaranox lowered his head until his golden-spotted nose was mere inches from the man’s face. The dragon’s breath washed over him, yet the man did not flinch, or back away. Instead his own piercing green eyes met the dragon’s gaze, defiant and unafraid.

Alvaranox growled low in his throat. “Did your people kill my mother?” Each word the dragon spoke was its own bitter accusation, its own moment of coiled fury. “Did you kill my mother?”

“No.” The man’s answer was so simple, so defiant, and filled with such self-assured honesty that it actually took Alvaranox aback.

The dragon withdrew his head, his neck curling into a faint S. The collar buzzed, warning him about this man. “Then what…”

“I hereby surrender myself to the people of Asterryl.” The man gazed at the dragon, his eyes penetrating yet unreadable. His voice was smooth and level, the tone of a man who knew he was in complete control. “I request transport there to speak before your council, where I will request political asylum.”

Alvaranox blinked in confusion, his rage melting away as the collar’s buzzing began to ease. The dragon cocked his head, narrowing his silver-tinted copper eyes. Nylah had plans for this man, but how could he know that? “What?”

“I humbly beg that the Guardian Slave of Asterryl announce to his Handler that I am a citizen of Asterryl.” The man made no more to pass the dragon, no effort to look away from Alv’s increasingly uncertain gaze. “Upon pleading for political asylum I shall ask that they recognize and reinstate my rightful citizenship to the city of Asterryl, where I was born.”

The collar stopped buzzing.

Alv’s breath caught. What was this bastard doing? “How did you…”

“I forgive you, Beast.”

“What?” Alvaranox’s mind spun. Growing confusion fueled his anger. Who did this bastard think he was? How dare he try and manipulate him that way. “I don’t care where you’re from! You and your people killed my mother! You put this thing around my neck!”

With a roar Alv lashed out at the man. He did not mean to kill him. Not yet, anyway. But he sought to strike the man to the ground, perhaps to break a few bones and show this bastard that the fury of a dragon was not something he could trifle with. That a dragon’s life was not something he had the right to take away, to put a collar on, to bind to some city. Alvaranox did not mean to kill the man, but in his rage if his blow struck home he would torn the man’s head from his shoulders and sent his body pinning wheeling through the air.

But Alv’s blow did not strike home. It did not strike at all. For a moment the dragon’s unsheathed claws whistled through the air, but when the neared the man’s head, the dragon’s foreleg froze. Agony the likes of which the dragon had not suffered in decades poured through his limb and into his chest. Alvaranox’s entire foreleg felt bathed in enough fire to melt the scales from his skin and sear the skin from his flesh. All that pain rolled into his chest and from their it exploded outward in every other direction. The pain was enough to wrench a burbling scream from the dragon’s throat, and Alvaranox collapsed onto the street.

The man stepped back from the writhing, screaming dragon. His remained without expression. “I am sorry, Beast. I knew you could not hold back on your urges. That is why I forgave you. I also forgive you for everything else I expect from you, whether by your will or the collars.”

Alvaranox sucked in rasping breaths. His head throbbed, blood pounded in his ears. By the Gods did that hurt. He hadn’t been punished by the collar for years. Why now, of all times? Why warn him about this man then punish him for trying to strike him down? Because…because he was of Asterryl. The moment the dragon knew that, the collar knew it as well. And in that moment Alvaranox was no longer allowed to harm him.

“You…lying…” Alvaranox tried to rise back to his feet. His foreleg felt numb, rubbery.

“It is no lie, dragon.” The man tilted his head. “I am glad it worked. For a moment I feared it might require tasting my blood, and by then it might be too late. Now, take a few deep breaths. The pain will fade, and you will know not to try that again.”

Fury boiled in Alv’s heart. Now he really wanted to strike this man down. The man knew some loophole in the collar. Though, if he was truly born in Asterryl, it was not really a loophole. Alv did not realize the collar’s protection extended to citizens of Asterryl who left its borders, but then again Alv himself had never flown beyond his barrel for.

“One day, I am going to kill you.” Alvaranox forced himself up onto his haunches, groaning.

“Yes,” the man said. “I expect you will. Along with everyone you care about, and everyone who tries to stop you from spreading the wasteland.”

Alvaranox leaned back onto his tail, rubbing his foreleg with his other front paw. The man’s words were fearful thorns prickling at the dragon’s heart. “What are you talking about?”

“I cannot tell you.”

“Listen to me, you filthy little worm…” Alvaranox growled at the man again. “I may not be able to strike you down, but perhaps I can put you in a building and burn it down around you.”

“I have bought myself time from the Collar.” The man gestured with a few fingers towards the ebony collar around the dragon’s neck. “But if you have truly come here to have questions about your past…”

“My mother.”

“…Then I must disappoint you.” Alv saw the man’s jaw twitch, the first sign of any emotion he’d yet shown. “There are some things I cannot answer for you, because at best the collar will simply bury the answers as soon as you hear them. At worst, it will force you to strike my down long the words even finish dripping from my tongue.”

Alvaranox snarled, lifting his crests as he glanced at his still aching foreleg. “I believe we just ruled that out.”

“No.” The man shook his head once. “The answers you seek are forbidden fruit, Beast. The collar will not let you know taste them. Any attempt to offer you these truths will supersede my protections. The collar would force you to slay someone of Asterryl long before it would let them tell you the truth. It would not be the first time.”

Alvaranox tightened his wings against his body to ward off the sudden chill he felt. “What are you talking about?”

“Trust me, Dragon.” The barest hint of regret crept into the man’s voice. There was just enough of it there for Alvaranox to think he might mean what he said. “You are far better off not knowing. Forget these questions, Dragon. Let the collar show you what to believe in, and enjoy whatever you can in your life while you have the chance.”

The man began to walk around the dragon. All the guards shadowing them stood nearby, unsure what was going on. Alvaranox held his breath, then turned his head to glare at the man in the blood-edged cloak. “Nylah said your name was Tathys.”

“It is.” The man continued to walk, calling back to the dragon. “And I am as you expect, the Master of the Circle Of Blood and Shadow.”

“Why did you try to kill me?” Alvaranox rose to all four paws, limping a few steps after Tathys. “What did I ever do to you? Do you just hate dragons that much?”

“No,” Tathys said without looking back or slowing down. “I do not. But I cannot answer that question.”

“Did you kill my mother?” Alvarnox shook his numb forepaw, trailing the man. His voice rose, even as his throat tightened, threatening to choke his words. “Please. Tell me that honestly. Did you or people kill my mother?”

Tathys came to a stop. “I have already answered that honestly, Dragon. We did not kill her.”

“But you took me from her…”

“Your collar will never let me that.”

“But I have to know!” Alvaranox’s voice broke. Pain squeezed his heart, his vision blurred. All this way, all those visions of his mother, and it came down to this? Someone who knew the truth but refused to answer because the collar wouldn’t let him? “You have to try! …Please. Just…try to tell me.”

Tathys slowly turned around. Alvaranox saw an unexpected glimpse of pain on the man’s face as though he really did feel guilt over the dragon’s lot in life. For a moment, something about the man looked familiar. “You do not want to know, Dragon.”

