FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

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Chapter Twelve

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Galvarys was in an excellent mood as he flew to the Village of Rings. It had been a long time since he’d felt the sort of comfort Elyra gave him the night before. The pain was brief but intense, but her touch, care and concern helped him mend the old scar on his heart she’d unknowingly opened. After a good night’s sleep, the worst of it was all but forgotten once more. It was better that way. Still, there were days he missed them, and days he missed being able to socialize with others of his own kind without days and days of travel through the skies.

That was alright. Galvarys liked the niche he’d made for himself here. He liked holding such a wide swath of land. He liked that not everyone was trying to kill him anymore. And he liked building his own legend, conquered village by conquered village. He liked being able to tell himself his life would not end the way theirs had. Battered. Broken. Bloodied. Screaming. Pleading. Silent.

In his early days here, the silence haunted him the most. The silence meant it was over.

It had been a long time though, since Galvarys dwelled on such memories. He kept his reminders because he felt guilty for trying to forget, but he knew it was for the best. Nothing could be changed, and he had made the best life for himself he could. Peace, at least, meant he was safer now than he had been before. And when they did come for him, he was ready.

Elyra’s laughter ensured he remained cheerful on the flight. Though darkness and old pain skulked about the edges of his mind, he refused to let them encroach any further. Elyra made that easier for him. It had been a very long time since he’d considered someone his friend, and just as long since he’d felt as though another creature cared what happened to him. More and more Elyra seemed to be both of those things.

By the time Galvarys curled up amidst his soft things the night before he’d already felt better. For a short time part of him felt humiliated to have sought comfort from a human woman. The rest of him embraced that comfort and wished he could collect it like so much gold scattered about his home. Before he drifted off to sleep, he felt better just knowing that at least one human in this world actually cared about the life of a dragon.

Elyra already made a better minion than he could have imagined.

When dawn came the dragon rose, hunted his breakfast and bathed all before Elyra was awake. He’d brought her a deer haunch for breakfast, and by the time she’d woken he had a small fire going among some empty crates he’d dug out of his increasingly-organized collection. Galvarys was quite proud of himself for building a fire where she could cook her own breakfast, though Elyra’s hesitancy told him perhaps he had best leave the cooking to her. In the end she’d stacked some rocks around the fire and cooked thin strips of venison on the hot stones.

Then Elyra dunked herself in soapy water, and the dragon stayed far away from her until she was dry. While she dried herself Galvarys suggested to her her what he felt to be minion-appropriate clothing. Granted, he didn’t have any armor that would fit her and she didn’t want to carry a heavy, bloodstained shield around. So he chose from the clothes she already had, and picked a bright silver blouse with long sleeves, and indigo trousers with black seams. She also took some blue ribbons and used them to tie her red hair back behind her head. She buckled a long knife around her waist and put on the shoes she’d taken too lately, then fetched herself a scroll case she’d located amidst his collection and used to store her introductory parchment. She stuck the scroll case into the crate they were taking with them so she wouldn’t lose it in flight.

Once Galvarys was ready to go, Elyra spent some time flitting about him, prancing around in the sunshine. When he asked her what the hell she was doing, she proclaimed herself to be dancing. Galvarys was right, human dancing was definitely not arousing to a dragon. When he asked her why she was dancing, she told him it was simply because she was so happy to be able to spend the rest of her life out here with him, serving as the dragon’s minion. That she was happy to have this place as her home now.

The warm joy that blossomed in the dragon’s heart when he thought back to that morning banished any lingering traces of sorrows and old pains. Galvarys was glad Elyra could not easily see him smiling while she sat upon his back. He didn’t want to have to explain what had him grinning like a happy little hatchling with freshly stolen toys. Let her figure it out on her own if she was that curious. Dragons did not go about babbling about their joys and sorrows. Expressing them did not make those feelings any more real, but it did add embarrassment to the list of emotions the dragon was experiencing. For the same reason, he was thankful for her silence the night before. While he appreciated her offer to listen, her refusal to press him on it and the quiet comfort that followed were far more meaningful.

Elyra giggled atop his back, and Galvarys glanced back at her, still grinning. The infectiously musical nature of the woman’s laugh seemed a good excuse to share a smile with her. “What are you laughing at?”

“Just imagining the look on Varm’s face when you throw these wooden plates across the plaza!” Elyra leaned forward to rub the scales of Galvarys’ neck. As always her touch was warm and pleasant. “He’s going to shit his oversized pants!”

“I hope not,” Galvarys said, sharing in her laughter. “I do not think I could stand the stench!”

“Maybe right before we leave, then.” Still laughing, Elyra shifted back against him. More and more, her weight and warmth against his back simply felt normal. “But don’t land in his garden this time!”

“Why not?” Galvarys pinned his ears back, snapping his jaws. “I like tearing up his flowers!”

“I know you do.” Elyra leaned forward again, her hands against his scales. “But its not the flowers’ fault Varm is an filthy bastard! And its not like you’re punishing him. You’re only punishing the flowers, and whatever workers he employs to tend the garden.”

Galvarys scowled, baring a few fangs. “Oh, very well. I shall endeavor to avoid hurting his precious garden.”

“Thank you!”

Galvarys snorted, tossing his head. It was all for appearances, though. Truth was, if his minion didn’t want him to land in the garden, he wouldn’t land in the garden. In their discussions since her boot first encouraged him to listen, her deviousness seemed matched by her cunning. If even half of her ideas worked out as well as they sounded she’d have these villages twined around his tail in no time. Better yet, they’d be obeying him as much out of respect as out of fear.

Those fools. Before long they’d all be calling him, Galvarys The Respectable. If only they knew. Why, he wasn’t respectable at all. Wait, that didn’t sound right. Galvarys Of The Devious Minion perhaps. Yes, that was something for a dragon to be proud of. So long as said devious minion was loyal, that is. Somehow Galvarys didn’t think he’d have any trouble with Elyra’s loyalty.

Galvarys glanced back at Elyra. The woman stared down over the dragon’s side at the ocean of emerald pine and blue-green spruce that stretched beneath that. The sunlight made her pale skin glow golden, her gray eyes shone nearly as silver as his own. Her hair, done up in what she called a ponytail, looked like a stream of roiling fire cascading endlessly off of her head. For a human, Elyra sure was beautiful.

Elyra turned her head, and met his gaze for a moment. She grinned at him. “What are you looking at?”

“You,” Galvarys replied. “You look beautiful in the sunlight.”

Galvarys knew Elyra did not take complements well, despite how much she appreciated them. He did not wish to embarrass the woman, merely to state his opinion, so no sooner had he spoke it than he turned his head back towards their destination. He felt Elyra shift a little on his back, he could just imagine her face all scrunched up as she struggled to form a few words. The dragon found it amusing that she replied to lewd comments with so much more quickness and fire than she did genuine compliments.

“Thank you,” Elyra finally said. “You’re beautiful in any light.”

It seemed she found her tongue after all. Her words would have brought a smile to the dragon’s muzzle if he’d ever stopped grinning in the first place. Surely she was the first human to ever pay such compliments to a dragon, and actually mean them. Before he could reply, he felt something soft and warm brush against the back of his neck. It took him a moment to realize he’d felt Elyra’s lips. She’d just kissed the dragon’s neck.

Galvarys glanced back at her again, still smiling. From the redness of her face and the way her shining gray eyes widened, he suspected she’d given him that little gesture of affection before she could even stop herself. Not that he could blame her. He was a dragon, after all. And he was beautiful, she’d said it herself. He saw no reason to reply to her gentle kiss with words, they seemed insufficient. Instead he simply smiled at her long enough to let her know her affection was appreciated.

Soon, the telltale signs of the Village of Rings appeared in the distance. The fluttering banners of the village and Galvarys himself stood high above the arched beams and pointed eaves of the Mayor’s house in the center of the village. Many of the other buildings were dwarfed by the trees surrounding the village until the dragon drew a little closer, but the banners and the angled roof beneath them were visible from a great distance. Even before he drew near, Galvarys advised Elyra to cover her ears, and then bellowed the first of several roars signaling the villagers to gather.

“Remember what I said about the Garden!” Elyra called up to him after she’d uncovered her ears.

“Yes, yes, I recall.” Galvarys bared his fangs in distaste at the mere idea of being “nice.” “You know, for a dragon’s minion, you certainly are…kind.”

“I don’t have to be evil to be your minion,” Elyra said, laughing. “And you don’t have to be evil to be a dragon.”

“It certainly helps, though,” Galvarys said, grinning to himself.

“Yes, yes, you’re very evil.” Elyra rubbed his neck as the dragon began his descend. “You’re a force of pure wickedness, and all shall tremble for you, and fear your unending malice!”

“Exactly!” Galvarys rumbled his approval, lifting his spines a little against the wind. “Do be sure and tell the village just that!”

“I think I’d best stick to what we’ve rehearsed.” Elyra squinted against the wind, watching people rush about the circular streets as the dragon flew a lazy loop around the village. “But I’ll try and work something in there about your malice being feared by pastry boxes everywhere!”

“Oh!” Galvarys tightened his spiral, descending towards the mayor’s house. “Let’s add that to our list of demands. Dragon-sized pastry boxes, so I don’t get my head stuck again!”

“Careful, Galvarys!” Elyra leaned against her neck, wrapping her arms around him as they came in for a landing. “They might hear you say that, and then your secret will be out!”

“Then I should have to kill anyone who dares mention it!” Galvarys dropped the box he carried to the plaza before he alighted upon his hind paws. He set his forepaws down next, trotting to a stop. “Save you, of course. You’re allowed to talk about it, but only to me. Otherwise you will have outlived the amusement I’ve derived from you.”

“Uh huh.” Elyra swung her leg over and hopped down off the dragon’s back even before he’d settled to his belly. “I’ll be sure to bear that in mind.”

Galvarys glanced between his own back and Elyra a few times, snorting. “You’re getting pretty good at dismounting me.”

“If we weren’t here in front of a crowd, I’d make a joke about being mounted.” She put her hand on his neck, grinning. “But I’ll save that one for later.”

Galvarys snorted. “I am the dragon here. If anyone is going to be mounted, it is me.”

Elyra started laughing. “Oh? Didn’t know you liked that. But whatever my Lord Azure Wrath demands, I shall arrange for him.”

Galvarys blinked. “What? Wait, that isn’t what I meant…”

Elyra gave him no chance to finish. She’d already drawn her scroll case from the crate as she strode towards the ever-growing crowd at the edge of the plaza. “Greetings, good people of the Village Of Rings!”

Galvarys hissed, dragging his claws against the cobblestone. He felt as though he’d just lost some contest he wasn’t even aware he was participating in until it was too late. He started to settle onto his haunches, then he remembered he was going to be called upon to pose. He rose back up, but did not want to seem overeager. So he sat back down again.

“Your Lord Azure Wrath brings you his tidings!” Elyra swept her free hand towards the dragon with a flourish.

Oh. Right. He was supposed to pose right away. He’d remember this eventually. Galvarys pushed himself back to his feet, and turned himself to present his blue-scaled glory to the huddled masses. He arched his neck, flared out the spiny frills that decorated it and his head. He unfurled his wings, stretched them up over his back, then he curled his tail, flexing the tip of it to show off the curved spines that lined its tip.

Once he was posed, Elyra opened her scroll case and pulled her introductory speech from within. She cast the case aside, and made a grnad show of unfurling the parchment. Then as Elyra recounted a few of the titles they’d made up for him, he forced himself to tune out her prattling flattery because he did not wish to miss his cue. When she thrust the parchment at him he took a deep breath and tipped his horned head back. With a roar squeezed his fire glands and spat as much fire into the sky as he could. Cascading spirals of liquid orange and red fire burst from his maw. The heat from it washed back over his face, he flicked his flight membranes closed to protect his eyes. When the flames died down, the entire crowd was utterly silent.

Perhaps there was something to this introductory performance idea after all. The dragon slowly settled back down onto his haunches again, curling his tail. The crowd remained quiet, watching him. He glanced at Elyra, she was watching him too. What was next? The dragon cocked his head in thought, lifting one ear. Let’s see. They’d roared to the crowd, landed. Elyra spoke to them. He did his pose, he blew his fire after being introduced. Now what? Wait, was it his turn to speak now? He turned his head to Elyra. She pointed to the box filled with worthless wooden plates.

Oh. Right. It was his turn to talk.

Galvarys pushed himself back up to his feet again, ignoring the fact Elyra was shaking her head. Elyra stepped aside as Galvarys padded across the plaza towards the gathered crowd. Elyra flashed him her teeth, a signal for him to act angry. Well, that was easy enough. He was angry at being deceived. The trick for the dragon was to indulge in his anger without actually killing the man. That might be difficult. Galvarys came to a stop before the line of armored guards, just outside of spear range.

“I am angry!” Yes, that was it. Guards tightened their grips on weapons, people gasped, archers nocked arrows and aimed at the dragon from shadowed corners. No, wait. That wasn’t it. “I’m not angry!” People glanced at each other. Two guards shared a look. One of them shrugged. A man in the crowd made a gesture as though drinking from an invisible cup. Elyra sighed behind him. Damn. He really wasn’t very good at this. “That is…I’m angry, but I am not angry with you.”

“The Lord Azure Wrath brings news of deception most foul!” Oh, thank whatever Gods might have once existed for Elyra coming to his aid. “Deception among your very leadership!”

That aroused murmurs of confusion. Galvarys glanced back at Elyra, grinning at her. She looked as though she were trying to roll her eyes back into her head. How odd. He flicked a few unsheathed black claws at the crate, and she fetched it for him. She deposited the crate near the dragon, the wooden plates within rattling. Then Elyra pulled out a single plate, thrusting it into the air.

“This!” Elyra walked back and forth, the sound of her boots against the cobblestone the only the only reply. “This is what your village considers fitting tribute to the Azure Wrath? When he humbly requests a small measure of gold, or something delectable to fill his belly, or something warm and soft to line his bed on a cold night. When he asks only for a small token of your gratitude in return for keeping you safe from bandits and beasts alike, you cannot even be bothered to present him with something sincere? You give him only worthless wooden plates?” Elyra hurled the plate to the ground, glaring at the crowd. “My Lord is not pleased with your so-called tribute! Do you seek to offend him? By offering him something so worthless, do you mean to imply that my Lord Azure Wrath is also worthless? Then perhaps this truce you have with him is also worthless!”

Galvarys smiled to himself, rustling his wings. Elyra was good at this, wasn’t she. The crowd was growing restless, shifting and murmuring. Galvarys smelt the sweat of fear drifting on the wind. He could see beads of it dripping from beneath the helmets of guards who now clutched sword and spear in white knuckled grasp. People were backing away in the crowd. Parents clutched their children tightly, looking for any route through which to escape what they must imagine as the dragon’s righteous fury.

Yes, they should fear him.

Wait, why was Elyra staring at him again? Oh! Right. He had lines. Now, if he could just remember them. Well, he couldn’t remember his lines, but he recalled the gist of it. She frightened the crowd, he soothed them, they loved him. Yes, that was about it. Now, he was he to begin? Something about…my minion is…Oh! Yes.

“My minion is right to express my anger,” Galvarys said, his voice a silken growl. “However, she is wrong to direct it to you, good villagers. For I am not angry with you, not at all.”

“Then I beg my Lord’s forgiveness.” Elyra bowed to him.

“And you receive it.” Galvarys dipped his horned head in reply. Then as Elyra began to slink away, Galvarys wrapped his foreleg around her and pulled her to his body. “Stand here, Minion. A simple mistake does not deny you your rightful place at my side.”

Elyra glanced up at the dragon, her gray eyes wide. He’d made that last bit up on the spot. She put a hand upon his chest, smiling. “My Lord is too kind.”

“Yes,” Galvarys said, grinning. “He is. As I was saying, good villagers, I am not angry with you. For surely, this is not your doing.” The dragon tapped a few unsheathed claws against the crate. “Is it?”

When it became clear that the dragon was waiting for a reply, people began to call out, denying it. Soon they cried out with more specific examples. Some claimed they’d long paid an extra coin or two in taxes to help supplement the dragon’s tributes. Others suggested they’d offered up their own goods to be given to the dragon, food and wares they thought befitting. Even one of the guards called out that several times a year, some of them were posted to keep watch over crates of coin and treasure some of which was tithe to the capital, some of which was for the dragon.

When Galvarys heard enough, he gave a little roar, silencing the crowd. “I have heard your voices, subjects. Your thoughts are my own, that you did not seek to deceive me with these worthless tributes. Rather, you yourselves have been deceived. Told that your goods and hard-earned coin will be delivered to me to ensure your town remains not only at peace with me, but safe from all who would seek to harm it. Instead, that treasure goes elsewhere while I am sent only boxes filled with junk. Worse, that treasure lines another’s coffers while one of your own is forced from her home and sent to my hill instead. So I wonder…” Galvarys slowly lifted his head, arching his neck. He gazed out over the crowd. “Where is your mayor?”

A commotion soon arose at the back of the crowd. Guards and townsfolk alike began to crowd around Varm as his bodyguards brought him forward. This time it was clear they were trying to keep the villagers at bay, rushing the man forward to face the dragon rather than let the people get their hands on him. Though once they’d brought Varm out before the crowd, both his bodyguards and the line of armored men guarding the rest of the crowd backed away from him, leaving the fat little hairy-faced human pustule all by himself.

“Greetings, Grand and Magnifiscent-”

Galvarys didn’t even let him finish his flattery. “Do you find this a fitting tribute?” The dragon tapped a few unsheathed claws against the crate again.

Varm fidgeted with his royal purple vest with trembling hands. It must have been a larger size than the last one because the ebony buttons held it together snugly over his bulging belly and the black shirt he wore beneath. “Ah, those platters! They are handcrafted…and, you see, they’ve a beautiful inlay…”

“They are street corner rubbish.” Elyra spat at Varm. “My Lord Azure Wrath is not some blundering oaf to be deceived by your common house wares!”

“The question, Varm,” Galvarys said, his voice all silken growl and underlying menace. “Do you find this a fitting tribute?”

Varm froze. His hands stilled on his vest. His whole body shook. Galvarys could practically see the thoughts congealing behind his beady little eyes, the words suffocating behind the foul veil of his greasy moustache. Whatever he said would be insulting to the dragon. He finally stammered a few words. “Well…you see…it’s…just that…”

“It is not a fitting tribute!” Galvarys snarled at the man, lashing out with his forepaw. The whole box exploded beneath the power of the blow, cracked wood and platters flew everywhere, clattering against the cobblestone plaza. “I do not like being deceived, Varm!”

“I meant not to deceive you, My Lord!” Varm took a few steps back, holding his greasy hands up. “Surely, it must have been the boy who…”

“Shut your filthy mouth, Varm, before the odor wafting from it makes me wretch.” Galvarys snarled again, then lifted his head to gaze out over the crowd. “I know it was you who deceived me in order to keep my treasure for yourself. I suspect this crowd knows it as well. And while I hate being deceived by a fat little human with a furry face like some ugly gryphon’s balls, do you know what I despise even more?” Galvarys strode towards Varm and unsheathed a single claw. He stretched his foreleg out, trailing the claw down the trembling man’s chest, slicing button after button from his vest. “A man who deceives the very people he claims to lead.”

“Consider yourself lucky my Lord does not incinerate you here and now on behalf of this village!” Elyra thrust her finger at Varm.

The mayor’s face went so pale Galvarys wondered if his claw had cut too deeply. “My minion speaks the truth. Much to your good fortune, I consider myself a creature of kindness.” Galvarys grinned to himself at that particular lie. “I shall not slay you for your deception, Varm, nor shall I allow this village to gut you in the street for jeopardizing them while you feed your greed. Instead...” Galvarys bared his fangs, grinning at the crowd. He raised his voice a little. “Instead, your village shall now offer me greater tributes until you have made up for all those you have denied me. But none of these tributes shall be paid for by the villagers. Instead, they shall all come directly from Varm himself.” Galvarys snapped his jaws. “Varm deemed me worthy of deception and now Varm shall pay that price.”

“I…I cannot afford that!” Varm looked over his shoulders the guards behind them. If he expected to find sympathy among them Galvarys was pleased to find it lacking. He looked at the dragon again, shaking. A shame his damn moustache couldn’t just fall off. “I’m already in debt for those things you demanded last time! I’m just a humble man…”

“Perhaps if you stop spending all your coin on whores and drink you wouldn’t have to steal from your own village. In the meantime, you could sell that gaudy estate you live in,” Galvarys said, snorting. “Because afford it you will.”

Elyra stepped forward towards Varm, her fingers curled around the hilt of her knife. “Perhaps you’ll have to go begging your noble masters for extra coin. I wonder how they’ll take it when you tell them that you’ve mucked things up with the dragon even worse than you already had?”

“I shall expect my first repayment within a month, Varm.” Galvarys growled, lifting all his spines. “Do not disappoint me, or I shall have to reward your village with the responsibility of choosing a new mayor.” He waved his paw at the bloated man. “You may go, Varm. I am weary of looking at you and being bathed in your stink.” He glanced at the man’s guards. “Go and throw him in a soapy bathtub.”

Varm stammered a moment but his bodyguards gave him little chance to risk further offending the dragon. They grasped him by the arms and quickly dragged him across the plaza, pushing their way through a crowd that hurled insults at the man. Galvarys grinned to himself, his spined tail flicking. Excitement tingled at the base of his spiny frills. This was actually working. They were turning on their mayor. The dragon did not think they ever liked the man to begin with, but now they knew he was actively putting them in danger by stealing Galvarys’ tributes.

“You see, Villagers?” Elyra cried out, spreading her arms wide. “My Lord Azure Wrath cannot abide seeing his loyal subjects deceived! Beyond simple tribute, beyond merely a truce, he cares for you and your village! He is King of these lands, and you are his people! And like any good king he watches over his people, and protects them from harm. Varm is not one of you, Varm merely administers you on behalf of the nobles who claim they run this land! But they rule a realm far from here. They know not of your struggles, of your problems, they know nothing of this place!” Elyra paced back and forth, gesturing at the crowd. Then she turned, splaying her hands towards the dragon. “But my Lord Azure Wrath knows. My Lord Azure Wrath cares! He keeps you safe, he protects you! He knows you have been unfairly deceived by the man who claims to rule you. That is why he frees you from bearing the burdens of his glorious tributes, and instead places that burden squarely upon the shoulders of the man who has been stealing from you. Your money and coin are your own! Your safety and prosperity ensured by the dragon who offered your forefathers peace! My Lord, your Lord, The Azure Wrath!”

Elyra thrust her hands in the air, and gave a loud hurrah. She glanced back at the crowd, and soon she had them doing the same. Galvarys basked in, soaked in their cheers and adulation like warm sunshine against his wings. It rolled through him, warm as wine. He flared his spines, unfurled his wings and puffed out his chest plates. He held his horned head up to the sky, and trumpeted of his approval of their reaction.

Galvary’s legend grew.

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Over the next few weeks, Galvarys took Elyra to visit each of his villages. In each, she gave him a grand introduction. Over the course of their performances they gradually refined the speech and the timing of the dragon’s poses and fire blasts. Galvarys introduced Elyra as his loyal minion, and in one instance referred to her as the manager of his treasury. Which must have put another idea in Elyra’s head because before he knew it she’d talked him into sharing a portion of his collection with the villages. Compared to the size of his collection, it was only a tiny portion, a box with a few pouches of gold coins that they delivered to each village. Elyra claimed it a kind repayment, to help ease the pain of their hard times, because their Lord Azure Wrath appreciated their loyalty.

Galvarys called it a damn rip off.

Still, the dragon had to admit the people seemed quite surprised and impressed with the dragon when he was handing out pouches of coin to be divvied up amongst them. If that was the price of an ever-increasing legend then so be it. It made only a small dent in his collection, anyway, and the upcoming tributes from the Village Of Rings would help replenish it.

They tailored the speeches they gave to each village based upon the tribute tallies Elyra created. Many of the items created just for him came from the Village Of Three Stones. The dragon named it that because of the three immense boulders that sat at the points of a rough triangle just outside the village. It was among the smallest of the villages, just a few winding lanes, houses made of wood, sticks and clay with thatched reed roofs, and a simple market square plus some farms and livestock pens. The people there had little to give yet seemed to appreciate the dragon more than the other villages even before Elyra’s help. In years long past, they were one of the villages Galvarys had actively helped when beset by a raiding clan of bandits. Thanks to Galvarys, that clan no longer existed but the village went on. They flew his banner over their central place with pride.

Galvarys told the Village Of Three Stones that their tributes were among his very favorites. The people seemed worried they were not valuable enough and Elyra assured them that Lord Azure Wrath placed far greater emphasis on the fact they’d put real thought into the things they gave him, that they took so much time from their own lives to make something unique for him than he did on the actual monetary worth. This seemed to please the inhabitants and Galvarys was very happy to hear they planned to make him something extra special for his next tribute.

To Galvarys surprise, some of his most valuable tributes had come from the Village By The River. It was not near as large as the Village Of Rings yet their tributes seemed to consistently be filled with golden coins and goblets, little pouches of jewels and bits of jewelry. The village itself was built up along the largest river in the area, and Galvarys always saw their boats out plying the waters, sometimes dragging nets to catch hauls of fish. After their speeches, Elyra asked around while Galvarys went to their docks and helped himself to just a haul. He liked fish but he so rarely get to eat them.

Elyra later told him the village had merchant vessels dock with them often to pick up cargo and sell goods. Apparently the village had access to some such rare grain and some manner of unusual wood and by that point Galvarys had lost interest in hearing what sort of boring resources made the village their money. He tuned back in around the time Elyra started talking about the village also wasn’t afraid to charge a higher fee to wealthy merchants or a toll to travelers plying their waters. That river was the only water passage through that area, and they used it to their financial advantage.

Clever village. Galvarys wondered if he should start doing that with his roads.

In their various trips to the villages, Galvarys was also surprised to hear that word of his good deed had already spread. Despite being talked into parting with his coin, Galvarys still considered himself to have only done one true good deed. He’d returned Amell safe and sound on his own accord. Every kind thing he’d done since then was Elyra’s idea, designed to manipulate the people into caring for him enough to grow his legend by their own word and action. Given that people from other villages came forward to tell him they were so happy to hear he’d returned that poor girl to her family, Elyra seemed to have the right idea.

Each time Galvarys muttered and growled and sulked a little. He did not like being known only for a good deed. Much as he enjoyed their adulation, part of him missed their open fear. Couldn’t his legend be based upon both kindness and terror? Surely those things were not mutually exclusive. Still, if he had to choose he would begrudgingly choose whichever brought him the most benefit.

Even after they’d been to each village, Elyra’s ideas kept rolling in. She suggested they start making visit villages on a regular basis to let the people get to know the dragon. After all, wasn’t Galvarys supposed to be protecting them? Galvarys begrudgingly agreed, so long as he was able to fill his belly each time. They decided to visit the Village Of Rings the most. As the largest village they would have the greatest influence upon his legend. It was also one of the closet villages to his home.

On their next visit to the Village of Rings, Elyra had Amell give them a tour. The shy girl had come out to wave at the dragon when he landed, and while it took some doing Elyra talked her into showing them around. Galvarys hoped Elyra didn’t think she was sneaking anything past him. He knew she’d already been shown around the village, and surely Elyra knew the dragon had no interest in seeing the collection of wooden huts and muddy allies they spent their days crawling about in. No doubt Elyra was just trying to get the dragon to act interested for Amell’s sake. Which he was happy to do when he realized that the nicer the village saw him treating Amell the more they’d like him. That must have been Elyra’s plan all along because she must have known he had no interest in spending…

Aw, hell. Who was he kidding. He was happy to spend a little time with the girl who’d made him such a beautiful gift. Elyra better not expect him to admit it, though. So Galvarys padded along behind Amell, and let her show him all her favorite parts of the village. Amell seemed overjoyed that the dragon was interested. She giggled and bounced on her feet, and ran back to her father to tell him about the invitation. He hugged her and sent her back to them on her own, claiming he’d be too slow. Galvarys smiled at the man from a distance, and then waited for Amell to lead them from the plaza into town.

The girl wore the same sky-colored dress as the last time the dragon saw her. Galvarys wondered if it was the only thing she possessed or just something she liked to wear when the dragon was around. She had her honey-hued hair tied into two braids behind her head today, and she even took to skipping a few paces ahead of the dragon before pausing and urging him to hurry. With anyone else he would have bowled them right over, but with Amell he just kept plodding along.

Galvarys even let Elyra encourage Amell to tease him about poking slow.

Amell took him to a lovely little shaded pine glen with an old stone well in the center. Ambling vines with star-shaped leaves crept up old stones so shrouded with lichen their original color was impossible to tell. Now that he liked. The glen was nearly large enough for him to curl up inside in the shade and slumber for a while. If more of their village incorporated the forest instead of treading upon it the dragon might appreciate it a little more.

“Come on, Dragon!” Amell skipped a few more steps and then giggled, smiling at Elyra. “You’re right, he is awfully slow, isn’t he.”

“Yes, I am.” Galvarys padded up to the girl, cocking his head. Her joy was infectious. “You can keep skipping ahead, if you want. Or, if you’d rather, I can let you ride on my back and you can just sort, guide me around.”

Amell’s eyes nearly toppled out of her skull. She took a step back, figeting with her dress. Then she glanced at the ground, took another step back, and stared up at the sky.

Galvarys chuckled, lowering himself down onto his belly. “No, I won’t take you into the sky. I’ve frightened you enough that way, I think. I’ll just walk around the town a little, if you’d like. Elyra can help you up.” He smirked at the younger girl. “Since I’m too old and slow to keep up with you.”

A smile slowly came to Amell’s lips. She gave a single meek nod, and then walked to the dragon’s side. Elyra told her where to put her hands and feet, and then gave the girl a boost up the dragon’s side. Thanks to his minion’s help, Amell settled in at the base of his neck on her very first attempt. He turned his head to grin at her.

“Very good, Amell.”

“Really?” She giggled, wobbling a little on the dragon’s back.

“Indeed.” Galvarys glanced at Elyra, lowering his voice and pinning his spines back. “Why, the first time my minion tried to climb onto my back, she took a running leap, bounced off my shoulder and fell right on her ass.”

Amell clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles. Her cheeks reddened a little.

Elyra shook her finger at the dragon. “Don’t say that to her!”

“What, that you fell on your ass?” Galvarys eased himself up to his paws, grinning. “Or just the word ass?”

Amell’s giggles only got louder.

“You’ve been outvoted, Minion.” Galvarys laughed, and then looked around a little bit. “Alright, Amell, which way shall I go?”

The dragon began to follow Amell’s directions. He kept his steps slow and deliberate at first to let the girl get used to riding him. She felt a little different against his back than Elyra did, she was noticeably light and smaller against him. She wobbled and swayed more as well, especially at first. But as she adjusted to riding the dragon, he did the same, and soon their pace was smooth and even.

Amell took him to a place called The Drunken Dragon. While Galvarys liked the name, he was less impressed by the tavern itself. For some reason they’d carved a whole horrible approximation of a dragon into the wood of the awning. The wings that formed the awning’s roof were not so bad, but the dragon’s head looked as though he suffered some enormous deformity of the muzzle. Amell clearly loved it though, so Galvarys simply stated he was happy to see them depict a dragon here, and forced himself to bite back his opinion of the dragon.

Through the window he caught a glimpse of another dragon painted across an inner wall, this one bearing familiar blue and black colors. That made Galvarys smile. He lowered his head for a better look, stretching his under the awning to peer through the window. To his horror he realized the painted likeness of him was depicted as being passed out drunk. Worse, a man was pretending to have conquered him. And far worse still, there were children playing upon his tail. How wretched.

“I have never passed out drunk!” Galvarys tossed his head in indignity, banging it sharply upon the wooden awning. “OW!”

Galvarys pulled his head back, groaning. He lifted a paw to rub his suddenly throbbing skull. When he heard Elyra laughing and Amell giggling, he glanced back at them, muttering. “I did that on purpose.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Elyra said with an exaggerated bow.

“I did,” Galvarys insisted. “To make Amell laugh. Doesn’t even hurt.”

“…Perhaps it just hurts a little, my Lord?” Elyra folded her arms, quirking her brows.

“Perhaps you’re going to get a little swat on the ass.” Galvarys spat back at her, hissing.

Amell only giggled harder.

“At least Amell finds me amusing.” The dragon winced, his head pounding.

Amell leaned forward to hug the back of the dragons neck a moment. “I do like you better when you’re smiling and bumping your head and cursing than I do when you’re chasing me around a rock.”

“You chased her around a rock?” Elyra managed to lift her brows even higher than the dragon thought possible. He wondered if they could get lost in her hair.

“I thought she’d eaten my ham,” Galvarys muttered, padding down the street. “Oh! Where does the ham come from, Amell?”

Laughing, Amell directed the dragon to the source of his favorite hams. The scents of meats both raw and roasted tinted the air long before they’d arrived. Delightful smelling smoke poured from a simple stone chimney alongside a building made from thick hewn pine and painted a dark green color. Black letters spelled out a word, which according to Elyra simply read Butcher.

“They bring hogs here to be butchered, and the butcher smokes his own meats!” Amell pointed a few things out as she spoke. “Around the back is where he does the butchering, and the smoke from that chimney means he’s smoking something right now. Of course you can buy fresh cuts of meat to cook yourself, but his food is so good my father and I prefer to come here to eat now that we can afford it.”

Galvarys smiled to himself. “Good, Amell. I’m glad to hear that.”

“Would you like some?” Amell carefully swung her foot over the dragon’s back without waiting for an answer. Elyra helped her hop down. “I’ll get you something to take when you go!” Before anyone could have stopped her, Amell dashed away inside the butcher shop. It was not long before she returned with a large object all wrapped up in parchment and tied with a string. She smiled and presented it to the dragon. “Here. This one is for you.”

Galvarys took it in a paw, smelled it through the parchment. The scent made him groan in delight. “Oh, that’s wonderful.”

Amell’s smile grew even wider. “Elyra says you like the sweet glazed ones the best.” She folded her hands in front of her, then smiled. “I should go and find my father now. Thank you ever so much for the ride, Mr. Azure Wrath.” Then she gave Elyra a wink when she didn’t think the dragon was looking.

“You’re welcome, Amell.” Galvarys lowered his head and let her hug him around the neck before she skipped off down the lane. When she was gone, he smirked at Elyra. “That girl’s visits are not un-enjoyable. It is a good thing I was wise enough to decide to make our trips here a regular event.”

Elyra laughed, and took the ham from Galvarys before he tried to eat it, parchment and all. “Keep telling yourself that, Lizard.”

---

Chapter Thirteen

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As hints of autumn chill filtered into the wind blowing from the mountains, Elyra encouraged Galvarys to continue visiting each of his villages. Though they stopped at the Village of Rings most often, she wanted to ensure that the other villagers got to know their dragon protector as well. Not that she expected Galvarys to care about the villagers, but any affection they could feign would be good for his reputation. To that end, during their latest trips she had the villagers give the dragon a tour the way Amell did. When it came time for the dragon to fill his belly, she got his permission to slip away and go get herself a drink.

The Village On The River was a bit further from the mountains than some. The land surrounding it was less hilly that much of Galvarys’ personal empire, with portions of forest that occasionally turned to swampland when the river rose too high. The river itself was wider and deeper than the rocky rivers in the mountains. The current of the river’s dark water was strong and hidden beneath a seemingly tranquil surface. Its breadth and depth allowed the passage of larger cargo and merchant vessels that eventually wound their way towards the capital and the far borders.

Elyra sat in a quiet tavern settled upon a small rise, overlooking the river. Through the tall windows that lined the back wall of the pub she watched the river. Early afternoon sun sprinkled shimmering beacons all across the dark water. On the far bank, knotted roots tangled together atop moss-strewn rocks. A single wooden boat drifted by, manned by a crew of three men with nets trailing it in the water. A couple of gray birds circled the boat, calling out their pleas for fish scraps.

Elyra smiled to herself, sipping ale from a wooden mug shaped like a fish. Fish seemed central to this little city. They made piles of coin by charging merchants and cargo trawlers heavy fees to use their docks or swap goods, and by selling their own rare woods and ores. Yet they never lost sight of the simple yet bountiful river harvest that had sustained them long before the village came to know wealth. They remembered their roots as a people, as a village. Elyra looked that.

Elyra took another drink of the rich, dark ale that filled her mug. It was sweet but strong, like plums and figs with a heavily warming character. She wiped her mouth with the back of a hand and looked over the mug itself. The wood held an unusual gray coloration, rippled with light and dark striations. It reminded Elyra of a polished agate brooch she’d once seen a noble’s wife wearing. She’d heard the locals call it both gray wood and ashwood, and while it was rare in most of parts of the world it was common here. Its unusual color as well as its very sturdy nature ensured it fetched a high price. Elyra giggled to herself. Looked like she was drinking ale from the gaping mouth of some petrified fish.

Elyra eased back in her chair and gazed around the bar. She’d chosen it because it seemed quiet and peaceful. It sat well out of the way near the village outskirts, atop a small rise at the end of a narrow path. It was a small tavern, only enough seats for a dozen people or so. They had a few stools along the polished gray wood bar, a few seats along a countertop in front of the window, and a couple of tables, each of the same locally harvested ash-colored wood. The walls were painted in muted shades of blue and green, bore a few fancifully carved fish. There was also a small stone hearth draped in fishermen’s net. The hearth was topped with the smiling head of a dragon carved from white stone. It looked beautiful to Elyra though she was sure Galvarys would find more faults in it than he could count.

The place served food but Elyra had already during the earlier tour, so she’d just ordered mug of whatever they considered their best drink. She’d paid and tipped in gold, and then took a seat along the window. Then she simply relaxed. Galvarys was going to be grumpy whether she was with him or not, she may as well take a few moments to herself. Not that she did not enjoy being with the dragon, quite the opposite. But she could only listen to him complain and grumble for so long before she wanted to yell at him to shut his snout and just be happy with all the treasure he was getting. Then of course, he’d tell her not to tell him what to do, she’d snap back that someone had to do it, he’d call her a wench, she’d kick him in the balls, and they’d make a whole scene. Which was fine with her if they were back home, but in the villages? In the villages she had her part to play, and taking a few moments for herself would help keep her from breaking her role.

She dressed for her role, as well. She’d picked up her custom tailored clothing from the tailor in the Village Of Rings during her last trip there, and it now served as her official Dragon’s Minion outfit. It primarily considered of a dark blue blouse and black trousers, so it was not that different than the other clothes she’d bought. But it fit her better and it was a lot nicer.

The blouse itself was dyed in such a way to remind of Galvarys’ scales. It was darkest blue along the collar and down the back, fading from midnight blue to indigo to azure across her chest and over her belly. Across her shoulders, heavy blue threading created a sort of scalloped, scale-like pattern. Thick silver threading decorated each sleeve with looping spirals. The cut of the blouse was such that it revealed just a hint of her cleavage, but little more.

The black breaches had hints of dark gray woven into them, just enough to give the impression of shadowed scales. Silver swirls ran down the side of each leg, matching the designs on her sleeves. They were just tight enough to show off her curves a little without being uncomfortable to wear while riding a dragon. Elyra didn’t know what the materials were, but they were fine, soft and warm.

Elyra heard the tavern door open, and someone enter. She glanced back and her eyes widened at the sight of the new customer who was quite clearly not human. While Elyra certainly knew there were other speaking races in the world beyond humans or even dragons, she’d never actually seen one up close before. To the nobles the other races were often considered barbarians, suitable perhaps as mercenaries or bodyguards, but not the sort of creature they’d bring to the Hall of Nobility, or let wander around the wealthy districts of their capital city. Elyra knew of gryphons of course, though much like the dragons she was unsure they’d ever have any interest in visiting a city. She’d heard of the Koraa’gi, a tribal people from the far southlands said to resemble wild wolves that taught themselves to walk. This creature though, looked more reptilian, which probably meant he was…well, she didn’t know the name of his species. She’d heard of lizard men now and then, but she rather doubted that could be anything but insulting to one of them.

Whatever he was, he certainly didn’t look barbaric. He wore an elegant, voluminous robe of a rich, royal purple. Gold trimmed the ends of the long sleeves just above his green scaled hands. More gold trimmed the hood of the robe pulled up over his head, his snout protruding from it. Twin black lines edged in silver ran down the very front of the robe, and the very back of it. The very hem of the robe was also trimmed in gold, hovering just an inch or so above the ground. Elyra caught hints of clawed feet nearly hidden beneath it. The creature’s tail poked out through a carefully tailored hole in the back of the robe as well, curling as he approached the bar. At least Elyra assumed the lizard was a he, she really had no way to be certain.

The bartender, an older man with graying hair, a potbelly and eyes nearly as warm as his smile, came to take the creature’s order. Elyra turned her attention back to her own drink. She was the only other person in the tavern, and she did not want them to think she was eavesdropping. Or staring. Even though she was doing both. The lizard creature said something she couldn’t make out, and the bar tender laughed. She heard a drink being poured, and then she heard the creature walking towards her. The soft thump and click of padded feet with dull claws against wood grew louder until the creature came to stand next to her.

“Greetings,” the lizard creature said with a hint of hiss in its voice.

“Hello,” Elyra said, turning her head to offer the creature a smile. He must have seen her staring at him. “I hope you didn’t mind me looking, I’ve just never seen…one of you before.” Well, didn’t she just said well-cultured.

The lizard creature gave at throaty laugh. “That is fine. I do not mind.”

Whatever he was, the creature had an interesting accent. The local tongue was clearly not his first, but he spoke it quite well. Almost as well as Galvarys, though the dragon had probably been speaking to humans in their own language longer than he’d spoke to dragons in theirs. The thought made her cringe inwardly, but she kept a smile on her face.

“So,” Elyra asked, sipping her ale. “Where are you from?”

“Here,” the creature replied. “I live here.”

Oh. Of course he did. Nothing like stumbling her way from near insult to near insult. She laughed sheepishly, nodding in reply. “Sorry,” she said, swallowing. “I think this ale is stronger than I realized.” Not the best excuse, but hopefully she hadn’t offended him. Whatever he was.

“I understand,” the creature said, taking a sip from his own wooden cup. The way his muzzle worked when he drank reminded Elyra a little of Galvarys. “I am Va’chaak, if you were unsure.”

“Nice to meet you, Va’chaak,” Elyra said, bowing her head in respect. “My name is Elyra.”

“Va’chaak is the name of my people.” The creature grinned back at her. “And I already know your name.”

Of course it was. And why wouldn’t he? It wasn’t that long ago she’d given a speech to the whole city introducing herself. “Maybe I should just let you guide this conversation, since I’m clearly not suited for it.” Elyra giggled to herself. “May I ask your name?”

“You may.”

Without further elaboration, the lizard went to the bar, fetched himself a stool, and pulled it over to the counter. No doubt it was more suitable for his tale than a chair with a back to it. He hiked up his robes a little. Elyra glanced down at his scaly feet. He had three large toes, each with a black claw at the tip. His hands were the same, three fingers rather than four though he also possessed a completely opposable thumb just as did the dragon. He settled down on the stool, and pulled his hood back.

The creature’s reptilian appearance continued with his head. He had a broad muzzle that tapered almost to a point with small, slitted nostrils at the tip. Short gray horns crowned his skull, with hints of spiny frills down his neck. The creature had glittering, golden eyes with black slit pupils that made him resemble some manner of green viper. His scales were several shades of green from drab olive to dark forest, leaving him with a bit of a mottled appearance. Along his throat and neck the scales were much finer, the area under his jaw looked quite soft.

“Have you satisfied your curiosity?” The creature cocked his head. His jaws parted slightly and his pointed purple tongue flicked the air. “Or shall I remove my robe?”

Elyra swallowed. There was no real nuance or subtly in the tone of the creature’s voice, and she had no idea if he was being completely serious, or if he was jesting with her. Or even if he was trying to express the offense he’d taken through sarcasm. It left her wondering if these creatures expressed such things through some kind of body language or even scent or something she wasn’t equipped to comprehend. She covered her confusion by taking a long drink of her ale, trying not to redden too much at the creature’s offer. If he took his robe off she might find out whether her assumption of his gender was accurate.

“No, that’s fine,” Elyra said, smiling. “I did not mean to stare.”

The creature blinked, cocked his head, and blinked again. “That is fine.” His slitted nostrils twitched. “If your curiosity is sated, my name is Vy’gyrm.”

Elyra nearly chocked on her tongue. There was no way she could repeat that particular mess of syllables. In fact she was fairly certainly her mouth couldn’t accurately recreate that noise. “It’s a pleasure to meet you…Vee…”

“You need not attempt it.”

Once again Elyra could not tell if the creature was trying to be kind or if he was simply fed up with humans butchering his name. Either way she wasn’t going to try again. “Thank you.”

“For what?” The creature stared at her, then sipped his drink, and made a pleased thrumming sound.

Elyra twisted her chair around for a better vantage. Beyond her, a larger boat drifted along the river, laden with stacks of enormous wooden crates lashed together with heavy rope. She hefted her gray wood mug, offering the creature a toast with it. “For not making me embarrass myself by butchering your name.”

Elyra was a bit surprised when the creature clanked his own wooden drinking vessel against your own. “You are welcome.” Then he sipped from it again, licked the end of his nose and set the drink down. Looked a bit like Galvarys doing that.

“So what brings you in here for a drink? I hope that…” Elyra kept a smile on her face even as she bit back suggestions that Galvarys might be making a fool of himself. “I hope my Lord Azure Wrath hasn’t been too frightening?”

The Va’chaak tilted his head, little frills flexing. He gave a croaking sound that Elyra thought might be a laugh. “No. He was feeding. He had enough people fawning over him already. I need not watch his every move.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Elyra shifted her hands, wishing she could read this creature better. Listening to him speak, it was increasingly clear that his voice did not lack nuance the way she’d first thought. It was not at all monotone. Rather the inflections and subtleties were all wrong. If the creature was expressing sarcasm or offense through inflection or gesture surely other Va’chaak would pick up on it but it simply came across as alien to a human. He’d likely lived here long enough to understand their culture and mannerisms, and many of the humans here likely knew his own. But Elyra had never encountered his kind before and it left her feeling as though she were at a disadvantage. It also left her feeling just a little on edge.