“Yes!” Alvaranox limped towards him again, desperation knotted his belly and shook his voice. “I…I have to know! You don’t know what…what’s its like for me lately. My mind is…is a cracking mirror, and the reflection I see is not my own…”

“Then stop fighting it.” Tathys let his eyes find the dragon’s again. If Alvaranox’s eyes were copper panes of glass they would have shattered beneath the force of the circle master’s emerald gaze. “Stop fighting it. The fighting is what makes it worse. The fighting is what draws you into madness. Give up, Dragon. Let the collar make you whole again while you still have a chance.”

“Never!” Alvaranox snarled, lashing his tail against the street. “I would sooner fall into madness then let myself linger in some waking dream, unaware of the world around me, unable to remember my own family! I will fight it until I am dead, or free!”

“You’re right, Dragon.” Tathys tilted his head back, staring up at the moon. “You drift through your life shrouded in a haze of dream. You struggle against it, unaware that when this dream breaks you will wish you had never awoken. You will give anything just to sleep through your life again.” Tathys slowly lowered his eyes to meet the dragon’s once more. “If this dream is a mirror on which you gaze, when it breaks its edges will cut you far deeper than any blade ever has.”

Tathys turned, and walked towards the inn, leaving a dragon filled with fresh fear and uncertainty in his wake. “Now. I have urgent need to speak with your Handler.”

---

Chapter Thirty Eight

---

Kirra stood with her back pressed to the door of her room. With trembling hands she kneaded at the green blouse she’d hastily thrown on only moments before. The hallway was dark and her eyes were still adjusting to the dim lamplight. She could scarcely even see Nylah standing in front of her. She tried to take deep breaths but they came as quick pants.

This was not the way things were supposed to happen.

“You can do this, Kirra.” Nylah took Kirra’s hand, and squeezed it. “If you can stitch a dying dragon back together and save his life, you can sure as hell spend a few moments talking to some creepy cult master.”

Nylah’s attempt at humor did not ease Kirra’s mind. She chewed on her lip, her eyes flickering as she glanced in almost every direction at once. “I don’t know why…”

“Here.” Nylah pressed a brush into Kirra’s grasp. “Brush your hair, Kirra. Take a deep breath with every stroke of the brush.”

Kirra nodded. She lifted the brush, and held it in front of her face. The wooden brush with the soft, clothed wrapped handle shook in her hand. Her hair must be a mess. She began to brush it, taking a deep breath for every brushing stroke she gave her red curls. By the time she had brought some semblance of order to her messy collection of disobedient curls, her pounding heart had eased.

“You feel a little better?”

Kirra passed the brush back to Nylah. “Yes.” She took another deep breath, and held it, trying to steel herself. “Let’s get this over with.”

“You might want to put your boots on first.” Nylah smiled just a little, pointing to Kirra’s leather boots resting near the door. “Unless you’d rather meet the Circle Master in bare feet.”

“Oh…right.” Kirra pushed her foot into one of her boots, then crouched down to tie the laces. “You promise you’ll stay with Alv? I don’t want him to be alone…”

“I know, Kirra, I know.” Nylah fussed with Kirra’s hair as she tied her other boot, fixing a few curls.

“I’d rather be with Alv,” Kirra said. The fear that wrenched her belly into painful knots flickered in her eyes in the dancing lamplight.

“I know, Kirra.” Nylah helped her back to her feet. “I tried to talk with Tathys myself, and he made it very clear that he will only speak to the Dragon’s Handler.”

Nylah glanced away, a bruised look on her face and a moment of sorrow in her eyes. Kirra reached out and squeezed Nylah’s hand, smiling at her. “You will always be Alv’s handler, and you will always be his friend, Nylah.”

Nylah gave Kirra a little smile, the bruise that marked her heart fading from view. “Thank you, my friend. Be that as it may, you are the one Tathys wishes to speak to. Are you ready?”

“No, but I hardly have a choice.” Kirra tried to put on a brave façade, but hints of fear clung to her features like soot to a chimney.

“Let’s go, then.” Nylah lead the way down the hall, towards the circular wooden staircase that lead from the inn’s upper floors down to the lobby and dining hall below. “The guards will nearby, if you need them, and when its done, fetch me. We’ll put an end to this and be on our way.”

“We could just do it now.” Kirra chuckled a little.

“I think we’d rather hear what he has to say before we announce our intentions to him.” Nylah glanced over her shoulder, her gray hair swishing over the folded hood of her fur-lined cloak. “I think he may be making our job easier for us, anyway.”

Kirra followed Nylah down the circling stairs. She’d scarcely noticed that the wooden steps creaked when she ascended them earlier yet now every few steps gave an ominous squeal. Earlier she’d enjoyed the wrought iron rail that rose and fell in elegant curves, yet now it just felt cold beneath her fingers. Waiting in the dining room below was the man who tried to murder her dragon, and he would only speak to Kirra.

“Be a wonder if I don’t knife him myself.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Nylah gave her a little smirk. “If Alv can resist killing the man, so you can you, Kirra.”

Kirra put her hand upon the hilt of the long knife strapped at her waist just the same. Though she’d dressed in a scramble she tried to at least put on something akin to an air of authority. Her forest green tunic was the closest thing she’d brought to formal wear, along with a simple, straight cut pair of black breeches. She’d always liked the combination of green and black because it reminded her of her dragon.

Her dragon.

Kirra found it strange that she’d come to call him that lately. At least in mind. She knew Alv would never appreciate being thought of as anyone’s dragon, least of all Kirra’s. But when Alvaranox wasn’t around, and Kirra thought of him, the thoughts brought a smile to her face. And she thought of him as her dragon. She did not mean it in a truly possessive way. She simply thought of him as her dragon in the same way she thought of Nylah as her friend, and a man she used to spend her evenings with as her love.

Alvaranox was simply her dragon now.

And one way or another, she would grant her dragon his freedom.

The dining hall was large, circular, and empty. The long, semi-circular hearth built from limestone blocks that followed the curvature of the far wall was cold, and dark. Chairs were stacked on tables for the night, and all the tulip shaped lamps hanging from curved brass poles were extinguished save one. A single lamp now shone alongside the only table without chairs resting atop it. That lamp shone trembling orange light upon the face of the man who sought her dragon’s death. No matter how warm that firelight was that glinted in the man’s eyes, to Kirra they still looked cold and dead.

Kirra looked at Nylah, then held her hand out towards the door. “Go check on Alv.”

Nylah gave a single nod. She squeezed Kirra’s shoulder, and then after shooting a glare at Tathys, walked to the door. Kirra stood her ground as the guards escorted Nylah out. Only when Nylah was gone did Kirra walk to the table where the Master of the Circle Of Blood And Shadow waited for her. The man did not rise for her when she approached, only stared up at her. He gestured towards the empty seat, and Kirra glared at him.

In a flash, Kirra slapped them an across the face as hard as she could. Never in her life had she ever struck someone so forceful. In fact, never in her life could she ever recall truly striking someone out of anger. She swatted the dragon now and then, and she teased him about kicking him but she’d never actually wanted to bring anyone pain before. But this man, she wanted to slap the teeth out of his mouth.

“You bastard!” Kirra hissed cold hatred at him.