“So you don’t really fawn over the Azure Wrath.” Elyra phrased it as a statement, not a question.

When the lizard seemed to mull her words over she a long drink from her mug, draining it. Then she rose up, and without asking to excuse herself, went to the bar for a refill. She was the dragon’s Minion, she had to act as though she thought she were as much in charge of this place as he was. She handed the mug over to the bartender, and when he returned it filled with more rich, dark ale, she passed him a few more coins despite his attempts to put her drinks on the house. She thought about asking the bartender who the lizard was, but she doubted she could do so without the creature overhearing.

When Elyra settled into her chair again, the lizard replied. “No. I do not fawn over the dragon.”

Damn this thing. Was he implying some kind of disrespect? Had he come here to threaten the dragon, or even try to harm his minion? Elyra tensed a little, her hand drifting towards the hilt of her knife. She took a deep breath, smiled at the lizard and sipped her drink. For all she knew he was just trying to tell her he didn’t think he needed to be out there worshipping the dragon like some demi-god emperor.

“He appreciates his tributes?” The lizard peered into his cup, then sipped it. He clicked sharp looking teeth then ran his tongue all around his muzzle. “From our city?”

“Yes,” Elyra said, hoping that question was as straight forward as it sounded. “In fact, your city gives him some of his most valuable and favored tributes of all.”

“This is good.” Vy’gyrm set his cup down, drumming three clawed fingers against the gray wood countertop. “We have important goods. Important passageways.” The lizard waved his green-scaled hand towards the river beyond the windows. “Our association has much invested in the travel of merchants along the waterway, along the roads. We appreciation the dragon keeping them safe.”

Association. Where had she heard that before? Elyra ran her thumb against the hilt of her knife. She did not want to alarm the creature but she did not wish to appear unprepared or defenseless either. Even if she didn’t know the first thing about combat, no one else had to know. She was the dragon’s minion, she wanted to appear as dangerous and capable as him. She tapped her thumb against the handle of her knife.

“And the Azure Wrath is glad to provide them protection, so long as his tributes keep flowing.”

“Yes.” The lizard drew out the ‘s’ sound for a long time. Elyra thought it sounded suspiciously like sarcasm. “Which is it he really values? Tribute, or friendship? He acts as a friend now, yet makes demands for more wealth like a ruler.” Elyra’s grip tightened around her knife till the lizard gave another croaking laugh. “Or a merchant. Our association understands this. We appreciate problems that can be solved with coin.”

Something tingled in Elyra’s mind. The lizard’s words sounded almost familiar yet she struggled to place them. With her focus on this creature, trying to grasp at older memories was like snatching at cobwebs, the connections dissolved in her hands before she could make them.

“You have asked other cities for more coin?” The lizard cocked his head, eyes widened, nostril slits flared.

“The Azure Wrath has requested repayment from the cities who attempted to deceive him with worthless tributes.” Elyra took a drink from her mug. The once-sweet ale tasted like ash in her mouth as she struggled to keep up with this questions shifting lines of questioning. If he was human she might be able to better figure out where he was going with this. The questions sounded suspicious and yet his lack of recognizable inflection meant it might all just be innocent curiosity. “Why do you ask?”

“You have enlightened him?” The lizard tilted his head the other way, nostrils twitching. He blinked twice. “Taught him of value?”

Elyra grit her teeth behind her false smile. Now what was this lizard up too? He might just be conducting innocent conversation, curious to get an insight into the dragon that protected the city and his minion. Or he be accusing her of making things difficult for him and his association by making them pay more…

Association.

The pieces fell into place in Elyra’s mind, and she nearly swallowed her tongue. The night she first heard of the dragon, when Pigeon Man came to visit Atrius. As they’d discussed the impending fate of a serving wench as casually as they might discuss whether or not to put down an ailing hound, Pigeon Man mentioned his association. Something about the trade corridors, that they had a good thing going with the dragon. All they had to do was slip him a dragon a few coins amidst a pile of junk and he protected their trade corridors for them. The nobles foisted their mayors upon the country villages to assert their own authority, and those mayors must have kowtowed to this association. Atrius and Pigeon Man certainly seemed happy with the arrangement if not with Varm’s performance.

“What association did you say you worked for?” Elyra forced her gray eyes to bore into the lizard’s. She half expected him to slither around the question, or give her a warning then walk out. Instead the creature smiled at her.

“The Association Of The Open Hand.” He gestured with his own green scaled hand, waving dull black claw tips in the air. “It is… a merchants guild, of a sort.”

“You work for the nobles.” Elyra blinked but did not look away from the lizard’s glittering golden eyes. She needed him to believe she was in charge of his conversation, even if she did not believe it herself.

The lizard gave another croaking chuckle. “No.” He sipped his drink, peered into the cup, then set it down, smiling at Elyra. “Not at all. We are…” He held his hands apart, then pulled them together clicked both sets of claws against each other. “Mutually cooperative. We do not work for them.” He cocked his head, his smile widening, fangs glinting in the lamplight. “You are a wise girl.”

“Thank you.” Elyra kept her own voice as flat as possible. If this lizard had learned human inflection, she didn’t want to give him a chance to read her. “If you do not work for the nobles…”

“We work for ourselves.” The lizard leaned forward, smiling. “The nobles claim to rule this land now. But they rule it in another’s stead. The kingdom that took this place for you, long ago.” Vy’gyrm waved a clawed hand at Elyra’s red hair, flicked a finger at the brand on her cheek. “They are the ones who rule the nobles. And they listen to us, because we control the coin. The nobles are the rule, but we?” The lizard ran a hand down his purple robe. “We are the coin, and the coin is power.” “In the wild country, beyond the city? Do you see any nobles? Do you see any foreign kings? No. You see men who work, soldiers who protect, merchants who sell. Behind the all is coin. And we.” He tapped his chest, smiling. “We are the coin.”

“What do you want?” Elyra narrowed his eyes, glaring at the lizard. It almost sounded as though he didn’t have any more love for the nobles than she did. Yet he also sounded as though he were trying to intimidate her, to frighten her with his supposedly position of power. “Are you here to threaten me?”

“Threaten you?” The lizard pulled his head back, blinking a few times. He licked his nose, then gave his head an exaggerated shake. “No. Please, forgive. My words are sometimes unsuitable to those who do not know Va’chaak. I only wish to explain, not to threaten.”

“Then what do you want?” Elyra took a drink, then waved her mug at the empty room. “I chose a quiet place, yet you just happened to come here. You came here looking for me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Elyra.” The lizard’s tail flicked behind him. “I came to find you, and to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Elyra sat up straighter, confusion and fear fighting a pitched battle in her stomach where drink suddenly sat heavy and sour.

“For the displeasure you received from Mayor Varm.” The lizard hissed at the name. “He is not a friend of ours, and we have received word that he has brought you anger upon previous visits to his city. We hope you have not experienced such displeasure in our city.”

“I see,” Elyra said, running her fingers against the handle of her fish shaped mug. “I don’t understand why you would apologize for him, but I will accept it nonetheless.”

“Good.” The lizard slipped a hand into a hidden pocket of his robe. “There are those in my association who are pleased with your performance since volunteering for the dragon’s service.”

“That’s not what I expected to hear.” Elyra took a breath and held it, glancing at his hidden hand. If he pulled a knife, she hoped she could get back from him in time to her own. And then what, knife fight the creature? She’d never used a blade to anything more than chop food. Maybe she could get to the door, call for the dragon or the guards. “I thought you’d be angry since it’s clear you know I’ve shown him half his tributes have worthless.”

“I arrange the tributes for this city, and they have never been worthless,” the lizard said, shaking his head. “I cannot speak for all members of my association, but most of us? We do not mind paying a higher price for a premium service. It is more often the nobles who seek to give the dragon trinkets in place of treasure. Or certain members of my association who look to place their own short term wealth above the long term gains of the association. Besides…” An odd, lopsided smirk twisted up the fine scales of the creature’s face. “You have asked for Varm and the nobles to cover the increased price of greater tributes. This is excellent as it eases the burden placed upon our own coffers.”

Elyra rubbed her temples with her free hand, still holding onto the hilt of her knife. This creature made this Association Of The Open Hand sound less like a merchant’s guild and more like some secret society bent on running things behind the scenes. Then again, that was probably a part of any successfully merchants guild. With enough coin almost anything could be influenced in their favor. Did they actually care that Galvarys protected the villagers, or did they only care that he kept their trade shipments safe? Elyra supposed it didn’t matter so long as the tributes kept rolling in.

Elyra sighed, though before she could reply, a tremendous roar rattled the windows of the inn. Elyra jumped a little, cringing. So that was what that sounded like to the average, unprepared villager. She offered the lizard a smile, only half-feigned. “That sounds like my cue to be on my way.”

As she rose to her feet, a second roar echoed across the village, the glass panes rattled again. Galvarys never roared twice in a row like that, and there was something different in that roar. For a second or so, she almost feared it was some other dragon come to challenge him. But the echoing tones were familiar enough to tell her otherwise. Yet the roar also held an unfamiliar character. She’d gotten to know Galvarys different sounds well enough to distinguish a bit between various roars of greeting, triumph, or anger. This one sounded more feral, more threatening. It reminded her of the first time she’d ever heard the dragon roar. When she stood alone upon his hill, and he thought she was under threat.

“I have to go.” Elyra said, turning away from the lizard.

The lizard snatched up her arm in his own hand, his grasp firm. “Wait.” His other hand remained hidden.

Elyra whirled around, drawing her knife on instinct. She pressed the blade to the soft spot of the creature’s throat in an instant, fearing he meant her harm. She had half a mind to thrust a knee into the lizard man’s crotch, yet she had no idea if there was anything vulnerable there. Beyond that in that split second of reaction an open threat seemed better than a physical assault. She had to defend herself without actually harming the creature, show she was dangerous without causing him injury.

“Careful,” Elyra snarled through grit teeth.

The lizard froze, his golden eyes flicking down towards her arm. He released her grasp, slitted nostrils flared. “I meant no disrespect.”

“It’s not your respect I’m worried about,” Elyra said, glaring at him. She struggled to keep her hand from shaking as her belly knotted itself and her heart clamored against her sternum. “It’s whatever you have in your other hand.”

“Aaaaah.” The lizard gave an odd noise, flicking his tongue out. “Apologies. I did not mean to appear threatening. I have a gift for you. May I withdraw it?”

“Slowly.” Elyra furrowed her brows a little, watching as the lizard withdraw a small pouch from within his purple robe. He offered it to her.

Elyra took the pouch from him. Coins jingled inside it. The pouch itself was the same purple color of his robe, and emblazoned upon it in golden thread was an image of an open hand, palm up. The lizard lifted his hands to show he was unarmed, and Elyra slowly eased the blade away from his throat. She glanced at the pouch, then sheathed her knife again.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her heart still thundering. “It’s just…I thought…”

The lizard rubbed his throat with a hand, then peered at it. He wasn’t bleeding, and after a moment he smiled. “You need not apologize. It was a shrewd move.” He gestured at the pouch. “Consider that a tribute for you yourself, directly from the Association Of The Open Hand. For your troubles with Varm. It also comes with a warning.”

Elyra went still, tightening her fist around the pouch. “Let’s hear it then.”

“It is not from us,” Vy’gyrm said, waving both his hands as if to dismiss the very idea. “A warning about Varm. He has never liked the dragon, and I suspect he likes you even less. While he is no longer in high standing with the Nobility, he still has contacts. Dangerous contacts. You and your dragon should watch yourselves.” Then the lizard simply picked up his cup, and walked to the bar. He smiled at her as he passed, his tail brushing her leg. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Elyra. Safe travels to you and your dragon.”

Elyra scowled to herself, tucking the touch into her belt. What a maddening creature he was. He did not seem to mean her or Galvarys harm, yet if they were not considered helpful to his association she wasn’t so sure that would be the case. For now, a third, angrier roar reminded her she had more pressing things to worry about. This time the roar sounded a little more distant, echoing down from overhead. Elyra made for the door, wondering what could cause Galvarys to take to the skies in anger.

---

Galvarys sprawled upon a plaza cobbled with painted flagstones not far from the river. He’d had his little tour through town, now it was time to fill his belly. An adoring crowd surrounded him, ringed by a small legion of guards who seemed better able to afford quality armor than the other villages, and wore forest green tabards over their chain mail and studded leather. Still, even the guards seemed relaxed lately. They leaned against their spears, watching the dragon or chatting amongst themselves and with the many villages who’d turned out to see their protector up close.

Galvarys remained in a good mood even as the days since the bonfire continued to pass. Though if he wasn’t fed soon, that good mood would sour. The scent of water hung all across the village, mingling with the scents of fish both raw and roasted. Thankfully for villagers wishing to avoid the dragon’s ire, most of that fish was for him. Galvarys waved Elyra off to go find herself a moment of solitude and something warming to drink while the village brought his meal. They offered the dragon alcohol as well, but he declined it. The last time he’d gone flying after drinking brought about the dreaded pine tree incident. The fish, however, he was more than willing to help them with.

The Village By The River seemed especially proud of their fish. They adorned just about everything with them. They painted them on the signs of buildings, they decorated signposts with wooden fish, they sewed them on the tabards their guards wore over their studded leather and chain mail. They even painted an immense, silver and blue fish upon the smooth, flat gray flagstones paving the plaza the dragon lay upon. And they brought them to the dragon by the barrel full.

Galvarys was coming to like this village. They seemed to go out of their way to make him happy, even more so than the Village Of Rings. And best he could tell they weren’t even run by an idiot. Even the man who came to speak to the dragon at the village’s behest seemed to have some wisdom and proper respect about him. He was a stocky man, usually dressed in layers of dark green, with a short cropped reddish beard across his stout face. He was often consulting with a an olden woman in a purple blouse, with a hand sewn upon the shoulder in gold. Her black hair was streaked with hints of gray, and she always kept it tied behind her head. She’d spoken politely to the dragon a few times, but it was the always green-clothed mayor who did most of the talking. Galvarys suspected she was the man’s mate, as she certainly acted like she thought she was in charge of him. Female dragons usually acted the same way.

Even now she was standing towards the back of the ground that ringed the roughly oval-shaped plaza. When she spotted the dragon watching her, she gave him a little smile and a wave. Not exactly bowing or kowtowing to his wishes, but then again there were plenty of others who did that. Including the mayor, who was busy ordering in barrels of raw fish and platters of grilled fish from a variety of restaurants and cafes located around the plaza.

A number of wooden storefronts and restaurants surrounded the oval-shaped rotunda. None of them were as whimsical or fancy as some of those in the Village Of Rings, but they did have a lot of colorful fish decorating them. And netting. And oars. One building even had an entire boat atop it. These people certainly liked their river. The dragon thumped his tail against the plaza, the spines clattering against the stone. He liked this plaza. The sun kept the flagstones warm, made them pleasant to lay against.

Once a few barrels of fish were dumped before him, the dragon buried his muzzle amidst them. He enjoyed fish but it was such a struggle to catch them himself. They had interesting textures to them, they were crunch and slimy and soft all at once. Each kind of fish also had its own unique flavors. The small silver ones had a saltier taste, the big fat bronze ones were rich and oily, and the ones with whiskers had a stronger, earthier taste. They were even a few smaller flatter fish that tasted oddly sweet. While he ate, the mayor assured the dragon that all the fish had been carefully de-spined as soon as they were taken from the nets before they were put in the barrels.

That was good, because if Galvarys got a fish spine lodged in his throat, he was going to have to incinerate someone. By the time he’d nearly finished all the raw fish, they brought out the platters of roasted and fire-grilled fish. A line of chefs in stained green aprons each stood behind their own platter, proudly explaining what kind of fish they’d brought, how they’d seasoned it and what kind of wood they’d cooked it over. All of which the dragon ignored as he stuffed his muzzle with mouthful after mouthful of roasted fish and shoved the empty platters away. The roasted fish were delightful, perhaps even better than the raw ones. It really was amazing how fire could transform-

“Look!” Someone in the crowd gave a startled cry, thrusting a finger into the air. “There’s a monster!”

Murmurings bubbled among the people as they turned to see what was being pointed out. Galvarys jerked his head up, turning his own gaze across the river. Something large, dark and with feathered wings hurtled just above the distant treetops. All around the dragon the guards dropped their relaxed posture, hefting spears and drawing swords. Archers ran to take up positions of cover, while others ascended ladders and stairways to rooftop vantage points.

“Hardly a monster,” the dragon said, lifting his voice over the din. “It’s only a gryphon. Barely even worth the fuss.”

Galvarys pushed himself to his feet. People started to move away from the dragon, the chefs snatched up their empty platters and pushed through the crowd, trying to get back to their restaurants. The people on the fringes of the crowd began to lead the plaza, snatching up children. Some even started to run down the side streets as the gryphon drew near. Guards called for calm even as they tried to herd people towards shelter. The woman in the purple shirt and the green-clothed mayor had a heated exchange in the distance.

“You!” Galvarys called out. “Mayor. Come here, swiftly!”

The mayor trotted over, his eyes wide, his face drawn. “Yes, Azure Wrath?”

“Has your city been attacked by gryphons in the past?”

The mayor shook his head, staring into the sky. “No, Azure Wrath, but we’ve had one circle a few times lately, and a few merchant ships have reported harassments, but no attacks. Not yet, anyway.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that already?” Galvarys snapped his jaws.

“We thought it best to tell you when you had a full belly.” The mayor wrung his hands a moment, then glanced up at the dragon.

Galvarys growled to himself. Clever little bastard, but he’d worry about that later. “He’s probably looking to steal some fish or some treasure.” The dragon lifted his head, calling out. “Archers! Hold your fire! You put an arrow anywhere but his throat, brain or heart, and he’ll rip you apart for the insult alone.” The dragon glanced down at the mayor, smirking. “That’s what I do when people put arrows in me, anyway. I’ll take care of this! Cover your ears.”

The dragon took a deep breath, and roared to the skies. His cry carried threat in its echoing reverberations, tones that spoke of claws and teeth, fire and death. It was a noise that spoke of an angry dragon, that told tales of danger and violence. To anyone with half an ounce of common sense, it was a warning to turn away that should be followed immediately. Then again, Galvarys never thought of gryphons as creatures of common sense, and while the gryphon did alter course, it was not away from terrifying sound.

The gryphon flicked a wing and pivoted in the sky, heading straight for the source of the roar.

“That doesn’t bode well.” Galvarys glanced at down mayor who suddenly looked to have gone another shade whiter. “Usually they turn back when I roar.”

“Usually?” The mayor swallowed, glancing around the plaza. He waved a few hand signals at his guards, and they began to step up their efforts to evacuate the plaza. “So you’ve dealt with gryphons before?”

“At the edges of my lands. In times past.” Galvarys flared out his wings, stretching them. Then rolled his shoulders, and stretched out each hind limb. “Used to harass the Village Of Three Stones.”

“And when they don’t turn back?”

“That usually means they want to fight and then I have to kill them.”

“Why would-”

Galvarys did not let the mayor finish before he unleashed a second, much louder roar. This one rattled every window in the plaza, perhaps the entire villages. Walls shook, produce toppled from vibrating carts. The roar echoed across the river and over the village, a warning to the gryphon and the people who dwelled here. If that didn’t turn the bird back, there was only one way left for this to play out. Not that Galvarys was afraid to fight the gryphon. If anything, he was annoyed. He was having a nice, peaceful day, and some stupid bird had to come throw his feathery life away.

The dragon’s fire glands tingled. His massive heart began to pound in his chest, the blood pulse echoed in his minor heart chambers near his tail. He unsheathed his claws, hissing through his teeth as the dark gryphon swept over the river, then across the town. He flew so low his wing beats caused his feathers to brush rooftops and chimneys. Galvarys pivoted in place, watching the bird for a few moments. He hoped the gryphon would land to engage him. Loathe as the dragon was to admit it, gryphons were superior flyers.

The gryphon twisted in the air, dropped from the sky and alighted upon a sturdy tavern across the plaza from the dragon. Galvarys began to pad towards him, sizing the gryphon up. He was male, and big for a gryphon. Not as big as Galvarys, but bigger than most he’d seen. Yet despite his size, the gryphon’s furred and feathered body was lean, tightly muscled. Almost too lean. Perhaps he was a poor hunter. The gryphon’s coloration was a mixture of black and dark earthen browns peppered with gray. His colors faded to a pale golden brown across his haunches, and pale gray over his forelegs. Feathers coated his head and back, silken fur much of the rest of him. It was difficult to tell where the softest, finest feathers ended and the fur began. Sharply set topaz eyes glared down at the dragon as the gryphon cocked his vaguely avian, black and gray feathered head. Something akin to a sneer twisted his oddly mobile beak.

“Listen here, you filthy cat-bird, if you think you can take from this town…”

“Galvarys!” The gryphon’s cry froze the dragon in his tracks. The gryphon knew his name? That did not bode well, either. The gryphon stepped forward, grasping the edge of the roof in his gray fore paws. “I don’t want to take from your worthless town, I want to take from you!”

“Take from me?” The dragon snarled, glaring up at the gryphon. For now, he didn’t care how the gryphon knew this name. He arched his neck, baring his fangs. “Then come here and take, Bird! It’s been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of beating the hell out of some arrogant gryphon!”

“Bite your tongue, you muddy-blooded lizard!” The gryphon leapt from the edge of the roof, flicked his wings and spiraled through the air. He dropped down to another rooftop, this the one with the boat perched upon it.

“Muddy-blooded?” Galvarys galloped across the plaza towards the tavern. He wanted to get the gryphon to come fight him on the ground, damn birds were more dangerous in the air where their agility and maneuverability made them more capable combatants. “You’re the abomination who looks like a raven got mounted by some alley cat!”

The gryphon moved around the back of the wooden rowboat atop the tavern, then grasped it in his forepaws, sitting back against his haunches. Just like dragons, a gryphon’s forepaws were dexterous, featuring an opposable digit akin to a thumb. The gryphon gave a keening snarl, and tore the boat from its moorings. Wood cracked and splintered, and the gryphon tipped the whole boat over the edge of the roof. Galvarys skidded to a halt as the boat toppled over and exploded against the flagstones below. People inside the tavern screamed, ducking down behind the windows. The dragon turned his head aside, squeezing his eyes shut. Bits of shattered wood bounced off his scales.

The gryphon leapt from the roof, dropping onto the dragon’s back. The sudden heavy weight caught the dragon off guard and smashed him against his belly. Pain boiled in his guts and his sternum, the air forced from his lungs. More pain cascaded in hot lines along his back as the gryphon raked his claws over the dragon’s back, near his wing joints. The pain spurred a sudden increase of adrenaline, an especially potent force among dragons. With his heartbeat surging, the dragon surged back to his paws, feeling the gryphon shift against him. Galvarys spun upon his paws, and the smaller beast scrabbled off his back, landing nearby. Galvarys kept spinning, tail spines whistling through the air straight towards the gryphon’s head.

The gryphon darted just out of reach of the spines that would have ended both the brief skirmish and the gryphon’s life. The gryphon snarled at him, flaring the crown feathers around his head. They were long, gray and tipped in scarlet like drops of blood. The bird leapt into the air, the trailing feathers at the edges of his wings and tail were gray and tipped in red as well. Gusts of wind buffeting the dragon beneath his wide, feathered wings.

Someone how Galvarys did not think the gryphon was retreating. The dragon glanced back at himself. Several long gashes dribbled crimson rivulets that ran down his back between his scales and wing membrane, then streaked the scales of his haunches where his membranes ended. The dragon hissed. The gryphon had drawn his blood, and that demanded retaliation. Galvarys leapt into the air behind the bird, beating his own indigo and black wings. The gryphon hadn’t hit anything that would impede his ability to fly. All he’d done was make the dragon angry.

As Galvarys ascended over the city, he gave a third roar. This one was no longer warning, no longer threat. This roar was all primal fury and declaration of impending violence. It cascaded beneath the city like some living thing, growing, aging, fading, and finally dying. Galvarys blood dripped to the village below, splattering streets and rooftops with a few crimson droplets. The dragon quickly glanced around. Most of the villagers were in hiding now, guards were struggling to follow after the gryphon through the streets.

The gryphon flew low over rooftops, rising and falling with the lay of the city. Damn bird seemed to know how to keep himself out of easy arrow shot. “If you want to fire your arrows, now would be the time!” The dragon called down over the city. Might as well give them a chance to try. A few archers loosed their arrows but none found their mark. The gryphon’s only retaliation was warbling laughter that spilled and echoed along the streets and alleys he darted above.

The gryphon took no discernable route across the city, he followed no streets nor even the line of the river that snaked alongside it. Instead he took sudden, sharp turns then streaked off ahead of the dragon. Other times he doubled back over ground he’d already covered. Try as he might, Galvarys could not close the distance. The gryphon was simply a faster, more agile flyer. Anger and frustration boiled in the dragon’s heart, but caution prickled at the base of his spines. The gryphon was toying with him, but why? Trying to wear Galvarys down before engaging him? Why not leave the city so the guards could not aide the dragon?

Galvarys beat his wings harder, trying to close on the gryphon. When he’d gained upon the beast the dragon took a breath, and spat fire at the gryphon. The gryphon flicked a wing and wheeled away from the roiling, red-orange flames even as the dragon crashed through his own wall of heat. Dying tongues of fire licked at his wings, sending needles of pain across the sensitive membranes. More blood dripped to the ground.

The gryphon only laughed again. “You’ve not even singed one feather, Dragon! I’d tell you to save your fire for battle but you’d never catch me anyway!”

“I’ll burn every feather off your body when I do, Bird!”

The gryphon flicked a wing and spun around to face the dragon, flying at him head on. Galvarys nearly crashed right into the furry bastard. It might have been worth the chance that such a collision would likely send them both crashing into the city. They weren’t that high, so as long as the fall didn’t break anything important he’d have his chance to slice the bird up. But before he ram into the bird or prepare another volley of flame, the gryphon flicked his wings again and streaked across the dragon’s back. More lines of pain ignited as the gryphon racked his claws all down Galvarys before accelerating away from him once more.

Galvarys grit his teeth to keep from crying out. This was not going well. He needed to get this bird on the ground before the gryphon got lucky and sunk his claws too deeply into the dragon’s wing joints. Hot, wet blood ran down his scales, dripping off his belly and hind paws in red streams. His whole back was on fire now, and it was only making the dragon angrier. Galvarys dipped his wing, spinning through the sky to chase the bird down once again.

“Galvarys!” A faint but audible cry echoed across the town. The dragon’s sensitive ears picked up the call immediately. It was Elyra. “Galvarys!” Poor girl sounded terrified. She’d dropped all pretense of title, and was simply calling the dragons name in horror as he got sliced up in the sky. He wondered if she’d seen him dripping blood, or if she was just trying to find him, trying to find out what was going on.

Ahead of him, the gryphon pivoted towards the source of the cry. The bird beat his wings faster, speeding towards the sound of Elyra’s voice. Why was he…

Realization froze the dragon’s heart. I don’t want to take from your worthless town, I want to take from you!

No. No! NO! “Elyra!” Galvarys roared as he pounded his wings against the air. The gryphon was too far ahead. He’d never reach her in time. “Guards! Protect Elyra!“ Did she even have an escort? Had they thought to protect the dragons minion while he fought the gryphon? He never thought the gryphon would come for her.

This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not after he…no!

The pain faded from the dragon. The anger bled from his heart. In its place there was only cold, clenching, familiar terror.

He could not reach her in time. Screams echoed in his memory.

“Elyra, run!”

---

Chapter Fourteen

---

Elyra shaded her eyes with her hand as she emerged from the dim light of the tavern into bright, afternoon sunlight. She heard cries and shouts in the distance. Elyra scanned the sky in the direction of the commotion. Something dark and feathered hurtled over rooftops. Whatever it was, Galvarys was chasing it. Elyra’s breath caught as cold talons seized her heart. Blood glittered in the sun like terrible rubies as it dripped from the dragon’s indigo scales.

Without thought, Elyra ran towards the dragon. What the hell was happening? In the distance, flames burnt the sky. The dragon’s target darted through the air, then doubled back. Elyra lost sight of them as a taller building blocked her view. She scrambled down streets populated only by frantic guards and spirits. Elyra came to an intersection, found a clear view of the dragon and the his prey. The creature he pursued was a gryphon, and the two of them seemed locked in some deadly aerial dance, darting and chasing one another all across the city. Though blood dripped from Galvarys, Elyra saw none from the dragon.

Galvarys was bleeding. The dragon…her friend…was injured. All those old scars that marked his body, and yet it had never truly sunk in that she might see the dragon bleed one day. Then in offering his protection to these cities, he could some day risk his own life defending them. A few droplets of dark dragon blood stained the cobblestone near her feet, still wet, red and glistening. All the fears she’d simply balled up and stuffed deep inside herself since meeting the dragon hit her in a rush. Galvarys was wounded, and the terror that gripped her heart in cold claws squeezed it until she screamed his name.

“Galvarys!”

Elyra hurtled herself down the street, cheerily painted buildings decorated with fish and nets flying by in a blur. She wanted to help him. Elyra did not know how she could help him, she only knew she wanted to try. Whatever she could do, whatever he needed, she would do it. It did not even matter why he was fighting with this gryphon. This was Galvarys’ city, and she would help him defend it.

“Galvarys!”

Elyra lost sight of the gryphon as she ran. Galvarys rose higher in the sky, she saw him ascend in the distance, then she saw him spin in the sky. She glanced up one street, down another, chose the route she thought would get her to the dragon the fastest. Galvarys roared, and this time his roar carried her name. Hearing him cry out for her only spurred her on to run faster. As she streaked past a set of wooden taverns and a grocer, she heard the dragon calling out again. She was so intent on finding a way to him she didn’t even realize what he was saying at first. When she a cluster of guards running towards her, the dragon’s words settled against her mind. He’d called for them to protect her. Why would she need…?

“Elyra, run!”

Elyra took only a single step back before the dark gryphon shot into view, hurtling above the rooftops down the street. The beast flicked in a wing, wheeled about in the sky and in an instant was hurtling down the road towards her. The gryphon flew inches above the street with his wings extended, yet never did his feathers brush cobblestone or storefront. For a terrifying moment in which a single heart beat felt as though it lasted an instant, Elyra froze. Then she did just as Galvarys told her.

Elyra ran.

She could never outrun the thing the way it flew. She had to get somewhere it could not. Even before the gears had finished turning in her head, the guards who had come for her reached the same conclusion. One of them snatched her arm, and yanked her down the nearest alleyway. The man’s grip was painful, his fingers dug into her flesh almost to the bone, when he pulled her into the alleyway he wrenched her shoulder. Yet Elyra was thankful for his urgency. Chain mail rattled all around her as two other men fell in behind her, ringing her with green tabards and steel.

The three guards hurried her down the alleyway. Sagging wooden walls caked with mud and moss surrounded her. The alley stank of rotting fish and stale urine. Trash bins half-filled with fish carcasses sat alongside an ancient rain barrel barely held together by rotting iron bands. Elyra would happily toss herself into whatever festering receptacle lay back there if it kept her out of the gryphon’s claws.

Claws scraped stone as the gryphon dropped to the street. Dark feathers flashed past the entrance to the alleyway. The men rushed her towards the next intersection, Elyra struggled just to keep breathing. Her lungs burned, her chest crushed not by exertion but by sheer, suffocating terror. Something heavy thumped atop the roof of one of the buildings lining the alleyway ahead of them. The man jerked Elyra back the way they’d come. Massive wings whooshed against the air, a shadow crossed the alley and another thump sounded from a roof behind them.

“That thing’s toying with us!” One of the guards pushed Elyra up against the wall to try and shield her, frantically glancing for an escape. “That window!”

Another guard ran to the window just down the alleyway. It was locked, he smashed the glass with the pommel of his sword, then reached inside to unlock it. As he pulled his hand back, the gryphon dropped into the alleyway in the midst of their group, silent aside from the muffled thud of his landing. Courageous as she was, a scream still welled up inside Elyra when the dark-feathered beast loomed over her in an instant. It took everything she had to bite it back as the two men still with her pressed her down the alley, standing between her and the gryphon. When the gryphon hissed at her, it was a sound she’d never heard from Galvarys. This beast was real threat, real danger, its hiss was real fury. When the gryphon hissed, Elyra screamed.

The man who went for the window charged up behind the gryphon, his sword poised. The beast lashed out with a hind paw, kicking the guard squarely in the chest. Chain rattled, bone cracked and air whooshed from the man’s lungs in a tremendous cough as the gryphon’s kick lifted him completely off his feet and sent him tumbling down the alleyway. Elyra had only a moment to hope he would rise again some day.

Another guard thrust his spear at the gryphon’s chest, trying to use range to his advantage. In a gray blur the gryphon struck out at the spear with his foreleg, sheering the iron point clean off and shattering the wooden haft in a shower of splintered fragments. Just as swiftly the gryphon surged forward against the startled man holding the broken spear, slamming his other forepaw into the man’s body and swatting him aside like an angry child hurling a toy. Yet the visceral crunching sound and cry of agony as the man smashed into the wall lining the alley was all too real.

The third guard seemed to fair a little better at first. He kept himself between the gryphon and Elyra, using swift, precise strikes with his sword to try and keep the gryphon at bay. He struck towards the creature’s beak, then sliced at the gryphon’s paw pads to deflect his retaliatory blows. The guard and gryphon exchanged a flurry of blows in the span of a breath, and yet the man seemed unable to make enough contact to draw enough blood. Elyra heard Galvarys wing beats in the distance and growing louder, the guard urged her to run. Yet as soon as his blade paused for even a second, the gryphon lashed out with forepaw, swatting the sword from the man’s hand. The guard stumbled and the gryphon swept forward and sunk his wickedly sharp into the man’s shoulder. There was a terrible rending, crunching sound as the gryphon’s beak shattered chain mail and bone alike. The guard gave a horrific scream, falling to his knees when the gryphon spat him out. Blood welled up, staining the guards green tabard a sickly purple hue.

Elyra turned and ran, heard the gryphon bat the man aside. Heard the gryphon’s heavy, padded paws thump against the ground behind her. Then she screamed as the gryphon curled a powerful foreleg around her middle and hoisted her off the ground. The gryphon leapt against the nearest wall, claws entrenched in the wood, clinging to it like a cat scaling a tree. Then the gryphon leapt again, propelling himself off the wall and twisting to clear just enough space to beat his wings. Elyra’s stomach lurched as the gryphon hurtled skyward. Between the horror she’d just seen, the terror that sucked the very breath from her lungs and the way the gryphon was jerking her around, she struggled not to heave her ale all over the alleyway.

As the gryphon rocketed up from the alleyway, Galvarys swooped in over the top of the taverns and shops. Elyra caught a good look at the dragon’s face, his expression mingled wide-eyed terror with spine-flaring fury. The dragon’s maw gaped wide, his fangs glistened in the sun, his tongue pressed flat to the bottom of his mouth. Elyra knew that look, Galvarys was going to spit fire over the gryphon before the creature had a chance to get away.

Galvarys roared, and Elyra threw her hands up over her face, screaming. As liquid flame poured from the dragon’s jaws, he turned his head away, tucked a wing and sharply banked away from the gryphon. Roiling heat washed across Elyra as she dangled from the gryphon’s grasp, but the flames did not touch her. Elyra whispered a silent pray of thanks to any God who would listen for ensuring Galvarys saw her. But what option did that leave the dragon? As long as the gryphon had hold of her, Galvarys could not use his fire, nor could he try and drag the beast from the sky. The gryphon had a hostage and a shield now, and Galvarys had no way of harming the creature without also injuring Elyra. At least not while they were in the air.

Elyra glanced at the city below. They were not yet too high above the rooftops. Perhaps she could force the bastard to drop her, or better yet bring him down herself. She’d probably break half the bones in her body at best but that might be preferable to whatever this monster had in mind. Elyra struggled against the gryphon’s grasp, trying to wrap her fingers around the hilt of her knife. The gryphon glanced down at her, hissing. Then he beat his vast, feathered wings harder, ascending with every pump against the air. As he rose, the gryphon grabbed at her arm with his other forepaw, snarling.

“You draw that blade and I’ll drop you before you can shed even a drop of my blood!”

“You’ll be out of a shield if you do!” Elyra grit her teeth, stretching for her knife.

“No dragon can catch me.” The gryphon clacked his beak. Then he unsheathed the claws of both forepaws, sharp talon tips pricked Elyra’s skin. Every claw drew blood. “Pull that knife, and then drop it.” Elyra grimaced as the gryphon jerked her arm towards her belt, staring at her as he flew. “Now!”

When the gryphon tightened his grip, Elyra cried out in pain. She relented, and wrapped her fingers around the knife. Much as she wanted to drive it right through the monster’s paw or try and plunge it into his chest, she knew her arm was little more than a brittle stick in his grasp. And he moved so swiftly. He could snap her limb in half or sink his claws to the bone without so much as a blink. She opened her hand, the knife flashed in the sun as it tumbled from her grasp towards the city’s outskirts.

“There!” Elyra grit her teeth, the gryphon’s claws hurt. She felt rivulets of blood soaking her clothes and her arms. “Stop hurting me!”

“Then stop your wriggling!”

Elyra wasn’t ready to do that just yet. She tried to twist in the gryphon’s grasp, turning her head to try and gaze behind them. Elyra wanted to see Galvarys, but all she could see was the gryphon’s gray underbelly, mottled with darker colors. She could not hear the dragon’s wing beats. The steady, whooshing thump of gryphon wings and the swirling winds that buffeted her red hair around her face overwhelmed all other sounds. Yet Elyra knew that Galvarys was behind them. As the city fell away behind them, Elyra knew in her heart that Galvarys was there. Galvarys was coming.

Galvarys was coming for Elyra, and his wrath would be terrible.

“He’s going to kill you, you know.” Elyra tilted her head back to glare up at the gryphon’s face. She squinted against the wind that whipped and ruffled all the feathers along his head. “He won’t let you get away. If you land, and let me go to him? I can talk him into sparing your life. Otherwise he’s going to kill you.”

“Is that not all dragons ever do?” The gryphon snapped his beak, hissing against the wind. “Kill, and conquer? Pillage and burn, take what they want, and kill anyone in their way?”

Elyra twisted against the gryphon’s grasp. She grit her teeth as his claws dug deeper. “You say that like you didn’t just murder those guards!”

“I didn’t murder anyone. They will live.” The gryphon growled low in his throat. “Besides, they made their choice. They made a deal with the dragon and now they must live with it.”

“Galvarys protects them from monsters like you!”

“Oh yes,” the gryphon said, flaring up the red-tipped feathers crown feathers around his head. “Such a noble effort he makes to protect the wealthy from the poor. To keep them safe from those who called this land home first. Wouldn’t want the monsters to have a home of their own.” The gryphon glanced down at her, sneering through his beak. “Or the red-haired nomads.”

Elyra tensed. Her branded cheek burned for a moment. She’d heard her people called a lot of things over the years, but nomads was a term she hadn’t heard in ages. Her mother used to use that term, and she always meant it endearingly. It was like a badge of honor, a people who could go anywhere, survive anything, live where they pleased. At least until the foreign armies came, took their homes, and sent the nobles to take their freedom. They had their resistance for a time, but that only made things worse in the end.

“What do you know about that?” Elyra glanced down at the ground whipping by beneath them. God, this gryphon was fast. When she flew atop Galvarys the land glided by beneath them, but it whipped past beneath this gryphon’s wings in an blue-green blur of spruce and pine.

“What the nobles took from you, the dragons take from us.”

“You seem awfully free to me.” Elyra glared back up at him, wishing she could wrap her hands around his gray-feathered throat. “Or is some noble dragon ordering you to kidnap and torture me?”

“I’m talking about a home!” The gryphon’s grip tightened till Elyra cried out. “Heritage! This land was ours! Before the dragons stole it, before your nobles ever came.”

“The nobles have been here for generations.” Elyra took a few deep breaths, pain stabbing into her where the gryphons claws still sat in flesh. “Whatever you think dragons might have done, you cannot blame Galvarys.”

“Can I not?” The gryphon glared down at her through one piercing topaz eye. Perhaps she’d overstepped her bounds. This gryphon may have history with Galvarys.

Arguing wasn’t going to get her anywhere. She took another breath and held it, trying to go as still as she could. Blood ran down an arm, and soaked the side of her blouse. “Please. Pull back your claws. You’re really hurting me.”

The gryphon growled to himself, but slowly pulled his claws back from her arm and her midsection where he grasped her. “Do not wriggle and I will not have to use them to hold onto you.”

“What happened to threatening to drop me?” Elyra closed her eyes. Pain lanced her in at least six places. She did not think the wounds were deep but they throbbed relentlessly nonetheless. She sucked in a few breaths through her teeth.

“Don’t be daft. If I wanted to kill you I’d have slain you in the street.” The gryphon shifted Elyra around, moving her over to his other foreleg. He wrapped it around her, clutching her against his furred chest as he flew. She cried out in pain as the movement jarred her fresh wounds, but the gryphon didn’t seem to notice. “Your dragon would have followed me either way. If I drop you now he might stop to investigate and then that plodding beast would never catch up. Behave yourself and you’ll live through this. When your master is dead you’ll be free to go.”

Dead? This gryphon seemed to think he could kill Galvarys. If she wasn’t in so much pain the thought might have made her laugh. Surely Galvarys would tear this filthy bird apart. After all the men he’d killed…then again, the gryphon had no trouble with this guards either. Still, the gryphon’s confidence seemed misplaced. “If you were so sure you could kill Galvarys you’d have fought him in the city, where everyone could see you best him! But you knew you’d lose, didn’t you! So you had to grab a hostage and flee like some coward!”

“Careful with your words, Girl.” The gryphon snarled under his breath. “Your master will be dead soon, and your words and actions after that will be your own, and I shall hold you accountable to them. If you’re wise, you’ll take your new found freedom and go find your own life somewhere. Live free for once.”

“I already…” Elyra cut herself off. This gryphon didn’t realize she’d volunteered as the dragon’s minion. He probably thought she was just some servant wench the nobles sent out to appease a wicked beast. Whatever he thought he knew about Galvarys he was wrong. Yet Elyra knew she wasn’t going to change his mind with a few honeyed words. As the gryphon himself said about the Village On The River, he’d made his choice and now he had to live with it. “I think we both know you cannot kill my master in battle. That is why you flee from him.”

“Wait and see, Girl.” The gryphon glanced down at her. “We’ll be there soon.”

“Where?”

The gryphon did not reply, and Elyra spent a little while watching the spruce and pines whip by them. The land below began to rise and fall with rocky hills. Gray and brown boulders protruded from swaths of craggy swaths of land amidst the towering pines. Here and there she spotted a few clusters of simple thatch, reed and wooden houses, tiny villages almost hidden amidst the trees and stones. The hills grew higher a though gradually maturing into mountains. The valleys between them grew wider. They passed over a shallow, rocky river that cut a swath through steep hills blanketed in moss and oddly devoid of trees. A herd of mountain sheep grazing on grass and moss bolted, sending rocks tumbling down the slopes, the tumbling stones tore gray lines through the verdant green carpet.

As the miles vanished beneath them Elyra still hurt, but at least she didn’t feel as much fresh blood dribbling down her skin. She still didn’t know why this gryphon had captured her. She assumed he’d taken her because he knew she was Galvarys friend, yet that did not seem to be the case. Perhaps he was just playing on the dragon’s greed. Stealing something he considered valuable, as though she were just the crown jewel of his entire hoard. Even then he almost seemed to want Galvarys to follow him. Far from any of the dragon’s villages, far from any of the lands Galvarys had ever shown her. But why would he…

It came to her when they first passed over the ruin. Atop a tall slope amidst the rocky hills, lay the charred remains of an old village. There was little left of it now. Blackened, crumbling framework of houses, the soot-stained bricks of a few hearths that stood amidst burnt out buildings. The village had clearly lay in ruins for decades at least, perhaps longer. An entire tree sprouted from the cracked and burned remains of what had once been a floor. Vines wreathed broken hearths and toppled walls. Whatever road had once lead to the village was long since utterly overgrown. Only a few mossy cairns along the gentlest part of the slope marked where the pathway once lay.

The gryphon needed her to make sure Galvarys followed him because somewhere out here, the gryphon must have set a trap for the dragon. Somewhere, amidst the desolation that dragons once wrought upon man, someone waited to return that desolation to Galvarys.

I have killed more men than I have ever seen dragons.

It was all a circle. A terrible, unending circle. The dragons took the gryphon’s lands, the humans took the dragon’s lands, and they all blamed each other in a cycle of violence and revenge. Yet Galvarys had broken that cycle, his truce with the villages had opened a new path, a better way for everyone. Everyone save the gryphons, apparently. Was that who lay in ambush? More gryphons? One of them Galvarys could surely slay, be a dozen? Or was it humans with tools and weapons designed to slay his kind? Elyra felt sick at the possibilities. Her stomach heaved, and she swallowed a few times, trying to keep from vomiting all over herself as they flew.

“Galvarys!” Elyra cried out when she steadied herself and found her voice. “Galvarys! It’s an ambush!”

The gryphon laughed as he began to descend towards the land once more cloaked in forest. “Of course it is! But I don’t think he can hear you. Dragons are slow, you and I are but a distant shape upon the horizon to him. Oh, but don’t worry. I doubt even Galvarys The Wrathful can be foolish enough not to know he’s flying into a trap.”

“Galvarys the Wrathful?” Elyra smiled as she repeated the name. “Oh, you have no idea, Gryphon.”

“That’s what he called himself.” The gryphon hissed, dipped a wing and began to spiral through the air, descending towards a small clearing. “Right after he claimed himself a descendant of some great draconic nobility, as if their thieving clans ever had anything grand to claim they hadn’t stolen from someone else. But I see through his lies.”

The gryphon swept in low over the trees, Elyra pulled her legs up to avoid catching the top of a spruce before the gryphon spiraled down into the clearing. He tossed her to the ground. She tumbled across the mossy earth and came to a stop in pained heap. The gryphon prowled up next to her, pushed her over with a paw upon her chest.