The blow knocked Tathy’s head to the side, and leave a red handprint across his cheek that glowed in the lamplight. He winced in pain, swallowed, and then straightened up again. Guards in shadowy corners stepped forward, ready to defend…well, Kirra wasn’t sure. Supposedly the master of this place Varel had a deal with them, and had ordered the guards to assist them in anyway. But Tathys was not supposed to show up here on his own in the middle of the night, and Kirra suspected not every guard in this town was as loyal to Varel as the High Councilman thought.

Kirra waited for Tathys to rise and confront her. Kirra waited for Tathys to yell at her, ask her how dare she. Kirra waited for Tathys to try and strike her in return. Tathys did none of those things. Even when Kirra raised her hand, ready to slap him again, Tathys did not move to protect himself or even to snatch her wrist and shove her into her seat.

Tathys simple acceptance of it took a little of the fire out of Kirra’s belly. She glared at him a moment longer, and then pulled out the chair across from him. She settled into it, scooted it up to the table. Kirra lay one hand on the scuffed tabletop, and rested the other against the hilt of her knife. She eased the blade an inch or so from the sheath, then held it there just in case.

“My name is Circle Master Tathys…”

“What do you want?” Kirra snapped at him. Her own vehemence surprised her. Not that long ago she’d been trembling, filled with anxiety over this encounter. But now that it was taking place, her fear was quickly transmuting into anger. In much the same way her uncertainly blossomed into courage and quick action when the situation demanded it. “Why are you here?”

“To surrender myself to you.”

Kirra pushed aside the first disbelieving words that came to her mind, and instead cut to what she hoped was the heart of the matter. “Why?”

“Because you are the dragon’s Handler. The failsafe. You are in many ways, the key to all this. And as the dragon’s handler, you have the ability to take me to Asterryl and let me speak to their council.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because I am the only one here who knows what is really happening.” Tathys began to lean forward ever so slightly, each word bringing him a tiny bit closer to Kirra. “Your council must know what they have brought into their midst while there is still time to stop it.”

“You know attempting to slay the Guardian Slave is an act of war.” Kirra tightened her grip around her knife.

“Then your Council may try me for it. But I assure you when they hear what I have to say, they will have other worries on their minds.”

Kirra grit her teeth. Tathys was silent, and she took a moment to appraise the man. He certainly seemed to think himself in control, as though he knew every possible outcome that could come of this. His reddish hair and green eyes were not lost upon her, he might well have ancestry from the north just as she did. The gray streaks that ran amidst the red told Kirra he was older than he looked. He had broader features, and a blacksmiths build beneath his golden shirt. The man was hardly a monster but he did have the sort of heaviness that looked built upon hard work and sweat rather than excess. In his younger days he might have been even larger. Though his eyes were cold and hard, darkness beneath them told Kirra that even a man with uncaring eyes could suffer from fatigue.

“All Alvaranox wants is to live freely.” Kirra pulled her hand away from her knife to drum her fingers upon the table. “It is not his fault he was bound to Asterryl. You didn’t have to hurt him like that.”

“It was a chance we had to take to try and stop it.”

“It?” Kirra straightened up a little.

“The collar.” Tathys glanced towards the door of the inn. “We should be going. We should get him out of this city.”

“What about the collar?” Kirra’s hand slipped back to her knife. “You put it on him, didn’t you. You took him from his family, and you put that damn collar on him and brought him to Asterryl.”

Tathys slammed his hand down on the table, rattling the wood. The sudden violent outburst startled Kirra. The man was like a placid lake, completely calm until she’d hurled a rock into the waters. Now the ripples threatened to wash her away. “I did not put anything upon him! That beast was collared long before I was even born! I am simply the one left to struggle against this grand mistake. I am the only one left to try and make things right.” He grit his teeth, snarling at Kirra. Spittle flecked his lips. “Do not try and put the blame for this on me!”

“Who should I blame, then?” Kirra matched him word for angry word. “I can’t blame the dragon, because he sure as hell didn’t choose to make himself a slave! I can’t blame the council, because none of them were born when it happened, either! And between the two of us, you’re the only one who’s tried to have him killed!”

“Blame your Gods-be-damned city for being too cowardly to stand and face the rigors of the wilds on their own!” Tathys made a fist upon the table, pounding it. “If they were half as strong as Delverrix, they wouldn’t have needed a dragon to protect them in the first place. If they’d left the damn thing alone, we wouldn’t be in the midst of this calamity in the first place.”

Kirra eased back into her chair a little. She stared at Tathys, her anger melting into icy fear that dribbled down her spine. Cold claws twisted in her heart. “What calamity?”

Tathys took a deep breath, and held it. He glared at Kirra, and she could almost see calmness washing over him again. Lamplight washed across his face, shadow and flame dancing upon him in equal measure. “Has he found the box yet?”

Kirra’s jaw dropped. The cold claws that gripped her heart squeezed till she could not even breath past the ice in her chest.

“I shall take your silence as affirmation.” Tathys turned, staring at the lamp as though fascinated by the single flickering flame. “Your city is running out of time.”

“What…what does the box…”

“You’ve seen it, haven’t you.” It was a statement, not a question. “And you’ve seen the bell upon it. And the dragons on the bell.”

Kirra could only give a nod, her mind whirling even as her body felt numb.

“Do those dragons look friendly?”

Kirra swallowed, picturing the box and its bell in her mind. “They…They’re flying…”

“They are burning the earth.” Tathys tore his eyes from the flame to stare at Kirra. She felt as though the fire from the lamp had somehow been transferred into his gaze. She could feel it burning her, hotter and hotter the longer he stared. “Tonight I saw the collar. It is changing, isn’t it. The flames are growing.”

Kirra’s mouth was dry. She looked around for something to drink, but the table was bare. “They…they are. What does that mean?”

“That you have brought a monster in your midst.”

Kirra hardened her voice, and steeled her emerald gaze. “Alv is not a monster! I’m tired of people…”

Tathys cut her off, his words like a knife that sliced through her voice. “I speak not of the dragon! I speak of the collar. The flames mean that the wasteland is coming, and soon your dragon will announce its arrival with fire.”

Kirra’s shoulders slumped. She fell back in her chair, her eyes cast down. “I…I don’t understand…”

“I would not expect you to.” Tathys took a slow breath, heaved a sigh. Then he leaned forward. His voice was little more than a low growl, and every word he spoke chilled Kirra’s soul a little more. “You believe that this collar is a boon. You believe it is some great benefit to your city, a great protector to keep you all safe at night. You believe that this collar is a blessing for your people. It is not.”

Kirra lifted her eyes again. Words crawled up her throat, froze upon her tongue, and died before they could ever escape her lips.

“The collar is a lure.” Tathys’ words were knives cutting Kirra to her heart over and over. “It is a lie. It is a curse. It is darkness and evil, it is calculating coldness. It is population control in a dying world. It is an agent of the waste…”

“Enough!” Kirra slammed both her hands down upon the table. “What does any of that even mean? What does this have to do with Alv?”

Tathys continued as though Kirra hadn’t even spoken. “The collar offers the promise of safety. Of protection. It lures in those desperate for shelter. And then it keeps them safe so that the population may grow. When the time comes, when there are enough of them…” Tathys waved his hand, growling. “Or perhaps when there are too many…”

“I said enough!”

“It is a trap, Handler.” Tathys’ voice settled back into its usual controlled tone. “And when your city springs it, the collar will turn the dragon against you.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Kirra said, pushing to her feet.

“Has the dragon brought the box to Asterryl? Does he have visions of a city in flames?”

Kirra looked away, biting her lip. It was all the answer Tathys needed.

“Then it has already begun.” Tathys rose to his feet, staring at the single flickering flame. “The wastes are coming, Handler. I can help you stop it, but you have to take me to Asterryl. And you have to take me now. Or before this winter is over, Asterryl will burn, and the wastes will wash away its ruin.”

---

Alvaranox paced in the dark street. He snarled to himself, tossing his horned head. The dragon flared his spines to full extension, growling at any guard that came to close. Not that they wanted anything to do with the angry dragon or the spines on his lashing tail. Only Nylah could get near him, and only Nylah was safe from his anger. It helped that she worked to keep pace with the dragon, standing near enough to him to be out of range of his tail.

“Why does he want to see Kirra?” Alvaranox had asked Nylah the same question at least three times. She did not have a new answer to give him, but she did think he was really listening anyway.

“Because she is his handler…”

“If he tries to hurt her, Nylah…” Alvaranox turned his head to glare at Nylah. Fury roiled in his copper eyes. “I will tear this inn apart, and hurl him off this blasted mesa.”

“He won’t hurt her, Alv.” Nylah knew the dragon’s anger was not meant for her, but that did not make her any less worried about him. She put her hand on the golden spot at the end of his nose, stroking his pebbly scales. “That’s one thing you don’t have to worry about, at least.”

“Is it?” Alvaranox snapped his jaws in the air over Nylah’s head. “How do we really know that?”

“If he wanted to hurt us, Alv, he’d have other ways to do so.” Nylah followed the dragon as he began to pace again. “Whatever sort of wicked man he may be, he wants to talk. I suspect he came here in the middle of the night because he didn’t want Varel’s men listening in. Alv, take a deep breath. Try and relax.”

Alv snapped again, tossing his head. “I cannot relax! Not with the man trying to kill me in there with Kirra! I should have torn his damn head off before he even had a chance to open his mouth! I should have burned him down to charred bones!”

“You couldn’t know what tricks he’d pull, Alv.” Alv set her hand on the dragon’s black-mottled shoulder as she paced with him, trying to keep up. “And if you had, he wouldn’t be able to answer your question.”

“He still isn’t! So it makes no difference!”

“Not yet, anyway.” When Alv turned around, Nylah hustled to keep up, and put her hand back upon his shoulder. She felt the dragon’s muscles rippling beneath his pebbly scales. “But once we are back in Asterryl…”

“You will what?” Alvaranox glanced back at her, his spines flattened out against his head. “Interrogate him?”

“Someone will,” Nylah said, a hint of anger starting to shine through her own voice. “I suspect he will have a lot to say. I don’t think he wants to go to Asterryl just so you can’t kill him. After all, that doesn’t stop anyone else from putting him to death for trying to slay our dragon.”

Alvaranox chuckled just a little, his central crest rising. “Wouldn’t that be nice. Welcome to Asterryl, no the dragon can’t kill you, but the rest of us can.” Then the dragon hissed through his teeth. He unsheathed his claws, dragging them across the cobblestone. “I did not know I could not even kill people who once lived in Asterryl.”

“You don’t exactly go around trying to kill people all the time, Alv.” Nylah stroked the forest green scutes of his foreleg before the dragon began to pace again. Then she quickly hurried to catch up alongside him to avoid his lashing tail.

“Don’t I?” Alvaranox came to a stop, peering off to the east. Something dark glinted in his eyes. “Its not as though I’d remember.”

“Alv, that sort of…”

“He says I have.” Alv lifted his head towards the moon, staring at it. “You recognize him, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Nylah lifted her hand to Alv’s neck to try and get him to lower his head.

Alvaranox sighed as he pushed his scales against her palm. “It’s Tavaryn’s son, isn’t it.”

“I think so.” Nylah stroked the dragon’s neck with both hands. “I didn’t exactly want to ask, but the resemblance is there.”

“It’s in his scent, too.” Alvaranox closed his eyes, baring a few fangs in silent anger. “I didn’t notice it, at first. I was too angry. It’s him. As if that family hasn’t done enough to me.”

“That would explain his connection to Asterryl.” Nylah’s hand stilled upon the dragon’s scales. She murmured in thought, gray hair flitting about her head in their breeze. “I remember Tavaryn being married when I first became your handler. He had several children. And the collar has tasted Tavaryn’s blood just as it tasted mine and Kirra’s. Some of that blood now runs through Tathys veins.”

Alv did not yet open his eyes. He nudged his muzzle under Nylah’s arms like a hatchling seeking his mother’s warmth. Nylah was more than happy to provide it to him. She wrapped her arms around the dragon’s head, uncaring what any of the watchful guards might think. She stroked his head for a few long moments, rubbed one of his ears. Then she slipped a hand under him to scratch under his chin. Alv tilted his head back almost imperceptibly, and soon the faintest hint of a rumbling purr began to creep from the dragon’s throat.

“It’s alright, Alv.” Nylah ran her hand back and forth against his jaw line. “In the end, it will all be alright.”

“I don’t think it will, Nylah.” Alv sighed against her clothes, the air rustled the fabric around her. “But I appreciate your consideration nonetheless.”

“What did you mean a few minutes ago?” Nylah shifted a hand to rub the dragon’s nose. “You said he told you that you’d done something?”

Alv took a deep breath, inhaling Nylah’s scent. His words came out in a long, uncertain sigh. “He told me it would not be the first time I’d killed someone who tried to tell me the truth.” Alvaranox slowly pulled his head back. “But he did not say who.”

“He’s just trying to get under your scales, Alv.”

“Perhaps.” Alv stared off to the east again. He lifted a paw, fidgeting with his collar. “Or perhaps it was his father. Perhaps this is all just some elaborate ploy for revenge.”

“Tavaryn left Asterryl a long time ago, Alv.” Nylah’s eyes were drawn to the collar. The dragon tugged at it back and forth as though it were irritating him. She could not blame him for that. “You couldn’t have slain him.”

“Couldn’t I, Nylah?” Alvaranox set his paw down, idly tracing sigils upon the cobblestone with a single black claw. “For all we know, he may have returned in secret, burdened by guilt and desperate to make amends by telling me what he knew. If the Collar sent me to slay him before he reached town I might never remember it.”

Nylah wrung her hands. Much as she hated to admit it, that was certainly possible. Nylah glanced towards the inn, trying to peer through one of the windows. She couldn’t see the table Kirra sat at with Tathys. “Perhaps it’s best you don’t know who you slain.”

“What?” Alv pulled his head back as though Nylah’s words brought an electric shock to his sensitive nose.

Nylah furrowed her brow. “I’m just saying, if he’s telling the truth, there’s no need for you to know who you would have killed. You couldn’t stop it, and you’ve no reason to guilt yourself over it.”

Alvaranox growled in his throat, baring his fangs. “That sounds like something he would say.”

Nylah swallowed, her face flushing a little. The dragon was in a bad enough mood without her adding to it. She’d have to be more careful with the way she phrased things. “I’m sorry, Alv, I didn’t mean…”

“Who’s side are you on?” Alvaranox glared at her a moment. His eyes flashed dark, and he grabbed at the collar again. “Stop that!”