The gryphon lowered his black head till his beak brushed nose, fetid breath washing over her face. “There is no greatness, no nobility in him. His bloodline is as muddy as my own. Our clans destroyed, swept from our homes by claw and fire. Wandering the fringes of the land, turned away by man, even by our own kind.” His crown feathers flared, blood-red points on full display. “When Galvarys is dead.” The gryphon clacked his beak in her face, the sharp points nearly dragging on her our skin. “Then this land will be ours once more.”

The gryphon pulled his paw away. Elyra groaned, slowly sitting up. Her chest hurt, but her belly and arm hurt worse. Blood soaked the center of her blouse, staining the blue fabric purple all around the holes his claws made. So much for her lovely custom clothes. She tried to push herself up to her feet, cradling her injured arm against her body, clutching her wounded side with the other.

The gryphon glanced back at her as he padded away, hissing under his breath. “Do not try and flee.”

“I’m not stupid, gryphon.” Elyra glanced around the small clearing. Layers of emerald moss and dry pine needles covered the ground. She limped towards a tall pine tree, ducked under a low bough and leaned her back against its bark. “If they’ve done the things you say, and you kill Galvarys? You’re just as bad as them. Killing just to take what you want. He’s made a truce, you know. He broke the cycle of violence. He’s made peace…”

“Peace for gold is not peace at all.” The gryphon tossed his head. “It is blackmail. It is conquest. When I have avenged his crimes, when I have claimed his fortress, I shall protect these lands in his stead. And I shall ask for nothing save the return of my people to the wilds here, where we belong. That shall end this cycle.”

His fortress? The gryphon knew about Galvarys fortress? Elyra grimaced, probing at her wounds with her finger. They hurt like hell, fresh blood smeared her hand. Still, they could be worse. Elyra did not reply to the gryphon’s boasts. She almost pitied the creature his inability to understand he seemed intent on committing the very crimes he claimed he wished to avenge.

The gryphon padded into the forest, muscles rippling beneath the golden fur and feathers that coated the back of his haunches. After a moment, he flared a black wing till the gray and red feathers that edged it stood out. He made a gesture as though draping it over someone, then glanced back at Elyra. “This way. I don’t want you out of my sight.”

Elyra winced as she pulled away from the tree she rested against. She began to trudge after the creature. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon her like her a thick, fire-warmed blanket. Her fear had faded to a cold tightness in her belly, and her adrenaline had long since worn off. All that left was a nearly-overwhelming fatigue. Each step sent pain lancing through her wounded side.

The fresh scent of pine and spruce were not enough to balance out the coppery stink of Elyra’s own blood, clinging to her flesh and her clothes. The forest here was old growth, all towering trees and impenetrable canopies. Here and there stands of white-barked poplars with leaves already turning yellow broke up the walls of conifers. Saplings stood wherever their roots took hold, some withering in the ever-present shade, others flourishing in a rare patch of sunlight. Thick green mosses and carpets of dry pine needles vied for supremacy of the forest floor. A few lush late-season ferns still thrived, broad leaves stretching from a base topped with still-coiled fronds. Elyra would have loved the forest if its beauty had not been spoiled by the murderous gryphon who’d dragged her there.

Elyra saw movement ahead of the gryphon, through the trees. In the distance men moved about. As they drew nearer, Elyra saw a stout man in heavy chain mail pulling a helmet over his head. Another man in mail sat upon a lichen-covered tree stump, dragging a grindstone across the blade of a sword. There were at least half a dozen of them, maybe more. Spread amongst the trees they’d set up a makeshift camp, planning their ambush. They must have thought Galvarys would have trouble moving amongst all the trees.

The gryphon approached one of the men, cocking his head. He rustled his feathery wings against his body. He scratched at the ground with a gray paw, the moss that once coated the earth flattened by days of boots upon it. “He’s coming. Get your men ready.”

Elyra watched the man the gryphon spoke too. He was a little shorter than most of the others. He seemed to have a slimmer build but it was difficult to say for certain because of the heavier mail he wore. His armor seemed comprised of a combination of metal plates and some heavily scaled hide. He rested a calloused hand upon the hilt of a sword, the dark, rippled steel of the blade plunged into the earth. The sword’s off-white pommel and gray cross guard looked familiar. The design was different, the cross guard carved into claws, yet the material was the same. Horn. Bone. Elyra’s stomach twisted. The scales that made up art of his armor probably came from the same dragon.

“You’re all dragonslayers.” Elyra spat the word as though she’d wretched it up from her lungs.

The man talking to the gryphon yanked his blade free from the earth. He rested the flat of it against his shoulder and strode towards Elyra. His eyes pierced her, in the gloom of the forest shade Elyra could not tell what color they were. They seemed to flicker both dark green and darker gray. Short-cropped red hair covered his head, with thick red stubble lining his face. Beneath the stubble, hints of an old brand marked the man’s cheek.

“Yes,” the man said. He reached out and traced a single finger over Elyra’s branded cheek. “We are.”

“Didn’t know the nobles had dragon slayers.” Elyra slapped away his hand with her uninjured arm.

The man grinned, shaking his head. “They don’t.” He tapped his own cheek. “They gave me this when I was a kid. Made me a conscript. Till I made a friend who helped me escape all that.” He tilted his head towards the gryphon. “Besides, I’m not a murderer. I’m here to kill a monster, and set men free, not murder them.”

“He’s not a monster,” Elyra said, glaring at him. His words only stirred a thousand questions inside her, but she swept all of them aside. This man’s life, his history, his friendship with the gryphon. None of that mattered. All that mattered was that he was here to kill Galvarys. “But he is going to kill you.”

“He’s a plague,” the man spat, sneering. “They’re all a plague. You think the nobles are the first to prey on us? The first to take from us? We had allies once. Friends.” He jerked his thumb to the gryphon. “The dragons put a stop to all that. You think we used to hunt them for no reason? They brought it upon themselves. They’re just like the nobles, they conquer and pillage and see everyone else as vermin to be trod upon.”

“He protects people.” Elyra glared into the man’s eyes. She knew her words would not change his heart, but she refused to look away or back down. “He has kindness and gentleness inside him like I’ve never had a chance to know.”

“And you think that redeems him? That all it takes to wash the blood from his claws is a gentle touch? It does not.” The man spat at her through grit teeth, his knuckles stood out white around the dragon bone hilt of his sword. “Giving one woman a chance to make a demand of her own does not absolve the beast of all the people he’s killed, the homes he’s burned.”

“He wouldn’t kill people if they weren’t trying to slay him.”

“You’re either incredibly naïve, or as wicked as he is.” The dragon slayer snatched her jaw in his fingers, squeezing. “Maybe both.” He pushed her away, laughing. “Or perhaps you just think he’s your friend.”

“He is my friend.” Elyra kept her voice level. She knew he wouldn’t believe her or understand, but it did not matter. All that mattered was that she knew it in her heart.

“He’s your master, Girl, just as the nobles were your masters. At best you’re his trophy. You should thank us for slaying him and casting off your shackles.”

“I serve him freely, and proudly, for he holds more honor in his heart than all of you together could ever understand.” Elyra gazed at all of them, staring at the gryphon last. “You all talk of his crimes and conquests, without even realizing that the people in those villages-”

The dragonslayer cuffed Elyra across the face with the back of his hand. “I’ve had enough out of you, Dragon’s Whore.”

Elyra stumbled, grabbing at her throbbing jaw. She caught her balance, managed to stay on her feet though she felt fresh blood run down her skin. She glared at the red-haired dragon slayer, then spat at his feet. “You think you’re some kind of heroes? I see nothing heroic in any of you. I’ve seen this so-called monster carry a girl upon his back and share her laughter, and I’ve seen this beast here…” Elyra thrust her finger at the gryphon. “Murder three innocent men just trying to protect me.”

The dragon slayers all glanced at the gryphon. The beast shrugged his black and gray wings, then shook his raven-feathered head as if to say Elyra was lying. He clacked his beak. “I told you, they’d live.”

“As cripples, if they’re lucky,” Elyra hissed right back at him. “When you kicked that man, I heard his-”

“Your master dies today.” The man in the dragon-hide armor cut her off. “The lands he holds for ransom will be free. Whether they realize it at first or not doesn’t matter. Your master is the last dragon to plague these lands, and only after that plague is gone will they truly realize how sick it made them.” The dragon slayer turned away from her. He glanced at the gryphon, then looked around the campsite, gesturing with his blade at each and every man there. “Prepare yourselves! Today we end this plague at last.”

Elyra grit her aching jaw. For a moment, she watched men make preparations as the sound of distant, leathery wing beats began to drift down through the rustling pine needles and leaves. Men fit bolts into crossbows, affixed axes to their back, hefted spears, pulled helmets over their heads. How many times before had other men, other dragon slayers done the same thing as Galvarys approached? She doubted these men had any idea how many weapons and how much battered armor decorated the home of Galvarys The Wrathful.

Elyra turned to stare at the gryphon. He was leaner than Galvarys, and many old scars lined his hide. Anger and pain shone in his topaz eyes. The creature had lived a hard life, and somehow it lead him to this moment. This chance for him to be some kind of hero in his own mind, to reclaim something he blamed the dragons for losing. Yet just like these men, she knew it was going to end in failure. It was almost a shame.

“The only thing you’re going to do today is die.”

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Chapter Fifteen

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With the dragonslayers attention turned to the growing sound of wing beats, Elyra looked around for a weapon, anything she might be able to use to help Galvarys. There was little of use nearby, the men had taken all their weapons with them. Across the campsite, near some simple tents, there was a small axe they’d been using to chop firewood. Elyra slunk towards it a few steps at a time, trying to keep anyone from noticing her. As Galvarys’ wing beats grew louder, so too did the pounding of her heart.

The gryphon sprang across the camp, landing in front of Elyra. Pine needles crunched under his paws, a menacing glint flickered in his narrowed, topaz eyes. The gryphon flared up all his gray crown feathers, red tips displayed in open threat. He advanced upon her, and Elyra backpedaled quickly.

“Not wise, Girl.” The gryphon kept slinking towards her, his body rolling with liquid grace. “If I were you I’d stay out of this. You pick up that axe and you’re going to get killed.”

“And if I were you,” Elyra spat at him. She backed away but stepped around a tree, refusing to let the gryphon corner. “I’d take to my wings and fly from here as fast as I could while I still had the chance.”

“You think I’m afraid of Galvarys?” The gryphon snapped his beak inches from her face, breath washing over her skin.

“Yes.” Elyra glared at him, stepping over a fallen log shrouded in grey shelves of fungus. “As you should be.”

In the distance, the wing beats suddenly stopped. A muffled thud reverberated through the forest. One of the men swore. “He dropped in short, he’s not going for the clearing!”

“He’s not a fool,” the gryphon said, not taking his eyes off Elyra. “Your toxins will do the job, anyway, right? Just wait for him to come charging in and stick him with the bolts, then finish him off.”

Toxins? Elyra’s jaw clenched. That could change things. But then again, Galvarys had fought plenty of dragonslayers before, hadn’t he? Surely he knew what tricks they might try and use against him. From somewhere in the forest, a roar exploded. The sound was all primal fury, all threat and impending death. The gryphon cringed, pinning his ears back. Some of the dragon slayers clapped hands over their ears. Elyra bore it with a smile.

“All your toxins will not save you, gryphon.”

“Elyra!” Galvarys called out, and Elyra could not place the location of the dragon’s voice.

“Galvarys! There’s an ambush here!” She hadn’t heard him move through the forest. He still sounded distant, but both his roar and his voice rolled across the land, bouncing off the trees, smothered by the canopy. Somewhere in that forest, Galvarys was stalking his prey. The gryphon let her call, flicking his tufted ears back and forth, swiveling his head as he struggled to place the dragon’s voice. “They have toxins!”

“I know,” the dragon called back. His voice seemed to come from an entirely different section of the forest. Elyra watched the men press themselves against trees, struggling to peer through the ocean of wood, bark and ferns for the beast skulking about. “I can smell them!” The dragon’s voice rose, calling not to Elyra but to everyone. “All your armored friends cannot save you, Bird. And all the toxins they carry cannot save them. You think you are the first to wait in ambush for The Azure Wrath? The first to try and claim the life of Galvarys, Eldest of Ayvyrial? I may be the last in this land, but I am the last because I am the greatest! I have faced a hundred men with the blood of dragons on their hands, and I have slain them all! You shall all know my greatness as you know my wrath, in your dying breath! Then you shall be forgotten. Your names are not worth the effort they take to spit from my tongue.”

As the dragon spoke, the gryphon pivoted on his paws, peering around the forest. His feathered wings twitched and rustled, his tufted tail lashed at the air. He unsheathed his claws and cut ruts in the mossy ground. His nervousness made Elyra smile. “I told you should have flown away, Bird.”

As silence returned to the forest, the dragon slayers began to reposition themselves. They signaled each other with whistles, birdsong, and hand signals. One man pressed his back up against a tree, a heavy crossbow in his grasp. Something tar-like coated the sturdy bolt set in it. Two other men with crossbows took up positions around the camp, each waiting for a shot at the dragon they could not see. The man with the dragon bone sword skulked about the edges of the camp, pressing himself against the thickest tree trunks he could find, whistling to his friends as they changed positions.

Elyra flicked her eyes to the gryphon again. The feathery bastard was still standing guard. She glanced around the ground near her feet. A sturdy looking tree limb lay nearby. Not an ideal weapon but it might be suitable to crack over the gryphon’s head. Of course she’d have to get to it first. The gryphon hissed at her, flaring up a wing to back her up a few paces, pivoting himself.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea.” The gryphon clacked his beak at her, then glanced at the forest again.

The sudden eruption of shattering noise from the forest drew everyone’s attention. One of the men reacted by pivoting around the tree and firing his crossbow to the source of the noise. Then he screamed and jumped as an immense, misshapen gray boulder barreled through the forest, shattering smaller trees and cracking others as it bounced off of them, crashing right into the midst of the camp. Men scrambled out of the way, tents were flattened and a pine tree collapsed across the forest, nearly flattening another man. They shouted at each other, scrambling for new positions, snatching up weapons they’d dropped as the boulder left a trail of crushed destruction through the forest.

Once more silence descended for a few moments. The men tried to figure out the dragons location. One man spotted movement and fired a bolt towards it. Another cursed at him for a wasting a shot. He drew another toxin smeared bolt from a sheaf at his side, and crouched down to work on loading his crossbow once more.

“They don’t know where you are, Galvarys!” Elyra called out, darting away from the gryphon’s wing when he tried to muffle her. “They’re shooting at shadows, and the gryphon’s got me captive!” She glared at the bird. “I think he wants to use me as a hostage because he fears you!”

“The bird says you’re a wench!”

That made Elyra grin. If only she had an opportunity. The gryphon hissed at her, flaring his wings out. The bird lifted his voice to make sure everyone heard him. “Your dragon is a coward! He won’t even show his face!”

Elyra only smiled in the gryphon’s face. “Your time is almost up, Gryphon. You should have fled.”

Around the camp, men changed positions again, climbing over new obstacles, whistling to signals to one another. There was a clipped tone to the whistles and calls now, a frenetic nature to their hand signals. The dragon’s game seemed to be working. They may have killed dragons before but they’d never had one so confidently toy with them before. The gryphon’s breath was coming in pants now, his own ears flattened back. Then the perked up, and he turned his head to the east. “There! He’s there!”

As soon as the gryphon pointed out the dragon’s location one of the men fired his crossbow at Galvarys. At the same time a tremendous thud echoed through the forest, followed by ear-splitting cracks and the sound of wood shattering. Another boulder tumbled and bounced through the forest, demolishing almost everything in its path. Men scrambled away from it as it plowed through their camp, smashing the fallen tree and careening off its broken trunk, wooden fragments flew in all directions. Another dragonslayer fired his crossbow into the forest, the bolt whistling as it hurled past Elyra.

The gryphon took a few quick steps away from her, black ears peppered with gray swiveling as he tracked the movement of the dragon circling them through the forest. “He’s moving south, closing in!”

Men were scrambling to keep up with the dragon, and the gryphon had turned away from her. No one was paying attention to Elyra, and she now stood behind the gryphon. He seemed the only creature who’d gotten a fix on Galvarys. Now was her chance to try and put a stop to that. While his attention was on the dragon, Elyra ran up behind the beast, and kicked the gryphon in the balls as hard as she could. The gryphon yowled in startled agony as Elyra’s boot slammed into his furry testicles.

“AAWWRRRRRK!” The gryphon’s topaz eyes popped out, a gray forepaw shot back to cradle his pale-furred balls. He startled to crumple.

Elyra wasn’t about to wait around and laugh this time. Before he creature had even finished collapsing, she sprinted for that sturdy bough. Elyra had no expectations that the gryphon was going to do anything beyond bounce right back up, angrier than ever. Adrenaline fueled her past the pain he’d caused and she feared it would do the same for him. But that pain still bought her a few precious moments. Elyra skidded across the dry pine needles and scooped up the heavy tree limb in both hands. Elyra whirled back around to see the gryphon already struggling back to his feet, his feathers flared and eyes wild.

As Elyra spun she swung the limb with every ounce of force she could muster. The wood exploded against the gryphon’s skull with a tremendous crack. The force of the blow jerked the gryphon’s head to the side, cracked his beak. The gryphon stumbled, shook his head, slumped back to the ground again, dazed.

Once more Elyra had no time to be proud of herself or enjoy her temporary victory. She dropped the remains of the bough, and raced towards the axe she’d spotted earlier. She leapt an earthen rut with the shredded remains of a tent strewn across it, slipped on the other side of it and fell to her knees. She scrambled on hands and knees to the tree stump where the simple woodcutter’s axe lay, wrapped her hands around the handle and leapt back to her feet. The axe was quite heavy for her, but it was better than nothing.

As Elyra got back to her feet, she looked around. Nearly all eyes were upon her now. The gryphon was struggling back to his feet, blood running down his head, his legs shaking, tail curling. Good. In that moment, she wanted him to hurt. In fact, she hoped she broke something, whether it was his skull or one of his balls. The gryphon’s scream and Elyra’s mad dash for the axe had drawn the attention of all the dragon slayers as well. One pointed a crossbow at her, another gestured with his spear.

“Somebody just kill that dragon’s whore!”

Well, now she’d done it. Elyra threw herself to the ground just as the crossbowman pulled his trigger. The black-smeared bolt whistled through the air above her. She jumped back to her feet again, ran a few paces and jumped behind the battered trunk of the fallen tree. She crawled along behind it at the quickest pace she could manage, her heart pounding so fast it burned. Her wounds throbbed, and blood further stained her indigo blouse. Yet she felt no real fear, only trembling, frantic excitement. There was no time to be afraid. Her hand ached from squeezing the axe handle.

Elyra poked her head up and saw two men advancing on the log she was behind, with a third working his way into the forest to get behind her. The crossbowmen were reloading again. Elyra tightened her grip on her axe, about to dash for shelter behind another tree to try and surprise one of them when the sound of shattering lumber cascaded through the forest. For a moment Elyra feared she’d have to dodge one of the dragon’s boulders.

Then a mountain of blue and black scales erupted through the forest gloom, hurtling towards the camp. The dragon’s roar threatened to split Elyra’s skull apart and yet she never let go of her axe. The men nearest her whirled around, fear cascading over their faces as the dragon breached their camp in an instant.

Galvarys the Wrathful had arrived.

After the roar that heralded his arrival, the dragon was nearly silent. No more boasts, no snarls and growls. Only grim silence, claws, teeth, fire. Blood and death. Men shouted orders to each other as Galvarys set himself to slaying them. Galvarys moved faster and with more fluid grace than she’d ever imagined the dragon capable of. Yet to Elyra the whole seen seemed to play out with a strange languidness, horrifying and mesmerizing.

Galvarys’ eyes shone with so much silver fire Elyra thought he could burn the men away with his gaze alone. Every spine he had stood on end, silken power roiled beneath his every scale and plate. The man nearest him leaned out to fire his crossbow nearly point blank at the dragon. The bolt sunk into Galvarys just behind his shoulder and yet the dragon scarcely even flinched. He did not slow a single pace, he bound past the tree as the crossbowmen ducked around behind it, thinking himself safe.

He was not safe. As the dragon moved beyond the tree, his tail whipped through the air. Galvarys did not even look back as he curled his tail tip around that tree, spines punched through thick rings of chain mail with a wet, thunking rattle so sickening it twisted Elyra’s belly. The dragon jerked his tail back just as fast, the curved spines caught bone as they came free and the man’s chest exploded. Blood and broken chain mail spilled to the earth. The force yanked him off his feet and sent him toppling through the air like a leaf in a river, blood gushing from his chest and mouth even before he landed in a ruined heap.

Blood glistened and dripped from Galvarys tail spines as he moved through the camp. Another man with a crossbow fired his own bolt. This one deflected off the thicker scales along Galvarys’ ribs. The bolt spun through the air into the forest. The man cursed and went for another bolt, but before he even had time to take shelter, the dragon snapped his head around and bathed the man in fire.

Elyra had seen the dragon’s flame before, yet never had it seemed to simultaneously glorious and horrifying. Galvarys liquid fire poured over the man, and he ignited so quickly it was as though he’d bathed himself in lamp oil. For the dragon it was over in an instant, Galvarys turned his head away even before his own flames had vanished from the air. A second or two to spit fire, and move onto the next target. But for that single man, those seconds were eternities of agony. He fell to his knees, a man-shaped fireball screaming in ragged anguish before the flames seared his throat shut.

Two heartbeats, two men slain, and Elyra could not look away. Elyra was so mesmerized that if any of the men decided to try and put a bolt in her before the dragon she might not have even noticed until it was blossoming from her chest. Yet none of the men even seemed to remember Elyra was there. Their attention was entirely focused on the dragon, on the most immediate and most dangerous threat.

Three of them came at the dragon at once, approaching from different angles. A man with a spear came up alongside the dragon, thrusting his weapon at the softer areas behind the dragon’s shoulders. His spear point pierced scale and flesh, and Galvarys cried out in pain, but it only drove him on. The dragon’s silver eyes burned brighter, his fangs all bared in an ever-present and silent snarl. Before he man even finished pulling his weapon back, Galvarys whirled around towards him. At the same time, he swung his tail at man with a sword. One of the dragon’s tail splattered the man’s skull, the impact nearly tore his head from his shoulders and sent his limp corpse pin wheeling through the air. As he spun, he flared out his wing, batting away an axe-carrying slayer.

The man with the spear backpedaled, trying to use the range of his range of his polearm to his advantage, keeping the dragon beyond claw distance. Yet Galvarys’ neck had superior range, after the man made a few feints with his spear, Galvarys shot his head forward. His teeth flashed and sunk into the man’s arm, blood poured over the dragon’s jaws. The man dropped his spear as he screamed, and Galvarys grabbed the man’s head in a paw for leverage. He twisted his jaws, pulled his head back and the man’s arm came free as easily as Elyra might pull apart a bit of stolen lamb. Blood sprayed across the dragon’s face. More blood gushed around the man’s fingers as he clutched his rent shoulder and fell to his knees, screaming till his voice gave out. Galvarys tossed his head and spat the severed limb upon the blood-soaked earth.

Galvarys left the man to bleed, turning to find a new target. As he pivoted, the man with the axe recovered from his stumble, trying to circle the dragon. He hefted his weapon and with a savage cry buried the dark blade of it between the dragon’s ribs. Galvarys cried out in pain, yet spun himself so quickly the axe-blade got wedged against thick scale and sturdy bone, wrenched from the man’s hands before he could recover it. The axe-wielder stumbled and fell onto his rump. Before he could scramble back to his feet, Galvarys was upon him. The dragon dropped one paw onto the man’s chest with all his weight behind it. His armor buckled and his sternum sunk into his heart. Galvarys lashed out with his other fore paw, claws tore the man’s jaw free along with most of his face and sections of his helmet.

The dragon curled his neck, sunk his teeth into the axe jutting from his body, and wrenched it free. He tossed it away, grunting. The dragon’s own dark red blood now striped his body in several places. It dribbled from around the crossbow bolt in his shoulder, and the open spear wound just behind it, and ran from the larger axe wound between his ribs. Yet none of it seemed to affect the dragon in the least.

Someone called out something in a language Elyra could not comprehend. Across the clearing, the gryphon burst from the trees, sprinting straight towards the dragon. He darted and weaved as he ran, ready to evade any stream of fire. Galvarys stood his ground, his head shifting, molten silver eyes fixated on that gryphon’s every movement. The gryphon leapt with a keening cry, beating his wings to hurtling himself at the dragon. Then he flicked a wing to dart through the air, but it came one second too late.

Galvarys seemed to anticipate the movement and he leapt into the gryphon’s path, bringing a blood-stained indigo forepaw down with all his might against the back of the gryphon’s black feathered head. The gryphon’s head snapped down, his beak bounced off the earth as he crashed, skidding across the forest floor. The gryphon struggled to try and rise, Galvarys moved to finish him off.

“Galvarys!” Elyra cried out when she saw movement beyond the dragon. “Behind you!”

In the chaos, the leader of the dragonslayers collected one of the crossbows and loaded a bolt in it. While the dragon’s attention was at the gryphon, the man fired at him. That bolt sunk into the back of Galvarys hind leg, the dragon gave a sharp cry of pain. Yet despite the bolt jutting from his hind limb, the dragon had no trouble pivoting around to the man who lead his enemies. As the dragon advanced on him, the dragon slayer drew up his own dragon-bone sword and began to circle the dragon. Galvarys circled him in turn, his bloodied tail spines lashing. Elyra saw him limp just a little, soon as she had a chance she’d pull those bolts from him, but she did not want to distract the dragon now.

The dragonslayer advanced on Galvarys with a flurry of blows, aiming at the dragon’s muzzle, his eyes, his throat, his paws. Bloodied lines opened up here and there, then the man darted forward, tucking himself to try and roll beneath the dragon in attempt to get a shot at the dragon’s underbelly. Yet there was nothing he could do that Galvarys had not seen before. The dragon backpedaled and backhanded the man with a fore paw just as he was starting into his forward roll. With a pained cry, the dragonslayer flew sideways, rolling across the ground in an armored heap.

The last of the men ran to help him back to his feet, another thrusting a new sword into his hand. Galvarys was on the three of them in an instant. They fought as well and as valiantly as they could, trying once more to surround the dragon and strike at him from different angles. Galvarys was a blue-black blur, a beast of claws and teeth, of spines and blood. A hind paw kick sent a man arching through the air, bones shattered. Teeth tore another man’s hand away. Claws tore through armor and flesh alike, spilling entrails onto the bloodied ground.

It was all at once the most mesmerizing, thrilling, and sickening thing Elyra had ever seen. Galvarys, Slayer of Slayers. Every moment grew more horrifying, and yet she could not tear her eyes away until the last of them were dead. The leader survived a little longer, battered and broken on the ground. He crawled, dragged himself away from the dragon, moving towards a weapon. Galvarys circled him, lashed his tail and sent the blade skittering out of reach. The man lifted his head, holding a hand out to the dragon. Elyra could not tell if he was begging for his life, or telling the dragon he’d never do so.

She knew it would make no difference.

Galvarys tore the man’s head off and tossed it into the forest. Then he turned to the gryphon, who had only regained his balance after staggering back to his feet. With bolts jutting from his body and markings of blood striping his scales, the dragon stalked towards the gryphon. Blood caked the black feathers of the gryphon’s head, ran over one of his topaz eyes. He flared his red tipped crown feathers, shaking himself. Without a roar or a hiss, the two bloodied beasts began to circle one another. Elyra twisting her hands around the handle of her axe.

As he circled, Galvarys swatted a corpse aside, blood splattered the ground and chain mail rattled as the body tumbled. The gryphon darted to the side, trying to get in range of the dragon, but Galvarys pivoted to stay facing him. The dragon grimaced as he put weight on his wounded hind leg, but never once slowed or limped. Galvarys lunged in, lashing out with a paw, and the gryphon scrambled well out of range. Galvarys pivoted again then circled the gryphon at a greater distance.

The axe shook in Elyra’s hands as she stood transfixed. Her own adrenaline was starting to wear off, her wounds were starting to throb again. Her mouth felt dry as her friend and her captor sized each other up. Elyra wondered if Galvarys was wearing out. His wounds did not seem too severe but she had no way to know what the toxins on those bolts were doing to him. Elyra grit her teeth, hefting her axe. Part of her wanted to run across the blood-soaked campsite and bury the axe in the gryphon’s head. Unlike Galvarys she was hardly a match for the beast when she wasn’t taking him by surprise, and she did not want the dragon to have to worry about protecting both of them at once.

Galvarys stepped over another dead body, his fore paw slipping upon spilled blood. When the gryphon saw the dragon slip he rushed to take advantage. But Galvarys moved almost as swiftly. He sunk his claws into the battered corpse, and hurled it at the charging gryphon. The dead man looked as though he was flailing at the air before struck the gryphon soundly across the face and chest. The gryphon squawked, stumbled, and Galvarys was upon him.

Galvarys battered the gryphon’s head with his paw paws, knocking him back and forth. Several blows sunk claws into flesh, others just pummeled him. The gryphon thrashed in an attempt to get away, scrambling out of range of the dragon’s fore paws. Then he charged right back in, this time catching Galvarys off guard with his tenacity. Elyra cringed as she saw the gryphon’s claws catch against the scales of Galvarys’ face and neck a few times. The dragon hissed, backpedaling and snapping his jaws at the gryphon’s forelegs. He dropped his horned head to protect his throat as the gryphon pressed his assault. Fresh blood streamed down Galvarys’ neck, striping indigo scales with crimson.

Elyra took a few steps towards them, wanting to help her friend yet knowing she could not. For moments that seemed to span an eternity the two beasts exchanged blows, claws cutting scale and flesh, teeth and beak both finding purchase a few times. Snarls of rage, cries of pain, and the constant battering clap of heavy paws meeting scale and flesh rolled through the forest. The wounds had to be taking a toll on the dragon and yet he did not seem slowed in the least. If anything, the dragon’s silver eyes burned hotter still, his spines flared and shaking. The dragon’s wings shook and stretched to aid his balance, now and then he beat the against the air when he pushed the gryphon back.

When the gryphon next tried to press his attack, Galvarys met him with a surge. The dragon dropped himself almost to the ground, pushing in under the gryphon’s chest. Galvarys took a few more blows and bites from the gryphon in the act, but as he heaved the gryphon upwards, the gryphon lost his balance, and Galvarys seized him. He snatched the bird by a throat in one paw, his foreleg in the other. Rearing back onto his hind legs, pushing against his tail, the dragon hurled the gryphon through the air, towards the fallen tree. Elyra yelled and scrambled out of the way as the gryphon crashed to the ground and tumbled. He smashed into the fallen tree and flipped right over it, yowling in pain.

Even then the gryphon still struggled back to his feet. The feathered bastard was tenacious, Elyra had to give him that. He staggered, his feathers ruffled, one wing hung awkwardly before he forced it against his body. In the time it took him to get his bearings, Galvarys was already upon him. The dragon hurtled into the gryphon and both creatures tumbled into the forest. They rolled through the underbrush in a writhing ball of bloody scales and feathers, claws, beak and teeth.

Elyra wanted to yell for Galvarys to use his fire, but she feared he’d burn his own paws in the process. Instead, she simply chased after them, following their trail of crushed ferns, shattered saplings and bloody smears. The copper-tinted stench of blood wafting from the dragonslayers camp was nearly overpowering now, overwhelming the once pleasant, earthen scents of the forest. The thrashing beasts only came to a stop when they slammed up against the trunk of a towering spruce, blue-green boughs served as ceiling to their combat.

The gryphon ended up atop Galvarys, hissing and keening his rage even as his blood dripped upon the dragon. He struck at Galvarys many times in the span of seconds like a oversized cat lashing claws at an angry dog. But Galvarys was not going to turn tail and run just because prey fought back. Galvarys worked to keep his throat protected, snapping teeth at the gryphon’s paws, forcing the gryphon to direct his blows towards the dragon’s shoulders and chest. The plates there offered better protection, and the gryphon’s claws had trouble getting purchase.

Elyra circled them with her axe as the dragon seemed to be biding his time, forcing the gryphon to attack parts of him that were less vulnerable. Galvarys shifted and struggled, protecting his throat and face, kicking at the gryphon with hind paws to keep him off balance. The moment the dragon had an opening, he took a breath and blasted fire at the gryphon. The gryphon squawked and dropped himself down out of range of the flames. Galvarys kept them high to avoid burning himself.

As soon as the gryphon ducked the fire, Elyra realized that was just what Galvarys wanted. The dragon began to roll over, bringing a forepaw around with him. The dragon’s front paw struck the gryphon’s head so soundly the thud resounded through the forest. Elyra thought it some small miracle that the gryphon’s skull had not exploded nor his beak shattered. The blow knocked the gryphon’s head aside so swiftly it wrenched the rest of him as well, and the gryphon toppled over onto the gryphon, wheezing.

Galvarys pushed to his paws, snarling low in his throat as he glared down at the gryphon. The smaller creature struggled for breath, stretching forepaws out. The gryphon coughed blood, dug his claws into the earth and tried to pull himself away from the dragon. Galvarys let him crawl a few paces away before he walked up alongside the gryphon. Then he grasped one of the gryphon’s forelegs, and heaved the beast over onto his back. The gryphons wings splayed out at his sides, and the dragon grasped his throat in a paw.

The gryphon wheezed, blood ran from his beak. He tried to hiss at the dragon. “You…you don’t…”

“Say your piece, Bird.” The dragon growled, easing his grasp a little. “Before I end you.”

“You don’t…even remember!” The gryphon tried to roll over, but Galvarys pushed a paw against his chest, holding him down. “You took…everything…”

“I remember,” the dragon said, his voice lowering. “I remember a squawking fledgling and a mother who made her choice to ally with dragon slayers.”

“She wanted…she wanted me…to have a home!” The gryphon coughed, then clenched his beak to stifle a cry of pain. “The home you stole! We had…nothing! Nowhere!”

“I did not steal your home, Bird. The lands were in my elder’s claws long before you ever cracked your egg.” Galvarys glanced over at Elyra, then cocked his head towards the bird.

Elyra shook her head. She had nothing to say to the creature. Later, she knew part of her would come to pity this poor beats consumed by his bitterness. For now she was too hurt, too exhausted. But she did move to stand alongside the dragon, careful to stay out of range of the gryphon. She set the head of her axe on the ground, her hand upon the handle. Then she lifted her wounded arm to set a hand on the dragon’s scales as well. She watched the gryphon for a moment, too exhausted to feel much right now. All the fight had gone of the creature, the wildness in his topaz eyes was replaced only with sorrow, pain, and hatred. His feathered face was twisted in agony, blood caked his feathers.

“You…You chased us,” the gryphon hissed, then writhed in pain. “You…killed…her allies…”

“I chased many gryphons,” the dragon said, snorting. “But I never killed a female with a child. I did not kill your mother, gryphon.”

“That was our home! They…they accepted us…we had nowhere else…just the icy peaks. Freezing…no prey…”

“You’ve said your piece,” Galvarys said. He lifted his forepaw up, unsheathing his claws again. “Close your eyes if you wish, and find your final thought.”

The gryphon sucked in his breath, grit his beak. He turned his head a little, but refused to close his eyes. Instead, he glared up at the dragon, holding his breath. Any final tears he may have shed were lost amidst the blood on his face. No begging for his life, no plea for mercy. Just acceptance of the end.

Elyra lifted her hand and gently placed it upon Galvarys foreleg. At first, she meant to steady him, so his blow would be true and the gryphon’s death would be swift. But her touch made the dragon hesitate. Elyra looked up at him, her gray eyes searching his silver ones. Most of the fire in them had died leaving lingering silver embers, and swirls of uncertainly. Elyra wondered if the dragon expected the gryphon to beg like all the dragonslayers he’d killed over the years.

“Let him live,” Elyra said, the whispered words falling from her tongue before they’d even settled in her mind.

“Elyra, I cannot…”

Elyra pulled at the dragon’s foreleg till he lowered it enough for her to take his paw between her hands. She stroked his fingers a moment, blood smeared upon her own skin. She turned her hand over, looking at the blood. “Enough lives have been lost, Galvarys. You’ve beaten him. You’ve shed his blood. You need not end him.”

“He would not have…”

Elyra squeezed the dragon’s paw between her own, cutting him off. “No, he would not have shown you mercy. But Galvarys The Merciful is a better legend than Galvarys The Wrathful will ever be.” She glanced down at the gryphon, then turned her face up to the dragon. “Let him live, Galvarys.”

The dragon took a deep breath, his bloodied chest plates expanding. He let it out in a long, slow sigh. “So be it, Elyra.” The dragon gently nudged Elyra aside, then took a few steps back from the gryphon. “If you can still fly, Bird. Do so. Spend the rest of your days remembering this woman’s mercy, and know that if you trouble us again I will end you no matter who begs for your worthless life.”

The gryphon slowly rolled over onto his paws. Blood had long since turned the gray color of his chest and forepaws a sticky crimson. He backed away from him, limping. The gryphon stretched his wings, testing them. His beak twisted in pain, his ears pinned back. One of his eyes was already swelling shut. Elyra wasn’t sure the creature would ever be the same again, but he had brought that upon himself.

“This…” He took a few breaths, steadying himself. “This does not change us.”

“No.” Galvarys growled. “It does not. Be gone.”

The gryphon turned, limping into the forest, scanning the trees. He did not look back, nor did he offer Elyra any thanks. She hadn’t expected him too. When he spotted an opening in the tree, he leapt. The action made him cry out in pain, and he cried out again as he beat his injured wings, but he ascended nonetheless.

When the gryphon vanished through the trees. Elyra gave a sigh of her own, a sense of relief flooding her. It was over. Elyra turned to the dragon and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly as she could. Everything seemed to crash down on her at once. Just that morning, they’d landed in the Village By The River. It seemed like an eternity of fear, pain, and exhaustion had passed since then. Elyra’s throat clenched, her heart pounded. She pressed her face to the scales of the dragon’s neck. Her tears drew hot lines through the half-dried blood that counted him.

“It’s alright, Elyra,” the dragon side, lifting a forepaw to embrace her. He hugged her against him, rumbling. “You’re safe. I’m sorry, Elyra.” The dragon’s own voice trembled, then broke. “I’m sorry! I could not reach you…”

“Galvarys, you’ve nothing to apologize for!” Elyra pulled her head back to blink up at the dragon.

Galvarys’ spines were all pinned against his head, his ears flat. Tears streaked the splattered blood that caked his face. He shook his head. Sorrow and guilt weighed down the dragon’s voice, and wrenched Elyra’s heart. “I should have been there! I could not reach you in time, and I…Elyra, you’re hurt!” Fear twisted the dragon’s voice.

“Yes, I am,” Elyra said, glancing down at herself. Her blouse stuck to her skin where the blood was trying. She tugged it away, wincing and gritting her teeth to hold back a cry where the fabric pulled against her wounds.

“We have to get you help!” Galvarys lowered his head, looking at her blood-soaked clothing. “How badly injured are you?”

“Not near as badly as you.” Galvarys lifted her hands and cupped the dragon’s muzzle in her throat. This time Galvarys did not try to hide his tears. He stared at Elyra, his eyes an ocean of wet silver fear. “But you did not hurt me, Galvarys. You cannot blame yourself, Galvarys. Whatever pains you may have suffered in your past, whatever you believe…” Elyra trailed off. The dragon watched her with rapt attention, but her own eyes flicked to the black bolts still jutting from his body. She’d have to help ease the pain in the dragon’s heart and soul later. Instead, she just hugged his head against her body. “Later, Galvarys, later. We have get your wounds looked at.” Her stomach twisted, her head ached as her heart pounded again. “I have to get those out of you. They’ve got poison on them! Oh, Galvarys…”

“Elyra, I…” The dragon pulled his head back, lifted it just a little till the scales of his muzzle brushed her nose. “When he…I thought he was going to…Elyra, I thought I would lose you! I have become happier with you than…” Galvarys looked away for a moment, then returned his eyes to hers. “Elyra, I…”

Elyra hugged the dragon’s head again, muffling whatever he might have been about to say. She leaned over his muzzle to press her lips against his head, kissing him gently just between his horns. “I’m safe, Galvarys. But you’re still in danger.”

Galvarys pulled his head back, flicked his tongue over her cheek, and offered her a tiny smile. “Alright, Elyra.”

That wasn’t really the response she expected. Wait, what was he about to say? He wasn’t…he didn’t…Elyra’s face heated. Despite all she’d just been through, that thought still brought a blush to her cheeks. Did dragons even…? She ran her hand down her face and realized it was shaking. Her whole body was trembling. She clenched her hands at her sides. She had to get control. She couldn’t just topple over and pass out when the dragon needed her help. She bite her lip to keep focus, then lifted her hands to wipe tears from her eyes. She sniffled.

“It’s alright, Elyra.” Galvarys stretched his neck, nuzzling her ear. “You need not cry. You’re safe now.”

Elyra began to laugh, but it came out as more of a sob. “I’m crying for you, you stupid lizard! You’ve been poisoned! Besides, you’re crying too.”

“I have stopped already.” Galvarys nuzzled her again, then licked her ear. “I am fine, Elyra. You need not cry. This is not the first time dragonslayers have turned to poison. There are few toxins potent enough to slay a dragon quickly in this land, and over the years I have been exposed to most of them.”

Elyra took a deep breath. That didn’t make her feel much better, but at least Galvarys seemed to know what to do. All she could think of was to try and get him to a healer, or an herbalist. But the battle must have ensured the poison was pumping throughout the dragon’s entire system by now. She away a few more tears, sniffing again. God, if she lost Galvarys…

No. She couldn’t think like that. She had to be strong. “What do we do? Is there a healer somewhere near here?”

“Possibly.“ The dragon pulled away, and began to limp through the damaged forest. “First let us return to the camp. They should have antidote laying around. If I begin to vomit you will have to coat a knife or something with the antidote and stick me with it.”

“That isn’t funny.” Elyra hurried along next to the dragon, clutching her wounded side.

“Nor was it a joke.”

Elyra grit her teeth. “I understand. Whatever you need, Galvarys.” She lifted a hand and put it on his side as they returned to the ruined campsite. “You did the right thing, you know.”

“Hmm?” The dragon glanced back at her.

“When you let him live. I know that was hard for you.”

The dragon snorted and tossed his bloodied head. “I only did that for you.”

Elyra smiled at him just the same. She would spread this dragon’s legend for all her life.

Galvarys The Merciful.

---

Chapter Sixteen

---

Galvarys’ head swam as he limped back into the ruined campsite. The dragon took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The words he’d nearly spoke still rattled around in his mind, but Elyra was right. Now was not the time for such thoughts. Nor was it the time for guilt or fear. The battle was over, and though Elyra was wounded, she was safe. There would be time later to consider what he’d almost said. Time later to dwell on the fact that had that gryphon wished to slay Elyra, the dragon would have never reached her in time.

Soon there would be far too much time to contemplate the fact he’d nearly lost her.

“What are we looking for?” Elyra put her hand on his neck, stroking blood-splattered scales. “Or should I take the bolts out of you first?”

“Antidotes first,” the dragon replied. “Then the bolts.” Galvarys walked towards the nearest corpse. He looked the broken man over, lowered his muzzle to sniff at his midsection. No trace of any scents but blood and rent flesh. “Some of them may have pouches on with vials in them. Or they may be stored in a bag or tent around the camp. Hopefully they have not all been in the fight.”

“And if they have?” Elyra’s voice trembled a little, her gray eyes shone wet.

“Then I am going to have a very unpleasant night.” The dragon grunted to himself, then gestured with a paw towards the far end of the camp where the damage was less severe. “Go search over there.”

Elyra hurried off, and Galvarys limped towards another body. A crossbow lay nearby the dead man, a padded belt was strapped about his waist. Scattered bolts coated with a dark substance lay where they’d fell from his sheaf when he collapsed to the earth. The dragon rolled him over, the whole front of his body was drenched in sticky, drying blood. His belt held several plush pockets. Galvarys sniffed at them, a bittersweet aroma wafted from them even over the cloying, coppery smell of blood. With a single unsheathed claw he cut open each pouch. Galvarys found a few small wooden containers but each was broken or cracked, the contents already seeped into the material of the man’s belt.

The dragon gazed around, and when he spotted another body, he struggled towards it. The more his adrenaline wore off, the more the poisons took hold, the more difficult walking became. Just moving from one corpse to another was a laborious, painful process for the dragon. Though none of his wounds were deep enough to threaten his life, most of them were in areas that made movement painful. His should area had both a bolt in it and a spear wound, while his hind leg held a bolt right in the back of it. Sharp pain lanced the dragon every step he took. The man small cuts across his face and neck from the gryphon’s claws burned, and his ribs throbbed where the axe had been buried. That wound was the largest and was likely to ooze blood for days.

Halfway to the body of the axe-wielder, Galvarys wobbled. He grit his teeth as his vision spun. The dragon closed his eyes, but that only made his belly churn. His head began to pound. The dragon’s heart raced beneath his armored chest. His whole body felt hot even as his wings felt numb. This was not the first time he’d been poisoned, and though he hated to consider it would probably not be the last. In his experience, they’d never been able to poison him enough to keep him from killing them before the effects really took hold. Bastards were probably hoping to shoot him while he was still searching for them, give the poisons time to take over before the dragon actually engaged them in battle.

“Urrrrhhnnn…” Galvarys groaned in pain. He pressed a paw to his head just beneath a horn. His tongue felt swollen. “…‘Lyra. You find anything?” He sounded like he was slurring a little. “I…gotta sittdown.”

The dragon glanced back at his haunch. The bolt stuck out from near the back of his hind leg. Once it was out of him he’d be able to sit down without putting pressure on the wound though he may have to lean to one side a bit. But for now, he didn’t want to settle onto his haunches. He’d better just lay down instead. The dragon began to ease himself down only to flop right over onto his side.

“Galvarys!” Elyra cried out from somewhere in the forest. She sounded much further away than the dragon expected. “I’ve got something!”

“Bring’n’here.” The dragon couldn’t quite make his words fit around his tongue the way he wanted too. “An’knife.”