Nylah’s eyes widened, her pulse quickened. Maybe it wasn’t her words the dragon was really reacting too. “Alv, is the collar acting up?”

Alvaranox held out his paw, staring at it. Then he looked down at Nylah. He shook his head, but it was a violent sort of shake as though he were trying to shake his very horns loose. “They’re after us, Nylah.”

“Who’s after us, Alv?” Nylah took a step towards the dragon, reaching for his head.

Alvaranox pulled his head out of reach. “The Circle. They mean to slay for what I’ve done. They will slay you as well! Unless I stop them…”

“Alv, take a breath.” Nylah reached for the dragon again, and again he pulled away. “Alv, listen to me. The collar is in your head. You need to focus, Alv. Do you understand?”

The dragon yanked at his collar, tugging it back and forth against his neck. For a moment, Nylah thought she saw the flames dancing upon it. The dragons circled the black expanse, rejoicing in the fire they created. Nylah blinked and the images were still again. Alv snarled, and with unsheathed claws began to try and tear the collar from his neck. Claws bit through scales and the dragon’s blood ran across his collar.

“Take it off!” Alvaranox screamed in a voice that Nylah scarcely recognized. He sounded like a terrified hatchling. Then the screamed the same words again, in a deeper, angrier voice. “Take it off!”

“Alv!” Nylah yelled at him, trying to draw his attention. She grabbed at his fore leg, trying to pull it down from his neck. “Stop it! You’re hurting yourself!”

Alvaranox reacted with a snarl, shoving Nylah aside. Nylah yelped and stumbled, landing hard upon her rump. Pain shot up her spine, but a bruised tailbone was the last of her worries. One of the guards rushed to her aide as she struggled back to her feet. He grasped her arm and helped her to rise, but when he drew his sword and turned towards the dragon, Nylah shoved him away.

“Leave him be!” Gods, this could not happen at a worse time. Yet Nylah feared that was exactly what it was happening. It seemed the more anger and fear that grew inside the dragon, the more often his increasingly fragmented visions and outbursts were triggered. If Tathys hadn’t shown up by surprise in the middle of the night, none of this would be happening now. She grabbed the guards sword arm, pulling it back. “Leave him! He means you no harm!”

Alvaranox stared at Nylah as if only now realizing what he’d done. “Nylah…” The fear and confusion in his voice broke the old woman’s heard. He sounded lost, as if he could not find his way through his own mind. The dragon looked around in confusion. “I’m sorry….It wasn’t me…”

“I know, Alv!” The guard pulled away and Nylah waved her finger at him. “You stand down!” She glanced at the inn. “Kirra!” Gods, she hoped she could hear her. “Kirra! I need you!”

Alv screamed, stumbling across the street. He smashed up against a storefront, shattering a sign and breaking a few windows. Shards of glass fell to the ground around him. Droplets of blood dribbled from his wing. He staggered into the street again, then clutched his head just below one of his ridged, black horns, groaning in pain.

“Stop…” Alv’s voice sounded increasingly lost, an isolated ship adrift upon dark waters he could no longer find his way out of. “Stop ringing…”

Nylah took the moment to run to the door of the inn. She jerked it open, saw Kirra and Tathys standing around a lamp. “Kirra! I need…”

“I said STOP!” Nylah spun back towards the dragon in time to see Alv grab his wedge-shaped head with both forepaws, his eyes wide and black. “Stop ringing that Gods-damned-bell!”

In one terrifying instant, Alv’s voice changed from the shift drifting on dark waters to the great and terrible sea serpent emerging from the waves. The dragon threw his head back and roared to the moon, the horrible sound rattled every window in every building all the street. Nylah clapped her hands to her ears. Never in her life had she heard Alv roar like that. Behind her, Tathys and Kirra yelled at each other before Kirra broke away to run for the door.

Kirra pushed past Nylah, crying out for the dragon. “Alv! ALV!”

In a single, smooth motion the dragon leapt into the sky, beating his vast green wings. Kirra’s voice never reached him as he ascended, drowned out by the bell that tolled only in the dragon’s head.

---

Chapter Thirty Nine

---

Alvaranox ascended, lost in a broken dream. The mirror upon which his life played out had shattered, and he drifted from piece to piece. All he wanted now was to return to his barrel where he was safe, yet he could not find the fragment of reality that would lead him home. His claws extended in someone else’s anger. His flames lit the skies in another dragon’s fury. Only the fear that wrenched his knotted belly was real. Fear because while he did not sleep, he could not take back control from the twisted dreams that guided him.

All the shadows in the city below him spoke with his father’s voice. “Take it off!”

Fire flashed in his eyes, acrid smoke burned his nostrils, Guardian’s voice filled his mind. “Make it stop!”

He tasted mud on his tongue, heard his mother’s voice, weak and pleading. “Drink your water.”

Every shard of fractured dream that tumbled through his mind was another vision in his eyes, another voice in his head. Alvaranox screamed pure terror because he had lost control. Slinking shadows hissed for him to burn it down. Bones rose from red earth and whispered for him to do his duty. Through it all, the black bell tolled.

“This is your fault!” Guardian roared fury and hatred as she crashed atop the stone keep. “You did this to me!” Blue paws drove gray talons through armor. Men screamed as the dragon hurled them from the top of their fortress. “I loved them!” Fire poured from Guardian’s mouth through the window, inundating the room and all its inhabitants in flames. Screams were chocked by the heat. “Make it stop!”

A green dragon landed in a courtyard. A man rushed towards him with a spear, and the dragon spun. Black tail spines split the man’s helmet and skull with equal ease. The man topped through the air like a bloodied doll. Another rushed the dragon, thrusting his lance at green scales. Pain ignited along the dragon’s ribs but it was only a minor thing, a scratch, an inconvenience that would not only swell the dragon’s rage. The dragon pivoted, knocked the spear aside and sunk teeth into the man’s shoulder. The dragon tossed his head and flung the man through the arched, stained glass window shining in the sunlight.

My father was a black dragon!

A black dragon hugged a tiny green hatchling to his ebony chest plates. Father was slender but strong. Father brought food for mother when mother was weak. Father loved him very much. Father was so proud. They ran in the grass. Alv laughed and bound alongside his father, pouncing on his paws. Father lifted a paw and the green hatchling hung from it, hind legs kicking. The hatchling had not yet learned to speak, but he knew his father’s pride, and he knew his fathers love.

From the top of the grassy hill near the little stream where they lived, they could see the sands in the distance. Father never let him go that far. Father and mother kept him to the hills and the stone spires and trees and the little sheltering cave they all shared. Sometimes they played in the hill that had the stony forest maze. Father was good at hiding but Alv was better at finding. Some days mother played too, mother was good at hiding because she was green but Alv was still better at finding.

“Take it off!” Father was angry. “Take it off of him!”

Alv was frightened. Something was on his neck. He just wanted to play. Was father yelling at him?

“Take it off! You know what this will mean for him!”

“It means he will live.”

“Is that life worth living?”

Father struck out at the men, and they fell. They bled like prey. Father protected Alv.

Black paws lashed at armored flesh. Roars shook the earth and Father’s fury tore down the walls. All around him men rushed in. Father was slender but Father was strong. Men fell and bled and did not rise. Father bled but rose again and again, and each time a new wall fell. Father’s fire burned what they made and Father’s fire burned flesh. Father hurled men through old windows and pulled stone down atop them.

“Take it off him! He is a dragon! He is not some pet for man!”

Alv stood on dying grass with mother. Where was Father? They trudged through sand back towards the grass. Mother had to protect him now. They had to find water. Guardian stood in a burned city. The smell of smoke and death still hung. The screams she heard in her memories drowned out the silence that lingered for ages after the city fell. They did this. They did this to her.

The dreams that once came to Alv like pages turning in a book now staggered from one to another. The book was torn apart, and the pages were all whirling around him. He was Guardian. He had a daughter. Father was angry. Mother was hungry. Tavaryn beat him. Nylah was kind. The willow was sheltering. He was so hungry. Cities were burning. Unknown dragons killed men. A new voice pleaded with him to do his duty. Another begged him not too. A green dragon’s tail lashed into a man’s face. There were no spines on the tail but the force splattered the man’s head just the same. A wooden structure burned. Men screamed. Blood caked green paws. Pain bit into dragon flesh.

The vision stabilized. Blue paws trudged through red earth, and stumbled over broken black rock. The sun burned blue wings edged in purple. Her body ached everywhere. Was this really the right choice? Even the sands felt rough, the rocks embedded in it scraped and tore at her paw pads. Even a life of walking on cobblestone couldn’t harden her pads enough for this landscape.

Some of the trees still had a few leaves. The ground was dead and dry but the cracks in the red earth hinted that water still occasionally fell. How far into this blasted place had she traveled? How much further could she travel? Surely it could not truly stretch on forever. Somewhere beyond the waste, they claimed there was a lake larger than any known, with water that tasted of salt. She had hoped to see that place, but it seemed so far, and she was so tired.

She missed her daughter. Yet she had done all she could for the young one, and she was so proud of the way she’d grown. The world was a difficult place to grow up without a loving home, but it meant she’d learned to care for herself. Her daughter was old enough to live on her own now, and she hoped she would find somewhere to be happy.

The blue dragon sighed, trudging onward. She could move faster if she flew, but her wings were so sore. She’d flown and flown and flown, and now she was not sure her wings had the strength left to carry her. She would walk a while, and hope to find some water and some respite from the sun. If not, well, the sun would set soon, and this was not a journey she’d expected to return from.

Was she doing the right thing?

In her heart, the dragon so desperately hoped she was. Someone had to stop this, and there was no one else who could. One way or another, she had to be the last. No one else should bare this burden. She would have gone further, if she could, but she’d spent her last few years ensuring her growing daughter had enough to eat to grow up strong. That meant the blue dragon went without some days. If she’d been healthier, if she had enough water, she could have gone further. But from the outset, she was too weak to make it as far as she wished.

She just hoped she would go far enough that no one would ever find the collar again. When she found the proper place, she would bury the thing and leave it to rot.

A green dragon alighted against a wooden wall. Black claws dug into wooden posts for purchase as the dragon roared flame and fury at the men behind them. The wooden walls could not support the weight of the green dragon hanging from them, and as the wood splintered and broke the dragon leapt from them, beating wings. The green dragon bathed the earth below in flames and then landed amongst the smoldering ruins to bring claws and teeth to bare against the men who dared to draw steel and arrow against him.

The blue dragon trudged onwards through the heat. Even as the sun began to set, her thirst built, and her body grew wearier. Her vision had dimmed a little. Up ahead there was a tree. It still bore some of its leaves, their edges brown and cracked as the drought took its toll. The tree clung to the hope that some day it would rain again, much as the dragon clung to the hope that some day, she would see her daughter again. After she knew no one would ever find this collar.

Tired.

She was so tired.

She just wanted to rest.

As the sun set, she reached the tree. Her tongue burned and her head ached. The world looked dark. At least she got to rest. She slunk in beneath the tree, and collapsed onto the shaded sands beneath its bough. Cracked red earth and broken black stone pressed against her belly. She took a slow breath, and lay her head down upon the dying earth.

No one would find it here, she was certain. She took comfort in that.

Guardian closed her eyes.

Alvaranox opened his eyes, and found himself surrounded by fire and death. Smoke stung his copper eyes, the foul stench of charred skin and burnt flesh clung to the air. Screams sounded both distant and all around him. Through the curtains of black smoke and red flame a man charged at him with a spear. Alvaranox watched the man charging him as though he himself were merely a spectator, just a vision playing out in some other dragon’s mind. Soot and blood caked the man’s silver armor. Shredded tatters of his black and crimson cloak billowed behind him.

Alvaranox floated in his own mind, helpless to stop himself from lashing out. Instinct would have driven the dragon to protect himself anyway, but this was not instinct. This was control. The green dragon’s black claws shattered the half of the spear with a tremendous crack. The metal spearhead toppled through the air as wooden shards sprayed in all directions. The man stumbled towards the dragon still clutching the broken spear, unable to stop his own momentum. The man bore no helmet, and in a moment that seemed to play out for ages, Alvaranox saw himself reflected in the man’s eyes in a flicker of green scales and blood that was not his own. Horror twisted the man’s face into an anguished mask the dragon could not look away from. The man knew his actions had brought him to his death, and he did not want to die.

Alvaranox knew that feeling.

That moment of terror, when death’s embrace, cold and infinite, wrapped itself around his heart. He had felt that, he had known he was dying. By miracle or major, or sheer desire to live, Alvaranox had survived. If only because he knew that fear, Alvaranox would have given this man that same chance to live if he could. Yet he could not.

Alvaranox was not in control.

As soon as the man began to try and scramble away, the green dragon snapped teeth into the human’s unprotected head. Alvaranox tasted his blood, felt his sharp teeth punch through the man’s skull. The man screamed and the sound reverberated inside the dragon’s maw, down his throat. The dragon clenched his jaws and the man’s skull shattered, teeth tore through brain and mercifully ended the human’s last moments of pain. Then the dragon flicked his head to the side and tossed the body away.

The coppery taste of blood lingered on his tongue. The scent of it and the sickly smell of terror blanketed his nostrils. Alvaranox tried to shake his head, tried to lift a paw to wipe at his muzzle, and found himself unable even to manage that small feat. Instead the dragon felt himself pulled forward by an unstoppable force. Every part of him felt numb and rubbery, as though the collar were jerking him along like an immense and terrible marionette. Yet his movements were completely smooth, not halting or stilted.

A few arrows whizzed over his back. Alvaranox had felt pain in the visions, but now he felt none. Was he wounded? He could not even tell. The green dragon lifted his head and responded to the arrows with fire. The burst of bright orange lit all the thick smoke with a horrible, hellish glow. Screams beyond the roiling flames told Alvaranox the collar found its mark.

More men charged at him from all sides, and the collar struck back. Alvaranox felt as though the collar was the one whirling in the courtyard. Though his limbs were numb, he felt the impact of tail spines punching through armor just as he’d felt teeth sink through bone. Alvaranox felt a hind paw smash into a sturdy iron breastplate and crumple it like dead leaves. He felt his fore paws grasp limbs and wrench them from bodies. Men screamed, and then with another pivoting motion the dying man was hurled off into the smoke. Glass shattered in the distance and the scream ended.

Everything was sound and scent and impact.