Elyra appeared before him as if sent by some kind of magic. One moment he was alone, the next Elyra was standing in front of him. And she was on fire. That wasn’t good. “Shrrdd…put yrrrsef out…’Lyra.”

“Galvarys!” Elyra stood before him, burning, yet she sounded as though she were miles away. She dug through a brown leather pack. Its straps were barbed tentacles, lashing at Elyra and wrapping around her arms. She fought and struggled with it, even as she called to him from some distant place. “What do I do?”

“Bite it.” Yes, anything willing to wrap its tentacles around you deserved to be bitten. Galvarys’ head dropped to the ground. “My head’full’off.” Galvarys watched his indigo head roll away through the dirt. He was so handsome.

Elyra muttered something in syllables he’d ever heard. When Galvarys replied, he saw the words come from his own head in the distance, now propped up against a spiral horn. His words drifted through the air, scrawled in old draconic script. Don’t mutter, Elyra. It’s not becoming of a minion. “Urrrbbgrlrmmberrm.”

Elyra muttered again. Her own words were fire spraying from her mouth, engulfing the tentacle-wielding pack monster she battled with. Hey, only dragons got to spray fire. What was she doing, stealing his most impressive ability? Galvarys felt himself sinking. The whole forest floor was nothing but mud, and every painful beat of his heart sent him sinking deeper into it. He tried to struggle free, but his body refused to obey. His head sank beneath the mud, and for a moment the dragon panicked. Then he heard his own breath burbling beneath the wet muck.

The funny sound made the dragon laugh. At least he could still see above the mire even as he felt himself engulfed by it. Five Elyras began to dance in front of them. One of them shared his laughter. Another seemed horrified by it. The rest just spun and twirled. One by one, all the Elyras began to sink into the mud as well. Perhaps they could have a mud party. Even as they sunk they continued to dance and spin. One of them kept laughing. The other began to cry. Even after their faces sank beneath the mire just like his, he could still hear them laughing and crying.

Fresh, hot agony behind the dragon’s shoulder reminded him he was still alive and still wounded. The rest of his pains had faded for a moment but erupted all over him. Galvarys screamed as he felt blades stabbing him everywhere at once. He tried to writhe against the muck, against the knives in the earth that stuck wherever they could find purchase through his scales. Something behind his shoulder seared him with fire and froze him with ice at the same time. Then more pain there hit him, struck him straight through to his heart, and he screamed again.

The pain lasted till the world around the dragon went black.

---

Galvarys opened his eyes to pain and confusion. The world around him was dark and unfamiliar. It smelt of blood, and death. His body ached in so many places the pain seemed to roll across him in waves, leaving no part of the dragon without pain. His vision was so blurry he could not make out a thing aside from gloomy shapes in the blue-black night. Even the vague outlines of those shapes swam and wavered in his vision. The dragon tried to lift his spiral-horned head and found it a struggle. He raised it a few inches, then just set it back down, trying to recall where he was, and why he hurt so damn much.

His mind was a black ocean, and his memories were but formless shapes somewhere at the bottom. The dragon struggled to swim to them but found them just out of reach. He took a few deep breaths, and found that even breathing in too deeply made his body hurt, especially along one side of his body. Galvarys felt like he’d fallen out of the damn sky and crashed through the forest.

Something warm and soft brushed against his body. He tried to lift his head again, and found it just a little easier to do so than before. The dragon turned his head and saw a woman laying against him in one of his few uninjured areas. She lay against the little crook where his hind leg met his body, red hair frizzled and standing out in all directions. She shifted, and lifted her head. Her gray eyes shone in the darkness even before Galvarys vision began to clear.

“Galvarys!” Elyra hurled herself at his head to wrap her arms around his neck, and hug him as fiercely as he imagined her able. “Oh, Galvarys!”

“Nnrrrh…” The dragon tried to lift his forepaw, but found it less obedient than his head so far. “Elyra. I think I passed out.”

Elyra did not release his neck. “God, Galvarys. I didn’t know when you’d wake. Or if…” Elyra pressed her face to his scales. Her skin felt soft, and comforting. A bit of wet heat brushed him, a tear ran down the scales of his neck. Elyra trembled against him. “I kept telling myself you’d been through his before, you’d survived it before so you’d survive it now, but you just…all at once, you…”

Shattered bits and painful pieces began to reassemble themselves into vague memories of the day’s events. Galvarys tried to sort them out, but the effort made his head throb. He groaned in pain, and Elyra cooed against his scales. She stroked his neck, pushed her face against him in a few places. He felt her lips against his scales.

“Ssshh, you’re alright now, Galvarys,” Elyra said, her voice nearly lost against his scales and the sobs she struggled to hold back. “You’re alright now.”

The dragon focused on his paw, forced it to lift. His foreleg felt numb, barely functional, but he managed to press it against Elyra’s back. A little too forcefully it seemed, she squeaked when he squished her up against his neck. Things were returning to him now, but the progress was as slow and arduous as moving his foreleg. The gryphon. The chase through the city. Heart-stopping terror when the bird went for Elyra. Guilt. Fear. The battle. Victory. Those damn bolts. Right.

“Poison,” the dragon murmured.

“Yes!” Elyra lifted her head, pulling back to hold the dragon’s muzzle in her trembling hands. “I found it, but then I didn’t know what to do when you fell over. You were babbling, I couldn’t understand you and then your head just…collapsed. You said something about sticking you with it, so that’s what I did. I pulled those bolts out, and then I coated a knife with the antidote I found in that pack, and I…” Elyra winced, glancing away. “Stabbed you.”

“You did well, then,” the dragon said, nuzzling at her cheek.

“No, I didn’t,” Elyra said, casting her eyes down. “I must not have gotten it to you in time, because you passed out for the rest of the day. Hell, most of the night. It’ll probably be light soon.”

“You got it in me in plenty of time.” Galvarys licked his nose, then pushed it against her cheek again. “You did wonderful, Elyra. If you hadn’t stuck me with that stuff I’d be spending the next three or four days delirious, vomiting my entrails out, and struggling to find the energy just to drag myself away from it. Thank you.”

Elyra’s face twisted up at those ideas, but when the dragon thanked her, a smile once more brightened her countenance. She hugged his neck again. Her arms felt warm and comforting as they encircled him just below his head. As control over his body gradually returned, he lifted his paw to stroke her back once more.

After a few moments spent sharing the embrace, the dragon turned his head to look himself over. Much of the blood that coated his body was gone, Elyra must have washed him best she could while he was asleep. The bolts that once jutted from his limbs were gone, and his body was covered with a myriad of patchwork bandages, some of them more blood-soaked than others.

“You’ve been busy,” the dragon murmured. “You stuck me in the shoulder, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Elyra eased back from him, settling onto her knees. “You were already hurt there, and the scales were softer so…”

“A wise choice. It was either that pain or the removal of the bolt that pushed me into unconsciousness.” The dragon stretched his neck towards his shoulder, inspecting what passed for bandages. Bits of dark fabric covered the various holes and wounds in and around his shoulder, blood staining them. The dragon lapped at his muzzle, fighting the urge to tear the bandages away and lick at the wounds himself. “What did you use?”

“Clothing, mostly,” Elyra said, shifting herself to stroke the indigo scutes of the dragon’s foreleg. “I found a few rolls of bandages, and I used those on your ribs, and your hind leg. Your hind leg was the only place I could actually wrap the bandage around your limb.” Galvarys lifted his head a little more to peer down at his back leg, wrapped in layers of white bandage stained with red near the back. Elyra smirked at him a moment. “You’ve a heavy hind leg. I had to sort of, hoist it up and brace it against myself to wrap the bandage around that hole in the back of it. The rest of them I…”

Galvarys sniffed at his wounds. Amidst the scents of his own blood, there was something a little more fresh, sharp and acrid. “Is that pine sap?”

“Yes.” Elyra gestured at the forest. “Or spruce. There’s plenty of it about, I had to use something to get those bandages to stick to you. Most of them are spare clothing I found stuffed in some packs.”

“You’ve done quite well.” The dragon eased his head back down to the earth. His head still swam a little.

“Best I could do.” Elyra moved herself again to sit alongside the dragons neck. She gently stroked his scales. “I don’t really know the first thing about healing. We need to get you to someone who does to have your wounds taken care of.”

“They will heal,” the dragon said, snorting. Pine needles flew through the air ahead of his muzzle. “You are the one we shall take to a healer. How badly wounded are you?”

“I’m not bleeding,” Elyra said. Then she added, “Much. Probably the worst I’ve been hurt. May have been whipped worse when I was young, but that’s about it.”

“Show me.” The dragon turned his head to gaze at her, propping it up a moment.

Elyra lifted up her blood-stained blouse with one hand, showing off her own bandages. Whitish layers wrapped her body nearly from her breasts to her hips, with large blood spots along one side. She pulled her shirt back down, then pulled back one of her sleeves to display more bandages wrapped around her arm. “Once I had you taken care of I wrapped myself up as best I could.” She eased her shirt back down. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll go to a healer is what you’ll do.” Galvarys settled his head down again. “Just as soon as I’m ready to go. Tomorrow, I think.”

“Galvarys, please don’t rush yourself,” Elyra said, stretching an arm to touch his nose. She rubbed him, careful of the little cuts there. “It’s a long way back to town, and if don’t feel ready, we should wait. I’ll admit, I probably need a healer too, but as long as neither of us are in immediate danger anymore, we can wait until you’ve got your strength back. We also need to make sure flying isn’t going to make things worse.”

“I may know a place that is much closer. It would not require too much flight.”

“Where?”

The dragon flared out one of his wing, grunting as it tugged at his wounded side. He flicked a wing talon towards the west. “That way. There was an old village there, there may be someone willing to help.”

“You have a friend out there?”

“No.” The dragon took a deep breath, and gave a slow sigh. “But they may be willing to help anyway. If they are still there. Even if not, there is shelter in the area. We shall go in the morning.”

Elyra stroked the dragon’s cheek, grinning at him. “It’s almost morning now.”

“…In the afternoon, then.” Galvarys closed his eyes, too tired and too sore to offer her a purr, even if her touch nearly dragged it out of him anyway.

“Go back to sleep, Galvarys,” Elyra said. He felt her lean in, her lips brushed his scales again. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Elyra’s words were warm pillows beneath his heart, a balm upon his pains, and shield against his fear. He smiled, opening one of his wings. “You should rest as well. But it is a cool morning. You may lay against me, beneath my wing if you grow cold.”

“I was feeling a little chilly,” she said, rubbing her injured arm with the other hand. “That gryphon didn’t exactly stop to let me fetch my cloak.”

“Come and be warm with me, then.” The dragon lifted his wing a little higher, hoping she would accept his invitation even if the intimacy of such a gesture among dragons was lost upon her. Elyra smiled at him before she crawled along his body, careful not to bump any of his injuries. Then she snuggled in against his scales in a place she could lay against him without touching his wounds. Galvarys lowered his wing against her, draping it across her like a soothing blanket. Protection from the world itself. He heard Elyra sigh in contentment, and that finally made him purr. “How is that?”

“Perfect, Galvarys.” The dragon felt her hands gently stroking his scales as she lay against him. “Perfect.”

Galvarys lay his head against the ground, closing his eyes again. With Elyra’s warmth snuggled against his scales, the dragon could not stop purring as he drifted back into slumber. Galvarys was happy just to be with her.

---

Elyra awoke well before Galvarys, cradled in the warmth beneath his wing. Even wounded as they both were, she felt safer beneath the dragon’s wing than she could ever remember feeling in all her life. She did not want to leave the warmth of his embrace. She tilted her head, laying her cheek against his blue scales. Red hair cascaded over her face, she gently blew it away. Galvarys’ body rose and fell in even motions. The dragon’s breathing was nearly hypnotic. She did not want to wake him.

After all he’d been through, the dragon deserved to sleep for as long as he wished. The frantic search for an antidote and the moments beyond terrified Elyra even more than the battle itself. Galvarys slumped over, unable to go on, and then it was clear the poisons had taken hold of his mind. While he might well have experienced that kind of sudden weakness and feverish delusion before, she’d never seen anything like it. It was all she could do to keep herself sobs from overwhelming her as she poured the thick, sticky antidote from the flask she’d discovered it in. Then she forced herself to steady her arms long enough to plunge that blade into the softer area behind the dragon’s shoulder. As if poor Galvarys wasn’t wounded enough. Yet, Elyra did what she had to do. Elyra didn’t know if she’d saved the dragon’s life or if she’d only saved him from a few days of violent illness. At the time she was terrified the dragon was dying. Elyra was terrified she was going to lose him.

Elyra did not know what she would do without Galvarys now. Just a few months ago it would have seemed ludicrous to think that she’d grow to care so deeply for the dragon she was volunteering to serve. She had pledged herself to him to escape abuse yet was fully prepared to exchange one kind of servitude for another, a dozen masters for one. And while the dragon did still serve as her master and she his minion, she had come to see him as so much more. The dragon was a companion now, her greatest friend.

Galvarys was…Elyra had come to…

Elyra shook her head, her crimson hair brushing the dragon’s scales. It seemed a foolish, childish notion. Even if for a moment she half thought the dragon was going to put that idea to words before she’d inadvertently cut him off. They were friends. Good friends, but no more. They weren’t even the same species. But…did that matter? Galvarys was no animal, he spoke and thought and felt just as she did. A grin tugged at Elyra’s lips. Perhaps not just as she did, he was certainly more prone to greed and blurting out lewd things than she. Elyra was starting to see that as part of his charm. Still, none of it really mattered because she doubted it would be little more than a fleeting notion for the dragon, a wisp of a feeling borne of fear that would fade just as swiftly.

Yet if Galvarys let her, Elyra would happily spend her life at his side, serving as his minion. Perhaps even his chief minion someday, should he expand into a greater empire. In an odd, almost detached way, she’d already come to expect the dragon to outlive her. After all, dragons lived far longer than humans. She had no idea how old he was or how much longer Galvarys had left to live, but certainly his lifespan was longer than her own. Unless something terrible happened to him, of course.

Elyra took a deep breath. The dragon was feeling better, she’d have to ask him if that sort of reaction was normal after being poisoned by dragon slayers. Much as she hoped she’d never have to witness it again, she doubted that was the last time their kind would try to take her friend’s life. Having witnessed his wrath in full, she also doubted it was the last time they would fail. If the poisons they used always ended up affecting the dragon that way, at least next time she’d be ready. Next time she wouldn’t panic. Next time she wouldn’t lay against him and sob while he lay unconscious, not knowing if he’d ever wake again.

Without him…

Elyra knew she might be able to find her own way in life now, even if she was without Galvarys. She could find some village, settle down. Live out her days in peace, in control of her own life. Yet she was not sure she’d want too. After all, she was in control of her own life from the moment she chose to volunteer for the dragon. Somehow she believed if she told Galvarys she no longer wished to serve him, he’d take her to some village, let her go, and that would be that. She served as his minion now not because she had too, but because she wished too. Elyra was the dragon’s minion now because the dragon was her friend. The dragon was…

Without Galvarys, Elyra would be adrift in a very cold world.

Smiling, Elyra whispered a thankful prayer. She lifted her good arm, gently stroked the scales of the dragon’s side with her hand. Galvarys had a friend for life now. At least Elyra’s life. She could not help but wonder how many more times she’d have to see him wounded like this. The pain and fear his injuries and collapse brought to her seemed a small price to pay for the life she’d found with this dragon. She’d just have to do whatever she could to minimize them. Perhaps if her ideas panned out, and the dragon’s popularity grew amongst his villages, fewer people would have reason to slay him.

Elyra shifted against the dragon’s scales. She grit her teeth as pain throbbed along her side and arm. Just why had they come for him now, anyway? It sounded as though it had been years since he’d battled humans. She doubted they were from any of the villages as best she could tell they appreciated peace. The gryphon seemed to blame dragons in general for the loss of his people’s ancestral lands, and Galvarys in particular for the loss of his childhood home. Bitterness fueled him to try and kill Galvarys, but why now? Had he been silently observing, learning the dragon’s routines? How did he know Galvarys would chase him down to protect Elyra? Maybe he just thought a dragon’s greed would drive him to pursue any stolen property.

What about the dragon slayers? They could move in and out of towns easily enough, learn that the dragon had been making more frequent trips. They wouldn’t attack him in town where the guards might aide him, but they could set up a small camp, an ambush spot like this. Then have the gryphon lay in wait in some hidden place, hunting at night, and when the dragon showed up? Draw him out.

Elyra’s tongue felt sticky, her throat dry. Though she was loathe to move from beneath the warmth of comfort of the slumbering dragon’s wing, thirst demanded otherwise. Given the amount of blood she and Galvarys both lost, it was probably wise to drink as much water as possible. She hoped whatever place Galvarys meant to visit had food and water. She’d scrounged up a few supplies from the ruined camp, but had no way to know how long it would be till they would make it back to a village. Could Galvarys even fly with his wounds? Elyra didn’t know the first thing aobut hunting, and she doubted she could gather up enough to berries to ease his hunger for a day, much less keep the dragon alive.

Elyra eased out from under the dragon’s wing, wincing. God she hurt. She could scarcely imagine how much pain the poor dragon would be in for the coming days. Yet he seemed to bear the pain so stoically. Elyra hoped she could handle her own pain half as well as he had. At least she knew that damn gryphon was going to be in even more pain than either of them. It was small consolation. He barely even deserved to live. Yet she was glad Galvarys had spared him. A shame they couldn’t have taken him captive to ensure he didn’t try to harm them again. They’d have to hope that Galvarys warning served as detriment enough. That and getting his feathery ass kicked. Speaking of which, sure was a hell of a squawk the gryphon made when she kicked him in his furry balls. Elyra wished she’d kicked that feathery bastard a few more times before she let him fly off.

The idea made her laugh, and she covered her mouth to try and avoid waking Galvarys. Elyra began to scrounge through the assorted packs, pouches and canteens she’d gathered up, picturing it. She should have asked Galvarys to hold the gryphon down for her to teach him a lesson with her boot. Now that would have acted as deterrent. She grinned to herself, feeling a little proud. Not that she’d done much compared to Galvarys, but she had kicked the bird and broken a heavy bough over his head. And got herself an axe. A shame she didn’t get to bury it in anyone’s head.

Elyra scowled. That wasn’t like her. She pulled the stopper from a canteen and took a long swig of the water. It was warm but eased her parched throat. She licked her lips as she stood back. It wasn’t as though she wanted to hurt anyone, let alone kill anyone. But they’d made their choices. They’d brought this on themselves. If killing them meant she and the dragon would go on living, she would give them death every time. Elyra turned on her heels, surveying the ruined campsite. Blood stained the broken earth. Ruts from clawed feet, spined tails and rolling boulders marked the mossy ground. The stench of too much blood still smothered the air. Corpses with broken armor and mangled bodies littered the grounds.

Elyra allowed herself a moment of sorrow. They were men, once. Men with lives and dreams, hopes and fears. All the separate roads they’d traveled over the years of their life lead them to the same shared fight. The paths of their lives converged in the same forest, in the same moment, and together their dreams all died. It was a sad reality, and yet Elyra found she had little pity left in her heart for these men. They had only died because they sought to take the life of another. They thought Galvarys a monster worthy only of extermination, and that shared, flawed ideal lead them one and all to their death. Death brought by the very dragon they sought to slay seemed a fitting end for men like them.

Elyra wondered if they had families. If so, they would be more deserving of pity than the men who now lay in ruined husks around the bloodied forest. If they have wives or children waiting for them to come home, that wait would be eternal. Did they know where their husbands and fathers had gone? Did they know they sought to slay a dragon? Elyra tried to push the thoughts from her head. It was not Galvarys’ fault they forced him to defend himself.

Elyra’s musings drifted towards the leader of the group. She turned her gaze towards his crumpled corpse, battered, headless and laying in the sticky remains of a pool of blood soaked into the earth. She pictured his face. She’d only seen him up close for a short time, but she remembered him well. Red hair, red beard. He’d been marked, like her. Branded in his youth, marked as something dangerous, something less than human. Forced into the army, into whatever dangerous or degrading jobs they didn’t want to subject their regular soldiers too.

Like Elyra, the leader of the dragon slayers found a way to escape his crushing servitude. He’d found a way to wriggle free of the grasp of the nobles who refused to let the nomads who once wandered this land forget they once stood up against the nobles. Stood up against them and were swept aside and forever stained by their rebellious nature. They’d both found a way to escape that, and they’d both tied that escape to the dragons in very different ways. He sought to slay the creatures, Elyra willingly chose to serve one.

“You see how that’s worked out for you,” Elyra murmured, staring at the headless corpse.

Elyra wondered if the bloodied dragon had that composed part of his armor came from a dragon he murdered. Or did the bastard just buy it off someone else? It did make her wonder if these dragonslayers had killed other dragons in the past. Had they killed many of them? Elyra hoped not. She only knew one dragon, and she cared for him more than she could easily admit. If Galvarys hid kindness and gentleness beneath his armor and anger, then surely other dragons did as well. Elyra hoped to get to meet other dragons someday, though it was clear Galvarys was the only one left in this land. Had the others fled, or had they all been slain? Had Galvarys survived that many more attempts on his life than the others? Perhaps The Azure Wrath was just that good.

To take her mind off things, Elyra scoured the clearing again. She moved slowly, trying to avoid drawing flesh blood from her wounds. Galvarys might want a trophy, and if she found some to present him it might save him the effort. Unless he wanted armor. She wasn’t going to touch the bodies now so if Galvarys wanted bits of their armor he’d have to collect it himself. Elyra did gather up a few knives, a functional crossbow, a pouch of gold coins, the axe that the man buried in the dragon’s side, and the sword from the lead dragon slayer. Elyra half-hoped to find some kind of correspondence that might give her a clue about why these dragons layers attacked when they did, but found nothing.

Elyra piled the trophies up near Galvarys, then took another swig from the canteen. Then she went looking for some kind of gryphon from the gryphon. The dragon might want something of his to adorn his trophy room as well. After some searching, she found a couple of the gryphon’s decorative feathers, the red-tipped gray ones that adorned his head and neck. She gathered them up and brought them back to the pile.

Elyra set the feathers under a dagger so they’d not blow away, then picked up the heavy coin purse. It had a lot of gold in it, and she could only imagine how much a dead dragon would be worth in the right set of twisted hands. The pouch with the gold was simple as could be, nothing more than blue fabric. Even the coins themselves were of no unusual mint.

Elyra had noticed that while the coins minted and issued by the nobles in the capital were the most common currency, some of the villages also used coins from foreign lands, or in some cases minted a small set of coins with their own markings. They looked freshly minted. Whoever gave them to the dragon slayers probably didn’t want to be traced.

Elyra growled under her breath in frustration, grimacing in pain. Her arm ached from lugging weapons about. She hefted the coin purse in her other hand. Elyra could think of a few people who might use such coins, who might be happy to see Galvarys dead. And a few people who would know he’d actively protect Elyra, thus making her a good first target. There was only one of those people she’d been warned about. Elyra had no proof, though. If she told Galvarys, he’d probably kill the man immediately. Of course if the dragon put things together in his head and leapt to his own conclusions he might do so anyway.

With a grunt, Elyra tossed the coin pouch to the ground. The clouds clinked as the hit the earth, and Galvarys stirred. Oops. She hadn’t meant to wake him. Though Elyra knew the dragon would be determined to travel today. Perhaps it was best they do so while it was still light out. Elyra walked to the dragon, and crouched before his head as Galvarys blinked awake, silver eyes narrowed to gleaming slits.

“Is it morning already?” Galvarys murmured, pinning his spines back.

Elyra cupped his muzzle in her hands. “It was morning when you went back to sleep.” She smiled at him, stroking his nose. The cuts the gryphon’s claws left there were minor, Galvarys was good at keeping his face and the softer parts of his throat out of range. “The sky was brightening by the time I dozed off beneath your wing. Which was a lovely place to sleep, thank you.”

“Of course it was,” the dragon said, though his usual ego seemed forced this time. “How long ago was that?” He blinked, tilting his head back a little.

“Hours.” Elyra turned her own head back as well, peering up at the sky. Hints of blue flickered between pine boughs waving in the gentle breeze. “It’s well past noon, I think.”

“Rrrmmmh.” Galvarys began to sit up. “We should go.”

“Careful,” Elyra said, standing up. “You’re still wounded.”

“Yes, I noticed that when I felt pain throbbing throughout my body.” The dragon gave a groan, his muzzle scrunching. He hissed, shifting himself to rest most of his weight against his uninjured haunch. “Gods. That is an unpleasant spot to take an arrow. Right in the ass.”

Elyra giggled to herself, shaking her head. Red hair swished around her face. “More the back of your thigh, I think.”

“The back of the thigh is basically a dragon’s ass.” Galvarys leaned a little further to his side, grunting. “Considering the way we sit upon our haunches.”

“Could have been worse.” Elyra reached out to stroke the scute on the front of his hind leg. “A little further to the inside, and your hoard might have been down to one crown jewel.”

“My what?” Galvarys blinked, then peered down at himself. Then he hissed, and growled a laugh. “True. I keep my tail tucked in combat when I’m not using it as a weapon.”

“Wise.” Elyra put her hand on his chest, gently stroking his plates, careful to avoid any of the cuts there. “You were…well…” She glanced down at her feet, her eyes roaming over the dragon’s paws. She’d washed most of the blood from them, but mottled rust-colored stains remained. It seemed almost obscene to praise the dragon for violence, yet he was only doing what he had too. “You were absolutely magnificent, Galvarys.”

Galvarys arched his neck into an elegant S. He cocked his spiral-horned head, grinning down at Elyra. His spines slowly rose. “Really?”

Elyra could not help smiling right back at the dragon. “Yes. Horrifying, in a way, but magnificent. Even greater than I’d ever imagined a dragon’s wrath might be. It was frightened when I heard them talk about the poisons they had prepared, but…when you actually showed up, all my fear just melted. You cut through them as though you weren’t even thinking about it. Even when you were wounded you didn’t even slow down. The whole thing was like some terrifying yet mesmerizing art I could not look away from.”

“Thank you,” the dragon said. A rumbling, stone-rattling purr rose in his throat. His wings flared a little. “You are one of the first to see me in battle and survive, I think. It’s almost a shame. My legend might grow faster if there were more left alive to speak of my prowess in battle. But I’d rather they are dead and silence, than alive and seeking to slay me again. My continued survival shall have to speak for itself.”

Elyra decided against bringing up the gryphon. In fact, she decided against bringing up a lot of things. She wondered how many men he’d really killed, and how many battles he’d fought in. Had they always brought their wars to him or had he sought them out and slain them in their homes and villages in his wrathful youth? Did he call himself Galvarys The Wrathful because he alone stood while all his kin were slain?

“I’ve collect you some trophies,” was all Elyra eventually said. There was time to ask those questions later, if the dragon ever seemed willing to discuss them. She rubbed his chest plates again, then gestured to the pile of things she’d found for him. “Thought you might want to add something to trophy room to commemorate your victory.”

The dragon smiled down at her a moment, but when he gazed upon the assorted trophies she’d collected, his whole body began to slump. His wings sagged at his sides, his spiny crests fell, and his ears dropped. The dragon closed his silver eyes for a moment, then shook his head a single time. His tail stirred against the earth, uprooting moss and rustling pine needles.

“No, Elyra.” He licked his nose, lowering his head. “I don’t want any trophies from this fight. It should have never happened. I should never have gone chasing that bird all over the city when you were alone and vulnerable. Thank you for the thought, though.”

Elyra wrung her hands against her bloodied blouse. “Galvarys, you can’t blame yourself.” She set a hand upon the dragon again. “This was the gryphon’s doing, not yours. You didn’t put me in harms way. You saved me! You’re the hero here, Galvarys.”

Galvarys opened his eyes to tiny slits. “The hero, eh? An unsuitable title for a dragon. But I appreciate your gesture.”

“Well you’re certainly a hero to me, whether or not you want to admit it.” Elyra smiled at him, gesturing at the trophies.

“I suppose a villain can be a hero to another villain.” Galvarys flicked his tail, arching his neck a little once more.

“I’m not a villain,” Elyra said, giggling to herself. She glanced over the pile of trophies. “But if you don’t want any of that, I’ll just take the coins for myself.”

“A villain’s minion is still a villain.” The dragon flicked his tail a few times, then curled it till the spines were poised over his back like a scorpion’s stinger. “But if you wish to help yourself to my battle trophies, you’re going to have to ask my permission.”

Elyra smirked at him, stepping back. “Of course, Lord Azure Wrath. May your humble minion please have a just a bit of your pile of loot?”

Galvarys peered down at the trophies, snorting. “Not much of a pile. Take what you want.” Then he flicked his tongue out into the air. “Wait. Are those gryphon feathers?”

Elyra moved to the trophies to snatch up the trio of large gray, red-tipped feathers from beneath the weighted dagger. “Yes. I found these where you and him were rolling through the forest. Do you want them?”

Galvarys curled his neck, lowering his head to peer at the feathers. He sniffed them a few times, indigo nostrils flaring. “They reek of gryphon. They’ll stink up my trophy room. Still…” He pulled his head back. “They’re crown feathers.”

“Is that good?” Elyra peered at the feathers a moment, turning one over in her hands.

“Yes.” The dragon cocked his head, lifting his spines a little again. “In my experience, there is little a male gryphon is more proud of than his crown feathers. Save perhaps his balls. So they’d make good trophies.”

Elyra smirked at him. “His crown feathers or his balls?”

“Both.” The dragon snorted. “But since you made me spare his life, I’ll settle for those feathers.” Then he waved his paw at the other items, hissing. “I want nothing to do with the rest of it. Take what you want, the rest can rot with those corpses. After that I’ve one thing to do, then we can leave.”

Elyra picked up a small, empty pack and tucked the feathers into it. Then she dropped the coin pouch in as well, and selected a few of the larger daggers. She considered taking a sword or an axe for herself, but they were a little too heavy for her to wield anyway. The crossbow would have been nice but she feared she’d lose her fingers on her very first attempt to draw back the heavy string and set a bolt. She also stuck the rest of the waterskins and canteens into the pack, along with the other food supplies she’d found. Mostly some dried meat, some hard bread cheese, and some old biscuits. She also tucked away a flask filled with some kind of harsh smelling spirit she found. Would be useful for cleaning wounds.

“Alright.” Elyra slung the pack over the shoulder of her good arm, then carefully hoisted her axe with the other, grimacing. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Very well.” He looked down at her a moment, tilting his head. “You are taking that axe?”

“Consider it a trophy,” Elyra said, smiling at him. “You should have seen me. I was pretty magnificent myself.”

“Were you?” The dragon grinned as he eased up to all fours. He padded to the pile of trophies, and grasped the dragon bone sword in a paw. He dragged it towards the corpse of the man who once wielded it.

Elyra followed him at a distance, wondering what he had in mind. “I was! Nothing on your level, of course, but I did bruise and bloody up that gryphon.”

“Did you?” The dragon glanced back at her, spiny eye-ridges raised.

“You gave me the idea, after all.” She tapped the axe handle against her boot. “I kicked that gryphon right in the balls, then I bashed him over the head with a tree limb! Ran to grab this axe while he was down.”

Galvarys laughed, flaring his spines. “Well done, Minion.” Then he waved his paw at her. “Stand back a moment.”

Elyra moved back a little further, setting her pack and her axe down while she waited. The dragon dropped the sword to the ground. Then he rolled the leader’s corpse over, tearing his battered armor from his body. When he was stripped free of it, Galvarys set all the pieces of dragon hide over the top of the sword, obscuring the horn cross guard and bone pummel. Then the dragon padded around collecting empty packs, tree limbs, and bits of tent. He piled them all atop and around the gear made from dead dragons, then backed away from it.

Elyra watched the dragon without a word. Memories drifted behind his eyes liked dead man floating in a silver ocean. His ears were pinned back, his spines flat the entire time. When he had piled enough things together, he took a deep breath, chest plates expanding. The dragon held it longer than Elyra could have held her own breath. When he could hold it in no longer, the dragon threw his head back and roared in a way she’d never heard. The sound was low and drawn out, a hollow, mourning keen. It rolled through the forest, spreading old sorrow to every corner the sound could reach. When the dragon’s breath was gone, he sucked in another, then spat it right back out along with rippling liquid fire. Red-orange flames cascaded over the pile of debris and the gear crafted from a dragon long lost to the world. The packs and tent canvas ignited immediately, and the wood followed just after.

Galvarys watched the crackling pyre flames grow. Embers rose and fluttered, reflected in his eyes in tiny orange stars of pain. The dragon stared at the fire a while, his wings drooping at his sides. He murmured something beneath his breath in a language full of syllables Elyra doubted she could even pronounce. Then he sighed, and turned away.

“The rest of them can rot.” He lowered himself down onto his belly, moving his wings aside to give Elyra room to climb onto his back. “Come, Elyra. It is time to leave this place, and let them be forgotten.”

---

Chapter Seventeen

---

Flight was pain for Galvarys. The dragon hurt everywhere. In the years that passed since his last battle, he’d almost forgotten that even victory often brought painful wounds. If he’d been alone he may have stayed in the forest, feeding upon his enemies while he waited for his wounds to heal and his body to flush out the poison. But Galvarys was not alone, and lingering to lick his wounds for days would not help Elyra. She needed her wounds cared for, and she needed food. Galvarys was not sure how well he could hunt when he could barely fly.

Not that he’d told Elyra. Though his wounds were not near deep enough to take his life, they did make it agonizing to fly. And walk. And sit. Damn dragonslayers. If they couldn’t kill a dragon, they seemed happy just to make his daily life miserable after they were dead. Galvarys knew he’d heal eventually. He always did. No matter how close they came to ending him, Galvarys the Wrathful had only grown stronger.

“Never close enough,” Galvarys said, his words lost to the wind.

Galvarys wondered if he could yet grow stronger still. Many of his previous victories occurred in his younger days, when his body was still growing. Young dragons grew throughout the adolescence and into their young adulthood, getting stronger for a long time. When Galvarys first claimed the fortress, there were many halls and doorways he fit through much easier than he did these days. Though the dragon did not think he was still growing, the truth was he had no way to be certain.

The dragon growled in pain through grit teeth as he adjusted his course. Winds buffeted him, and he pumped his wings harder. Each wingbeat sent fire dancing across his ribs as the movement tugged on rent flesh, forced injured muscles to stretch. That axe wound was the most painful now because he could not fly without pulling at it. The wounds to his shoulder and hind leg were nearly as bad, he could not walk without bolts of agony rolling through his limbs. Galvarys could not even sit down normally without feeling as though there were a dagger wedged into the back of his haunch.

“Are you alright?” Elyra called out to him, leaning forward against his neck.

“I am fine,” Galvarys said, his spines pinned.

“Maybe we should land!” He should have known Elyra would see through him. “We’ve come far enough! I don’t want you hurting yourself any worse!”

“We’re almost there.” The dragon glanced back at her. Frizzled, red hair whipped around her head, dirt and blood caked her face and her clothes. Some of the blood was his, but some of it looked fresh. She’d opened her own wounds up again. “I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Elyra pressed her face to the scales of his neck. “You look like you’re in agony!”

Galvarys grunted, turning his head away. For a human, she was getting pretty good at picking up on a dragon’s facial expressions. “It will fade as I heal. And you look just as bad.”

“I’ve got half as many wounds as you, Galvarys.”

“Yes, but you’ve got twice the ugly.” Galvarys smirked to himself at that one.

“Your jokes are funnier when I’m not worried about your life.” Elyra stroked his neck. “You lost a lot of blood, Galvarys, and flying is only making you lose more.”

“I’ve plenty of it to lose.” He snarled, forepaws flexing as a few waves of pain raced across his ribs and out along his right wing. “You lost a lot as well, and you’ve less of it to go around.”

“I just think we should land, let you rest…”

“Elyra!” Galvarys snapped his jaws, hissing. “Enough! I am not going to risk your life just to let myself rest! Yes, I am bleeding again, but so are you. You’ve got more blood on you than I’ve ever seen a human lose and survive! Who knows what filth was on that gryphon’s claws, your wounds must be tended as soon as possible. I will not argue this further with you! I will not land until we reach our destination.”

Elyra shifted upon his back, tugging at her blouse, the blue fabric sticking to her skin where blood stained it purple. “I just thought…”

“I have been through this dozens of times, Elyra. I know my limits. I also know the next few days will be difficult. I can scarcely fly, and I may be unable to hunt successfully until I have started to heal. I certainly cannot bind your wounds but I hope to get you to someone who can.”

Elyra sighed and pressed herself to the dragon’s neck again. She felt warm and sticky against his scales. Galvarys did not think the wounds the gryphon gave her were life threatening by themselves, but each time they opened anew they seemed to pour even more blood, the way a small wound bled worse when the scab broke than it did to begin with. He’d also heard of gryphons coating their claws with poisons for battle, and while it did not seem Elyra had been poisoned, he did not want her wounds to catch some infection when there was no one around to treat them.

It was fear that drove the dragon to take to the skies. He knew he should not fly while he was wounded. Flight made his injuries worse. He was bleeding again. But fear would not let him wait. Fear that Elyra was hurt worse than she let on. Fear that if he did not fly while he still had the strength to beat his wings, Elyra would starve in the forest while he could not hunt. Fear that the changes he smelt on the wind meant the weather would turn and Elyra would have no shelter. Fear that the gryphon would return with more of his kin, and hurt Elyra to get back at Galvarys.

Fear for Elyra drove him to fly over lands he’d never wanted to look upon again.

Yet what truly wrenched the dragon’s belly, what truly frozen his heart was the growing realization that if he lost Elyra…That, he had come to…

“Where are we going?” Elyra lifted her head to speak, then lay it against his neck again.

“A place I hope to find you help.” Bitter as the memories wrapped around this place were, Galvarys was yet grateful for the distraction.

“Some remote village?”

“It was,” the dragon said, staring off across the horizon. “Once.”

In the distance, the sun seemed frozen above the western horizon. Galvarys felt like the sun had sat there, in that spot, for hours, glaring at the dragon that flew towards it. Its golden light cast poured across the rocky, mountainous forest that surrounded his destination, though whether the beacon was a welcome or a warning Galvarys did not know. The lands where still within what the dragon considered his personal empire, though they were outside the realm of the Five Villages. A few remote roads cut through the rugged terrain. A few of them were still traveled, others long since over grown.

Galvarys soon found a familiar two-track trail that stretched across a gentler section of land. It looked as though it was still traveled now and then, though soon the snows would make it impassable for the winter months. Galvarys grit his teeth, growling under his breath. At least it looked as though there would be someone there to help Elyra.

“This place is beautiful,” Elyra said, easing away from the dragon’s neck. “You haven’t taken me this way before, have you?”

“No, Elyra, I have not.”

“Oh! There’s snow on those mountains.”

Galvarys turned his head a little. In the distance to the southwest rose a wall of towering stone. The mountain range was all sharp cliffs, steep valleys and jagged spires twisted and shaped by the winds. Icepack glaciers clung to the shadowy recesses of the highest valleys, far above the tree line. Each of the peaks wore a white helmet atop its pitted, gray summit.

“There always is.”

“Even in the summer?”

Galvarys chuckled to himself a little. “Yes. No matter how much the heat settled against the earth, at the top of the mountains it is always frigid. When I was a hatchling, my mother would fly to those peeks on hot summer days, to bring me back snow to eat.”

Elyra gave a little cooing sound. “Aww. That’s adorable. That’s where you lived as a hatchling? I thought you’d just always lived around that fortress.”

Galvarys shook his head, smiling at the pleasant memories. “No. I only found the fortress once I was old enough to leave home and live on my own.”

Galvarys stared at the distant mountains for a little while. Then he snorted, turning his head away. He surveyed the land beneath him for familiar landmarks. Splotches of bright, fiery reds, yellows and oranges decorated the forest. Out here, autumn was already underway. It would not be long before icy winds ripped the dying leaves from their moorings and cast them to the cold earth.

“Look at all the colors!” Elyra laughed despite the pain they were both in. “It’s wonderful out here.”

“Not for me,” the dragon said, the wind carried his words to Elyra. “I have not been here since the truce.”

“Why not?”

“This place,” Galvarys said, struggling for words. “It is an old scar and it refuses to be forgotten.”

---

Elyra straightened on the dragon’s back. An old scar. It took her a moment to recall when she’d heard that phrase before. It was not long after she’d first met the dragon. It came to her in a memory of joy, when he told her he’d take her flying the next day. But there was something else, there was some great catharsis for the dragon. He called the blood-stained sword made of dragon bone an old scar, and then he told her to heave it over the cliff.

“You don’t have to share anything you don’t want, Galvarys!” Elyra stroked his neck, pain twisting her face. Some of the pain came from her arm, and her side. The rest came from her heart.

“Not now, Elyra.”

“If I ask any questions you don’t like, just tell me to shut up.”

“Shut up, Elyra.”

Elyra smiled as she peered down off the dragon’s back. The land they soared above was beautiful, and the way the dragon referred to it only made her more curious. The land was harsher than the land around the Village Of Rings, more stands of gray rock and spires of stone jutting up from swaths of barren stone stretching across the rugged hills. Where trees had found hold, beacons of bright autumn color beckoned the cold winds amidst the dark green pines and blue-tinted spruce and fir. Valleys strewn with boulders snaked between hills capped with snaking ridges of exposed rock. Even without the gorgeous, snow-covered mountains in the distance, this was the kind of place Elyra thought dragons would live.

“Are there other dragons out here?” Elyra asked, regretting the question even before it fell from her lips.

“No.”

Elyra already knew that. Galvarys was the last in his land, he’d claimed as much to the men trying to kill him. She’d never known the dragon to lie, at least not without a quick and embarrassing amendment. There was no reason for him to claim himself the last dragon to live here if it were not so. She opened her mouth, about to ask him if there were ever other dragons here. Elyra bit her tongue to quell the words. Of course there were. Once.

“There are still other dragons though, aren’t there?” Elyra stroked the scales beneath her body, Galvarys’ muscles rolling beneath her as they flew. “Somewhere in the world?”

“Yes, Elyra.”

“Sorry.” Elyra leaned forward and gently kissed the back of Galvarys’ neck. “I’ll shut up.”

Galvarys did not reply, and Elyra did as promised. Her head swam a little, she blinked away blurriness from her vision. She needed rest. Elyra’s movements made her wounds throb. At least a half-dozen spots of white fire pulsed in agonized syncopation with her heart beat. Elyra took a deep breath and held it. Shifting a little, she checked her blood-soaked blouse. She had to peel it away from her skin where some of the blood was half-dry and sticky. The bandages she’d used on her side and her arm were wet and red. Elyra scowled. They’d just about stopped bleeding after she dozed against the dragon, but hauling around his trophies and her axe, and climbing atop him had opened them back up. She worked her blouse back down. A shame. She’d really liked that lovely shirt.

Elyra decided to tell the dragon. “Galvarys, I’m bleeding.”

The dragon turned his head, the usual silver flicker in his eyes dulled by his flight membranes. He swiveled his ears, lowered his spiny eye ridges. “I know, Elyra.”

Of course he did. He’d said as much not long ago. “Right,” she said, murmuring to herself. “I think I need to rest.”

“We’re almost there.” The dragon watched a moment longer before turning his eyes towards the horizon. “Lean against my neck so don’t lose your balance. But don’t fall asleep.”

Elyra heeded the dragons advice. She scooted up on his back and leaned her whole body against his neck. She draped her arms around him, pressing her cheek to his scales. Elyra focused on the mountains in the distance. They seemed more beautiful yet less inviting than the mountains that surrounded Galvarys’ fortress home. A few of them looked especially imposing. One had a flat summit and a broad, shield-like cliff pock-marked with dark blotches all down the front of it. The next mountain seemed folded into it, rolling layers and miniature valleys of gray stone all piled together, whitish glaciers marking the deepest recesses. On the other side was a mountain whose peak was long since weathered down to little more than curled stone talons. Similar outcrops marked the entire face of it. A few more dark areas marked the mountain, though Elyra was too far away to tell if they were shadows, dark stone, or even caverns.

Something else dark caught Elyra’s attention, beyond the black-marked edges of the dragon’s wings. She blinked a few times as she sought to focus on the land rolling by beneath them. Not far away were the ruins of a small village once built along a hillside above a rocky stream. Elyra counted at least a half dozen burnt out shells of buildings before the ruin was out of view. There was little left of them but crumbled, blackened framework long since overgrown with brush and weeds. Any road that once led to the village was reclaimed by the earth years ago. Atop a nearby hill, Elyra spotted the remains of a farm. Remnants of moldering pine fence still marked what was once a pasture for livestock beyond a house that looked to be collapsing in on itself year by year.

They flew onward, and soon Elyra spotted another ruin. Atop a hill covered in wildflowers and bramble lay the burnt out shell of a large wooden building. Patches of bramble could not obscure the charred, square-shaped frame completely. In some places sections of outer walls remained, built of towering pine logs cut into sharp points and chocked with roaming vines. Half a wooden platform that was once a watchtower peaked out amidst a sea of late-season wildflowers, blue and yellow blossoms obscuring all that remained of the former fort.

Elyra closed her eyes, murmuring under her breath. “Galvarys the Wrathful.”

“Yes.”

Elyra hadn’t meant for him to hear that. She certainly had not meant it as an accusation. She’d seen first-hand the sort of men who sought to slay him. She’d peered into their eyes, and found their souls tangled in vines of poisonous hatred. They thought Galvarys a monster not for his deeds, but simply for his existence. Elyra sighed, and stroked his neck. He was not the deeds of every wicked dragon, but he slew men who believed he was.

“I’m sorry, Galvarys,” Elyra said, still stroking the dragon’s neck.

“For what?”

“I’m sorry that men make you do these things.” Elyra turned her head to kiss his scales, then rested against him.

Galvarys did not reply. Soon Elyra felt them beginning to descend. She considered opening her eyes, but could not quite bring herself to do so. Her head still swam, and her heartbeat felt slow. How odd. To feel her heartbeat. Was that good, or bad?

“I’m tired, Galvarys.”

“Don’t fall asleep, Elyra.” Galvarys glanced back at her, snapping his jaws. “Keep your eyes open. You can sleep soon, I promise.”