Alvaranox’s body was numb yet he felt the force of each blow he delivered. He felt hot flesh part around sharp claws, felt his tail spines punch through armor and bone, felt his teeth rend anything they could reach. Now and then he felt impact against his own body, yet the wounds they inflicted were trivial. Once, these men had caught him an ambush, driven their blade deep into vital dragon entrails. Yet even that had not taken his life. Even that could not kill the Guardian Slave.

Now the Guardian Slave took his revenge.

Revenge. The idea had fermented and grown in Alv’s mind in the months since his injury. It had changed over those months, bloomed and withered in equal measure until he was not even sure he wanted it. The collar had seized upon that idea, and taken it unto itself to bring the dragon his revenge. Yet Alv knew the collar was not doing this for his benefit. The Collar…whatever motive it had, it simply took the dragon’s vengeful fury, and twisted it into something terrible. All Alvaranox wanted from his trip to Delverrix was the truth about himself, and his family. Had the Circle put him in this collar? Did the Circle murder his family? Tathys, at least, claimed otherwise. The answer infuriated Alvaranox because Tathys refused to explain more. In his anger he tried to strike the man down, yet if the man spoke honestly then part of the dragon was thankful he hadn’t killed him.

Alvaranox did not wish to be a creature who killed simply because he was angry. If they admitted to slaying his mother, that would be one thing. But if he killed them simply because he was angry, without knowing the truth? Alvaranox thought that would do nothing more than make him into the very monster they thought he was.

Alvaranox was not a monster until the collar made him one.

Now, as he continued to shake off the visions, he found himself in the midst of the Circle’s citadel courtyard surrounded by death and fire.

Alvaranox was not a monster but he was doing a monster’s deeds.

No.

No!

“NO!” Alvaranox forced the words across numb tongue. It felt as though he was forcing himself to speak through another’s throat. Even that single word was twisted, almost incomprehensible. A sound of wretched sorrow from a creature who only wanted a chance to live his own life as he chose to live it.

“NO!” Alvaranox cried out again even as The Collar leapt from the courtyard and beat his wings. Alvaranox grasped the top of a wall, where crumbling stone battlements lined one of walkways around the inner keep. A stone wall remaining from the original structure stood beyond the walkway, with an immense but shattered window inlaid in the stone work. As Alvaranox clung to the wall, hind paws braced against the stone, he had a clear view into that window. The room below was lit in cascading shades of orange cast by the flames dancing beyond the windows. Tapestries upon the walls held familiar, oddly geometric patterns. Another images of a black collar. Another, draped across a table, bore an image of a blue dragon and a city Alv once saw in his dreams. Shelves stuffed with books and glass cases displaying relics lined the walls. A few men in black robes with red sleeves scurried through the room, desperately saving what treasured relics they could.

There were answers in that room.

“No!”

The men heard the dragon’s cry, glanced up at him. One of them screamed when he saw the green dragon’s bloodied head protruding through the upper window. One man grabbed an armful of books and ran for the door. Another threw his hands up over his face, screaming in pure, simply terror as the dragon parted his jaws. It was too late for all of them.

“NO!” The word poured from the dragon’s throat just as fire spilled from his jaws.

The flames may as well have been blood running straight from his heart. There were answers in that room. In one horrifying moment, they were incinerated. Men screamed for heart-wrenching moments, their last writhing movements obscured in a whirl of orange fire. Books crackled and burnt to ash. Glass cases shattered from the heat, their contents ignited. Flames crawled up tapestries that may well have been woven when Guardian was still alive.

Somewhere in the distance, more men screamed for help. Some where injured and dying, others trying to save their friends. Alv’s answers were burning. Alv’s enemies were burning. Or where they the collar’s enemies? Asterryl’s enemies? Was that all this was? These men tried to slay Asterryl’s Guardian, and so now the collar was killing them while it had the chance? Was that why it let Alv make this trip?

Or was it a reaction? Had Tathys caused this?

It…it didn’t…it didn’t matter.

This. This had. This had to stop.

This had to stop.

These people in the Circle, if they did not see the dragon as a monster before, they would now. And the town, that entire town. Surely they could all see the citadel going up on flames. They had suffered an attack by one of Alvaranox’s people before, and now here was another dragon come to burn them down. All these people had ever seen from his kind was pain, and death, and cruelty.

No wonder so many men thought of dragons as monsters.

Yet dragons were not monsters.

…Were they?

Did Alvaranox even know?

No, they were not monsters.

Alv was not a monster.

Yes, there was anger in him, there was rage and sorrow the likes of which even Alvaranox could scarcely bring himself to acknowledge. And if these people had murdered his mother to steal away her child and put him in a collar? Then yes, he wanted revenge. But not like this. Not upon those who had nothing to do with it. Not men just trying to save relics and treasures, not on men only trying to defend their friends, not on men who had not wished him harm until now.

Or did they? Did they all want him dead? Did they all want to remove the blight of his species from this world?

No!

Damn you!

Alv felt the collar tightening its hold on his mind. It was changing his thoughts, putting ideas in his head. Or were they old memories? Had his kind fought the circle before? Had his father fought the circle? What if his slavery was revenge for losses his family had inflicted? How long had this been going on?

Or was it just putting ideas in his head?

Was he losing his mind?

Flickers of dragons flashed in his vision. He saw Guardian in a burning city. He saw himself in a burning citadel. He heard his father’s voice in the back of his mind. He saw walls within walls, and a box buried beneath red earth. He saw unfamiliar dragons, scales of red and angry golden eyes. Red.

Red.

Kirra.

It did not matter if he was going mad. He had to protect Kirra.

This had to end.

My father was a black dragon.

My father was a black dragon!

Alvaranox focused on an image of his father. He had seen it in his dream, and even now as he felt the collar trying to hide it from him, he wrenched it away from the monster’s black, heartless fingers and clutched it to his very soul. His father loved him, and his father never wanted him to bear that cursed collar.

“My father…”

Alv began to remember. The memories were tenuous and shrouded in uncertainty, but those images he saw in his waking dreams when he first ascended, those were real. He was sure of it. He saw himself hanging from his father’s paw, giggling in wordless hatchling delight. He walked alongside his father through old walls and stone spires. They lived in…a ruin, somewhere, perhaps at the edge of the waste. He saw his father bringing his mother food when she was too weak to hunt. He felt his father’s love, and pride as he was hugged against the slender black dragon’s chest. He lay his head against his father’s chest plates, listening to the beating of his heart.

“Was a black dragon!” Alvaranox’s roar rang out above the fire and the fray, rose above the screams and echoed across the land. “My father was a black dragon!”

Alvaranox forced numb wings to open. He struggled to find strength, and drove himself away from the stone wall off his hind legs. He dropped to the ground, impact thudding through his body. Hot pain coiled around his brain, the Collar draped tendrils of white-hot coal all across it to punish him for fight back. Alvaranox screamed, shaking his head.

“My father was a black dragon!” Alvaranox seized on every ounce of strength he had, and launched himself into the air. With stilted, forceful motions he beat numb wings and ascended above the burning citadel. “He had blue eyes!” The collar fought back, pulling at his mind, his memories, sending fire through his body. Every beat of the dragon’s wings sent electric pain through his tendons, yet the dragon refused to give in. “My father loved me! You cannot take him from me anymore!”

Higher and higher Alv rose. Every wing beat sent more fire and lightening pulsing through the dragon’s body. Beneath him, the Circle burned. It looked like an immense bonfire lit atop the towering mesa. A little ways off, Delverrix was awash with pinpoints of light. Every lamp, and window was another star in a dark ocean awash in terrified people. Somewhere in that ocean was Kirra.

Alvaranox’s wings seized up a moment. The collar’s grasp tightened around his mind. Alv grit his teeth. Every movement was a struggle and every motion was pain. “This…is over! You will…let me go…or I will…” The dragon’s breath came in ragged pants through his clenched fangs. The air seared his lungs. “…Fold…my wings…and you…will never make me open them…in time! I will end us both, Collar, and the world will be better off!”

Alvaranox began to pull his wings in. To his surprise, the collar relented. The pain throbbing all along his scaled body began to ease, and feeling began to return to his limbs, and his wings. The collar’s death grip upon his mind began to tease. It did not release its stranglehold upon his memories, but it did relinquish control back to the dragon.

For a moment, Alvaranox was surprised the collar had not called his bluff and kept fighting. Then trickles of icy dread pumped through his heart, dribbled down his spine. The collar knew he was not bluffing. Even Alv wasn’t sure how far he’d really be willing to go to end this. But if death was what it took, maybe he was more prepared for that than he realized. In a way, he was already living on borrowed time.

Alvaranox did not want to die, but he did not want to go on living like this for the rest of his days, either. One step closer to madness every time someone else’s life edged out his own for a little while. How long until he could not recover? How long until he began to believe he was Guardian? How long until his desperation turned into acceptance of the great lie? Tathys seemed to think he should like the collar’s lies wash over him like a warm bath.

Yet Alvaranox would sooner die than spend his life living in a shroud of falsehood however sweetly the lies spoke to him.

“One day, Collar,” Alv spoke to the wind. “This will end. I will not be your puppet for all of my days.”

Do your duty.

Alv hissed when a dozen voices all whispered in his head at the same time.

Burn it down.

“Shut up!”

Do your duty, and you will be free.

“I will do my duty, Collar.” Alvaranox muttered. “But push me too far, and I will fly myself into the bottom of a ravine so deep, and dark, no sunlight will ever again touch your damnable surface.”

For now, the collar relented.

Alvaranox soon flew over Delverrix. The city seemed to writhe with people. Some looked ready to rush to the Circle’s aid while others seemed content to watch it burn. Others were running for shelter when they saw the dragon swooping in through the darkness. Torch and lamp light sparkled upon emerald scales, glowed against the vast, membranous sails of Alvaranox’s wings. The were guards everywhere. Fear squeezed Alv’s heart, he struggled to draw in a breath. Surely they were ready to attack him. Any moment now he expected to hear arrows scream past his ears, and men calling for arms to bring down the great beast.

Yet he heard none of those things. While the general population seemed divided between fear, concern, and a twisted sort of jubilation, the guards themselves remained stoic, trying to keep order without adding to the chaos. Some of them looked at him, though Alv was flying too swiftly to read their faces. Yet none of them fired arrows at him or chased him with drawn steel, none called for their comrades to seek him or track him down. They all seemed to know that Alvaranox meant their city no harm.

Perhaps in their own way, they were happy to see the Circle burning. From what Nylah told him, much of Delverrix saw the Circle the same way Kirra did, as some twisted cult. They had many supporters, but much of that support was held in secret. Even Varel himself seemed eager to be rid of Tathys, if not the rest of the cult. Perhaps the dragon had just done this city’s leadership a favor. If Alv knew Delverrix would let him exact revenge on the circle before he arrived, the dragon would have taken a perverse sort of pleasure in that knowledge.

Now he just felt sick.

He’d slain so many of those people without even knowing it. By the time he’d finally opened his eyes, he still could not stop himself from those poor archivists. The dragon’s belly lurched. What if…how many other people had he killed? How many men had he slain over the years without even knowing it? The collar sent him for bandits, and brigades, murderers and thieves. What if they were not all what they appeared? Alvaranox could not even see the wasteland that lay beyond Asterryl, how could he see the difference between a bandit and a weary traveler?

By the time the dragon located Nylah and Kirra he was beginning to wretch. Gods, he could be more a monster than he’d ever believed. He could be everything he always claimed he was not. He knew so little about his people, what if dragons really were the wicked beasts they were claimed? Bile rose in the dragon’s throat. His stomach lurched and twisted, yet he fought to keep it down.

Kirra and Nylah had taken position atop a large, elevated stone platform that overlooked much of the city. Their belongings lay in a pile nearby. Guards stood watch over the stairways, looking on helplessly as the citadel burned in the distance. Alvaranox could not tell if the guards were protecting Nylah and Kirra while their dragon wreaked havoc, or holding them captive. If they were prisoners, Alvaranox would free them by force if he had too. Both women called out to the dragon, their voices a strange mixture of terror and relief.

The dragon swooped in over the platform, his belly heaving. Even before he’d set paws to stone Kirra was running to him. He tried to wave her off as he stumbled to the edge of the elevated viewing dias. Alvaranox unsheathed his claws against pitted, lichen covered stone, stretching his neck as far forward as he could. Then the dragon wrenched violently, his stomach churning. He felt Kirra’s hand upon him. She gently stroked the scales over the dragon’s ribs as he vomited everything he had inside him. He could only hope there was no one below.

“It’s alright, Alv,” Kirra said, pressing her face against his scales. “It’s alright. You couldn’t help it. It’s not your fault.”

When the dragon had nothing more to offer the city streets, and his heaves finally releted, he lifted his head. He licked at his muzzle, and tasted blood mixed in with the bitterness of his bile. He did not think it was his own. Alvaranox groaned, wiping at his muzzle with the back of his forest green paws. He turned his head, staring at Kirra. She looked terrified.

Alv’s heart sank into the emptiness of his belly. He never wanted to frighten her. He stepped away from the edge of the platform, and dropped onto his haunches. Before he could offer Kirra an apology, she flung herself against him. Kirra buried her face in his forest green chest plates and began to cry. Kirra’s body shook with wracking sobs as she spilled her tears against the dragon, her arms as far around his chest as she could get them.

Alvaranox knew then that Kirra’s terror was not because of him. She was not frightened of the dragon, nor was she frightened of the things he had just done. She wasn’t even frightened for the things he may do. Kirra’s fear was all for Alvaranox. Kirra feared for the dragon’s life. Kirra feared she would lose him.

Alvaranox wrapped his foreleg around Kirra and began to stroke her back. He hugged her against himself. Then he opened one of his wings and stretched it forward, curling it around the two of them. Alvaranox would shield Kirra from the world itself for as long as she needed it. Her fear for the dragon and the tears she shed for Alv were something private to her. It was something she was not truly ready to share even with Alvaranox, let alone the rest of the world.

Alvaranox felt Kirra shift under his wings. He did not push his head down to her. He let her shed her tears in private, providing her what comfort and shelter he could beneath his wing. Alv felt Kirra turn her head, pressing her ear to his chest.

Kirra was listening to his heart.

In that moment, in that private fear for him, Alvaranox knew.

Kirra loved him. She had never put words to it, but her tears spoke the beautiful truth.

*****

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