Elyra grumbled something bossy dragons under her breath. She forced her eyes to open as she felt the dragon ease into a turn. She saw smoke rising from a house in the distance, saw a simple, two-track trail beneath them. Galvarys soon straightened out again, following the trail towards that house. Elyra closed her eyes again. She’d just rest for a few moments before they landed.

Flickering images drifted across her mind. Galvarys was diving through the clouds. Elyra had wings, and she dove alongside him. Blood coated the dragon as he stood in a forest. Elyra pressed herself to him in a pool of hot water. Galvarys lay amidst a burnt out building, and Elyra sheltered under his wing. He hid her from the world beneath his wing, sheltering her. She wanted to stay there forever, with the dragon. She wanted to spend her life with him. She kissed his scales. Her hands roamed his body.

A sudden jolt shook her awake. Elyra felt herself sliding across the dragon’s slick scales. She yelped, grabbing his neck. Galvarys hissed, and shifted a wing forward to brace her as the dragon trotted to a stop. She pushed off the wing, then clung to his neck, her heart pounding. She’d almost toppled right off of him and…well…they’d landed, so she’d probably embarrass herself more than anything else. But why did her arm and side hurt so much?

“I told you not to fall asleep!” Galvarys snarled as he glared back at her. Then his expression eased, his flared spines settled back against his head. He lowered himself onto his belly, pain distorting the pebbly scales of his muzzle. “Slide off of me. Carefully.”

“Sorry,” Elyra murmured as memories returned in swirls of unpleasant images. “At least I was having a nice dream.” With a grimace, Elyra eased a leg over his back, and then hopped to the ground. She set her jaw to muffle her cry of pain, clutching her side. She tried to recall the dream, then felt her face heat. At least she still had enough blood left to blush. “I think it was about to be a very nice dream for you.”

Galvarys pushed himself to his paw, opening his wing to gently cradle her in it. “You can babble about your funny dreams later. This way, Elyra. Stay at my side until I’m sure we’re safe.”

“But I thought you said…”

“Later, Elyra.”

Elyra nodded. She forced herself to focus, used the pain throbbing in her arm and body as a lifeline to cling to. She dragged herself along it, pulling her mind into a more coherent state. Galvarys had landed in front of the building she saw not long ago. It was a nice looking house, nestled against the sheltering slope of a grassy rise. The building had an arched roof, the simple wooden walls painted a pleasant blue shade. Nearby there was a barn painted the same color, and a pen with a herd of goats grazing. On the other side of the house, there was a stone well, and a covered stable with a few horses inside, and a covered wagon stowed inside the enclosure.

Just as Elyra was about to remark on what a pleasant looking place it was, she saw the graveyard. At the edge of her peripheral vision, there lay rows of simple headstones. Elyra gasped, turning away from the dragon for a better look. Galvarys let her slip the cover his wing while she peered across the place. Gazing around, Elyra realized the dragon had brought her to a ghost town. Elyra clapped a hand over her mouth. Everywhere she looked she saw another charred husk where a house once lay. Old streets were overgrown with grass and weeds. The stone foundation of an old hearth sat not far away, the broken stones caked with decades old soot from the home that had burned down around it. Elyra turned back to the dragon, and pressed herself to Galvarys’s side. She was not ready to see this place, at least not until she’d had a chance to rest. She trembled against him, and Galvarys enclosed her in his wing as if to shield her from this terrible place.

“I’m sorry, Elyra,” the dragon said, his voice little more than a trembling whisper. “I do not wish to see this place again any more than you wish to see it for the first time. But this is as far as I can fly, and this is the only place I could take you to get you help.”

Elyra sniffed, nodding against the dragon’s scales. In that moment she was too overwhelmed and too weary to feel anything more than the simple comfort of the dragon’s wing. His scales felt sticky against her cheek, smelled like copper. The dragon was bleeding as much as she was. For some barely coherent reason, that made her laugh. “And you said I needed help.”

“Come, Elyra.” Galvarys took a few slow steps forward, urging Elyra onward with his wing.

Elyra followed at the dragon’s side, one hand resting upon his scales. She glanced up at his face. The dragon’s spines lay flat, his ears pinned back to his head. His silver eyes shone cold, haunted, and wet. He glanced down the street, blinked away a few tears, and then fixed his attention on the only place yet standing. Galvarys came to a stop in front of the house. Goats bleated, horses whinnied and stomped in their stalls. Elyra expected the dragon to roar, to call out whoever dwelled there and demand that they tend their wounds at once.

Instead, Galvarys waited. The dragon glanced at Elyra, then back at the house.

After a time, the door opened, and a man stepped out. He was at least twice Elyra’s age, perhaps a great deal older. His face was craggy and tanned, Elyra could not tell whether the lines and wrinkles that marked him were from age or the elements. His hair was long, shaggy and reddish yet he bore no brand. The man wore a rough cut gray and blue tunic, dark green breeches with a few patches and scuffed leather boots. He held a very large sword, the keen edges of the blade glinted in the sunlight. Elyra could not clearly see the hilt beneath his fingers but the cross guard looked like bone, or horn. Elyra sucked in a breath, and yet Galvarys did not seem surprised or offended. If anything, the dragon seemed deferential, waiting for the man to break the silence.

With the sun behind him, Elyra could not make out the color of the man’s eyes, but his attention seemed to linger first on the dragon’s bloodied wounds, then upon the girl huddled under his wing. He drummed his fingers against the hilt of the blade, holding it at the ready. After a few moments of appraisal, he tilted his head back to stare up at the dragon.

The man finally broke the silence. “Didn’t think you’d be back. You here to finish things?”

“I finished them ages ago.”

The man gestured with his sword at all the bloody bandages marking the dragon. “Doesn’t look like it from here.”

“I cannot control those who seek me out.” The dragon glanced down at Elyra, nudging her forward with his wing. Then he looked back at the man. “I did not expect you to greet me. Is she gone?”

The man nodded, and plunged his sword into the earth. The blade wobbled. “Years now.”

“Yet you remain.” Galvarys cocked his head. “Why?”

“I think you know.” The man set his jaw, kneading a fist into his palm. “She asked me too.” A smile flickered over the man’s face for a moment. “Besides, my wife likes the solitude out here.”

“Does she.” Galvarys glanced at some of the ruins, rustling his wings. “Does she…”

“She knows what it was, and she knows what it is now. She’s a good woman.”

Elyra saw movement at one of the windows. A curtain tugged aside, a woman’s face pressed to the glass. She stared back a moment, then gave the dragon a questioning look. Galvarys smiled at Elyra, and nodded his head, silently promising answers in the future. With his wing, he eased Elyra forward towards the man. When Elyra stumbled a little, the man came forward to gently put an arm around her.

“Her first.” Galvarys said. “She’s lost a lot of blood, and has taken an infection.”

“So I see,” the man replied, looking Elyra’s bloodstained blouse over. He turned, letting Elyra lean against him. “Come on, we’ll get you fixed up in the house.” Without glancing back, he called out to the dragon. “Who is she?”

His minion, were the words about to slip from Elyra’s tongue before Galvarys answered for her.

“My friend.”

His friend. Galvarys called her his friend. Not his wench, not his servant, not even his minion. But his friend. It occurred to Elyra, in her woozy state, that Galvarys might be the first person to ever call her his friend. She’d considered Jadira and Dahn to be friends in as much as another servant wench could be her friend. But had they ever actually called Elyra that? Had it ever occurred to them to think of her as a friend?

In all her life, Elyra could not recall ever being called someone’s friend before.

It would have warmed her to her very soul, had she not been so close to passing out against the strange man offering her support. Her knees buckled, and the man caught her when she stumbled. Galvarys whimpered, his muzzle suddenly pressed against her back to help her stay upright. Elyra got her balance again, twisting a little to rub his snout.

Galvarys’ silver gaze was wet and trembling. Tear streaks marked his scales. His frilled indigo ears were flattened back against his skull, yet his spines were flared and shaking. His wings drooped at his sides even as he furled and unfurled them. He gently nudged Elyra again, and she tried to give him a smile, wondering why the poor dragon looked so shaken up.

“She’ll be alright, won’t she?” Galvarys looked between Elyra and the man a few times. Elyra thought he was starting to pant. Even in her swimming vision, the dragon’s eyes shone with a haunted light she’d never seen before. “Won’t she?”

“Yes,” the man said, reaching out to gently touch the dragon’s chin. “She’s a heavy fever, but it’s nothing we can’t break. But you need to relax. Let me get her inside. Take a few deep breaths.”

The man held Elyra with a little more force to prevent her from falling, guiding her steps towards the house. Each step made Elyra’s head swim a little further. The earth roiled beneath her feet, rising and falling each time she moved her legs. The green-painted front door swam in spirals, the emerald color sending tendrils out over the rest of the house.

“Think I’m gonna fall down.” Those were the words Elyra tried to say, but the only sounds she heard coming out of her mouth were garbled nonsense.

“I gotcha, girl.” In one smooth motion, the man crouched down to slip one arm behind Elyra’s knees, the other behind her back. He scooped her up, carrying her towards the door.

Even in his arms, she still felt as though the world was sinking beneath her. Her head lolled, and she struggled to fix gaze on the blue dragon even as her vision spun. Galvarys opened and closed his wings a few times, calling out.

“Take care of her! Please. Take care of my friend.”

---

Chapter Eighteen

---

Pain jarred Elyra back to full consciousness. She jerked her head up and cried out, reaching for her side. Firm fingers grasped her wrist and eased her arm back down. Elyra blinked a few times, trying to clear the bleariness from her eyes. White-hot coals pressed into her flesh in agonizing pinpoints. Her head pounded, a hammer beating against her brain. She twisted a moment, confused. Someone held her, and when she tried to kick, someone else held her feet.

“Easy, girl.” The voice was gentler than the grip. “You’re with friends, but we’ve got to clean your wounds. Elyra, right? The dragon says your name’s Elyra.”

“Elyra.” She murmured her own name, trying to focus on the face of the man above her. He had red hair. She tried to touch it but he pushed her arm back down. “Red hair.”

“Yeah, Elyra, red hair.”

“No brand.” She tried to touch his cheek, but he wouldn’t let her lift her arm.

“No, no brand.” He eased his grip away from her arms, then slipped a hand beneath her back. “I’m going to help you sit up, and give you something to drink. Ready?”

Elyra nodded. With the man’s help she slowly sat upright. Fire erupted all along her wounded side, and she cried out again. The pounding in her head grew worse. Yet she seized upon the pain, used it to help her focus. She clung to the pain and floated adrift in a sea of near-unconsciousness. She took a few deep breaths before the man eased a wooden cup to her lips. The sharp odor stung her nostrils. It smelled like whisky. Bad whisky.

“Careful,” the man said, easing the cup to her lips. “It’s quite strong. Sip it.”

Elyra took a sip of the liquid. It burned her tongue, throat, and seared her empty belly as it roiled around inside her. She scrunched her nose, nearly gagging. “Why…” Words were hard to force out while her throat was on fire.

“To help with the pain.” The man made her take another sip. “And because you’d rather be drunk for what we’re going to do.”

That boded well. Elyra would have drained the whole cup and gotten it over with, but she didn’t want to choke on the stuff or start coughing and end up vomiting it all back up. She took the cup from the man, and he backed off to give her a little room. She sipped it again, then looked down at herself. They’d already cut off the blood-soaked sleeve of her blouse, as well as the bottom half of it and part of the side, leaving her just enough to maintain her modesty. Elyra appreciated the thought more than the gesture itself. Right now modesty was the least of her concerns.

Elyra shifted a little, found herself laying on a simple bed. The mattress felt as though it was filled with both straw and feather, the blue-dyed blankets under her woolen and warm. A few pillows and cushions propped her up. An old, scuffed wooden table sat nearby, its circular surface covered with pots and jars of salve and herbs, rolls of bandages, and a few bottles of spirits. Another table alongside it had a few small, sharp knives let out next to a set of oversized needles and some kind of sinewy thread. Lamps with bright flames hung from the crisscrossing rafters. The room had a hearth built of simple gray stone bricks, but no fire burned in it. A woman with black hair in a dress that nearly matched the blankets hovered over a nearby counter, chopping herbs. The whole room smelled like medicinal plants and alcohols.

Elyra sipped her whisky. As she tried to relax, the throbbing eased in her head a little. Her whole body ached. Her clothes felt wet and sticky even where she hasn’t been bleeding. She set her cup down on the bed, wiped her forehead and realized she was sweating. Right. The fever. It had gotten worse. Or had the cold air rushing over her in flight kept her from feeling the growing heat?

Elyra turned her head to watch the man confer with his wife. After a few minutes of hushed conversation, the woman vanished through the doorway and the man returned to Elyra’s side. He gently tipped the cup towards her mouth again with a single finger, and she took another drink. The fire in her throat made her cringe, but after a moment it barely registered against the pain thudding away in her side and her other arm.

Elyra tried to figure out just where she was. She couldn’t even remember passing out, let alone entering a house or having her clothes cut away. Last thing she could remember, the man was carrying her away from Galvarys. She’d never seen the dragon look so frightened before. Was she in that bad of shape? She hadn’t thought it was that bad, if anything she was more worried about the dragon than she was herself.

“Is he alright?” She took another sip, already starting to feel a little light-headed. Or was that from fever? “He’s hurt.”

“I know,” the man said. “My wife’s gone to check on him. He looked…” The man paused, Elyra wondered if he was amending himself. “He’ll be fine.”

Elyra eased back against some of the cushions. “Are you his friend?”

“No.” The man arranged the cushions beneath her, his brows knitting.

“But…”

“I’m not his enemy, either.” He turned to the table, lifted a pot and sniffed the contents, then set it down. “Don’t worry. We’ll help you both.”

“Then…how does he know you?” Elyra turned her head to peer out a window, but it was getting dark outside. She could not see much through the dirty pane. Most of the light in the room came from the lamps and lanterns set up around the tables and her bed. “Did he…it’s all burned…”

The man put a hand upon her arm, and gave her a smile. “Those aren’t things I want to talk about. If those are questions you want answered, you’ll have to get the dragon to answer them for you. All you need to know is that I don’t have to be his friend to treat the two of you to the best of my ability.”

Elyra sighed. She’d have to make due with that for now. She drained the last of her whisky around the same time the man’s wife returned. He took the wooden cup from her and set it on the table, then turned to his wife. Elyra watched her a moment. The woman’s black hair shone like obsidian in the lamp light. Her face had a darker hue than the man’s, almost an olive shade compared to his sun-tanned complexion. She looked a little younger, as well. She touched his arm, gesturing back to the door.

“He’s going to need help.” She squeezed her husband’s arm. “Sooner, rather than later.”

“Can he wait till after we tend the girl?” The red-haired man glanced back at Elyra.

“If you can deal with her yourself, it might be best. He’s pushed himself far harder than he should have flying with wounds like that and so soon after being poisoned.”

The man sighed, nodding. “Stupid stubborn dragon. Had to get her help, though. Alright, you go start seeing to him, and if I need help with her, I’ll come get you.”

The woman fetched a basket and began to fill it with bandages, needles, stitching thread, pots and jars, the herbs she was chopping, a bottle of whisky, and a few of the sharp knives. Then she came over and squeezed Elyra’s hand, offering her a comforting smile. “You’re both going to have a rough night, but you’ll get to see each other again in the morning.”

Elyra appreciated the woman’s bluntness. It reminded her of Galvarys. Elyra squeezed her hand in return. “Are you sure he’ll be alright?”

The woman laughed. “That’s exactly what he said about you.” She released Elyra’s hand and headed for the door.

The man soon took her place, offering her the wooden cup once more filled with whiskey. Elyra took it from him, scowling. “More?”

The man shrugged. “You may want it.” He gestured to her wounds. Elyra lifted her head, looking down at them. They’d scrubbed some of the blood away, that must have been the pain that woke her. Fresh blood was oozing again already. The wounds themselves looked puffy, and the flesh all around them was a startling scarlet color. “You’ve taken a fairly heavy infection. Claws did this, right?”

“Gryphon claws,” Elyra said, laying her head back down. Her vision swam, but she kept hold of the cup.

“Probably something on his claws. Or something in the forest that got into your wounds right after.”

Elyra sat back up, her eyes widening. “Galvarys! He has gryphon claw wounds all over him.”

“I know, but I’m more worried about his larger wounds, and the fact he was poisoned. Never shoulda flown.” The man crouched down, examining Elyra’s wounds.

“I told him to wait. To rest.” She sipped her whiskey, sighing. By now her tongue and throat were going numb.

“If your fever gets much worse, it mighta killed you. He did what he had to do.” He glanced up at Elyra as that settled in. “I think he’ll be alright. Dragons are better about healing and fighting off infections than humans are. Speaking of which…”

“You think?” Elyra nearly choked on the whisky, her heart thudding against her sternum. “How badly hurt is he?”

“He’ll be fine.” The man’s voice hardened as he straightened up. He put a hand on Elyra’s shoulder, and eased her back down. “Your fever is my concern right now. We need to break it.”

“Can you?” Elyra fixed her gray eyes on the man. In the lamplight, his own eyes shone with orange fire, she couldn’t make out their natural color.

“I think so.” He gestured towards her wounds. “First, we have to clean and cauterize your wounds to kill off the infection that’s growing in them. Then we…”

“Cauterize?” Elyra’s heart skipped at least three beats. She felt as though the whole bed dropped out from under her, leaving her to fall back into it. She looked at the cup in her hand, and quickly drank the last of the whisky.

“With spirits. That should be enough. Once all your wounds are cleaned, I’ll pack them with herbal poultices. Clean them out again tomorrow, and sew them up if they look better. May have to drain them a day or two. ”

“And…if they don’t look better?”

The man glanced towards the stone hearth. “Then you’re gonna need a lot more whisky.” He turned his gaze back to Elyra, then squeezed her shoulder. “But I think this will be enough. After that’s done, we need to get all kinds of herbs and medicines inside you. I can mix most of them up with water so you can drink them. They’ll help break your fever, and get your body to start replacing the blood you lost. And I’ll get some buckets of cold water to mop your face with until your fever starts to break. And for you to drink. You’ll need plenty of water after all that whisky you just guzzled.”

“But you said…”

The man smirked at her for a moment, then turned away to his table. He unrolled a length of bandage, and then sliced it free with one of the knives. Then he wrapped the bandage around a stick, and handed it to Elyra. Elyra took it hesitantly, looked it over, and then glanced up at him.

“What’s this for?”

“To bite down on.” He held up a hand as if to give her pause. “Whenever you’re ready. We can wait for that whisky to kick in, if you want.”

Elyra took a few deep breaths. “Just do it.”

“Right. We’ll start with your arm.” The man took Elyra’s wrist and gently guided her to lay her arm over her body to give him access to the wounds on it. “You might wanna bite on that stick, now.”

---

“How is Elyra?” Galvarys peered down at the woman approaching him with a basket, unable to unknot his belly or slow the racing of his heart. Blood pulsed through him at a frantic pace, echoing almost painfully in his minor heart. “How is she?”

“She’s fine, Dragon.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Galvarys lashed his tail, but his snarl died when he grit his teeth and clenched his throat to try and keep from heaving.

“I’m not lying to you, Dragon,” the woman said, coming to a stop. “But you need to try and relax. The medicine can’t do you any good if you keep retching it back up.”

“Your damn plant-water is what made me retch.” Galvarys glanced down the hill where he’d vomited his guts out not long after emptying the large bowl of water and herbs she’d given him a little ago.

“I know being afraid for someone you care about is probably new to you…”

“You are wrong!” Galvarys snapped his jaws, a flash of hot fury erupting in his heart. “I have felt fear for those I cared for, and I have felt the anguish that follows!” He stalked towards her, hissing. “You know nothing!”

The woman took a few steps back, her eyes widening as the color drained from her olive-toned face. “I’m sorry, Dragon. I have an idea of what you’ve been through, and I…choose my words poorly. I’m…not used to dealing with…”

Galvarys took a deep breath, then let it out in a long, shuddering sigh. “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean to…will she be alright?”

“Yes, Dragon.” The woman stepped towards him again. “She’ll be alright. My husband is very good at what he does. You…you know that, don’t you?”

Galvarys breath caught in his throat. His wings trembled. “I know his mother was.”

“She taught him everything she knew.” She took another step. “Dragon, you must relax. You’re wounded, you’re weakened, you’ve had poison in your blood. You’re obviously a very strong creature, but you’re still flesh and blood. Even a dragon’s heart can only take so much.” The woman gestured with her basket towards her house. “She…Elyra. She’s asking about you. You don’t want me to have to go in there and tell her you’ve collapsed out here do you?”

“No,” Galvarys said, slowly shaking his horned head.

“Then please. Try to relax.” The woman began to walk towards the large wooden barn built up against the rise of the hilltop behind the house. “You’ve already gotten yourself so frightened and worked up that you vomited. That’s not good for your wounded body. You need to be able to keep down water and herbs.” She glanced back at him over her shoulder, trying to smile. “And whisky, if you want to ease the pain of what I’m going to have to do.”

Galvarys unsheathed his black claws, digging them into the earth. He did not want to go anywhere until he was sure Elyra would be alright. But the dragon also knew the woman was right. It had been a long time since he’d been this frightened. He’d been little more than a youth back then. And this…this was different. And he had his own health to worry about as well. With a sigh, Galvarys began to pad after the woman.

“You’re a brave woman to threaten a dragon with pain,” Galvarys said, trying to distract himself from his fear for Elyra.

“No threat intended, Dragon,” the woman said. She set her basket down, and began to haul the barn door open. “Just warning you that what’s coming won’t be pleasant. I don’t think any woman would be foolish enough to threaten to hurt a dragon.”

Galvarys found himself laughing at that. He laughed harder than he should have, if just in subconscious attempt to find a little relief from his pain and fear. The woman gave him an odd look as he walked up alongside her. “You obviously don’t know Elyra.”

“Oh?” The woman picked her basket up. “She threatens you, does she?”

“She’s a very courageous woman.” The dragon limped towards the barn, glancing around. “This place has changed a bit. Didn’t used to be a barn here, just a cave. Are there still other caves and springs down the way?”

“Of course,” the woman said. She went to the gate that lead into the nearby goat pen, ignoring the bleating of the animals. She made sure the gate was locked, then returned to the dragon. “We just turned the cavern into a barn by building some walls and a doorway a few years ago. Made for better storage, and keeps it warmer in the winter for the animals.”

Galvarys peered through the large doorway. Beyond the blue-painted walls was the yawning entrance of a familiar cavern, a natural expanse that was smoothed out and excavated further by the former village’s original inhabitants. The cavern floor was now lined with hay, and lanterns hung from poles that weren’t there years ago. Crates and barrels lined the new wooden walls, with a few wooden pens built up against the smoothly carved stone walls deeper inside the cave. Several iron stoves with chimneys piped through the outer walls sat around the pens.

“We keep some of our animals in here during the colder months, if we stay the winter. So I apologize if it smells a bit ripe. But you’ll need some shelter, and you won’t fit through the door of our house.”

“No, I’d be too large for that now.” Galvarys flicked his ears back. “I scarcely fit through some of my own hallways. This will be fine. Thank you.”

The dragon padded inside the cavern turned barn, making his way towards the cleanest smelling pile of hay he could find. The scents of goats, horses and other tasty animals lingered in the still air though Galvarys was the only occupant. It was a little warmer inside the cave even without a fire blazing in any of the iron stoves. The dragon eased himself down to the hay-strewn floor, pinning his ears in pain. After hours of flight, the throbbing wound between his ribs made the dragon feel as though he were being chopped in half blow by blow.

Galvarys turned his head, lifting his wing to peer at his injury. Blood both dry and fresh coated the blue scales all along his side. The rent flesh was red and angry, and far puffier looking than it had been that morning. He stretched his neck to lick at the wound, but no sooner had he tasted his own blood than the woman was rapping at the scales of his neck with the blunt edge of a knife.

“Oh no you don’t, Dragon.” Scowling, she waved the knife at him as if ready to add to his collection of injuries. “You’re going to make things worse.”

“It eases the bleeding, and cleans the wound,” Galvarys said, though he was too tired to argue. He lay his head down on the straw, muttering. “Fine. You clean it then.”

“I intend too, but I certainly wouldn’t be using my tongue.” The woman began to pull things out of her large basket. “I’ll give you something to drink that will help you relax.”

“Yes, you mentioned whisky.” Galvarys snorted, blowing a few strands of straw across the floor. “You should give it to Elyra. She is in pain.”

“She’s already had some, Dragon. She’s relaxing. Now it’s your turn.” She lifted a hand over her own chest as if indicating breathing. “Breath in, Dragon. Breathe in. Deeply.”

Galvarys glared at her, but slowly took a breath until his lungs were full and his chest plates expanded.

“Now breathe out. Slowly.” The woman lowered her hand in time with her own exhalation.

Galvarys’ breath escaped in a slow hiss. The woman’s olive-toned hand rose and fell in the air a few times, and each time the dragon timed his own deep breathing to match her gesture. By the time she’d stopped, Galvarys was surprised to find he actually did feel a little calmer.

“Your trick is impressive.” The dragon licked his nose, flicking an ear back. “Now I am ready for the booze.”

“Booze it is.” The woman chuckled to herself, straightening her blue dress as she knelt on the floor. She pulled out a bottle, removed the stopper and poured some of the contents into a wooden bowl. She pushed the bowl towards the dragon, grinning a little. “This is whisky, if you know the difference between spirits.”

“She used to call it all booze.” Galvarys hooked a single unsheathed claw over the edge of the bowl, dragging it a little closer. He sniffed at it, snorted, and then began to lap the stuff up. It burned his tongue and his throat and he paused to lick his muzzle. He growled. “This is the same stuff you’re going to put in my wounds, isn’t it.”

“It is, so keep drinking.” The woman unpacked a few more things, laying out knives and needles, cloths and herbs and bandages.

Galvarys returned to lapping up the harsh liquid. “This tastes like shit.”

That coaxed a chuckle from the woman. “We’ve only got a small supply of good liquor and we’re sure as hell not doling it out just to get you a little drunk when you have your wounds cleaned.”

Galvarys dragged his tail across the floor, his spines scraping against stone, shifting the straw. “She was the same way, though that may have been because she did not have anything else.”

The woman paused a moment, glancing up at the dragon. “How many times did she do this for you? Bind your wounds, I mean.”

“As many times as I needed.” Galvarys emptied the bowl and pushed it towards her for more. He pinned his spines back, grimacing. Though the burning of his throat eased a little, it was replaced by a dull, gnawing ache in his empty belly.

The woman poured him another bowl of the stuff and pushed it back towards the dragon. “This is my first time.” She smiled at him a moment. “For a dragon, I mean.”

“Then I hope you know what you’re doing.” Galvarys lapped at the spirits, hissing. “Or I shall wait for him to finish with Elyra.”

“I’ve fixed wounds and dealt with illnesses all my life, Dragon.” While the dragon drank, she began to grind up some of the chopped herbs in a gray stone mortar. “Usually with smaller animals, but the principal should be the same. Hopefully.”

Galvarys rumbled his annoyance at being lumped in with the animals. “Yes, I’m sure whatever countryside veterinary practices you’ve learned will suffice.” He cocked his head. “You seem much less frightened than when I first spotted you in the window.”

The woman shrugged, still grinding. “We didn’t know what you wanted, at first. Now it seems I have no reason to fear you.” She waved her green-speckled pestle at him, grinning. “I also took a few shots of that stuff you’re drinking to calm my nerves.”

“Wonderful.” Galvarys finished his drink, and pushed it back towards her. The dragon groaned as his stomach roiled in protest at being filled with nothing but searing liquor. “Why are you here?”

The woman scraped the mortar’s contents out into a separate bowl, and then began to grind a different batch of herbs. “Because my husband is busy with Elyra, and I thought your wounds needed attention.”

Galvarys glanced back at his injured ribs, still oozing. He splayed his ears at the sides of his head, then turned his attention back to the woman. “Not what I meant. Why are you…” He waved a forepaw in the air towards the ruined village spread across the hillside. “Here? In this place.”

The woman paused. She sighed, pursed her lips, and pulled her black hair back behind her head. “Because I love my husband. And he loves this place. He tried to leave it, but…after his mother passed he’s felt…” She picked up her pestle again, gesturing with it. “Obligated to take care of this place. Whatever debt she felt she owed you, he’s carrying it on.”

Galvarys’ ears drooped as he looked away. Something cold compressed his heart, his breath froze in his lungs. He tried to force out a few words. “He…he owes me…nothing.”

“Yes, I know.” The woman’s voice sharpened. She rapped the pestle against the edge of the mortar, and then softened her voice again. “But his mother did, and he owes her. To be honest, I like it out here. It’s quiet and peaceful aside from the occasional bloodied dragon and his feverish friend. I just wish he’d let me have all those old ruins knocked down once and for all.”

“Why does he not?”

“He prefers the reminder.” The woman sighed, glancing away.

Galvarys knew all too well how that felt. “So did I, for far too long a time. Till I met Elyra, and realized a wound cannot close if I will not let it be.”

“I cannot imagine what that must be have been like for you, dragon.” The woman picked up a cloth bandage, kneading it and wringing it between her hands. “Losing…”

“I do not wish to speak of it.” Galvarys cut her off, lifting his spines a little.

The woman nodded. “I didn’t mean to bring it up. You’re right, though. Maybe you can talk my husband into it. They could start a new village out here if he was willing to part with the reminder of the old one.” Then her eyes widened when Galvarys growled at her, and she shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t want another village here, would you.”

“You talk a lot.” Galvarys thumped his tail, his spines clattering. “I think you have already longer talking to me than she ever did.”

“It’s the booze,” the woman said. “Speaking of which, do you feel ready to proceed?”

“You may as well get it over with.”

“Let me get some water.” The woman left the barn and soon returned with two wooden pails full of water. Galvarys pulled his wing back as she settled at his side. “I’ll start with the worst of your wounds.” She glanced up at him. “Do you want something to bite on? I can get you…”

“Just clean it, Woman.” The dragon unsheathed his claws, laying his head down against the straw. Fear of pain spurred his heart, and he took a few deep breaths to try and calm its acceleration.

“Alright, Dragon.” Galvarys tensed, gritting his teeth when she dabbed a wet cloth along his wound. Even the tender washing sent embers of hot agony flying in all directions from the axe wound. “When it gets bad, tell me if the pain makes you nauseas. I don’t want you to vomit again, but if you do I’d like a chance to get out of the way before you stumble for the door. After your wounds are tended, I’ve got medicine for you to take, but you’ll need to have a stable stomach. It won’t do you any good if you can’t keep it down.”

“Are you going to fix me or just prattle all day?” Galvarys lashed his tail against the straw.

“Just rinsing your wound now so I can see what I have to work with.” The woman worked the cloth against him, cleaning as much of the blood from his scales and injured flesh as she could. Galvarys hissed in pain, dragging his claws against the stone floor. “I’m trying to be as gentle as I can.”

“I know,” the dragon said, squeezing his eyes shut.

The woman paused a moment. Galvarys heard her rustling around. He glanced back and saw her applying whisky to a fresh cloth. He cringed and fixed his eyes on the blue sky beyond the door. The dragon took a few deep breaths, then cried out as fire pierced him. Felt as though she’d taken an entire sword from a bed of coals and thrust it as deeply into his ribcage as she could. He snapped his jaws shut to try and stifle his cry, then shook his head back and forth, tears streaking his muzzle.

“What’s your name?” The woman called out to him.

“What?” Galvarys gasped for ragged breath.

“Your name?” The woman pulled the cloth away, but the pain did not fade quickly. “Why don’t you tell me your name?”

“I do not-AAAH!” The dragon cried out again when she returned to scrubbing him with the whisky soaked cloth. For a moment, white-hot pain was all the dragon could think of. He couldn’t even recall his own name, let alone why he wouldn’t want to tell her. He tried to focus on his name, found it helped him fight through the pain a little. “Galvarys! My name is Galvarys.”

The dragon offered his name before he had a chance to think better of it. But even as the pain ebbed and gave him a moment to collect his thoughts, he realized he would have told her anyway. He was already sprawled here, nearly helpless and in need of help from a human. He’d already begged her to save his friend, now he was screaming in pain as she attended his wounds. There was little more he could do to bare his soul to this woman. Why not just give her his name? Besides, anyone who dwelled here now deserved to know who had brought this place to ruin.

The pain returned, and this time the dragon twisted his scream into words. “I am Galvarys the Wrathful!” He hissed, scratching at the stone floor with black claws. “Eldest of Ayvyrial!”

The woman pulled the cloth back, and Galvarys took a few breaths. He looked back at the ragged hole burning in his side. The dried blood that caked his indigo scales was gone, leaving him a better look at the torn flesh that lay amidst the broken scales. When he took a breath, the hole opened a little and the dragon caught a glimpse of one of his ribs. Wonderful.

“That was your…?” The woman looked up to the dragon as she soaked a fresh cloth. She had an intriguing way of trying to distract him from the pain, though Galvarys wished she’d just given him a whole cask of whisky and let him drink himself into a stupor. “Go on, Dragon.”

“Ayvyrial was my mother, and the greatest dragon-AAH!” Galvarys snapped his jaws shut to stifle his scrub as the woman scrubbed his wound again. He slammed his tail against the stone, his spines clattering. “Is that not clean yet?”

“Tell me about your mother,” the woman said as she pushed the cloth into the wound.

Galvarys screamed through grit teeth, his spines flared in agony. He’d forgotten how unpleasant this could be. Felt like she was tearing his ribs in half. “Ayvyrial, the youngest of Ayvyaranys. She raised me in the mountains you can see in the distance.”

Galvarys closed his eyes, fixing an image of his mother in his mind. His blue scales came from her, as did his silver eyes. He saw himself as a scrawny little hatchling, bounding around in the hot sun. His mother landed with a barrel full of fresh snow from the icy peaks. Which she promptly dumped atop him.

Galvarys laughed despite his pain, a few more tears wrung from his eyes still squeezed shut. “She was…playful.”

“What did she look like? What color was she?”

“She was blue, like me.” The dragon shivered when he felt something new being pushed into his wound. By now all the spirits scrubbed into injured flesh had numbed it a little. Hints of bitter, herbal aromas drifted through the air. He curled his tail in pain, rubbed a wing against his body as he cringed. “Not as dark as me. Her eyes were like mine, silver and bright. Always happy.”

“What about black? Did she have any black?”

“No.” Galvarys shook his head, vision swim. His brain and his stomach were competing to see which could spin the fastest. He groaned a little, fighting a wave of nausea. He swallowed a few times till the worst of it had passed. “My markings are from my father. He was black, and gray, but I only took the black.”

“He sounds striking,” the woman said, pushing a needle into the dragon’s flesh.

Galvarys hissed, struggling against the urge to tense up and pull away from the pain. “He was. He was also a liar, and a coward.”

“And what was the liar’s name?” She pushed the needle in again, dragging sinewy thread with it.

Galvarys kneaded at the stone floor with his forepaws, his tail nearly tied in knots as the wound was slowly pulled closed. “Galvatak. Among men, he called himself…” Galvarys hissed when another wave of hot pain washed over him. “The Burning Shadow. Though I doubt he deserved such a fearsome moniker. He claimed a great and regal lineage. That the blood of Ravarynak ran through his veins, and thus my own.”

“That sounds important,” the woman said, patting the dragon’s side. “Why don’t you hold that thought for the next wound?”

Galvarys turned his head to see her handiwork. The gash in his side was now held closed by an assortment of thick stitches. She’d removed all the damaged scales from around the wound to make room for the sinew threads, then pulled the whole thing together. As the dragon watched, she cut off the ends of the thread with a knife.

“Done already, are you?”

“With that one,” the woman said, grinning at him. “For now. You’re lucky. It didn’t look like you’d suffered any infections in there.”

“Dragons are good at fighting such things off.”

“Nonetheless, I need to keep an eye on it. I put a little poultice in there, and the wound might need to be drained.” She gathered her things, putting all the blood soaked cloths in a single pile. Then she began to move her tools around the dragon to his injured shoulder. “But let’s worry about that when we come to it.”

“Then why did you sew it up?” Galvarys snorted.

“Because I’m worried about your bleeding.” The woman gestured at the dragon with her hand. “Between the flight and the poison, you were still bleeding long after you should have stopped. The poultice I put in there is one to help your blood clot, and I did not stitch you as thoroughly as I could have. Give it a chance to drain even as you start to heal.”

Galvarys snorted. He lifted his wing a little to watch the way the movement stretched his wound. The fire throbbing in his side grew hotter with the motion, and the fresh stitches tugged at angry skin. He whimpered to himself, easing his wing back down. “How long must these be in me?”

“As long as they’re needed.” The woman set out all her tools and supplies alongside the dragon’s shoulder. “Please don’t test the stitches. That’s the sturdiest stitching thread I have, but it’s not exactly intended for a dragon. If they pop out you’re going to be in worse shape than before.”

“I have no intention of popping them out.” The dragon sighed, stretched his long neck and lay his head against the straw-covered stone. He groaned in pain. “May I have a few moments before we proceed? And more whisky?”

The woman pushed herself back to her feet. “A little more, yes. I’d let you help yourself to a whole barrel if I had that much to spare, and I wasn’t worried about how it might affect your body.”

“I’ve been drunk before.” Galvarys flicked his ears and snorted. Straw flew through the air.

“But not when you’ve a liver full of poison.” A bottle clanked as she pulled it from the basket. She poured some of the whisky into the dragon’s bowl, then set it before his snout. “I don’t know how they’ll interact.”

“The poison was…” Galvarys pinned his ears. How long ago was that now? He’d lost track of time ever since he passed out and woke up and passed out and woke up. “And I had antidote.”

“It takes time for these things to be filtered from the body,” the woman said, walking back to his shoulder. “Even for a dragon. And even an antidote is something the body has to filter from your blood. You might well have a liver the size of my bathtub but even it must have its limits, and I’d rather not discover them.”

Galvarys grinned at that image as he lapped at his whisky. The burning tingle it left all down his throat seemed less severe than before. “They’re valuable, you know.” He lifted his head, a few golden-brown droplets dripped from his muzzle. “Not the bathtub, the liver.”

The woman quirked a dark brow, tilting her head. “What are you on about, Dragon?”

“Livers.” He licked the droplets away, then went back to the whisky. He murmured between laps. “Dragon livers. They’re very valuable. To humans I mean. For coin.”

“So are all of your organs, I’d imagine.” The woman knelt down, smoothed out her blue dress, then folded her arms. “I suspect they’re far more valuable to their original owner, however. But it’s nice to see that whisky finally taking hold. Hopefully cleaning these next wounds will be easier on you.”

“If I should die,” Galvarys said, swinging his head around to fix his silver glare on the woman’s olive-toned face. “You may sell my organs and give the coin to Elyra. I suggest the Village On The River. They’re rich.”

The woman shook her head. “You’re not going to die, Galvarys.”

Galvarys glared at her, flicking his tail tip. His vision spun, and he tried to blink it away. “Who told you my name?”

“You did, you silly beast.” The woman pointed to his half-empty bowl. “Finish your whisky.”

“So I did.” The dragon peered down at the bowl of whisky, then lapped up the last of it. “Make it fair, then. What is your name?”

“My name is Nyira.”

“S’funny name.” The dragon batted the empty whisky bowl aside.

“So is Galvarys.” Nyira dunked a clean cloth into a fresh pail of water. “Are you ready, Galvarys?”

“Do your worst.” The dragon eased his foreleg forward to better expose the dual wounds behind his shoulder. “Let’s get this over with.”

“I’ll be as gentle as I can.” She pressed the cloth to the dragon’s wound, and Galvarys tensed as the pain blossomed. “Tell me about your family again, Galvarys. Tell me of your lineage.”

Galvarys throat clenched when the waves of pain raked him, but he forced words through. “I’ve…already done that. The rest…I am not drunk enough to share.”

Nyira laughed, rinsing her cloth. “You need something to focus on to take your mind from the pain. What about Elyra?”

This time it was not pain that made Galvarys tense. “What of her?”

“You care about her, don’t you?”

Galvarys growled, drumming claw tips against the floor. His heart trembled and his minor heart quickened. Something uncertain tingled at the base of his spines. “Yes. She is my friend.”

“Is that…” Nyira trailed off. “Why don’t you tell me about Elyra? Then before you know it, this will all be over and you can get some rest.”

“Very well,” Galvarys said. The dragon found himself smiling despite the pain. “I shall tell you of her courage. Of her kindness. And I shall…” He traced a single unsheathed claw in a circle across the stone, chuckling to himself. “…Tell you of the day she freed me from the pastry box.”

---

Chapter Nineteen

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Elyra awoke to warm, orange light diffusing through the curtains. Her mind drifted in a drowsy fog, behind a shroud of fading dreams. Flickers of dreamscape lingered in her groggy mind. She saw a smiling dragon, a shrieking gryphon, felt the earth roil as trees toppled. Fear held her till the images and sensations changed, till the half-dream was nothing more than the warmth of Galvarys’ wing enclosing her. Elyra was content to linger in comforting drowsiness, but pain began to tug her closer and closer to reality.

One by one pinpricks of pain along her side and arm grew and grew till she felt over a half dozen white-hot coals pressed against her skin. She groaned, shifted, and the pain throbbed from the movement. Elyra went still and took a few deep breaths, trying to remember where the hell she was and why she hurt so much. She was in a bed. She hadn’t slept in a bed since she’d left the Hall.

Before she was awake, a terrifying thought hit her. What if she was still in the Hall? What if she’d never left, if her offer to volunteer had been denied? Could the happiest days of her entire life have been nothing but some beautiful fever dream? She hurt about as much as she did after being whipped and beaten in her younger days, and she did recall a few crushing fevers, but nothing that lead to the sort of stumbling, half-consciousness she began to remember from the day before.

Elyra took a deep breath, gazing around the room. The place was only vaguely familiar. It was definitely not the Hall. Even the bed’s blue-dyed woolen blankets were softer, warmer and more comfortable than those at home. A stone hearth across the room held a mixture of ashes and still glowing embers. A hint of pine smoke and herbal incense hung in the air. Tables covered in pots and bloodied cloths and bundles of herbs sat in several places. The lanterns that hung from where overhead rafters crossed paths were all out, but enough sunlight filtered through the blue curtains to cast the room in a soft golden light.

Elyra smiled a little as memories continued to return. Blue curtains, blue blankets, blue barn and a blue dress. They sure liked blue here. That was alright. Elyra liked blue, too. Galvarys was blue. Granted, he was more of an indigo shade while the house and its decorations were closer to the hue of the sky. She liked it anyway.

Elyra’s smile grew as she realized that in her drowsy fear, she’d thought of her time with Galvarys as the happiest in all her life. She had no argument for that, and no hesitation in accepting it in her waking moments. Never in Elyra’s life had she felt happier than she had in her time with the dragon. For much of her life she’d almost forgotten what real happiness was. She found joy only in fleeting moments of secret triumph over the nobles, she was happy in her personal rebellions, but the rest of her days were anything but. The last time she remembered such simple happiness before Galvarys was in her childhood. Back when she was too young to know the emptiness life in this land held for a person like her. When she lived with her mother and a few others trying to maintain the old ways. Before they were rounded up and brought to the city and made to serve as penance for the crimes of ancestors.

Now Elyra lived the life of a dragon.

In a way, it was close the life she’d always imagined her own people once lived. Free to wander as they pleased, to make their homes wherever they desired, to conduct their lives as they saw fit. The dragon too, had enemies who saw him as little more than the sins of his ancestors. Elyra and the dragon shared more in common than she’d ever have imagined before she met him. Now they even shared injuries. Elyra doubted this was the last time they’d both be wounded by the dragon’s enemies.

Only they weren’t just Galvarys’ enemies. Elyra and the dragon were…they were friends, now. Galvarys himself put it to words even before Elyra dared to let herself believe it. Their friendship had been growing for some time, but Elyra had not fully let herself consider it that, let alone speak the word aloud to Galvarys. Trust the dragon and his bluntness to put the truth to their friendship before she worked up the nerve to suggest it. They were friends, and Galvarys’ enemies were hers as well.

Elyra grimaced as her wounds throbbed. With her good arm, she pulled the woolen blankets away from her body. Elyra found herself nude beneath the blankets, though she wasn’t surprised. Much of the night was a blur of pain and fever-dream. She had vague memories of them cutting away part of her blouse to get to her wounds, then later the woman cut the rest of it away. They’d wanted to cool her down, and as the shirt was already ruined there was no need for them to jar her freshly stitched wounds to take it off. The woman had also tugged Elyra’s breeches off, with Elyra’s mumbled permission. Then Elyra recalled something about laying naked atop the blanket, with cold night air blowing in through the window. At least the fever seemed broken. The window was shut now and someone had lit a fire and tucked her back in. That was a good sign.

Elyra eased her arm up to inspect her wounds. Each gouge the gryphon’s claws made in her was held shut by a couple of stitches. The wounds themselves were fairly minor, though quite painful. It was the infection they’d taken that had really jeopardized her. Now the furious red tone of her skin had faded to an irritated pink. Her wounds all still hurt, but the worst of it seemed to have passed. When she moved her arm, the stitches tugged at her skin. With her other hand, she prodded at a couple stitches, wincing. She’d never been stitched up before.

Elyra eased upright on the bed, then swung her legs over the edge. Her head spun for a moment, but the dizziness soon faded. She licked her chapped lips, her throat burned. Elyra spotted a pitcher of water and a wooden cup on a nearby table. She wobbled as she stood, and her first few steps were shaky. She poured herself some water, and gulped it all down. Then she walked back to the bed, gaining a little strength in her stride with every step. At the edge of the bed, she decided against sitting down on it. Instead, she snatched up the blanket and wrapped it around herself.

It was time to go see Galvarys.

The blanket was as much for modesty as it was for warmth. After spending so many years in the unpleasant service of the nobles and their pleasures, she’d not have been too bothered by striding around naked. But for Elyra, modesty was still a fresh comfort she was happy to indulge. As she had no clean clothes to put on, a blanket would have to suffice. She hoped the woman would let her borrow something.

With the blue blanket wrapped around her slender frame, Elyra eased the door open. “Hello? Anyone around?”

There was no answer from the house. Elyra walked into the next room, peering about. It seemed a delightfully cozy little house, the sort of place Elyra would have liked to live if she didn’t already live somewhere even better. It was hard to beat living in a fortress with a dragon.

Well-worn but still comfortable looking couches adorned the room, along with a few recliners. Everything looked as though they’d made it themselves. The couches and reclines both had frames composed of sturdy pine logs and heavy boughs notched and fit together, lashed and nailed in a few places. The cushions were all animal hide, soft and furred and likely filled with straw and feather like the bed. Tables cut from tree trunk and smoothed down sat in a few places, along with shelves overstuffed with a variety of books. Bundles of herbs, and bags of root vegetables hung from the rafters. An ornate hearth built from colorful stones and designed to look like a series of arches spanned one wall. Embers glowed in it. A hallway lead into a kitchen, and a few other doors marked the walls, though Elyra did not investigate.

Elyra opened the front door instead, peering outside. It looked to be at least mid-morning, and the air that wafted in was cool but not unpleasant while she was wrapped in her blanket. She saw no sign of the occupants yet, nor any sign of her blue-scaled friend. But a quick glance around told her that unless the dragon had ventured off into the burnt out ruins further down the hill, there was really only once place large enough for him to be.

Elyra slipped outside and closed the door behind herself, then wrapped the blanket more tightly around her body. Her movements kept pain thudding in her arm and side, but she needed to find Galvarys. She had make sure he was alright. A dirt lane led from the front door out to the grassy area in front of the house, where the wagon trails lay. Elyra padded along the trail a little bit. In the distance goats bleated, a horse whinnied. Bird warbled from unseen places, and the breeze rustled leaves and grass. The man who’d tended her wounds was right, there was a peaceful sort of solitude to this place despite the dark cloud shrouding so much of it.

Now that she wasn’t wrapped in throes of fever, Elyra got a better look at the place as she gazed around it. The house and farm sat on a flat area the top of a large, grassy hill with a very gentle slope. The hill was lightly terraced and alternated between gentle slopes and flatter areas. Long green grass dotted with indigo and scarlet blossoms covered everything, save the immense gray boulders and rocky outcrops that jutted up here and there. Steam rose from a pond surrounded by mossy rocks. Further down the hill, blackened frame work and crumbled walls marked where homes once lay. From her vantage, she could see the lines of headstones she’d spotted when they first landed. It must have been a beautiful village before Galvarys burned it down.

Elyra shivered. For a moment no blanket could ease her chill. Just where had the dragon brought her?

Elyra walked through the lush green grass carpeting the hill on her way to what looked like a barn built against the hillside. A few sharp looking stones laying in the wagon tracks dissuaded her from following the trail while she was still barefoot. A large wooden fence of pine boughs hemmed in a pen filled with bleating goats. At the far end of the pen Elyra spotted the black-haired woman who lived here. She’d exchanged her blue dress for one of green and gold, and looked to be busy handing out treats to the swarm of goats surrounding her.

The woman laughed as one of the goats nibbled the sleeve of her dress. Elyra was glad to hear the woman laugh. This place needed laughter. The woman shoved the goat’s horned head aside. “Not my dress, you silly thing.”

Elyra watched her till the woman turned and spotted her. Then Elyra snaked an arm out from her blankets and waved. “Morning!”

“Oh, Elyra!” The woman tried to make her way across the pen, but wading through an ocean of greedy goats proved difficult. “You shouldn’t be out and about yet.”

“I’m just going to check on Galvarys,” Elyra said, offering the dragons name without realizing it. She scowled, then shook her head. It didn’t matter. These people helped them, the dragon would just have to live with a few more humans knowing his name.

“Don’t wake him,” the woman replied, struggling through the goat herd. “He needs his rest, as do you!”

Elyra had no intentions of waking the dragon. She just wanted to check on him. Elyra had to know that Galvarys was alright. The blue-painted barn door was slightly ajar, and Elyra slipped inside without having to push it any further. The inside of the barn was dark, but the blue-scaled lump laying in the middle of it was unmistakable. What little light there was flickered on silver eyes when the dragon lifted his head, blinking a few times.

“Elyra?”

“Galvarys!” Elyra threw her arms around his neck before she even realized she’d run to him. “Oh, Galvarys! I was so worried about you! Are you alright? Tell me you’re alright!”

“Me?” The dragon tilted his head and gave a scoffing snort. Yet Elyra could feel the dragon’s purr building in his throat by the moment. His scales felt so warm against her body. So safe, and comforting. “Of course I’m alright. I was worried for you, I wasn’t the one with the fever! You should be in bed, Elyra!”

“Shut up, Galvarys,” Elyra said, burying her face in the scales of his neck as he eased up onto his haunches. “Just tell me you’re alright.”

The dragon grunted. He lifted a foreleg and eased it around her, hugging her against him. The scales of his limb brushed the skin of her back, his paw pad pressed against her. The dragon lowered his head, his muzzle brushing her cheek. “I’m alright, Elyra. Are you?”

Elyra leaned her head against the dragon’s muzzle. With her good arm, she stroked his neck. Her throat clamped shut and tears welled in her eyes. Elyra made no effort to stop them, a maelstrom of confusing emotions roiled inside her. Relief and fear, joy and concern, and something far greater that frightened her to even consider. Yet the more it grew in her the less she could deny it.

“Don’t cry,” Galvarys said, though his own voice trembled nearly as much as hers did.

“I can’t help it!” Elyra turned her head towards his face. His ears were pinned, his spines half lifted. His eyes shone in the darkness like wet, silver beacons. Elyra reached up and pressed her hand against his muzzle. “Do you know how worried I was for you, Galvarys?”

The dragon glanced away, his spines sinking. “Less so than I was for you.”

“You never should have flown in your condition!” Elyra sniffled, stroking his cheek. She glanced over the dragon, noting the assortment of bandages that now covered his wounds. Some of them looked clean, others bore stains of blood and seepage. Her heart sank in a moment of sympathy, then burned with short-lived anger. “You could have killed yourself!”

“In that moment, Elyra, I realized your life was more important to me than my own.” The dragon hung his head a little, his ears drooping as if afraid of his own words. “If saving your life cost me my own, I’d have died happily knowing you would live.”

“I…” Elyra’s breath caught. “What?”

“I feared for you, Elyra. Whatever took hold of your wounds…” The dragon shook his head, licked his nose. His scales scrunched as he struggled for words. “I have never seen such a fever, but I know it will claim a life if untreated. I had to find you help, no matter the cost to me. I feared you were dying, Elyra. I feared that I would lose you, and worse yet, I feared the world would lose your spark.”

Elyra stared at him, the shroud of uncertainty surrounding her heart slowly pulled away. No one had ever considered her life to be of any value, save her own mother. She’d heard the dragon call her his friend, but this…this was something new. Elyra struggled to find words, yet grasped only silence. She worked her mouth, yet no sound came out. The longer the silence went on the more desperate she was to reply, to put her feelings to words. Tears ran down her cheeks and still she chocked on every syllable she tried to force past her tongue.

Galvarys broke the silence himself. “Elyra, I have realized that I-”

“Elyra!” The healer’s voice echoed through the barn as she strode towards them. “You need to be in bed!”

Elyra cringed, and pressed her face to Galvarys scales when the dragon fell silent. That was twice now, and she still wasn’t sure.

“Nyira, you could not possibly have worse timing.” The dragon growled, his tail curling. He lowered his head to nuzzle at Elyra’s cheeks, wiping her tears with the soft part of his nose. He murmured to Elyra. “Stop crying, Elyra. We’re both safe, and we’ll both heal. We’ll be alright together.”

Together. Did he mean…? Elyra fought to swallow the nearly immovable lump in her throat. The clouds of uncertainty once more gathered around her heart, her stomach was a cold stone sinking lower and lower. She turned her head, kissed the dragon’s cheek, and then just lay her head against his, stroking his neck. She could ask him. She could tell him. But even if she could find the words now the moment was lost. She could not bring herself to ask the dragon what lay in his heart now any more than she could when she first saw the sword. He would tell her when he was ready.

“I’m sorry,” Nyira said, wringing her hands. She turned away as if she felt she’d intruded on something even more private than she had. “I didn’t know you two were…”

“Were what?” The dragon asked, his voice sharpening by the syllable.

“Sharing a moment,” Nyira said, glancing back at them. “But Elyra does need to be in bed, and Galvarys needs his rest. The dragon’s had enough heart trouble without you strutting about naked for him and getting him aroused again.”

“Heart trouble?” Elyra gasped, whirling around.

“Getting me aroused again?” Galvarys gasped in unison.

“He’s having heart trouble?” Elyra spun right back around and pressed her ear to the dragon’s chest.

“I am not getting aroused!” The dragon curled his tail, hissing. “Nor have I ever gotten aroused!”

Elyra and Nyira both looked up at his face.

The dragon blinked, pinned his ears back and hissed, his muzzle flushing just a little purple. “That isn’t what I meant. I meant, by a human.”

“What was all that about sharing the tub, then?” Nyira pressed her hand to Elyra’s back, smiling. “His heart should be fine, now. He just needs rest.”

“You told her about the time in the tub?” Galvarys glared down at Elyra, flaring his spines.

“You told me about that last night,” Nyira said, waving her finger at the dragon. “While you were drunk.” She gently eased Elyra aside to press her own ear to the dragon’s chest plates. As she listened to his heartbeat, she spoke to Elyra. “I had him telling me about his lineage and about you, to help take his mind from the pain. Then I had him tell me an embarrassing story.”

“I don’t remember that at all,” Galvarys said, pinning his ears back. “I remember the tub, but I don’t remember telling anyone about it.”

“You didn’t tell me you had heart trouble, either!” Elyra, heedless of her own nudity, smacked the dragon on the nose when he lowered his head. “I told you shouldn’t have flown!”

“He probably saved your life,” Nyira said, moving to stand between them a moment. “His heart was just stressed, that’s all. Between the poison, losing so much blood, and being terrified for the woman he cares for…well, even the heart of a dragon has its limits. He sounds fine now, though.”

“You were really that scared for me?” Elyra chewed her lip, unable to keep from smiling. “I didn’t mean to…”

“He was just as scared for you as you were for him,” Nyira said. She scooped up Elyra’s dropped blanket and wrapped it around her. “Now, come along. I’m sorry I interrupted you two at such a moment.” She glanced back at the dragon. “You’ll have plenty of alone time with your mate soon enough, because I don’t want you flying for at least a few weeks.”

Elyra’s hands went cold and her face flushed hot. “We aren’t…I mean…we’re just…”

“I suppose you give all your friends a naked hug, hmm?” Nyira chuckled to herself, putting an arm around her waist.

“I was worried for him! I’d forgotten I was naked!” She looked back at Galvarys, expecting him to come to her aid.

Instead, the dragon simply smiled at her, and arched his neck. “Go rest, Elyra. I’ll see you soon.”

Elyra stuttered a little as Nyira lead her back outside into the sunshine. “But…we’re not…I mean, I’ve never had. No one’s ever…I think he was going to…”

“No need to try and answer a question I’m not going to ask.” She squeezed Elyra’s hip with her arm, smiling. “Even if your stuttering may be answer enough. Now come along. We’ve got to check and clean both your wounds before you get back to bed.”

---

The bright, summer sun warmed the little dragon’s blue and black wings as he stalked his prey. His silver eyes were fixed upon his dozing target. The dragon was little more than a hatchling, yet already indulging his budding hunting instincts. He slunk across the sun-warmed meadow, padding across long green grass and pushing through stands of wildflowers. The hatchling pushed his blunt indigo muzzle between a few tall green stalks lined with blue, star-shaped flowers. A bee buzzed around one of the stalks and the hatchling paid it no heed. He took a few more steps towards his prey, little wings quivering in anticipation. The tiny dragon flicked his tail, spines not yet grown in.

The hatchling’s prey was poorly camouflaged. Dark colors might blend in well at night, but during the day they stood out sharp against the blankets of green grass and brilliant wildflowers that carpeted the rolling meadows. The hatchling licked his nose. He waggled his haunches. He took a deep breath, hunkered down, and then sprang forward. He sprinted across the meadow, closing upon his target in moments. When the hatchling neared his prey, he used his momentum to launch himself into the air. Undeveloped wings beat the air on instinct alone. Though he could not fly, he had leapt high enough to land atop his target. His prey slept upon its back, foolishly leaving its vulnerable belly wide open.

The moment the hatchling landed upon the belly of his prey he went to work dispatching the beast. His prey was a large creature, yet the hatchling knew he would prevail. Again and again the hatchling struck at the beast with teeth and claw, snarling his furious rage. He pivoted and spun, lashing out with unsheathed black claws, biting down wherever he could find purchase. The prey began to writhe in pain and fear, but soon it would be dead and the hatchling would feed.

“Raarrrh!” The little hatchling roared. “I’mma eat you!”

“Galvarys,” said the hatchling’s father, shifting beneath his son. He lifted his black scaled head, quirking an eye ridge above a bronze eye. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Playing hunter!” Galvarys lashed at his father’s chest, his claws skidding harmlessly over the dark grey plates. “You’re my prey!”

The older dragon snorted. He arched his neck, grinning down at his son. “I see. Since you’ve roused me from my nap, you may as well finish me off and eat me.”

“Okay!” Galvarys reared onto his hind legs, then flopped back down, swatting his forepaws against his father’s chest. “Now you’re dead!”

The older dragon gave a terrible death rattle, sprawling out limp against the sun-warmed grass. Galvarys roared in triumph and trotted in a circle upon his father’s chest. He jumped on him a few times, tail swishing. After a moment, Galvary’s father began to lift his head from the ground.

“Nuh uh you’re dead!” Galvarys swatted at his chest with a paw.

His father dropped his head back down, the tips of his spiraling horns dug into the ground. Of all the dragons Galvarys had ever seen, only his father had spiral horns. The older dragon’s head moved a little as he spoke. “You know…”

“Dead prey can’t talk.” Galvarys giggled to himself, flopping onto his haunches.

“Perhaps I’m not quite dead.” The older dragon lifted his head, a bit of dirt fell from one of his horns. “Attacking my belly first really just injures me. There’s a better way to ensure a kill…”

Galvarys stared at his father when the older dragon trailed off. He cocked his little head, perking his frilled ears. “How? I’mma be a hunter!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The older dragon lay his black head back down against the grass. “I’m dead, I forgot. I can’t talk.”

“No, talk!” Galvarys hopped on his father’s chest.

His father only gave another exaggerated death rattle. “Urrraaaggghh.”

“Talk!” Galvarys swatted the older dragon’s gray chest plates. “You’re alive! How do I kill you?”

Galvarys’ father lifted his head, a smile crept across his muzzle. “The throat.” He lifted a paw, dragging an unsheathed claw across his own mottled gray throat. “You’ve got to go for your prey’s throat. Especially when you’re too young to carry them to the sky and hurl them back to earth. Cut the throat here, or tear it open with your teeth, and they’ll be dead in moments. And then it’s feeding time.”

Galvarys paid close attention. Then when his father moved his paw aside, the little dragon sprang forward onto his father’s throat. His father yelped in surprise, then gave mock cries of pain as Galvarys flailed at the scales of his throat. He dropped his head back down, grinning.

“I’m a hunter!” Galvarys nibbled at his father’s throat. “Are you dead now?”

“Yes,” his father said with solemn authority. “I am most certainly deceased.”

“Dead things can’t talk!”

“How would you know? Have you ever met a dead thing?” His father lifted his head, curling his neck to grin at Galvarys.

Little Galvarys promptly swatted his father on the nose with a paw. “No talking, Dead Father!”

His father recoiled, stifling a yelp. He lay his head down against the grass, snorting. “Well, if I can’t talk I guess you don’t get to hear any stories tonight.”

“Momma can tell stories!”

The black and gray laughed, his whole scaly body shaking beneath little Galvarys. “Your mother doesn’t have any good stories to tell. She doesn’t know anything about my regal clan. Why do you think she enjoys hearing the tales as much as you do?” He lifted a foreleg, and gently stroked Galvarys. The hatchling purred, arching his neck into his father’s paw pads. “It’s our regal clan, now.”

“I’m regal,” Galvarys said, turning his head to nip at his father’s paw.

“You’ve got my regal blood in you, so yes, you are. Descended from the Singer Of The Stars, from our grand clan when it was still, well, grand.” The old dragon chuckled to himself. Then he lifted his head, flicked his frilled ears. He flared his spines. It made the missing spines stand out even more. “I hear your mother returning.”

“Yay!” Galvarys chirped, hopped around on his father’s chest, then jumped down into the grass. He craned his neck, peering at the sky. The sound of distant wing beats grew by the moment. Galvarys twisted himself around, following the sound till he’d spotted his mother. She was a bright blue silhouette against the towering gray walls of the mountains that enclosed the meadow where their little clan lived. “Momma’s back!”

Galvarys’s mother circled in the sky a few times. She called out to him, a brassy, happy trumpeting sound. Galvarys called back. “Braaah!” As she spiraled down towards him, Galvarys chased her across the ground, running in circles that grew ever tighter. As she swept over head, the little hatchling jumped up to try and catch her tail, but it whipped just out of reach. “Braaaah! Momma!”

Galvarys’ mother finally came in for a landing not far from his father. She dropped the old, iron-banded barrel she was carrying just before touching down and trotting to a stop. Galvarys flew across the meadow. Even before his mother folded her wings, he’d launched himself against her foreleg and wrapped all four of his limbs around it. The hatchling purred so loud his whole body vibrated. He gnawed at his mother’s scutes as she laughed.

Galvary’s mother lifted her foreleg off the ground and Galvarys left the ground with it. She arched her neck, and pressed her sky-blue muzzle to her son, purring right back to him. Then she gave him a long, slow lick from his nose down to his tail. The warm softness of her tongue made Galvarys giggle and purr even louder. The gesture radiated love, and Galvarys never wanted it to end.

“Hello, my little hunter.” His mother licked him again, and Galvarys arched his back into her lick. In the process his lost his grip and slipped off her forelimb, flopping onto his back on the ground. Galvary’s mother laughed, then lowered her head to lick his belly instead of his back. “You silly thing.”

Galvarys giggled and squirmed. His belly was ticklish and mother knew it. “No tickling, Momma!” He kicked at her muzzle with his hind paws till she pulled away, grinning.

“Hello, Ayvyrial.” Galvarys’ father eased his head up to grin at the female, but continued to lounge upon his back, his gray-mottled wings draped out at his sides.

“Hello, Galvatak,” Ayvyrial replied, smiling at him. “Couldn’t be bothered to hunt us some lunch while I was away, could you?”

“I was busy,” Galvatak said. He glanced at Galvarys, lifting his broken spines. “Teaching our son how to kill prey.”

“Bit young for that, isn’t he?” Ayvyrial nosed Galvarys when the hatchling rolled over. “Did you fun at least, my little prey-slayer?”

“Yes!” Galvarys held his head high, beaming. He tried to flare his own tiny spines. “I killed father!”

“Did you then?” Momma pulled her head back, gave Father a funny look with her ears splayed, then smiled at Galvarys.

“Yes! Twice!” Galvarys looked back at his father, waggling his haunches. “First I killed him when he was napping! Then I killed him again!”

Ayvyrial grasped Galvarys tail before he could bound off and pounce his father once more. “It is the laziest prey that gets eaten first, after all. But you can leave your father to his laziness for a moment, and come see what I brought you.”

Ayvyrial gently tugged Galvarys by the tail, dragging him a few paces across the grass. For a moment he simply stared in wide-eyed shock, tiny claws tearing at the earth. How dare she drag the mighty hunter by his tail. With a snarl of pure hatchling fury, he whirled around, giving her paw a serious of mighty swats. His black claws slashed at her blue paw with all the ferocity he could muster.

“That tickles,” his mother said, laughing as she released his tail.

Victory! He was free. Galvarys ran around in a circle trumpeting his triumph to the heavens. “I’m mighty! I’m a hunter!”

“Yes, yes,” Ayvyrial said, hoisting up the barrel she’d brought. “You’re quite the little legend.” She pivoted on her haunches, then set the barrel down in front of her the hatchling. He skidded to a stop, bumping his muzzle into the wooden barrel. “Guess what’s in here.”

The hatchling sniffed at the barrel, then peered up at his mother, his indigo tail swishing. “A monster?”

“No, it isn’t a monster.” Momma chuckled, sitting on her haunches. She set a paw atop the barrel. “Guess again.”

“A hoo-man?” The hatchling scrunched his muzzle.

Galvatak snorted, lifting his head from the ground. “It had better not be filled with humans.” He gave a little snarl. “Or a peace offering.”

“It isn’t,” Ayvyrial said, staring at the black and gray male. “And that isn’t funny.” She pinned her ears back, her head hanging. “You need not tease me, you know.”

Father growled, staring at Mother, his spines raised a little. “I just don’t want you getting us all killed.”

“I want to protect us!” Mother waved her paw over Galvarys’ head. “All of us! If they’d just…”

“You are a fool to think they’d ever peace. We are monsters to them, and they want nothing more than for us to be gone from this world.”

“You cannot speak for all of them.” Mother looked away, his spines drooping. “I don’t want to argue with you.” Her voice softened, her wings trembled. “You can be quite cruel to me sometimes.”

Father lifted his head again, then thumped his tail against the floor. “Sorry. I did not mean-”

“What’s in the barrel!” Galvarys ran around the barrel, giggling to himself. Momma and Father were so boring sometimes.

Mother laughed, and then gave the hatchling’s tail a tug. His little yelp made her grin. “You always know how to cheer me up. Why don’t you take one more guess? It’s something you like!”

“Oh!” Galvarys hopped up and down a few times, his little, black-rippled wings shaking. “It’s Syly!” He lifted a paw and rapped it against one of the iron bands wrapping the barrel. “I found you Syly!”

Mother began to laugh, shaking her head. “No, it isn’t Sylyryn.” She lowered her head and licked Galvarys’ muzzle. “If I put your little friend in a barrel, I think her parents would be quite cross with me.” She pried the top off the barrel with a paw, grinning. “Why don’t you see what’s in there?”

Galvarys took a few steps back, then sprinted forward and leapt at the barrel. His forepaws cut the rim at the top of it, and the whole thing toppled over. Galvarys yelped as he fell back to the ground, and a whole barrel full of cold snow poured out onto him, burying the little hatchling in a tiny avalanche. He wriggled and squirmed and soon burst from the snow with a gleeful howl.

“It’s snooooow!”

“Yes, it’s snow!” The hatchling’s mother laughed at him as Galvarys began to roll around on the cold stuff. “It was getting hot today, and I know how you love your snow. It’s been a while since you got to play in it.”

“It’s coooold,” Galvarys said, jumping to his paws. He shook himself, little bits of snow flying in all directions. Then he flopped right back over to roll around in it again.

“Yes, it is. Very cold in fact.” Mother grinned as she packed some of it between her front paws. “I flew up to the highest peak I could, and dug out the snow pack with my claws. Worked it a bit so it was softer and not to icy for you.”

Galvarys licked at some of the snow. It chilled his tongue just as it froze his wings, paw pads, and belly. The little hatchling liked the snow. In the winter he romped and played when it fell from the skies, and in the summer when it grew warm he wondered when it would come again. When he grew too cold, he shook himself off and flopped down on the sun-warmed grass. As soon as he was warming up he bound right back into the snow pile.

Galvarys lifted his head from the snow as Ayvyrial slunk over to Father. When Father wasn’t looking, Mother plopped the biggest ball of snow she could make right between his hind legs. Father made the funniest sound Galvarys ever heard him make. His bronze eyes nearly shot right out of his head as he rolled over and shot to his feet, frantically shaking his hind end.

“BWAARRHHHH! Cold! COOLLLD!”

“That’s what you get.” Mother sat onto her haunches, smirked, and warmed her paws with her tongue. “You were cold to me, I did something cold to you.”

“GAAAAH!” Father shouted, shivering. He lifted one hind leg to rub it against the other. “I’m going to freeze them off!”

“They can do that?!” The hatchling gasped wide-eyed, then scrambled out of the pile of snow.

“No, Love, they can’t,” Mother said, laughing. “Your father is just being dramatic, as usual. Besides, he deserves it and he knows it.”

After a few moments of shivering and muttering, Father padded over. “I suppose I did.” He nuzzled against Ayvyrial’s neck, then licked her throat a few times. “I’m sorry if my words offended you. I meant no insult. It’s just…”

“I know, I know,” Mother replied, closing her eyes. She tilted her head and nuzzled back at him. “It’s over with, anyway. Now that you’re up, perhaps you’ll tell us one of those stories you promised.”

“Yes!” Galvarys hopped in place a few times. “Stories!” He eyed the snow warily, still a bit cautious. “Snow story?”

“Snow story?” Galvatak lowered his head to nuzzle his son. Galvarys purred and licked at his father’s gray chin. “What’s a snow story?”

“A story about the snow!” Galvarys grasped a pawful of snow, and then set it atop his father’s nose, giggling. He looked up at his mother “Will his nose freeze off too, Momma?”

“No, my little hunter,” Momma said, laughing. She licked the snow of Father’s nose as he scrunched his muzzle. “Things don’t actually freeze off.” She nuzzled Galvatak’s cheek. “Do you have any stories about the snow?”

“Of course,” the black dragon said. He tossed his head, scoffing. “A clan as great as mine has stories about everything. I’m just…trying to think of an appropriate one. Give me a moment to think, hmm?”

The sleek black and gray dragon took a few steps away from the others. He began to stretch and made quite a show of it. Each limb was stretched individually. He pushed his forelegs out in front of himself, splaying his paws. Then he stretched his hind legs out behind, unsheathing his claws. He stretched his tail the same way, then worked his wings out to their full extent.

“Show off,” Momma murmured, staring at him with a funny smile.

“Momma, look!” Galvarys said. He tried to stretch himself out the same way, but lost his balance and flopped onto his belly with a very undignified squeak.

Mother and Father both laughed. Galvarys blinked at them, his ears perked. Surely they weren’t laughing at the ferocious hunter’s belly flop. Why, he didn’t belly flop at all. He was just pouncing the earth. To prove his ferocity the hatchling jumped right back up and pounced the snow instead, snarling as he shredded it with his claws.

“Are you two coming or not?” Father eased himself down onto a patch of soft, mossy earth a little ways off from the melting snow. The black and gray dragon rolled halfway onto his side, his wings stretched out behind him. He craned his neck to nibble at an itch afflicting his wing joint. “Or should I just tell this story to myself?”

“I wanna hear the story!” Galvarys streaked towards his father. When he tried to stop, his claws caught in the moss and sent him toppling head over tail until he bumped up against his father’s chest plates in a tangle of limbs and tail. He lifted his head, beaming. “Story time?”

Galvatak draped a dark-scaled foreleg across his son, laughing. Ayvyrial slunk over, brushing herself up against Father with a happy purr. She soon lay down, pressed along his body, then she lay her sky-blue neck across him, head resting upon his shoulder. She smiled at her mate, lifting her own smaller spines. “Story time?”

“Yes, story time.” Father grinned, licked Mother’s nose, then licked Galvarys’s face. “I shall tell you of the winter in which our regal clan finally defeated and chased away the wicked cat-birds, and reclaimed our stolen lands from their thieving paws.”

---

“Galvarys?”

Galvarys blinked a few times at the sound of Elyra’s voice. It took him a moment to focus on her, to focus on reality. The dragon lay on soft grass in warm sunlight, lost to his memories. This place was filled with them, but he chose to focus on older memories, those that brought more joy than pain. He had no desire to lose himself to the worst moments of his life, no matter how long he was stuck in the middle of his darkest times.

“Hello, Elyra,” Galvarys said, smiling at her.

“Hello, Galvarys,” Elyra said, striding the last few paces to the dragon. She did not hesitate to wrap her arms around his neck and hug him tight. The dragon lifted his forepaw and rubbed her back a little. She pulled back to smile up at him. “Are you alright? You were just sort of staring at that stone.”

Galvarys flicked his eyes to the tall, flat, gray stone that capped the bluff on which he lay. It looked almost like a single, lichen-mottled wall guarding the rise. It was one of several he’d lugged into this ruined village many years ago. Old runes ran across it, still visible despite the weathering that had worn away some of the rock face.

“I’m fine, thank you.” Galvarys smiled at her, inclining his wedge-shaped head in thanks. “I was just…remembering happier times. And some of my father’s lies.”

“Are those happy too?”

“They were at the time. Some of them still are.” Galvarys stretched a foreleg, wincing when the movement caused his stitches to tug at wounded flesh. “It was nice when we were all together.”

Elyra smiled, fidgeting with the purple dress she wore. Even Galvarys could tell it did not quite fit her. She had to make do with what Nyira let her borrow while they were here. Still, it looked nice on her. Then again, Galvarys thought anything looked nice on Elyra. Or nothing at all. After a few moments Elyra gave up trying to adjust it.

“You’ve mentioned something about that before.” Elyra crouched down, plucked a fully-seeded dandelion from the ground, and then blew on it. “That he didn’t live with you, I mean. He just visited, right?”

Galvarys watched some of the seeds scatter. “Yes. He lived with us for a while, but…he was a wanderer. Spent time in lots of places.” Galvarys stretched his other foreleg, flicking a clawtip against the top of a dandelion. “You know, he used to compare your people to these. Humans, I mean.”

Elyra giggled, tilting her head. She blew the rest of the seeds from their moorings, and cast aside the stalk. “Why?”

“He said it was because you always sprang up unexpected, and unwanted.” The dragon snorted, turning his head to stare at the massive stone tablet. “He said when the first humans arrived, you were like the first dandelion to sprout. A curiosity. A pretty golden bloom among wildflowers. And then you spread, and spread, and spread until you began to choke out everything else. Until it was clear you were a dangerous weed. No matter how many of you were plucked, there were always more, and soon there were more weeds than wildflowers. Then all the wildflowers were gone, and only the dandelions reminded.”

“I…oh.” Elyra hung her head, her fingers settled upon a few golden blossoms. “Were there…a lot of wildflowers, when you were young?”

Galvarys tensed, sighing. He had not meant to bring it up, but thinking about his father often had a way of drawing out something unpleasant. “Not as many as there were when my parents were young. In my lifetime, there were never a lot of us here, in this land. The others I know now, that I visit from time to time, they live in lands far from here, lands safer for us.”

“Why do you still live here, Galvarys?” Elyra turned her gaze up to the dragon, the silver specks in her gray eyes shone like stars in a cloudy sky. “Why not go somewhere you’re safer, somewhere there are more of you?”

“This is my home, Elyra.” Galvarys lifted his head, gazing over the bluffs and the burnt out shells of houses to the far mountains. “This has always been my home.” He extended a wing, pointing at the peaks with his wing talon. “I hatched there, in those mountains. Spent my youth in the meadows and the caves. I learned fly above the foothills. I learned to hunt in the forests below them. My first mating was in a secluded grove in the summer heat. My family was here, my friends, my first mate. We had little to call a clan, but these were dragon lands. I am the only one left to defend them, and I will do so until the day I die. This is my home.”

Elyra worked her fingers together, shifting on her knees. “I understand, Galvarys. May I sit with you?”

“Of course.” The dragon rolled over a little more onto his side, careful of his bandaged and stitched wounds. He lifted a foreleg in invitation, and when Elyra slunk beneath it, he eased it around her middle, making sure not to brush her own bandages. “I know it may be hard to understand. You had no reason to care for your home.”

Elyra lay her arm over the dragon’s foreleg. She smiled at up him, stroking his scutes. “I love my home.”

Galvarys pinned his ears. “I thought…”

“My home is a fortress, Galvarys.” Elyra waved her hand a little. “My home is a burnt out village.” She set her arm back down on his foreleg. “My home is here.” Elyra slid her hand over his scutes, resting her fingers over the back of the dragon’s forepaw. “My home is with you, Galvarys.”

Her words made the dragon tighten his grip around her. Something gripped his heart, tight and hot. Fear and uncertainly coiled in his belly, even as joy bubbled deep in the dragon’s heart. “Elyra, you have filled an emptiness in me I did not know existed. The more I admit that to myself, the more I fear the danger I put you in. Dragons live dangerous lives, Elyra. The things your people preach about us? The things they believe? There will always be men who try to slay me, Elyra.”

“And I will be here to fight them with you, Galvarys. Or patch your wounds.” Elyra traced a fingertip against one of the dragon’s digits. Galvarys took comfort in the simple gesture. Elyra giggled a little. “Or stick you with a dagger covered in antidote.”

Galvarys smiled a little. He curled his neck, and nuzzled Elyra’s cheek. Some of his confusion eased, yet more uncertainty swirled in his mind, a maelstrom of thoughts and feelings, hopes and fears. Elyra leaned her head against his nose, and Galvarys purred to her. “You deserve a better life, Elyra. You deserve to be more than some dragon’s minion.”

“Galvarys…” Elyra pulled her head back to gaze into the dragon’s eyes. Galvarys found himself fighting the urge to look away, to shirk her gaze. He did not understand his own sudden meekness, yet he feared what she might say. “You have already given me a better life than I could hope for. I am happier with you than I have ever been in all my life.” Galvarys swallowed when Elyra cupped his chin. Her touch was warm, and tender. Gentle. “I am already more than your minion, Galvarys. You said it yourself. I am your friend!”

“So you are, Elyra.” Galvarys closed his eyes, and tipped his head down. He felt Elyra’s lips brush his nose, then felt the warmth of her face against him as she pressed her head to his own. “So you are.”

“And you are my friend, Galvarys!” The very idea eased uncertainty’s cold grip on the dragon’s heart. Elyra stroked his chin while she pressed her face to his. Galvarys clenched his throat, squeezing his eyes shut. Tears threatened to spill across his scales. One of them ran down his muzzle. Elyra brushed it away without a word. He sniffed, his nose filled with her familiar, comforting scent. “We are friends, Galvarys. You are…you are the best friend I have ever had, Galvarys, and I cannot think of a better life than that.”

Warmth and joy welled inside Galvarys. “It has been a very long time, Elyra, since I have had someone I can truly call my friend. Now that I have you, friend seems too simple a word. You are so much more to me than that. I…” The dragon’s breath caught in his throat, his heartbeat sputtered as his lungs froze. “I…” For perhaps the first time in all his life, Galvarys could not find the words he sought. He wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know. “Elyra, you are my friend.”

Damn.

Elyra hugged him, and the dragon’s gaze drifted. His eyes soon settled on the runes he’d carved upon the stone so long ago. He’d been quite young then, when he first came here. Long before he ever forged his truce, before he’d claimed his fortress. He came to this place and he burned it down. Life seemed so…empty, then. He seemed so alone at the time, filled with anger and bitterness and loneliness and wrath without measure. The dragon read the words he’d carved there in the only tongue he knew how to scribe. She should know.

Elyra deserved to know.

“When I was young, Elyra, I came here filled with wrath and anguish.” A hot lump formed in the dragon’s throat. “I…” The words came no easier than his admission had.

“It’s alright, Galvarys.” Elyra took the dragon’s paw between her hands, squeezing it gently. “You’re alright now.”

“I…” The dragon sniffed, his eyes burned. He lifted his other paw, wiped at his eyes. “I want to tell you, Elyra. Why…why I did this. Why I had…Elyra, you deserve…you deserve to know.”

“Hush, Galvarys,” Elyra said. She twisted herself a little to stroke the dragon’s chest. She reached up, rubbing his neck. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“But I want to, Elyra.” The dragon’s voice rose as he struggled to keep it from breaking. Everything in him clenched and roiled at once, his body tensed. His heart shuddered as if struggling to shake off the chains that held it for so long. “I want you to know, Elyra. I want you to know me!”

“And I want to know you!” Elyra reached up and Galvarys lowered his head. She wrapped her hands around him, pressed her face to his muzzle. Her touch was warm comfort. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, or it’s too hard for you…”

“It hurts, Elyra,” the dragon said, unable to stop the tears that streaked his indigo scales. “But you asked me once…you asked me who I lost.” Faces flashed in the dragon’s memory as he began to sob. Elyra hugged him against her body, cooing to him. She stroked his ears, rubbed his neck. Galvarys grit his teeth, heart warring with his pride as he tried to keep his sobs quiet. “Everyone, Elyra.” Galvarys could do no more than choke out a few words through wracking sobs, long buried agony cleaving him to his very soul.

“I lost everyone.”

---

Chapter Twenty

---

There was nothing Elyra could have done to steel herself against so simple and so heart-piercing a declaration. She had feared since she first drew that blood-stained sword that the dragon had lost a loved one to the cruelest of men. Whether a mate or a child she did not know. Though Elyra knew Galvarys was the only dragon left here, she had not expected to hear something quite so agonizing. Sorrow gripped her throat till she could not speak, till she could scarcely gag out her own sympathetic sobs. Elyra held the dragon’s head against her, hoping her warmth would bring him some small measure of comfort. She gave up wiping away his tears because her own were falling just as fast.

“Galvarys…” What was she going to say? That she was sorry? What pitiful comfort was that in the midst of such agony?

“I came here…” Elyra feared if Galvarys battered voice trembled any harder, it would shatter and cut his throat. As much as his memories were tormenting him, that would almost be a mercy. “I came here with nothing left in me but ashes and anguish, and a black ocean of emptiness turned to wrath. I was ready to die. I think…I think part of me wanted to, at least…at least in the moment.”

Elyra cringed, pressing her cheek to the dragon’s face. “God, Galvarys. I’m sorry. It’s alright…” She ran a hand under his chin, stroking his jawline. “Just…take your time.”

Elyra wanted nothing more than to ease the dragon’s pain. It hurt her to know there was nothing more she could do for him than hold him while he cried, comfort him while he spoke. She hoped he would at least feel better if he was able to wrench the horrid memories from his soul and somehow put them to words. Yet Elyra wanted to do so much more. She wanted to find that coiled coldness in his heart, that old scar, and heal it like some children’s tale.

Elyra had come to care so much for the dragon, and his pain was her pain.

Galvarys’s body shook, his head shivered against her. He took a few deep breaths, the worst of his sobs easing a little. Tears still squeezed out from between his eyelids. All his spines lay flat against his head, his ears drooped nearly across his cheeks. The dragon struggled with every breath, wrenching it from the air into lungs that fought against him. All the while, Elyra stroked his neck, nuzzled at his face. Murmured to him.

“It’s alright, Galvarys.” She kissed his head, between his horns. “I know…I know it’s painful. I’m here for you. I’m here with you, Galvarys. You’re not alone now.”

After a few more deep breaths, the dragon’s trembling eased and his sobs grew softer. He shifted a little, laying his head across Elyra’s lap. When he opened his eyes again, they shone bright and wet yet his gaze was distant and unfocused. The dragon peered only at memories.

“I had tracked them here by blood, and scent. Tracked them at last to this…” Galvarys snarled through his tears. “This nest of evil. This den of monsters who slew dragons.”

Elyra’s breath caught in her throat. She lifted her head a moment, gazing out over all the burnt framework and ruins. She ran a shaky hand along the dragon’s neck, stroking him towards his shoulder and back.

“I waited, as I had waited while they slew her days before. There was no fear in me anymore. Only pain. Only wrath. Her screams echoed in my mind.” Galvarys bared his fangs as he spoke. Elyra struggled to piece things together, even as she feared the horrors the completed puzzle would reveal. “I waited, hidden away. I knew how many there were, and I knew I was not likely to survive. That was fine. I…I had to do what he would not.”

Galvarys sucked in a breath through his teeth. When he spoke again, his voice grew stronger as though the pain now spurred him on. “I came in the night, and I put flame to their houses while they slept. There was no warning bell to toll, no sentry to cry alarm. Only the crackling of flames and the screams of men burning in their beds to rouse the others. I flew low, and put half a dozen houses to flame before they were even stumbling out into the darkness, calling for help.”

Elyra remained silent, shuddering with every breath. She ran her hand back over the dragon’s head, caressing his crests, his ears. Rubbing around the base of one of his spiraling black horns. Elyra could almost see the fire dancing in his silver eyes, the memories playing out behind them. The dragon blinked away a few more tears, but the fire only grew in his eyes, and in his voice.

“The first men who made it out alive, I slew without difficulty.” Galvarys stretched a trembling foreleg out, black claws dragged through the grass and the earth below. “I screamed our names as I slew them. Some I hurled into the fires, others I tore apart with claws and teeth. And every building, every house, I burned and it was never enough.”

Galvarys tail curled behind him. He stretched his wings, shielding Elyra from the sun. The membranes shivered against her. “As more of them escaped the flames, as they realized what was happening, they came for me. Men and women alike, they came for me with weapons made from our bones. Those who had time came in armor made from our flesh, from our hide. Again and again they fell upon me, they cut me, pierced me, and I bled, yet the pain was nothing compared that which gripped my heart since they came for her. I expected to die there, to be the last of us to fall to men.”

Elyra wiped her eyes when the dragon’s words faltered. She leaned over his head to hug him tightly, her tears staining his scales. Her words were a whisper spoken to herself, yet shared with the dragon she had so come to care for. “They could never slay Galvarys The Wrathful.”

“No.” Galvarys closed his eyes again, heaving a shuddering sigh. He curled up a little, enclosing Elyra further beneath his wing. “They could not. Instead of death, I found strength in that battle. I had slain men before, but I had never fought so many nor taken so many wounds. I discovered some terrible thing inside me that night, some immeasurable wrath that propelled me onward. Some voice that told me not to die, not to yield this land to men, but to fight and slay them. That I was the only one left, and I fought for all those they had taken from me, from the world. I realized it did not matter how many wounds I took or how much blood I lost as long as I killed them all before I succumbed to my injuries. The more they wounded me the harder I fought, fueled by vengeful wrath.”

“I cloaked myself in fire, smoke, and darkness. I stalked them on the ground, and from the air, never let them surround me. I hunted them all through their village the way they hunted us in our lands. When they grouped together I struck at them by surprise, and when their formations were broken I picked them off one by one. Our battles spanned their village until they had no more slayers to throw at me, and their bodies littered the burning ruin. Some of them fled, and I chased them down. I cornered one, and he begged me for mercy.”

Galvarys growled low in his throat, his words little more than guttural fury. “I recognized that man. I knew him from the day they came for her. She had asked him for the same, and he had no mercy in him for dragons. I told him her name, and that I loved her, and then I burned him.”

Elyra’s stomach hurt from fighting her sobs. It roiled and clenched so tightly she felt as though someone was pummeling her belly. Yet she grit her teeth, wiped her eyes. Elyra had to be strong for the dragon. No matter how much this hurt, she could not imagine how much worse it was for Galvarys. She stroked his cheek, wiping tears from his pebbly scales. She kissed the dragon’s ear, whispered to him that it was alright.

“By then…by then I was weak.”

Galvarys choked on a sob. He coughed, cleared his throat with a growl, and pressed his muzzle to Elyra’s belly. She caressed the dragon’s ears, rubbed his chin. Elyra sought to comfort him with her touch and her presence, not wanting to interrupt him while he still had the strength to speak.

“I was weak, and losing blood, but yet not finished.” The dragon sniffed a few times, his voice shaking once more. “There was a house, at the top of the hill. They did terrible things there, and some of those men who fled me earlier had gone there to protect that place. I made my way there, and again the men fell upon me. I had little fire left, but I had enough to burn down that last horrible place. So I tore those men apart with my claws and teeth and spines, I screamed my name at them, and then I roared hers so they would know it as they died. So they would know who they had stolen from me, know the beauty they had stolen from this world.”

Galvarys took a slow breath. He shivered, it sounded as though every scale he had clicked together. “Then I went to…to what was left of her. This is where they took what was left…”

Galvarys voice broke, and Elyra gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth. Oh. Oh, God. The weapons. The armor. Galvarys buried his face against Elyra’s dress as convulsing sobs overtook the dragon. Tears streamed over his scales, his wings shook around her. For a while, Galvarys just cried and Elyra cried with him. She had no words that could bring comfort or erase what he’d seen. All she could do was share his pain so he’d not have to bear it all himself. Sobs wracked Elyra as well. All the crying added to the throbbing of her wounds, yet Elyra knew it was worse for the dragon. She pushed the pain aside. Elyra stroked the dragon’s neck while he soaked her dress with his tears, and when he’d cried himself out for a moment, she just held him.

Galvarys took a few deep breaths, and Elyra timed her hands with them. When he breathed in, she stroked his neck towards his shoulder. When he breathed out, she ran her fingers back up to his head, over his jaw. Elyra matched her breathing to his the best she could given her smaller lungs. It helped her calm, and she hoped it did the same for the dragon.

When he’d collected himself, Galvarys lifted his head. He brushed his nose against Elyra’s. She saw herself reflected in his eyes. In the reflection, her hair looked like fire and her gray eyes shone silver just like his. She ran her hand over his muzzle, offering the dragon a little smile. Galvarys smiled back at her and nuzzled her cheek with his nose. Then he sighed, and pulled his head back.

When Galvarys spoke again, the dragon’s voice nearly pushed her to tears again. She’d never have imagined a dragon could sound so broken. “I went…to what was left of her. Her…her scales…her…hide. Strung up. I…I knew…I knew what they did to us. But…But I had not…seen it.”

Elyra bit her lip. How Galvarys had recovered from something like that, she’d never now. If she were in his place she feared she’d have gone mad. She wanted to tell him it was alright now. But it wasn’t. It never would be, not for those in his memory. Instead, she hugged his head again, kissed his nose. “You don’t have to say anything else, Galvarys. You don’t have to put it to words. But, I am here for you, always.”

Galvarys pressed his head into her arms. He stared right through her, his silver eyes flickering and haunted. His voice drifted, lost in a haze of memories he fought so hard to forget. “There was a woman. She came running from the house. No armor, just a nightdress. Wild red hair. She held a sword, screaming at me. Ready to defend her home, ready to do all she could to slay the terrible monster that had landed in her midst, and murdered her neighbors. I turned to her, ready to kill her like the others, and she just…she stopped.”

The dragon turned his head, pulled his wing back to stare at the house atop the hill. Elyra stroked the curve of his neck as he spoke. “She looked at me. She stared at the scales they were tanning.” Galvarys’ voice shuddered, held together by nothing more than the will to finish this tale before it broke him completely. Tears ran anew down his muzzle. His body shook, he balled his fore paws up into fists. Every word he spoke tore away another piece of Elyra’s heart. “She looked at me, and she looked at the swaths of scales hanging from the wall, and she saw that they were the same. They were blue. She saw my tears in the firelight, and she saw my youth. In that moment, she knew. She knew I was not some rampaging monster, not the demon she’d been taught. I was a grieving son. Little more than a half-grown adolescent who had nothing left. A wounded soul who had lost everyone he ever knew, one by one. Who watched his mother be cut to pieces and when it was safe to leave his hiding place, he tracked her killers to this town. There were twelve of us once, and now I was the last. When she knew…when she understood what they had done to me, who they had taken from me, she dropped her sword. She turned around and went back to her house. She went inside, and waited for me to burn it down.”

Galvarys tried to hide his whole face against Elyra as he sobbed. She pressed herself to him, wishing she had wings of her own to shelter the dragon from the world as he bared his soul. His heart. As he let her knew the coiled coldness inside, a pain, a horror she could not fathom. She wanted to say something, anything, but the only sound she could make were her own strangled sobs.

Galvarys wrenched words through his tears. “I let her live. She was the only one. She…she understood my pain, and I wanted her to live with that. Even if I died, she would live. She would know what she did to us. With…the last of my strength, I burned…I burned what was left of my mother. I mourned her as she and I had mourned the others they had taken from us. We mourn with fire, and with anguished howls of their names offered to the stars and the sky. So the heavens would remember them with us. But was no one left to remember my mother. No one but me. And when I had mourned her, I had spent the last of my strength, and I collapsed near her pyre.”

“I lay there, in the heat of the fire. I knew all the names of our little clan had faded. Only I remained to remember them. When I screamed my mother’s name to the skies, when I howled Ayvyrial, I knew when I was gone, she would be utterly forgotten. I could not think of a worse fate. She deserved to be remembered. She was…she was so kind, and the monsters who took her from me would never know it. My mother was nothing like humans imagine us. She was sweet, and kind. She was soft spoken, and playful. She was naïve. She…”

Galvarys lifted a paw, staring at his own pads. He cupped Elyra’s cheek. She leaned into his touch, and he wiped one of her tears away with the pad of his thumb. “She wanted peace with men. Even…even when they first took some of us. She wanted peace. Wanted a truce. All through my childhood she spoke of it. That peace would protect us. That we did not have to war with men and gryphons, that we could make peace instead. She deserved to be the legend, not me. She was the dragon who should be remembered forever for her beautiful soul. And no one ever knew her name but us and our tiny clan.”

Galvarys licked his muzzle, cringing. The dragon gave a long sigh, his wings drooping as if in defeat. “Before I passed out, I saw the woman come out of her house. She watched the fires a while. I called to her, I shouted my mother’s name at her, I told her of my mother’s kindness and how I loved her, so that if I died in the night, at least she’d be remembered. Then darkness found me, held for a while in its black comfort. When I woke, the woman stood over me. I thought she’d come to finish me off. She had not.” Galvarys glanced away, heaving another sigh. “She came to bind my wounds.”

Galvarys trailed off. Elyra used her sleeves to dry his tears. She wiped the wet streaks from his blue scales, and when fresh tears ran down his cheeks, she dried those as well. He sniffled, his breath shaking. Elyra kissed his muzzle a few times even as her own tears still wet her face. When his eyes met hers, she lay her cheek against his muzzle.

“I am ever so sorry for you, Galvarys. I cannot even comprehend such loss. I…I wish there was more that I could do…” She cupped his cheek with her hand, sighing against his pebbly blue scales.

“You have done more than you know, Elyra.” Galvarys lifted his paw to gently stroke her arm. “I am more grateful for your friendship and comfort right now than I could ever put to words.”

That made Elyra smile through the pain. She traced her fingers around a few of the dragon’s scales. “I would do anything to help you, Galvarys. Even if all I can do is listen and offer you my own small comforts.”

“Thank you, Elyra.” The dragon closed his eyes, stroking the uninjured side of her body. “But I think that is all I can bare to speak of it for now.”

“Of course, Galvarys. I never…I didn’t want it to hurt you all over again.”

“It’s alright,” the dragon murmured. “If you wish, I…would not mind unburdening myself of the rest of it, when I have had some rest.”

“Any time you want to talk, Galvarys, I am here for you.” Elyra wrapped her arms around the dragon’s neck, heedless of the pain stretching her limbs brought her wounds. “You’ve…you’ve never told anyone any of this, have you.”

“No,” Galvarys said, shaking his head. “Not even when I lay spent and curled with females I fancied in my later years and my visits to other lands.”

It soothed Elyra’s aching heart just a little to know that she was the first the dragon ever opened up to this way. It also made her curious. She kissed his nose again, smiling up at him. “Then I am honored to be the first. Have you fancied many females over your life?”

Galvarys rumbled a very faint chuckle. “I think I’ve been with my share.”

“May I ask you something a bit more personal along those lines?”

“You may ask me anything you like, Elyra.” Galvarys nuzzled at her. Elyra caught a hint of a smile flickering over his snout. “If I may lay my head against you and savor your comfort.”

Elyra eased herself back until she lay upon the grass. She guided Galvarys head down so that he could lay his muzzle against her belly without bumping any of her stitched and bandaged wounds. Their steady throb was but a pinprick compared to the agony Galvarys had poured forth from his very heart. She stroked his nose when they were both comfortable.

“You mentioned females you used to lay with.” Elyra traced a finger along the frilled edge of one of the dragon’s indigo ears. When he did not reply, she went on. “Did you ever have…” She trailed off, not wanting to tighten the vice still clamped around the dragon’s heart.

“Are you asking if my matings have sired hatchlings?”

Elyra managed to sniffle and laugh at the same time. “Yes.”

“Not that I’m aware of.” The dragon shifted his wings against his back, lifting his spines above Elyra’s belly. “I did not intend too, anyway. It seemed…far too dangerous a world for me to wish to bring a youngling into. And…I knew, in my heart…that I would not leave my home. I did not wish to be as my own father was. Often absent, seen as only visiting when it pleased me. But it is possible.”

“I was only curious,” Elyra said, running her fingers along the dragon’s neck. “It’s nice to know there are still other dragons out there. Maybe you’ll have a hatchling of your own running around that fortress someday.”

Galvarys lifted his head away from Elyra. He canted it, pinning back his spines even as he perked his ears. He narrowed his eyes a bit, flaring his nostrils as if he sought clues to some unspoken mystery in her scent. “Perhaps, Elyra. For now, I think I should just like to lie with you a while and share your warmth.”

Galvarys lay his head back against Elyra’s belly. She draped her good arm over his head, just behind his horns. His warmth was wonderful against her. Even wounded, even still filled with lingering sorrow, the dragon’s touch and presence brought her comfort. Elyra closed her eyes as she gave into heavy fatigue brought on by sadness and injury, and let the dragon’s breathing lull her to sleep.

---

Chapter Twenty One

---

“Hello.”

Galvarys lifted his head from Elyra’s belly. He’d fallen asleep against her without realizing it. The herbal medicines the humans stuffed him full of to help him heal made him drowsy, and sorrow took a heavier toll. He flicked his ears back, blinking. A web of hazy, painful memories clung to his waking mind. The tale he’d told Elyra lent itself to dreams that left his belly cold and tight with crawling unease. Galvarys curled his tail a little, then shook his head as if to clear the images. His spines shook.

“I’m sorry to wake you.” Nyira stood nearby. She wore a green dress with hints of gold hemming the sleeves, and mud splattered along the bottom of the skirt. Muddy boots peeked out from beneath it. She fidgeted with the blue bow that kept her black hair tied behind her head. “But you two should eat something and take some medicine before it gets any later.”

Galvarys rumbled, pinning his spines back. “And here I thought you were waking us just to tell us to go get some rest.” He glanced down at Elyra who was rubbing her eyes. With a snort, he looked back at himself, lifting a wing to peer at the seepage-stained bandage affixed to his side. “I do not feel very hungry. That is unusual for me.”

“All the more reason to eat.” Nyira gestured at the dragon’s bandage, and he inclined is horned head in invitation. She padded over, inspecting him. At least she wasn’t poking it this time. “I’ll have to change this before you sleep for the night. You should get your appetite back in a few days, as your body heals, fights off the last of the poison, and we start tapering off your herbs.”

“I have been poisoned many times before,” Galvarys said, snorting. When Elyra started to sit up, the dragon offered her his foreleg. “Easy, Elyra.”

“I’m fine,” Elyra muttered, hanging onto the dragon’s limb as she got her balance.

“So you mentioned,” Nyira said, smiling at the dragon. “And how did you feel in the days after that?”

“Like someone was standing on my stomach and braiding my intestines.” Galvarys grimaced, splaying his ears out. “The worst times, I spent several days vomiting despite having nothing to offer the earth. Took me a few days before I could drink water.”

“You’re lucky you survived.” Nyira glowered at the dragon, folding her arms.

“I am strong.” Galvarys glared at her, then softened his expression. “And lucky. And usually I found antidote among the men who poisoned me. It used to hit me faster, too. Think I built up a tolerance to it.”

“Even a dragon’s body can only take so much.” Nyira waved at Elyra. Elyra smiled back and stroked Galvary’s foreleg. “Thankfully she found the antidote for you, but your body still has to…”

“Yes, yes,” Galvarys said, waving his wing. “I do not need to hear The Story of the Poisoned Dragon. I understand I must continue to eat, and so must she. So bring us food and the vile paste you call medicine. I will consume it.”

“Galvarys, be nice,” Elyra said.

“I am being nice,” Galvarys said. “I haven’t even threatened to eat her.”

Nyira gave the dragon a wary look and took a step back. Elyra used the dragon’s arm for stability and pushed herself to her feet. “He’s joking. He’s actually quite sweet.” Elyra smiled, then winced and held her side a moment.

“Elyra, you shouldn’t be moving about.” Galvarys arched his neck, pinning his ears back. He moved his foreleg so Elyra could hold it. He hoped she hadn’t overextended herself just to come and listen to him mope about his past. “Perhaps you should go back to bed.”

“I think you should listen to the dragon.” Nyira said, moving to offer Elyra further support.

“I’m just sore,” Elyra said, cupping the dragon’s chin. She smiled at him a moment. “I was feeling better till you made me cry.”

“And I was feeling better until you talked me into telling you something best left forgotten.”

“If you really felt that way you wouldn’t have kept that sword.” Elyra rubbed his muzzle, smiling.

Galvarys growled. He hated it when Elyra was right. He licked her palm, then smirked, lifting his spines a little. “I did have you throw it over a cliff, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Elyra said, her voice softening. “But you didn’t burn it, like that other one. Which…makes me wonder if you wanted a chance to go and look at it again, some day.”

Galvarys eased up onto his haunches, cringing when he bumped his arrow wound. He shifted his weight to the other side of his rump, curling his tail till Nyira had to move out of the way of the spines. “Stop being so damn perceptive.” Then he glanced at Nyira, cocking his head. “Are you still here?”

“Afraid so,” Nyira said, giving the dragon a meek smile. Her face reddened a little, and she gestured at the dragon. “Before I get your food, may I take a look at the rest of your wounds. Both of you.”

“Of course you may,” Elyra said, glancing up at Galvarys. He sighed when she placed her hand on his chest place. “Galvarys, please be nice.”

Galvarys grunted, then arched his neck, turning his head down to Nyira. “You may examine whatever you must. You should know, I would never actually harm you. We owe you a lot, and I am…very grateful. I am just…not used to extended contact with humans not named Elyra.”

“I understand,” Nyira said. “I’m not used to contact at all with dragons.”

“Do I make you nervous?” Galvarys swiveled his ears forward, his central crest flared.

“A little, yes.” Nyira began to examine his shoulder, peeling some of the bandages back. “More so now than when you were too worried for your friend to consider trying to scare me.”

“I shall endeavor to be less nerve-wracking, then.” He glanced down at Elyra again, grinning. “I have been nice to her, though. I haven’t even made any lewd comments.”

“None at all?” Elyra laughed, stroking the dragon’s neck. “That’s new!”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that,” Nyira said, prodding at the wounds grouped together behind the dragon’s shoulder.

Galvarys hissed at the rolling wave of fresh pain, then pinned his ears. “What is what supposed to mean?”

“Oh!” Nyira gave a sheepish laugh, shaking her head. “It’s not that I mind that kind of comment.”

“What kind of comment?” Elyra tapped a finger against the dragon’s nose. “They are our hosts, Galvarys, you should not be so rude to them.”

“Oh, he didn’t mean anything by it.” Nyira chuckled, working the bandage back into place. “He was quite drunk at the time.”

“What did he say?” Elyra grinned at the woman.

“Oh, nothing insulting. I got him good and drunk while I was working on his wounds.” Nyira worked her way around the dragon, inspecting a few of his other wounds. “Had him talking about his youth, and his friendship with you. I wanted to keep him distracted from the pain, so I asked him for an embarrassing story. He mentioned something about…well, he was in the bath.”

“I told you about the time with Elyra?” Galvarys jerked his head up, spines flared in alarm, ears pinned back.

Nyira gasped and bit her lip, her eyes wide. Uh oh. He hadn’t actually mentioned Elyra was there. Until now. She turned her face away, busying herself with her work.

“It was a drunken lie!” Heat rushed to Galvarys’ ears and nose, flooded his frills, he could feel his indigo hue turning purple. “I’ve never been aroused around her!” He glanced at Elyra, she was turning as red as he was purple. “In fact I’ve never gotten aroused before!”

Despite her obvious embarrassment, Elyra burst into giggles. She clapped her hands over her mouth to try and stifle them, but only laughed harder.

“Oh shut up,” Galvarys said, pinning his ears back. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Perhaps I should just go and get your food now.” Nyira took a few steps back. She looked nearly as red as Elyra, and seemed to be struggling against her own embarrassed grin. “I can check Elyra’s wounds when I return.”

Galvarys glared at her. “Yes, I think you’d better before you blurt out anything else embarrassing.”

As Nyira retreated towards the house, Elyra reached up and stroked the dragon’s muzzle. “Sounds like you were the one blurting things out.”

“Yes, yes,” Galvarys muttered. He leaned into Elyra’s touch, closed his eyes and sighed. Embarrassed or not, he was thankful to have her there. The dragon cherished every moment with her now, even those that put him in an awkward position. “In my defense, I was quite drunk.”

“I know you were,” Elyra said, running her hand under the dragon’s jaw line. “But not in the bath. Or just now.”

“Very funny, Elyra.” Galvarys hung his head a little bit, humiliation still heating his frilled ears. “Do you think she assumes we…?”

“I think she knows we’re very close friends. And I think it’s cute when you get embarrassed.” Elyra pressed a kiss to the end of his nose. “Besides, since when do you care what humans think?”

“I care what you think.” Galvarys lifted his head a little, peering into Elyra’s eyes. The silver flecks glittered in the afternoon sun.

Elyra smiled and hugged his head. “And I think you’re wonderful.” Galvarys smiled, her words warming enough to ease the pain still thudding through his body. “I don’t think it matters what Nyira or anyone else thinks of us. Do you?”

Galvarys considered that a moment. He turned the idea over in his head a few times as if trying to understand the concept. The dragon turned his head and stretched his wing, scratching near a horn with his wing-tip talon. He rumbled, then turned his head back to Elyra. “No. I do not.” Then he glanced at the house and barn. “So long as it does not interfere with us getting our food.”

“Here I thought you weren’t hungry.” Elyra held up her hand against his muzzle. “Let me guess.” She lowered her voice in a gruff approximation of a growl. “You may be a little hungry.”

“Something like that,” Galvarys said.

“After we go home, we should gather up some coin and bring it here.”

Galvarys curled his neck into an S. He lowered his eye-ridges. “Are you offering them my treasure?”

Elyra’s fingers drifted down the dragon’s throat. “I’m suggesting you offer them a bit of repayment for all the goats you’re going to be eating.”

Galvarys snorted. That was not the worst idea he’d ever heard. If there was anywhere he was willing to repay, it was this place. Still, the dragon hated having to part with any of his hard-earned tribute. “Perhaps they’d appreciate a box full of antique wooden mugs, instead.”

Elyra giggled. “You hurled those across the Village of Rings.”

“So I did.” Galvarys licked his nose, hissing. “I should have hurled Varm, instead.”

Elyra pulled the purple sleeves of her dress up and folded her arms. “Wouldn’t have hurt my feelings. We can talk about that later.”

Galvarys pulled his head back, a screw of ice twisting into his belly. “Why would you say that? What is there to talk about?”

“Might be about time to convince Varm to retire.”

“Elyra, why would…”

“Later, Galvarys.” Elyra held her hand up, sighing. “When we’re healed, and not in pain.”

“Very well,” Galvarys said with a slow snarl. Something in Elyra’s words made his spines tingle. Whatever she wasn’t telling him set him on edge.

“Besides, our food is coming. And…” Elyra came forward and stroked the dragon’s throat. “If you’ve the strength left in you, I had the feeling you…had more to unburden yourself from.”

Galvarys tightened his wings against his body. He was not yet sure there was any unburdening to be had. Felt more like he was just opening old wounds, rather than healing them at last. After all, speaking of his old scars aloud did not ease the pain, nor did Elyra’s comfort make it an easier thing for him to talk about. Yet there seemed to be a strange sense of relief having put such horrors to words after so many years of holding them so deep in his heart. If nothing else, the more Galvarys came to care about Elyra, the more he wanted her to understand him completely.

The dragon turned his head to gaze at the large stone marker with the flattened facade. “Very well, Elyra.”

Elyra wrapped an arm around his neck, and the dragon leaned against her just a little. More and more her every touch was a comfort he’d never realized he was missing, yet now could not imagine going without. “Is that dragon writing?”

Galvarys lifted his uninjured foreleg to brush his pads along Elyra’s arm. “Yes.” He chuckled to himself. “You’re going to ask what it says, aren’t you.”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

Galvarys found himself smiling despite the pain the memories dredged up from deep within him. “I put it here, where this bluff overlooks so much of the pain I caused.”

“You blame yourself?” Elyra twisted against him, staring up at him with wide gray eyes. “Galvarys, after what happened to you, at your age…”

Something angry and hurt coiled in Galvarys. An argument tensed upon his tongue, ready to spring out. The dragon was not proud of what he did here, but did he blame himself? He opened his muzzle, and then gave a long sigh, shaking his head. He swallowed argument and agreement alike, and simply answered Elyra’s first question.

“I carved a phrase in the stone, Elyra. It says, ‘We are only the monsters you make us.’ It was something I once heard my mother tell my father. About humans. That…that phrase haunted me, after I did this.” He waved his paw at the ruined village, hissing.

Elyra murmured, but not did not speak. She pulled away from the dragon, settled onto her knees in front of the stone marker. She traced her fingers over the runes, whispering the translation to herself. Galvarys watched in silence for a moment, then moved closer to rub her back with a paw. She pushed back into his paw. Her sigh of enjoyment made his heart tremble. She tilted her head back to smile up at him over her shoulder, red hair fluttering around his paw.

“It’s a beautiful saying.” Elyra lay her head back against his foreleg. “Sad, but beautiful.”

Galvarys nodded one. Then he turned his head to watch Nyira and her husband approach. Nyira carried a wooden plate with food for Elyra along with a mug, and her husband carried a much larger tray covered in cuts of meat and some kind of vegetable. Her husband wore sturdy leather breeches with a few patches, and a thick brown tunic. A bit of blood stained the sleeves. When the man set the tray down near the dragon, Galvarys extended his neck, blue nostrils flaring as he sniffed at the newcomers’ clothes. The man tensed up while the dragon smelled him, but he did not pull away. The scents that clung to him told Galvarys it was goat’s blood.

“Is that goat for me, then?”

“Unless Elyra enjoys raw meat.” The man chuckled to himself.

Galvarys cocked his head, licking his muzzle. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any ham?”

“Ham?” The man quirked a brow, then shook his head. “No, Dragon. No ham, and no hogs to cut it from.”

“Ham comes from hogs?” Galvarys glanced at Elyra for confirmation. She nodded, and he snorted. He’d have to start snatching more pigs from the local villages.

“It does,” the man said. “And we haven’t got any. At this rate we won’t have any goats left by the time you leave, either. Have to hunt you some fowl or net you some fish.”

Galvarys lifted his ears, lowering his head in gratitude. “I shall ensure that whatever animals I devour are replaced for you shortly after I leave here.”

“Uh huh.” Galvarys did not appreciate the man’s disbelief. But he did not argue either as the man turned away, waving his hand. “I’ll be back with your medicine.”

Galvarys sniffed at his food. The scent of freshly cut meat and still warm blood made the dragon’s belly rumble despite his convalescence. He glanced at Elyra as she accepted her own food and water, then stared at his tray of food. Despite the growling of his stomach the dragon didn’t feel much like eating. He plucked a bit of meat from the tray with a few unsheathed claws, then chewed it while he stared at the stone.

We are only the monsters you make us.

_ _

Galvarys swallowed and took another mouthful of goat. The meat tasted like ash. The dragon grimaced. The smell of smoke stung his nostrils. He snorted, but could not clear the scent. He turned his gaze to the house he left standing, sighing through his nose. Elyra and Nyira chatted a little nearby, but the words were lost to the sounds of crackling flames and ragged screams in Galvarys’ mind. The meager meal before him suddenly seemed like a heaping portion he could never finish.

“I’m not hungry.” The dragon licked his nose, then pushed himself up to his feet. He winced as his wounds throbbed in protest. “I wish to take a walk.”

“I think you’ve walked far enough for one day.” Nyira turned away from the dragon, then gestured at his tray. “You need to eat more.”

“I shall go where I please,” Galvarys said, then pinned his ears back. He glanced at Elyra who pointed at his food. “Oh, very well.” The dragon settled back down onto his haunches, leaning his weight onto the uninjured side of his rump. “But I’m still taking a walk after.”

“At least wait for your medicine.” Out of the corner of his eye, Galvarys saw Nyira put her hand on Elyra’s arm. The dragon swiveled his frills ears, picking up whispered words she hadn’t meant to share. “Can you talk some sense into him? If he doesn’t let his muscles heal, he may end up with permanent damage.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Galvarys said, eating another piece of goat. He heard Nyira’s breath catch when she straightened up. “As you may have noticed my body is littered with scars. When I was younger I had a limp for a time. There is little a dragon cannot heal from given enough time.”

“Just don’t overdo it, alright Galvarys?” Elyra held her sandwich in one hand, and put her other upon the dragon’s shoulder, near his bandages. “I’ll go with you, and make sure you take it easy.”

Galvarys snorted, fixing his glare upon Nyira. “Can Elyra walk?”

“She’s in better shape than you right now, her wounds are less severe. It was the fever and sickness they caused that put her life in danger.” She waggled a finger at Elyra. “That doesn’t mean you’re healed or ready to go gallivanting about! You take it easy, walk slowly, and don’t lift or carry anything with your injured arm.”

Galvarys glanced back at Elyra. He perked a single ear, and smirked at her. “You heard her Elyra. No gallivanting.”

Elyra took a bite of her sandwich, muttering something that Galvarys expected was better left muffled. The dragon grinned a moment, then worked his way through the rest of his goat. He still didn’t enjoy his meal the way he usually would, but in his heart he knew he had to eat. Aside from medicine he hadn’t eaten much more than a few muzzle-fulls of food since he’d arrived here. Normally the dragon’s stomach would feel like it was turning itself inside out in starvation. Between the pain, the poison, and medicine he’d more nausea than hunger lately.

By the time the two of them were finished eating, the man returned bearing a large wooden crate. He set the crate down in front of the dragon. The bitter, herbal smell of freshly ground medicines wafted from it. The scent made Galvarys scrunch his nose. As if he needed any more excuse to lose what appetite he had left. If he hadn’t already finished his goat, he certainly wouldn’t be now.

“Since you had my tray, I just put all three of your medicines in bowls and popped them into his crate.” The man nudged the box with his boot. “Alright, Dragon. Have at it. You need to finish all three.”

Galvarys lowered his head, staring into the box. The three bowls were arranged in a triangular formation since it, each filled with a heaping amount of freshly ground herbs in various shades of wet green. One was flecked with red, another had speckles of purple blossoms in it. Galvarys curled his lips and bared his fangs in a sneer.

“That looks wretched.”

“It is.” The man crouched down to pick up the bloodied wooden tray. “I’m going to go wash this off. It’ll be easiest if you just eat all three batches as quickly as you can.”

“What about her?” Galvarys flared his wing to bump Elyra with it. She swatted at him.

“She’ll get hers before bed.” The man flicked the tray against the air a few times to clear off the excess goat blood before he walked off.

“Been taking mine in tea.” Elyra grinned.

“Lucky you.” Galvarys pushed his muzzle into the crate, then paused. He lifted his head again, and gave Elyra a sheepish grin, ears splayed and spines half lifted. “Perhaps I should let you get those bowls out for me.”

Elyra giggled, stroking his shoulder. “No problem, Galvarys.” She walked around in front of the dragon and pulled the first wooden bowl from it to offer the dragon. She glanced at Nyira, grinning. “He has problems with boxes.”

“I do not.” Galvarys flattened back his crests.

“You may have had a little problem.” Elyra smirked at him, holding out the bowl.

Galvarys glared at her, narrowing his silver eyes. “The problem was all that tasty pastry was so temptingly down in the bottom of that box.” He dipped a single claw into the green goop in the bowl, then licked it. The bitter taste made him scrunch his muzzle. “This vile sludge gives me good reason to stay as far away from its box as possible.”

“I know,” Elyra said, smiling. “Please, Galvarys, just eat it.”

Galvarys licked up some of the sludge, grimacing again. Then he swiveled his head on his serpentine neck, hissing at Nyira. “You’re still here? Enjoying my displeasure, are you?”

“I just want to make sure you eat it all.” Nyira offered the dragon a little smile, then stared down at her own mud-stained boots. “As soon as you’ve done that I’ll leave you be.”

Galvarys grumbled to himself, wings hanging limp at his sides. Elyra bumped his nose with the wooden bowl, then inclined her head at Nyira. Galvarys rumbled and hissed again, but turned his head back to Nyira. “I do not mean offense. As I said before, I am…very grateful for your help.” When Nyira lifted her face to smile at the dragon, he stole a quick glance at Elyra. “More grateful than I doubt I could ever find words to express, in fact. But being injured and in pain, and…relieving things…it makes me grumpy. So…I apologize for…my actions. And I shall also apologize for my future actions. Because I doubt I shall bring myself to say the words I’m sorry again.”

Nyira’s smile grew warmer. She bent over, and the dragon assumed she was expressing her gratitude with some sort of bow. Either that or she was about to retch. “Thank you, Dragon. I accept your apology. Since I know you’re going to go off walking no matter how I advise against it, I’ll leave you to it. Just…please. Finish all your medicine, and don’t push yourself too hard. Remember, wherever you walk too, you’ve got to walk back as well.”

“Yes, thank you.” Galvarys gazed at her as she turned to walk off back towards her house. “I understand the concept of walking.”

Elyra clucked her tongue, and Galvarys swiveled his head back towards her. “What was that noise? Is there something wrong with your face?”

Elyra giggled. “Eat your medicine before I dump this bowl all over your head.”

“If you did I wouldn’t have to eat it all.” Galvarys flicked his tail, grinning at her. Something about the way her gray eyes shone when the dragon smiled at her made his heart soar. He might not be able to fly till he was healed, but every moment with Elyra lifted his heart higher and higher. “Alright Elyra. But only because you asked me to.”

“Oh?” Elyra tilted her head as Galvarys began to eat the rest of the medicine. He tried to focus on Elyra to distract himself from the disgusting taste, and the feel of the slimy stuff oozing down his throat. “That’s a nice change. I don’t suppose you’ll start doing other things just because I ask, will you?”

When the bowl was empty, Galvarys lifted his head. He took a few deep breaths, trying to prepare himself for the next round. “Like what?”

“You could return all your treasure.” Elyra crouched down and fetched the second bowl. She stood back up, offering it with a grin. “The Five Villages would love you!”

“A dragon can hardly be a legend without a suitable collection of valuables and treasure.” Galvarys clicked his teeth, then began to lick up and gag down the next pile of vileness. It was a shame Elyra did not better understand the concept of legendary dragons with legendary treasures.

“You’d be a legend for having returned it all!” Galvarys was too busy eating to toss his head, so he simply shrugged his wings. Elyra smirked. “We could just spread word that you still had an impressive hoard, if it made you feel better.”

Gagging down rancid, mashed plant life took far too much effort for Galvarys to be able to remind Elyra it was a collection, not a hoard. When he’d finished the second bowl, he gave a growling, gagging sound. “Eerrraaaggh!” He wished they’d left that tray behind. Licking up goats blood would have helped cleanse the foul taste from his tongue. He waved a few unsheathed claws at the crate. “Get me the last one before I vomit the first two up!”

Smiling, Elyra fetched the last bowl and held it out for the dragon. Galvarys’ belly twisted just looking at it, but he forced himself to get it over with. The sludgy ground herbs were bad enough, but the bits of purple flower added startling sweetness to the mixture. The harsh, herbal scent of it filled his nostrils, and the flower petals clung to his sharp teeth after he’d gulped the rest down. He spent a few moments trying to clean his mouth with his tongue. He looked around for his bowl of water, and lapped up every drop he could.

“Ugh.” The dragon shook his head, hissing. He dragged a few claws through the grass, cutting ruts in the earth. “That was terrible.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Elyra said, setting the three bowls back in the box. “The tea I have to drink three times a day tastes like dirt and bitter rind. And I there were herbs on that sandwich I ate as well, they tasted foul.”

Galvarys tossed his head, snorting. “Why did you not complain and ask for a new sandwich?”

“Because unlike a beautiful yet grumpy blue dragon I know, I’m well aware that I need that medicine to feel better.” Elyra caressed one of his ears. Her touch felt divine, and the dragon leaned his head against her hand, careful not to push to harder. “Do you want me to go and get you some whisky or something?”

“No,” the dragon said after some thought. He lashed his tail against the ground, his spines tossed clumps of sod into the air. He stretched out his uninjured hind leg behind him. “Let’s just…walk a while. I think I’d like to…to tell you a little more about my life. And that sword.”

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Chapter Twenty Two

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Galvarys trudged across soft grass. The ashes that once coated this place were long gone, but he still felt them coating his paws, felt them drifting against his wings. The memories made Galvarys’s wings twitch. Ashes could be shaken free but memories could not. The wound was opened again, and in Galvarys mind the ruins still smoldered. The fresh autumn breeze was nothing but acrid smoke that burned his nose. He snorted, but the scent would not clear.

“The winds, I think.” Galvarys licked his nose, unable to wash away the memory of so much burning wood and flesh.

“What about them?” Elyra’s fingers brushed his neck.

“I think the saved farm near the top of the hill. They blew in the other direction enough to keep the flames from spreading this way. Some of the trees downhill burned, but the fires never grew out of control.” Galvarys flicked his tail, padding towards the two-track trail. “Rain came in a day or so, and that helped quell the smoldering remains and lingering flame.”

Elyra drummed her fingers against the dragon’s scales. “So, the woman. The one you spared. You said she came to bind your wounds.”

“Yes.” Galvarys set paw upon dirt, peering down at the trail. His heart tightened, his wings shook as ice ran through them. Blood thumped through his tail as his minor heart pounded. Galvarys turned his head to stare at Elyra a moment. Her smiled calmed the angry waters of his heart a little. She held her hand out, and Galvarys pressed his nose to it. He licked her palm, then gently folded his wing around her. “This way, Elyra.”

When Elyra did not press for more explanation, Galvarys let silence settle over them like a warm blanket. Elyra caressed the inside of his wing as they walked together. Galvarys kept his pace slow and measured, as much for his own body as for Elyra. The unexpected nap had eased the throbbing of the dragon’s many wounds, but now that he was up and walking every injury was competing for his attention. A step with one front leg sent shards of hot pain stabbing into his shoulder, the other foreleg’s movements made the dragon’s ribs feel as though they were being pulled apart. Pain pulsed deep in the meat of his hind leg with every step. At least he had one limb that wasn’t in pain. One out of four wasn’t so bad, was it? Could be worse. The dragon barely even noticed the way all the smaller claw wounds across his face, neck and wings stung. They were little more than scratches compared to everything else.

“My wounds were worse then, I think.” Galvarys stopped, staring over the ruin-speckled hillside. Every burnt building was a tomb, a monument to an undying cycle of vengeance and wrath. Most of them had crumbled into the wild brush that had long since overgrown the remained of the village, but others remained standing in blackened skeletal framework. “Or perhaps they just seemed that way because of my youth. It was the first time I had been so wounded.”

Galvarys felt Elyra tense under his wing. She traced a finger around the edge of one of his bandages. “How old were you?”

The question made Galvarys’ spines tingle. He flattened his frills, growling. “I do not know. We never truly counted our own years. We celebrated the time of my hatchling, but it was an imprecise thing, marked by the rains of spring and never counted. I was…” Galvarys tipped his head back, staring at the sky. In his mind, he could still see his mother dancing in the sky, flying fanciful patterns of simple glee. Even when they were the last, she still sky-danced, she still relished her life. “I was not yet old enough that I would have chosen to live on my own.”

Galvarys padded along the trail that wound down the gentle slope. Lanes that once lead to streets cut into the terraced sections of the hillside like great, flat steps were long overgrown. Only the ruins of charred wood and scorched stones remained, like black scars upon the green hill. Galvarys glanced down a lane as he passed it. Ghosts danced in his memory, men raced down the street towards him and emerged from burning homes. Men died in flames and pools of blood. Clouds of choking smoke and ashes drifted to the earth, speckling his wings with gray snow.

Galvarys pulled Elyra against his body with a wing as he stared down the long forgotten street. “When she came to bind my wounds, some of the buildings were still burning. Ashes covered everything in a layer of deathly gray. They clung to the woman’s skin, her clothes. She told me she’d tend my injuries, but her voice drifted upon the ashes. Her gaze was just as aimless, just as distant. I was not sure I should believe her, but she’d already brought out bandages and supplies. I was in no condition to resist, anyway. I had the strength to slay her if I needed too, but every part of me hurt.”

Galvarys started walking again. He glanced under his wing at Elyra. She smiled at him, stroking his scales in silent encouragement. The dragon’s spines wavered, he swiveled his ears back, staring off at the towering stone citadels twelve dragons once called home. “She did just as she promised. She cleaned my wounds, she stitched them, she bandaged them. She went to a well, fetched me water to drink. Showed me the cave the where the barn is now, told me I could shelter there. Then she went into the ruins. When I limped to the cavern, I saw by her foot prints in the ashes that she had already been there several times while I was unconscious.”

“Was she looking for survivors?” Elyra shivered, and the dragon tightened is wing around, hoping to return some of the same comfort she provided him.

“I did not ask,” Galvarys said, lashing his tail. “We did not talk about it. In the evening she brought me food, and water. Changed my bandages. The next morning she did the same. I walked a little during the day to keep my body from stiffening up. I limped to the bluff you and I were at, earlier, and looked over the village. I saw her wandering a street, dragging something. Her foot prints were everywhere in the village. I watched her for a little while, and I realized she was dragging someone’s body.”

Elyra sucked in a breath, and the dragon’s belly lurched at the memory. He could still see it so clearly, feel the chasm in his stomach that his heart collapsed into. “I had slain men before, but…this was the first time I’d left someone behind who cared for them. It was a pain I understood. I did not feel guilt for the men I slayed, because they were men who sought only the death of dragons. But sympathy I felt for this woman while I watched her drag a man’s body through the ashes confused me. She helped me for some reason, and I felt compelled to do the same. I limped my way down into the village.”

Galvarys made his way to the top of another little rise, cradling Elyra with his wing. “By the time I reached this area, she’d lain the body down, and was trying to dig a grave. Until then I did not know that humans put their dead in the earth. Dragons always burn our dead.” Galvarys swallowed a few times, trying to keep the lump returning to his throat from growing any larger. “My father…He once said the smoke carried our essence, and returned it to the skies and stars from which we were created.” The dragon snorted. “A lie, of course, I think we burn them to prevent humans from mutilating our remains and making us into objects.”

Galvarys unsheathed a few claws, gesturing to the area below the rise. Misshapen, weather-battered headstones marked unevenly spaced graves in morbid decoration. “I found her here, struggling against the hard ground. She fought the earth with a shovel, and when the earth won, she hurled her tool into the ash-covered ground and collapsed. She sobbed and battered the ground with her fists, yelled and screamed. I watched her for a time, and I knew that pain. I walked over to her, and with no words to offer I just started digging. She watched, and by the time the hole was deep enough, her tears had stopped.”

As Galvarys spoke, he made his way down the rise, then took a wide approach to the cemetery. The dragon did not want to step on any of the graves. By now the mounds were all sunken, covered with grass and flowers. Wild bramble roamed the cemetery and wreathed some of the headstones. The markers were all just blocks of broken stone and small boulders dredged from other hills. Some had names and words carved upon them, others were blank.

Galvarys gestured at a gray, vaguely triangular headstone mottled with yellow and green lichen. “That was the first hole I dug. I went to collect the body, and she slapped my nose so hard it took my breath away, and left blue embers whirling in my vision. Despite her struggles to move the body, she would not let me touch it. When she got it in the hole, she fetched her shovel and began to pile dirt atop it. As she buried him, she cried and she whispered words in a language I did not recognize. And I began to dig another hole.”

Galvarys walked alongside the edge of the cemetery. There were dozens of graves, though Galvarys had never allowed himself to count the exact number. “I dug a grave for each body she found, and some for those she could not. It took days. She never let me touch any of the bodies, but if they had items made from dragons, she removed them and piled them nearby so that I could burn them. I dug till my claws were broken and my paws were swollen and bleeding. At night she bandaged those for me too. She put the dirt on each body herself, and each time she murmured words in a language I did not understand. Sometimes the words sounded familiar. I never asked her what she said.”

“Eluvra illarious.” Elyra eased out from beneath Galvarys’ wing to stand behind one of the graves and lay her hand upon the mossy surface of a pitted headstone.

Galvarys perked his ears a little, peering at Elyra. “That sounds familiar, actually. Your people…” The dragon lifted a forepaw, and ran a few fingers, claws sheathed, through Elyra’s red hair. “You have your own language, don’t you?”

The mica-flecks in Elyra’s gray eyes shone, unshed tears glistened. “We do,” Elyra said, lifting her hand to stroke the back of the dragon’s paw. A wistful smile warmed her face as Elyra gazed across all the grave stones marking the land. “My mother spoke it to me when I was young, but the nobles outlawed it. I can’t remember much of it anymore. But I remember the phrase ‘eluvra illarious’. It means something like, wander forever. It’s a saying for when someone has passed away.”

Galvarys murmured in his throat, ears twisting back against his head. He turned his gaze to the cemetery. “The first word sounds a little like your name.”

“It does.” Elyra tugged a bit moss from the stone, working it between her fingers. “My name means wanderer. My mother thought it something to be cherished.” She tossed the clump of moss to the ground, smiling. “When our people were free, we wandered as far as we could. We took pride in it. We claimed everywhere as our own, for as long as we stayed there, and then we returned it to nature and moved on again to see what else the world had to offer.”

The idea made the dragon smile. He flicked his tail, one of his spines caught some bramble and tore the vine away from its moorings. “Other than the part about giving it back, that sounds like dragons.”

Elyra laughed, wandering behind a row of tombstones. “Yes, you dragons like to lay claim to everything you can reach, don’t you.”

“We do,” Galvarys said, followed after her. As he passed a few more headstones, the dragon’s smile faded. “She was one of you. The woman, I mean.” He glanced at a few of the stones as they passed. Galvarys came to a stop as something occurred to him. Sudden dread tingled at the base of the dragon’s spines. “Elyra, I think there have been many of your people among the dragon slayers. Did we do something terrible to you in generations past?”

Elyra’s face twisted up. She turned around, and took the dragon’s muzzle in her hands. “I don’t know, Galvarys.”

Cold pain clutched the dragon’s heart, squeezing tighter with every breath. “Elyra, what if your people have reason to desire revenge against us?”

“It doesn’t matter, Galvarys.” Elyra leaned her face against his muzzle, her hands caressing his pebbly blue scales. “Whatever may have happened between my people and dragons was long before either of us was ever born. And anything dragons may have done to us is nothing compared to what the nobles did.” Elyra shook her head, red hair tossed around. “I don’t know if my people had reasons to want to slay dragons, and I don’t care.” Galvarys heart thundered in his chest as Elyra pulled her head back, stroking his jawline. Her eyes wavered, gleaming with a wet sheen. “I care about you, Galvarys.”

“I care about you too, Elyra.” The dragon smiled at her a moment, and then licked her face from her chin to her forehead. Elyra gasped in surprise, pulling away with a laugh. She wiped her face, and the dragon smiled at her. “Thank you.”

Elyra cupped his chin in her hands, and leaned in to kiss his muzzle. “You’re welcome.”

Galvarys lifted a foreleg, and pulled Elyra up against his body, hugging her. He was gentle, careful not to bump her wounds. She returned the gesture best she could. Though she could not near fit her arms around his body, her touch was nonetheless comfort itself. Galvarys savored it. It had been a very long time since he’d truly taken comfort in another’s embrace. When he visited females he fancied, he enjoyed curling with them in the sun, or upon their sleeping furs. He liked to lay with tails twined and necks laid over one another. Yet even that did not bring him the same measure of pure, simple comfort Elyra’s touch did.

Galvarys would tell her as much soon, but now was not the time.

“How long were you there?” Elyra asked when she pulled back. “Or here, I suppose.”

“Weeks, at least.” The dragon cast a last look over the graves of all the men he’d killed, and then turned back to the trail leading up to the house and barn. The further he walked, the more his wounds throbbed. His head was starting to ache a little as well. Though the dragon was not looking forward to having his bandages changed and wounds cleaned, he was looking forward to laying down again. He cupped Elyra with a wing as he limped along the trail. “I did not keep track.”

“Dragons don’t seem to keep track of time very well.” Elyra leaned against his side as they walked together.

Galvarys grinned, flaring his central crest. “I keep track just fine. How else am I to know if my tributes are late?”

“So you only keep track of time when it helps you get something you want.” Elyra giggled a little as she trudged along at the dragon’s side.

“Something like that, yes.”

“Did you two ever really…talk?”

“A few times, in her later years. But only once at first.” Galvarys tilted his head back to peer at the sky. The sun drooped, casting the last of its fire over the bluff. Before long darkness and cold would settle in. “While my wounds were still healing, and she was still searching what was left of the village. I lay in the grass, near her house, and she came to me. She carried a sword. I did not fear her approach, as by then I knew she did not have it left in her to try and strike me down any more than I had it in me to slay her.”

At the top of the trail, Galvarys turned to walk back to the small bluff where he’d set the stone with his mother’s phrase upon it. The dragon took a shuddering breath, his heart adrift upon dark, icy waters. “She came and knelt before me, and lay the sword in the grass. She said it was hers, one of two they’d given her. They’d…brought my mother… They brought here back here in wagons.” Galvarys’s breath seized in his lungs, he stumbled over his paws. Every word was another talon digging into his heart. “Several wagons. Pieces…of her. Before my attack…the woman…she went to help them…she used the sword to…” Galvarys shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He just could not force those words over his tongue. “She must have left it there. Not all of their wagons burned that night. The sword was covered in blood, still…sticky. There must have been a pool of it in that wagon. The scent was...sickening, even her blood had her scent.”

Galvarys legs nearly gave out before he reached the bluff, and he dropped to the grass with a pained grunt. The impact sent waves of agony washing through the dragon’s body, but the grip of memories on his heart was more painful still. His throat clenched, and hot tears brimmed in his silver eyes once more. “She thought I’d want to burn it, but…when I saw it. When I…smelled my mother’s blood again, all I could do was cry. I just…I curled up and sobbed so hard some of my stitches popped. I wished…” Galvarys pressed his head to Elyra’s hands when she dropped to her knees to wipe his tears and hug his head. The dragon buried his muzzle against his dress. “I wished I could have protected her! I wished I’d died instead of her. She made me hide, but I should have gone with her! I should have fought for her!”

Galvarys fought the flood of anguish that poured from his heart and threatened to wash him away. For long moments he could not control his sobs, fresh tears soaking Elyra’s purple dress. As he cried, Elyra hugged his head. She wiped his tears, she stroked his neck. When she murmured it would be alright, Galvarys wanted so desperately to believe her. When she told him she was here for him, he did.

“She came to me.” Galvarys forced words through his pain, his voice raspy and choked. “She put her hand upon my neck. She’d never touched me in comfort before and it startled me. I jerked my head up, stared at her through my tears. She said, ‘tell me about her’. I…I wanted to tell her…to tell her good things. I wanted to tell her how sweet my mother was, to speak of her kindness. How she wanted peace. I opened my mouth, and all my words died in my throat. Instead I poured my sorrow at her feet like bile, like poison. I let it spill from me until there was nothing left.”

Galvarys took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself. “My mother and I were the last when they came for us. The last of twelve. She came to me with the rising sun, shaking. With fear in her voice like I had never heard, not even when we’d lost others. She woke me and she told me to flee to the caves at the top of the peaks, the hidden ones where the youthful used to go be alone. Chambers too small for the adults to fit. I knew at once they were for us. That they would kill us. And there was fear in me like I had never felt, and yet I wanted to fly at her side. I wanted to fight for our home, I…I wanted to fight for my mother! She screamed at me. The only time she’d ever yelled at me in all my life. Then she grabbed my neck in her jaws like I was still a youngling, and she dragged me to the entrance of our home. She pulled me to the sky with strength I did not know she possessed, and at the top of the peaks, she pushed me into the cold cavern. She could not fit inside, but she clung to the edge. She made me promise that no matter what happened, I would hide where they could not reach until it was safe. I promised, and she licked my face, and she told me she loved me…and she told me to live my life.”

Galvarys pressed his face to Elyra as she wiped his eyes with her sleeves. She leaned over him, hugging his head, crying a little with the dragon as he went on. “She leapt from the ledge, and took the skies. In the valley below, I saw them like a blight upon the earth. I knew my mother would fight to protect me, but…she was so naïve. Even in the end, I think…I think she thought she could ask for peace. She was so courageous! She went to them, alone, to try and make her truce. She laid no fire upon them, she did not land and engage them. She circled, she called out to them, and they…they shot her from the sky.”

“I saw…” Galvarys squeezed his eyes shut, unable to stem the tide of tears. “I saw her fall. She…she hit the mountain, she…tumbled…down the stone. She lay at the bottom, broken. Broken and bleeding but alive. Struggling. I…I wanted to help her! I was ready to join her, to protect her, but…I had promised. I would have never made it in time. They were on her…like a swarm. I heard her…I heard her scream and I could not watch. I tried to drown her screams with my paws but I could still hear her. And when the screams stopped, the silence was so much worse because I knew I was alone.”

After that, there was nothing Galvarys could do but cry. Every word he tried to force through his throat came out as nothing more than a strangled sob, or cry of sorrow. In his mind, in his memory, he could still see her falling. Still hear her screaming. Galvarys gave in to his pain, and sobbed against Elyra until there was nothing left in him, until he was numb. Elyra held him the whole time. Now, as before, the numbness was like a terrible balm, easing his pain long enough for him to speak again.

“When I had emptied my agony and my tears, when her hand trembled upon my neck, I…only then was I able to tell her of my mother. Of my happy memories with her. That she’d bring me snow from the mountains when it was hot. How she listened with attention with the rapt attention of a fascinated child to whatever colorful fabrication my father saw fit to fill our heads with. How she was sweet and playful, how she thought we should make peace with men and gryphon. I told that woman her people had extinguished the most beautiful soul this world had ever birthed, and that there was no one left to remember her but me. She…she asked me how to say her name, and I taught her to pronounce it properly.”

“In the end, when my tears were spent, and my body exhausted, she fixed the stitches I’d broken in my anguish, sewed me back together again. As she stitched me, she told me of her own life, how she understood my pain, and how she came to be in this place.” Galvarys stretched a forepaw out, sinking black claws into the grass. He flexed his paw, carving ruts in the earth. Even decades later, her voice was still so clear in his head. The dragon sighed, and shook his head, blinking lingering wetness from his eyes. He growled to clear his throat. “In a way, this place was to her what I was to you. An escape.” Galvarys lifted his head a little to gaze out across the overgrown wreckage of the long lost village. “An escape that I took from her. But those were secrets she held close to her heart, and she only shared them with me because my own secrets spilled from my tongue in my anguish. I shall leave it to her son to tell you about his mother, if he wishes.”

Galvarys lowered his head to Elyra’s touch when she reached for him. She stroked his neck, and he leaned into her hands. “If it comes up,” Elyra said, tracing her fingers around a few broad scales at the side of the dragon’s neck. Galvarys closed his eyes, taking solace in the comforting feeling. “I don’t want to be a burden and ask too many questions.”

Galvarys turned his head to gaze at her, lifting his ears a little. “You have always done an admirable job of holding your tongue.” He nuzzled her cheek, then flicked his tongue over her ear. Elyra giggled and pulled away, rubbing his nose. “We shall be stuck here for some time, though, and he is more likely to open up to you than he is to me.”

Elyra cupped the dragon’s chin, kissed his nose, then leaned back a little. She sighed and tilted her head back. As the sun sunk behind the hilltop, the last rays of fiery light it cast transformed Elyra’s scarlet hair into rippling flames. For a moment, the mica-flecks in her granite eyes shone like golden embers, the gray around them glowed silver. Galvarys smiled at her, and when she caught his gaze, she grew redder and turned away.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you’re beautiful, Elyra.”

Silence settled over them. Galvarys cocked his head as Elyra’s lips twitched and her jaw worked. Though her mouth moved, no sound came out of it. Her face and ears grew redder still as she chewed upon her lip. He hadn’t meant to make her flush or even to warm her heart, he’d simply answered her question. Silly girl never could take a compliment. The dragon turned his head, staring at the rocks atop the bluff. The setting sun beyond them made the sky look as though it were bleeding.

“When I was stitched together again,” Galvarys said. No need to leave Elyra floundering for words of gratitude. “She asked me if I wanted to burn the swords the way I’d burned everything else made from dragon. They’d both come from bones and horns of the same dragon. From Old Vasyryl, I think. I stared at them a while…” Galvarys fought with his words, forcing them over his tongue one by one, squeezing them through his teeth like venom spat upon the earth. “Stared at my mother’s blood. I decided not to burn it, but to keep it. To keep it to remind myself that I discovered my wrath too late to save my mother. Too late. To remind myself that I was the last now, the only one left to protect our lands, the only flame left shield our home from humanity. That I would never have peace or mercy for men who sought to slay dragons.”

Galvarys took a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh. “That was not all it served to remind me of. It…it helped me to remember, that even here in this nest of evil…” The dragon waved his paw around at the ruins, then snapped his jaws. “Even among the very worst of you, there is kindness to be found.” Galvarys inclined his head towards the house. “The sword reminds me of my failure to protect my mother, and my duty to protect our home. But more than that, it reminds me not to become the very monster I despise. That I would slay those who came to take my life, that I would drive them from our lands, that I would take from them as they take from me. For a time, I used it to remind me that despite the horror your kind inflicted upon us, despite who you took from me…not all of you are monsters.”

Elyra sniffed, and rose up to her knees to hug the dragon’s head. He closed his eyes, leaning into her. As she stroked his neck, he lifted a forepaw to rub her back. “Then I met you Elyra and I did not need that reminder anymore. But after all that time it seemed wrong to burn it and by then I did not have it in me to destroy it myself. Instead, it seemed more fitting let you hurl it into the canyon. When the next rain comes, and river rises, it will wash her blood away and return it at last to the earth.”

Galvarys rubbed his head against Elyra. She eased back, cupping his muzzle between her hands. “I had no idea, Galvarys. I thought it might be…”

“Hush, Elyra.” Galvarys tilted his head down, and Elyra pressed her face to his muzzle again. “You need not say anything.”

Elyra nodded, and Galvarys purred softly as she caressed his chin and throat. The dragon took more comfort in her touch by the day. “The other sword.” Elyra lifted her head to gaze into the dragon’s eyes. “Was that the one her son was carrying when we first arrived?”

“Yes, I’m surprised you remember that, given your fever.”

“I remember it because he seemed like he was ready to attack you.” Elyra ran her fingers back and forth behind the dragon’s jaw. When her hands drifted up to his ears, Galvarys tilted his head into her touch. “And I was surprised you didn’t seem to care he had that sword.”

“I think…he feels as though I am to blame for binding his mother to this place. As though there is some debt he has taken on against his will. I do not think he can easily convince himself I will not some day come here to finish what I started.” Galvarys grit his jaw, flattening his ears back. His spines twitched. “As for the sword, I told his mother to keep it. To let it be a reminder to her just as its twin was to me. To remember that even among there was kindness. That it was not made from the bones of a monster, but from a loved one with a grieving family. She came to see it as a debt she owed me. She owed us. That is why this…this place is still here. A debt I suspect she never felt she could fully repay. As she has passed on the sword, I imagine her son feels as though he has inherited her debt as well.” Elyra shifted a little, moving up to sit against Galvarys’ chest. He worked his foreleg around her and went on. “His wife told me she wanted to knock the buildings down, start this place over, but he wouldn’t let her.”

The dragon curled his neck until he could lay his head upon Elyra’s lap. “I need to speak with him. I…I wish to absolve his debt. He shouldn’t have to do this for me anymore. When next you see him in private, Elyra, will you ask him to speak with me? If he is willing, I should like to help him bury the reminders in this place once and for all.”

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Chapter Twenty Three

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Elyra sat at the table in Nyira and Donal’s kitchen, the air pleasant and warm thanks to the crackling cooking fire. Darkness had settled over the hilltop home, but an assortment of lamps hanging from hooks embedded in wooden beams throughout the house cast plenty of light. Elyra liked their house. Not as much as she’d come to love her fortress home, but the warm coziness of the isolated home appealed to her, as did the fact they seemed to have built everything themselves. The wooden table she sat at was sanded smooth but the sides were irregular, swirls and blotches and knots in the wood grain marked the surface. It was lopsided, and none of the four chairs around it matched at all. The chair she sat in was cut and built from sturdy pine boughs, another assembled of oak and a little wobbly. The kitchen was perfumed with the scent of wood smoke from their cooking fire, as well as the delightful aromas of the spiced goat stew being served. It helped cover up the pungent smell of freshly ground medicine herbs and spirits.

Coils of steam wafted from a wooden bowl filled with spiced goat stew that sat before Elyra. A few thick slices of freshly baked break with a heavy crust lay on the table next to it. Elyra selected a slice and dunked it in the bowl, then blew on it to cool the coating of hot stew. She nibbled the wet bread, and already knew she was going to love the stew.

“This tastes really good,” Elyra said, glancing over at Donal.

Donal sat alongside her. With Nyira’s help, Elyra had changed out of the purple dress and into a soft, comfortable green skirt along with a cream colored shirt that belonged to Donal. The shirt was far too large, but its bagginess made it easy for Elyra’s hosts to attend her wounds. Nyira had already cleaned the wounds along Elyra’s side, and now as she ate dinner, Donal attended those on her arm. He’d rolled her baggy sleeve up for her then removed the old bandages.

Donal chuckled. “Yeah, Nyira’s a hell of a cook. Glad you like it, though. Had to do something with the rest of that goat.”

Elyra chewed her lip a moment. She waved her bread around before dunking it again. “Galvarys really will pay you back for all those goats. He’ll have coin sent, or new goats. Or hell, both.”

“Uh huh.” Donal smirked to himself. He plucked a cloth swab from a wooden tray sitting on the table, and poured some medicinal spirits on it. “Ready?”

“Never am, but go ahead.” Elyra waited for Donal to press the cloth to arm before she bit into the stew-laden bread.

Elyra cringed as hot pain seared the first of her wounds where Donal cleansed it. At least the stitches were holding up and the wounds hadn’t shown any signs of fresh infection. No doubt because her hosts insisted on cleaning them this way twice a day. Elyra crammed the rest of the bread slice into her mouth, then balled her hand into a fist. It was a struggle to keep her other arm relaxed as pain boiled in her claw wounds. She focused on the taste of the hearty bread and spicy stew in her mouth, concentrated on savoring it as she chewed. It helped her deal with the pain until Donal paused.

“That’s one.”

“Thanks for keeping count.” Elyra said, smirking to herself. She picked up her spoon, and ate a few mouthfuls of stew.

“So?” Donal chose a fresh cloth and poured more spirits across it.

“So what?” Elyra gave him an odd look, then tensed up when he pressed the cloth to her next wound.

Donal worked the cloth against her wound. “So when are you going to ask me about my mother?”

Elyra grunted through grit teeth. It felt as though he was scrubbing white-hot salt into exposed flesh. “Maybe when you’re done torturing me. No sense giving you a reason to make it worse.”

Donal chuckled to himself. He pulled the cloth away, glanced at it, and then rubbed the area around her stitches a little more. “Gotta make sure you don’t get any more infections.”

Elyra heaved a sigh when Donal finally stopped scrubbing. The worst of the stinging heat began to fade, and she went back to dunking bread in her stew. Donal rose up and walked to the counter. He soon returned with a cup of water for her, along with a smaller vessel filled with whisky. Elyra gulped down the whisky in one shot, then struggled to keep from coughing it all right back up.

“Not how I’d recommend doing that,” Donal said, settling back into his chair.

“Thought it might help,” Elyra managed to gasp between coughs.

“It will, but it’ll take a moment.” Donal prodded Elyra’s arm. “I’ll give you a minute to recover from that before I go on.”

Elyra took a few sips of water, then fetched a chunk of goat from the stew with her wooden spoon. She chewed it slowly, saving the rich, spiced flavor. After she swallowed, she glanced at Donal, her spoon hovering above the bowl. “How’d you know?”

“All the coughing was a pretty good clue.”

“Not that.” Elyra gestured at him with the spoon, then peered down at her stew. She stirred it with the spoon. “That I was thinking of asking about your mother.”

“You spent all day with the damn dragon.” Donal wiped his hands with a spare cloth, shrugging. “He probably told you what he did here.”

“He told me why he did it, too.” Elyra shifted in her chair so her eyes could meet Donal’s. She still couldn’t tell just what color they were, in the lamplight they picked up the same orange hue everything else did.

“So you figure if he wanted to talk about his mother, I’d want to talk about mine?” Donan luirked a brow, then wet another cloth with fresh spirits. “Turn your arm, please.”

“Well…” Elyra stumbled over her words as she squirmed in her seat. “No, I mean…that’s not what I…wait, how did this get turned around on me?”

“It happens.” Donal chuckled to himself, then pressed the cloth to Elyra’s arm.

Elyra hissed in pain, her knuckles white around the spoon handle. “So how did you know I was going to ask?”

“You seem like the curious sort.” Donal worked the cloth against the stitched wound. “I figured he either told you about her, or he didn’t, and either way you’d want to know more. So which was it?”

“I don’t want to say anything that will get him in trouble,” Elyra said, growling her pained words through grit teeth.

Donal laughed, shaking his head. “This isn’t a school yard. You and the dragon aren’t children. You’re not going to be getting in any trouble.”

“He wouldn’t tell me any of her secrets.” Elyra let out a slow breath when Donal stopped cleaning her wound. “Just what she did for him. He…” Elyra reached out with her wounded arm to gently touch Donal’s hand. “He wants to talk to you.”

“He’d be so lucky.” Donal tossed the cloth down on the tray. “One left, then I can bandage you up again.”

“Do you hate Galvarys?” Elyra dunked her spoon in her soup bowl a few times. She couldn’t figure the man out. She wouldn’t blame him if he did hate the dragon, and she held no hostility in her voice, only curiosity. “I’d understand if you do.”

“No.” Donal shook his head, and went straight to the last wound, scrubbing it harder than before. “I don’t hate the dragon. I hate what he did to my mother.”

Elyra’s body went rigid as Donal took his frustrations out on the last of her wounds. She clamped her jaw shut to keep from crying out as fire raged in her arm. She spat her words with venom born from pain, rather than anger. “He spared her life!”

“After he took everything she had left from her. After he left her with nothing.” Donal scrubbed the wound harder.

Tears of pain brimmed in Elyra’s eyes, her face flushing. “Only after they’d done the same to him! Donal, you’re really hurting me.”

“Sorry.” Donal pulled the cloth away, grimacing. “Let me get you some more whisky.”

Elyra glanced at the cloth when Donal tossed it down. A bit of red marked it where Donal had scrubbed too hard. Elyra looked at her arm, a few red beads dribbled from around the dark stitches. Elyra set her spoon down and wiped a few droplets of perspiration from her forehead. “I’m sorry, Donal, I didn’t want to argue with her.”

Donal came back a moment later with the bottle of whisky. He refilled Elyra’s cup, then poured himself some as well. He took a shot of it and poured himself another. “I know. Look, I know what happened to the dragon. That’s why I don’t hate him.” He dropped into his chair with a heavy sigh. “If that happened to my mother? I’d have gone after everyone who did it, as well. But he took something from her that day, some piece of her heart.” Donal drank his whisky, and filled his cup again. “Some wonderful part of her that he cut away, and I never got to know. No matter how much he regrets it, no matter how much those men deserved it, he cannot undo that. He could never fill the hole I saw in her eyes every day of her life.”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Donal.” Elyra reached towards Donal’s hand, and when he did not pull away, she squeezed it.

Donal grimaced, and set his cup down on the table. “It’s not your fault. I better stop drinking before I get you bandaged.”

Elyra sipped her own whisky, the heat from the first shot already radiating out from her belly and through the rest of it. Hopefully the growing warmth would ease some of her pain. She picked up her spoon and took another few bites of stew as Donal unrolled a few bandages.

“It’s just…” Donal shook his head, cursing under his breath. “She’d lost so much already, and he just…he came and took all she had left. I think the worst part for her was that she understood why.” He cut a length of bandage with a sharp blade, glancing up at Elyra. “He didn’t tell you huh?”

Elyra shook her head, red tresses swishing. “No. He said you were the only one who had the right to spill her secrets.”

Donal chuckled to himself. “Stupid bastard. Hold out your arm.”

Elyra held out her arm for him, wincing as the movement jarred her still throbbing wounds. “He has his moments.”

“I’ll bet.” Donal began to wrap the bandages around Elyra’s arm, layer after gauzy layer. “He never hurts you, does he?”

“Never!” Elyra set her jaw, taking offense to the very idea. “Not once. That dragon has offered me more respect and kindness than anyone else in my entire life. He’s shown me gentleness I never knew, and not once has he hurt me! I wish more people knew that about him.”

Donal nodded, wrapping another layer around Elyra’s arm. “Meant no disrespect. Just wondered. You’re the first time he’s ever come here with anyone else. And this is the first time he’s been here in a long time, since before mother died. Didn’t know a dragon would grow so close to anyone but another dragon.”

Elyra’s arm ached as she kept holding it aloft. She chewed her tongue, trying to sort through her thoughts and put them towards without giving the wrong impression. “Neither did I, but it just…it just happened. Do you…know what they do to people like us, in the capital?” Elyra lifted her hand, trailing her fingers over the spiral brand on her cheek. “People with these?”

Donal paused, grunted, and reached for his knife. “Yeah, I know.” He clipped off the end of the bandage, and then fixed it in place with a bit of sticky pine resin. “There. You’re done. Try not to move it too much.”

“Galvarys is the only one I’ve ever known to treat me as more than some branded piece of property, some slave who’s only worth acknowledging when she’s being beaten or used as a whore.” Elyra pulled her bandaged arm back, resting it against the table. “I offered myself to Galvarys to get away from that. And from the first day I met him, Galvarys treated me like a person. Since then, everything else just…” Elyra trailed off a moment. She still wasn’t sure just what was developing between them. Part of her feared what more might grow from it, yet another part of her was hopeful and excited. Whatever came, she was ready to embrace it. “It just happened. I can’t speak of the things he’s done in his past, or what was taken from him, but I can tell you there’s a beautiful heart in there and I think it terrifies him.”

Donal reached out and began to work her sleeve back down. “I’ll take your word for it, but I’m glad he treats you well.”

Elyra pursed her lips. She dunked the last slice of bread, and bit off a hunk. She waved the bread at Donal. “There’s a girl, in one of the villages. Her name is Amell. Sweetest little thing you ever saw, shy, innocent.” She stared at her half-eaten bread a moment, her teeth grinding. “Varm, their mayor, offered her to the dragon as a whore. Galvarys took her home, safe and sound, and ever since then he’s looked after her. He won’t admit it, even to me, but he’s worried about that poor girl. She made him a gift, a pretty little flower tiara, the sort of thing only a child would wear on her head. He put it with his trophies, all his most precious things. He won’t say it, but it means something to him, I think, to know he saved that girl, to know he’s appreciated. There’s goodness in him, but it took him ages to find it. I can’t help but wonder what great deeds he might have already done if his mother hadn’t been murdered. He’s already made…a truce…”

Elyra trailed off. It clicked in her head then. The truces he’d made with the villages. The peace he offered them. It wasn’t just because he was tired of fighting, it wasn’t just because he wanted tributes. It wasn’t just because he wanted to be some great legend.

“He’ll never admit it,” Elyra said, though the thought already brought a smile to her face. “Or maybe he will?”

Donal sipped his whisky. “Admit what?”

“Galvarys made a truce with the places he calls the Five Villages. Ages ago, long before I was born, I’m sure. They give him gifts in exchange for peace. He lets them build and grow their villages on his lands, and he keeps them safe. He says it’s because he was tired of fighting. Tired of being hunted.”

“Sounds like quite the set up.” Donal smirked and took another sip before setting his cup down.

“I think it’s because of his mother.” Elyra turned to peer at Donal, quirking her brows. “Did you know she wanted peace?”

“I…tried not to ask too many questions, but…I remember my mother muttering something about that.” Donal folded his arms, turning his eyes away.

Elyra scowled when he refused to meet her gaze, but she did not let up. “Galvarys’ mother. Her name was Ayvyrial and all she ever wanted was peace with the other races of the world. She wanted a truce, even in the end, and for that she was murdered. Galvarys…I think her death nearly broke him, and he must have spent a long time hunting down men like those who killed his mother. His clan. But in the end…” A smile broke out across Elyra’s face like sun streaming from the clouds. “In the end he chose peace. For his mother, I think.”

Donal unfolded his arms and gestured at Elyra’s bandaged arm. “Doesn’t look like peace to me.”

Elyra shook a finger at him, gnashing her teeth. “Galvarys made his peace years ago! Just because a dragon chooses peace doesn’t mean the world chooses to accept it. This was an ambush!” She tugged her sleeve up to show off the bandages. “This was an ambush! Some gryphon snatched me up, carried me off to get Galvarys to follow him into a trap set by dragonslayers. This was a fight brought to him, and you cannot expect him to stand there and let them murder him!”

“No,” Donal said, rubbing his fingers against a knot in the table. “I cannot.”

Elyra pulled her sleeve back down, huffing. “You may as well get me my herbal tea now.”

“Yeah, alright.” Donal rose back to his feet to fetch the kettle. He filled it with water and a mixture of freshly chopped herbs, then set it over the fire. “Just be a minute.”

Elyra’s shoulders slumped. Her momentary anger quickly melted into fatigue. Healing was wearing down her body. “I don’t mean to yell at you, it’s just…”

“You’re defending your friend.” When the tea was boiling, Donal fetched it off the fire and poured some into a mug. He carried it back to Elyra and set it down in front of her. “Give it some time to cool.”

Elyra worked her way through the last of the stew. It was delicious, but she’d lost some of the appetite she’d only earned back that evening. “He really has chosen peace, so long as they’re willing to share it with him.”

“My mother would have liked knowing that.” Donal settled into his own chair, sighing. “Maybe she did know. She rarely talked to me about the dragon because she knew I didn’t want to listen. As I grew up, I always knew there was something…missing. Missing in her eyes when she stared off at the distant mountains. I just never knew what it was until she brought me here. Until the first time I saw the dragon, and the way she looked at him.”

Elyra’s hand froze, her spoon hovering just before her lips. “You mean you weren’t born here?”

“No.” Donal shook his head. “When the dragon was healthy enough to leave this place, my mother left too. At the time, I don’t think either of them expected to come back.”

Elyra ate a few spoonfuls of stew. In between bites she sipped at her whisky. Fingers of steam still rose from her tea so she let it cool a little while longer. “Why did she come here to begin with? Did she hate dragons?” Elyra lifted her injured arm to fend off any snapped retort. “I won’t judge her if she did.”

“No, she didn’t hate dragons.” Donal ran his fingers down the stubble caking his cheeks. “She lived in a city when she was younger, helping to tend wounded soldiers. She grew up in a tiny village, daughter of some farmers, learning to tend animals, medicines, healer’s techniques. When the war came, they fled the village before it was burned, and moved to the city.”

Elyra pushed her bowl away when it was empty. “War? Was she part of the rebellion?”

“No,” Donal said, shaking his head and laughing. He pulled a strand of shaggy red hair from his head, worked it between his fingers. “We weren’t all wanderers, you know. They weren’t soldiers or fighters or anything, and just wanted to flee the fighting. The city they lived in was sort of unofficially neutral, practically a city-state. She took to tending any wounded soldier from either side. Fell in love with a man while working as a healer.”

“One of the soldiers or rebels?” Elyra sipped the last of her whisky.

“A fellow healer, actually. Never got married or anything but they lived together, and she bore his child.”

“So your father was a healer, too.”

Donal drummed his fingers against the table. “Wasn’t my father. That child was my half brother, older than me. She raised him in the city with his father while the war spread across the countryside.”

Elyra scowled at her empty whisky cup. “Didn’t exactly work out well for us.”

Donal poured her a bit more whisky, shrugging. “They wanted land, and resources, and they had the means to take it. If anything, I think our people gave them a bigger fight then they were looking for. Just weren’t enough of us. S’alright, though. If the war had gone on too long, a lot more people would have been displaced. Worked out for the best, I think, that they surrendered when they did.”

“Oh yes,” Elyra muttered, sipping the whisky. She grimaced as it burned her throat, the warmth slowly spreading through her body. “Worked out wonderful for us.” She traced her brand with a finger, sneering. “My mother didn’t have anything to do with the rebellion, but that didn’t stop the nobles from doing this to us. To just about everyone like us.”

“I didn’t they weren’t cruel, I just said things could have been worse.” Donal folded his arms across his chest, staring at Elyra. “We aren’t the only people in this land, you know. Things got worse for us, but they got a lot better for a lot more people, too. What about those villages your claims. Pretty peaceful these days, aren’t they?”

“Thanks to Galvarys,” Elyra said, turning her cup back and forth.

“Thanks to the war ending when it did. You think those villages would even be there anymore if that war went on for years? This land was out-matched, they were going to lose either way. The longer they kept trying to fight, the worse things would have gotten for everyone.” Donal grit his teeth, then leaned his chair back. “Not the point I’m trying to make, anyway.”

“No, I guess not.” Elyra took another little sip, and set her cup down. “I’ll try and stop pulling you off track.”

A smirk twitched at the corners of Donal’s lips. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” He waved a calloused hand. “So anyway, she raised him for few years while the war happened, till the country gave up. I guess the city she was in thought about declaring independence, but didn’t seem worth the bloodshed. They’d lose anyway, so they just let themselves be taken. Most of them were well treated, my mother and her family were well known for having treated anyone, so some of the foreign soldiers she’d helped were quick to stick up for her.”

Elyra traced a single finger around the lip of her cup, mulling it over. “So that wasn’t the capital, where I grew up?”

“Nah, this was a little smaller city, off to the northwest. Closer to the border. They claimed the capital for their own, shipped a buncha rich bastards out there to manage it for ‘em.”

“Yes.” Elyra’s cheek twitched, her brand tingled. “I know.”

“From what my mother used to tell me, some of the old dragon slayers who lived here…” Donal trailed off, but when Elyra did not raise objection, he went on. “They used to talk about some of the craftier, wealthier locals working to take control behind the scenes. Buncha merchants or something. Wanted to work with the bastards that got put in charge, and then…erode their power.”

Elyra blinked and found herself smiling. “You know, I’ve seen some of them. One of them is just as bad as the nobles. Thinks he can rip Galvarys off with junk.”

Donal shrugged, nudging the heel of his boot against the leg of his chair. “You know what they say about power and corruption.”

Elyra nodded. Ripples ran across her whiskey as she drummed her fingers against her cup. “The other one though, he seemed…different. Tried to warn me about the mayor, actually, and didn’t seem happy with some of the other people in his group.” She giggled to herself. “Plus he was a lizard.”

Donal raised a brow. “Some of the lizard folk might have a bigger stake in how it works out. Our people and the other natives here never had a problem with the other races. But…”

“The nobles think they’re all a bunch of inbred animals and barbarians.” Elyra growled through her teeth. She stopped when she realized she was growling. Must have picked up the habit from Galvarys.

Donal toasted her comment with his cup, then sipped his whisky. “All the more reason for them to want help change out the seats of power. But again, I’ve wandered off course.”

“This time it was your fault.” Elyra said, grinning. At least they seemed to be getting along a little better for the moment. She picked up her tea, blew on it, and then took a long sip. The bitter taste wasn’t especially pleasant, but she still preferred it to having to eat gobs of mashed herbs like poor Galvarys. “Go on. You were talking about your mother, after the war.”

“Right.” Donal turned his head, staring at the wavering orange glow of a copper lamp hanging from the rafters. “Few years later, some kind of sickness swept through. A plague they’d never seen before. Probably came in with the invaders. She used to tell me it almost seemed random the way it would strike some people down and skip over others. Like God was picking and choosing who he wanted to carry on living. He choose my mother but, not her lover, or her son. Plague took them both.”

Elyra winced, an icy bramble constricted her heart, thorns plunged into it. “I’m…sorry. I lost my mother to an illness, as well, though hers was not a slow one. Just sort of broke her down, after a while. I knew it was coming, and she and I had made our peace with it, but I…still miss her.”

“You always will,” Donal said, reaching out to gently touch her hand. “But cherish the time you had with her.”

“Oh, I do.” Elyra said, smiling. His touch warmed the cold spikes in her heart a little, but she could not help thinking of Galvarys. Elyra wondered how often he thought about her these days. Had the dragon tried to forget her until the day Elyra drew that sword? “Anyway, you can go on.”

Donal nodded once, pulling his hand back. “The plague left her alive, but alone. She tried to figure out why, she wandered the city, mourning.” He grunted, his face flushing a little under his red stubble. “She wouldn’t want me talking about those times, but she came to believe God left her alive for a reason, and she fell in with a group of our people who made their living protecting others. Found out they were building themselves a village to serve as a base of operations. The idea was to make the lands further from the cities safe for people to live, so that they could build more villages. A lot of the villages way out into the country had already been attacked, some destroyed.” Donal took a breath, and gave Elyra a hard look. “By monsters. These people, they’d been wanderers, and they’d learned how to kill monsters. Done it in a few lands. Wanted to come back and make their own homeland safe again.”

Elyra opened her mouth, ready to spit venom at Donal. Dragons were not monsters. But the words never spilled over her lips. She realized he wasn’t trying to get a rise out of her, just telling her the way things were back then, for his mother. The way she was drawn into all of this. Instead of venomous retorts, she filled her mouth with tea, instead.

“My mother thought that was why God spared her. To join these men, these dragon slayers, and help keep them safe and healthy to do their jobs. Which, she believed, was protecting our people. Though they were well treated in that city, she was not a fool. She knew in other cities the fact we’d so openly rebelled against the conquering army was going to hurt us as a people. She wanted to help found a place for us to go, away from the cities, they just had to cleanse the monsters first. She was no fighter, she was never going to go out and actually help them slay any dragons. But she could grow herbs, farm crops, tend livestock, and she could bind wounds and make medicines. Not many people back then had those skills.”

Elyra stared at her tea. Whenever she shifted the cup, bits of herbs swirled and tumbled about in the greenish liquid. Looked like she was drinking a cup of hot swamp slime. The thought twisted her stomach, and she tried to push it from her mind before she retched the stuff back up. She glanced up at Donal, then back at her tea, muttering. “Obviously this village succeeded.”

“It did. Hunting beasts was a skill a lot of our people had when so many of us just wandered. Had to know how to protect ourselves back then, and make good coin. Even when our wandering days were over, those were skills a lot of us retained. They made a few other villages, too, across this part of the land. Made a few allies for a time.”

“Allies?” Elyra glanced up again.

“Yeah.” Donal rested a hand upon the bottle of whisky. “Gryphons, and such. Had one or two that came out here a few times. Apparently, many generations ago, some of our people shared parts of this land with gryphons. Mutual protection from bigger threats or some such. So some of the dragon slayers in another village were trying to honor that old alliance, for the same reason. Mother met a few of them when she visited.” Donal paused, then laughed and smiled to himself. “Apparently there’s nothing more adorable than a gryphon hatchling. Little fluffball, she always said.”

Elyra was silent, but Galvarys voice echoed in her memory. I chased many gryphons. I never killed a female with a child. I did not kill your mother. Elyra rubbed her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. It had to be.

“Did…she say what he looked like?” Elyra pinched the bridge of her nose. “The fluffball?”

“Don’t remember, to be sure.” Donal canted his head. “You alright there?”

“Did he have gray paws? Gray forelegs?” Elyra remembered those the most, because they’d been locked around her as they flew.

“I don’t know,” Donal said, his gaze drifting to Elyra’s wounds. “You think it was him?”

Elyra leaned her face into her hand, her words slightly muffled. “I don’t know the timelines well enough to be sure. I don’t know how long ago that was, or how old Galvarys is or anything else. But…he hated Galvarys, his heart was filled with anger and bitterness like I’ve never known. And he said something about being chased from his home, that Galvarys killed their friends.”

“Seems like your dragon’s killed a lot of people’s friends.”

Elyra slammed her hand down against the table. “Then people should stop trying to kill Galvarys! They murdered his family, they cut his mother apart in front of him! You said it yourself, those people came out here to build this village to slay monsters! Well, they found out the hard way that monsters have families too. What did they expect was going to happen when they start killing their parents? Their children? Of course they’re going to fight back!”

“Sorry,” Donal said, holding up a hand. “I didn’t mean…”

“I don’t care what you mean.” Elyra rose to her feet, thrusting a finger at Donal. “You mother’s village, the dragons, Galvarys, the gryphons, it’s all the damn same! It’s all a cycle! You kill them so they kill you so you kill more of them! It’s a circle that never ends, and I only see one person out there trying to break it, and that’s Galvarys! So stop blaming him for other people’s actions. Yes, he’s done bad things, but now he’s trying to do right! He’s made peace.” Elyra snatched her mug of tea off the table, some of it spilling over her fingers. The liquid was still hot but not enough to burn her. “You said your mother believed God spared her? Did she still believe that after Galvarys spared her, too?”

Donal’s jaw clenched, his shoulders tensed. “After a time, yes.”

“Then why does she think God spares Galvarys every time someone tries to kill him? Maybe that’s his purpose! To end this stupid cycle of violence among men and dragons and gryphons and any other fool who doesn’t understand the value of life.” She drained the last of her tea, grimacing at the bitter taste. “Galvarys spared that gryphon, by the way.” Elyra tossed the mug onto the table. “I’m going to bed. Go talk to Galvarys.”

---

Galvarys limped towards the heavy iron stoves nestled along the wall of the barn cavern. Useful things, stoves, though the dragon would never admit such to a human. This place was at a higher elevation than his home, and the nights were cold with the advent of autumn. Winter’s frigid grip was not far away. Hopefully he’d be healed enough to fly Elyra home before then. The dragon certainly didn’t feel healed right after Nyira cleaned his wounds and changed his bandages. Damn woman wasn’t exactly going out of her way to be gentle, either. Felt like she was scrubbing them out with fire. The treatments left the dragon’s wounds throbbing, and the cold air creeping in wasn’t helping.

Movement made the freshly applied bandages felt itchy and constricting against his scales. It made him feel like he had mites or something. The steady, thudding pain at the center of each wound was always at its worst just after they’d been cleaned again. Somehow he always forgot just how arduous the healing process could be. At least his stitches were holding strong this time.

To the dragon, the stoves looked like fat cast iron eggs standing on three legs, simple chimneys ran through holes in the wooden wall. The dragon pried open the door of the stove with a single unsheathed claw. A blanket of ashes coated the bottom of iron egg. Galvarys sniffed at, the scent of wood and smoke had faded since the last flames that licked the metal. The dragon plucked logs from the piles of wood between the stoves, and shoved them into each stove. Galvarys stuffed the stoves until he could fit no more wood in any of them, then took a deep breath. The dragon squeezed his fire glands and turned his head back and forth blasting roiling, red-orange flames over all three stoves. Heat washed over his face, stinging his sensitive nostrils. When the dragon was out of breath, he clamped his jaws shut. All three stoves glowed in a few places, fire boiled and cascaded out the openings, flames flickered through tiny openings in the chimneys.

The dragon backed away from the blistering waves of heat, then realized he’d set the wall of the barn on fire as well. Whoops. That wasn’t going to earn him any favors from his hosts. Galvarys stepped away, and turned to the side. Now what was he going to do? Dragons weren’t exactly known for their firefighting knowledge. They were good at setting fires, not quelling them. The dragon glanced around, then spotted the trough of water he had to drink. He bite down on the edge of it, hoisted it in his jaws, and carried it towards the stoves. Then he took it in his forepaws, and tossed the water over the section of flaming wall. An immense cloud of steam exploded with an angry hiss, but he quelled the worst of the fires without extinguishing the stoves. A few flames still flickered up towards the rafters. The dragon turned, angled his wing, and beat it against the air a few times. The motion sent pain spiking through his wounded side, but the wind gusts blew out the last of the rogue flames.

“If you’re planning to burn down my barn, you’d be wiser doing so when you’re not inside it.”

Galvarys snapped his head around to find Donal standing near the barn door, glaring at him. The man was wrapped in a black cloak edged in silver leaves, his arms folded beneath it. His eyes burned with the flickering orange light of the fire still raging in the three stoves. Galvarys nudged the trough aside with a fore paw, glancing at the charred wood on the wall.

“I’ll remember that for next time.” He twisted his ears back, scratching at his neck with a wing tip talon. “Sorry.”

“Suppose I shouldn’t expect a dragon to know how to light a stove.” The man unfolded his arms, walking over to the stoves. He nudged each door with his boot, closing them the best he could. “Not supposed to fill it like that, just a log or two at a time.”

“I wanted it to be warm,” Galvarys said, his voice coming across as far more meek than he wanted it too.

“And I don’t want my damn barn burned down.” Donal turned away from the dragon, walking back towards the exit. “Next time do it carefully or ask for help. Bring your trough, I’ll get you some more water.”

Galvarys took the trough in his teeth, limping after Donal. There were not many people in the world he’d let boss him around, but Donal was one of the few. Seemed like he knew it, too. Either that or the man just didn’t care about risking a dragon’s ire. Donal pushed the barn door open, and Galvarys followed after him. Though it was dark outside, Donal carried no lantern. Not that Galvarys needed one, the dragon could see just fine in the blue-black shades of night, and Donal surely knew the way by heart.

They walked to the well in silence. The well was old, unevenly rounded and built of granite blocks long since overgrown with moss, lichen and a bramble vine covered in late season berries. It was sheltered by a thatched eve in a rounded shape that reminded the dragon of an upside down egg shell. A wooden bucket on a sturdy rope sat upon the well’s wall, and Donal tossed it into the water as soon as he arrived. By the time Galvarys limped up behind him he’d already hauled up the first bucket of water.

Galvarys set the trough down, and Donal poured the water into it. “I’m sorry about your wall.”

“I’m sure you’re sorry about a lot of things.” Donal dropped the bucket back down into the water, then began to haul it back up.

Galvarys pinned his ears back, looking away. He’d never known what to say to her son. There were only so many times he could apologize, and yet he knew it would never be enough. The dragon’s stomach twisted in cold coils, and he swallowed to try and ease the sudden tightness in his long throat. “I am.”

Donal grunted, pouring the next bucket of water into the dragon’s trough. He repeated the process a few more times without reply. When the trough had enough water in it, he set the bucket on the wall and headed down the trail that lead back to the barn. “Try not to spill too much of it. If you need more water tonight you’re on your own.”

Galvarys had no smart reply or threatening retort. Not for this man. His attitude brought about little more than a moment of indignity within the dragon’s heart before that too was washed away by the waters of old regrets. He took the trough in his teeth, hoisted it and padded after the man. Carrying the heavy trough for a longer distance put a bit of a strain in the dragon’s neck, made his teeth ache. Cold water splashed and sloshed over the edges, chilling his nose. Galvarys had to snort to clear his nostrils a few times. Once back at the barn he was more than ready to collapse against the barn floor and rest his aching wounds.

Thankfully the barn hadn’t burned down in his absence. The fires in the stoves still raged and the air was warmer than before. At this rate it was going to get too warm for the dragon’s liking before long. He set the trough down near the simple bedding of straw on which he slept, and then eased himself to the ground with a pained groan.

“You alright?”

The dragon looked back at himself. He lifted a wing, stretching a hind leg, moved his tail, examining all of his wounds. “I don’t see any blood staining the bandages. Hurts like hell, though.”

“You’ve had worse.”

“I have, but not for years.” Galvarys tried to get comfortable. It was an arduous process. Between the axe wound in his ribs, the dual wounds in his shoulder, and the arrow hole in the back of his hind leg, there were not many positions he could comfortably lay in. “I think they went out of their way to make my life unusually painful this time.” He snorted, tossing his head. “At least that damn cat-bird is going through the same process.”

Donal gazed about the room, seemingly willing to look anywhere but at the dragon. “Elyra told me you let him live.”

“I did.” Galvarys clicked his teeth, then lashed his tail, his spines clattering against the stone floor of the barn cavern. “At her urging.”

“That’s new for you, isn’t it?” Donal snorted, staring at the fire raging behind a stove door. “Letting someone live?”

Galvarys’ heart clenched, and something in the dragon twisted. He flared his spines. “I let your mother live, didn’t I?”

Donal straightened, his hands balled up. Galvarys glared at him, more than willing to withstand any assault the man might offer. He did not expect violence, but he would let the man hurl his verbal slings and arrows if he wished. Though Galvarys would let Donal get away with a lot more than just about anyone else, there were a few things he would not let stand without reply. But the retaliation never came. Instead, Donal simply slumped a little, his shoulders drooping.

“So you did, Dragon.”

Galvarys cocked his head. “Is that all you have to say?”

Donal walked across the barn, towards a storage area. “Would you prefer an argument?”

“I expected one.”

“What’s to argue? You did let her live, didn’t you?” Donal fetched an old wooden chair covered in flaking blue paint. He carried it across the barn, and then slammed it to the ground in front of the dragon. “Can’t argue that with you.”

“Then what did you come here to argue with me?” Galvarys pulled his head back, arching his neck. “Or have you come to insult me and belittle more while you’ve got the courage in you from all that whisky I can smell?”

“Your woman had more.” Donal stood above the chair, his hands clasped around the back frame.

“I find that difficult to believe.” Galvarys flicked his ears, baring a few fangs. “And she is not my woman.”

“Perhaps not.” Donal shrugged, drumming his fingers against the chair back. “I haven’t had that much to drink. We were talking, your woman and I.”

Galvarys rumbled, but did not argue again. No sense giving the man a claw to cut him with. “What do you want, Donal?”

“What makes you think I want anything?”

“You have never spent this much time around me unless you were helping your mother tend my wounds.” Galvarys curled his tail, shifting himself a little to ease the pressure on his hind leg. “And then you rarely spoke to me. Always glaring but never speaking. If you’ve venom you’ve been storing and waiting for a chance to spit at me, Donal, now is your chance. So long as you keep your words clear of my mother, and of Elyra, I shall bear your likely well-deserved insults without retaliation.”

Donal glared at the dragon, embers dancing in his eyes. The firelight made his crimson hair glow. He bared his teeth in a silent snarl, and Galvarys waited for the flood of spite to spill across his scales. But the flood never came. Instead, all the fight seemed to rush from Donal in an instant as though he’d been punched in the gut. He sighed, his face went slack, and he turned the chair and flopped into it.

“Do you believe in God, Dragon?” He leaned his head into his hand.

Galvarys blinked, and narrowed his silver eyes. He curled his neck into an S, canting his head in suspicion. Was this some verbal trap? Some ploy to trick the dragon into…what, exactly? “That is not the topic I expected.”

Donal lifted his head and gave the dragon a questioning stare that grew more intense the longer it went on. Galvarys could practically feel Donal’s piercing gaze burning through his chest plates, incinerating him layer by layer in a quest to find the dragon’s soul.

Galvarys rustled his wings in discomfort. “It is not a question I often consider.”

“Not really an answer, is it.” Donal chewed his lip, his cheek twitched. “Didn’t think that kind of question would make a dragon uncomfortable.”

“I do not often think about it, and when I do, I rarely believe in such a being.”

“And why’s that?” Donal folded his arms, still staring at the dragon.

Galvarys hissed through his teeth. If anyone but Donal or Elyra asked such questions, he’d tell the fool to shut up or be incinerated. But with this man, he felt compelled to answer, and not simply because he was tending their injuries. Still, the subject made the dragon squirm. He coiled his tail, dragged his claws against the stone floor. He bared his fangs in a snarling grimace.

“I find it difficult to believe in a God who would let such horrible things happen to my people. To let your people murder us, to wipe us out. And because when I think too hard about it, it frightens me.” Galvarys turned his head away, his voice softening. His ears drooped as he stared into the darkness. “I fear what it means for my species if there is a God who so clearly favors humans over dragons. Who lets you wipe us out, one by one, who lets you spread across this earth and drive us from our lands, to shoot us from the skies. If there is a God as your people believe in him, it is clear to me he has no more mercy or love in him for dragons then the men who once dwelled in his village. Why should I wish to believe in something so heartbreaking?”

“He let you kill all those men, didn’t he?” Galvarys heard Donal shift, his chair creaking. “And those in the other villages? And everyone else who’s come after you?”

Galvarys took a deep breath as he contemplated that. He flicked an ear back, his stomach still knotted. “You believe, then?”

“Sometimes.” Donal’s clothes rustled as he shifted again, but Galvarys did not return his gaze to the man. “Sometimes not. My mother, though. She believed.”

“Yes.” Galvarys closed his eyes, picturing Donal’s mother crying over those graves. Saying her prayers in her lost tongue. “She did.”

“Did she ever tell you why she came back?” Donal’s voice was as cold and hard as steel in snow. “Why she returned to the village where you murdered my father?”

Galvarys swallowed, his wings shaking, his words reverent. “She was…looking for a purpose.”

“Looking for a purpose.” Donal spoke the same words with bitterness instead of reverence. “She had that purpose, dragon, before you arrived. Her purpose was healing people so that no one else would lose a son, or a lover. And then came here, and you murdered everyone she knew, you murdered the man who had fathered me, and in so doing you made her realize the men she’d dedicated herself to were every bit the monsters they’d been slaying. And she lost her faith, for a while.”

Galvarys rumbled in his throat, opening his eyes to slits. He could almost see her in the darkness, standing there staring at him. When she found him staring at what was left of his mother. In the years that followed, when he looked back on those memories he’d come to realize she was just as broken as he was.

“She found it, didn’t she?” Galvarys turned his head back towards Donal to find the man’s eyes boring holes through his scales again. “When she had you?”

“She found it, but not when she had me.” He worked his hand as if trying to grasp the darkness itself. “She loved me Dragon, but I reminded her of everything she lost. And my father was one of the men murdered your family, and died the night you took your revenge. I think she hated him as much as she loved him, because she knew what it was like to lose someone your whole world was wrapped around. She knew your pain because she’d lost her family long before she ever came here, and then she lost them again. But she never blamed you, dragon, she may have hated you for what you did and yet she understood it completely. Her faith, Dragon.” He lifted a hand, thrusting a single finger at the dragon. “It came back to her when she returned to this place, with me, to take me away from men putting brands on children. She knew nowhere else to go, and she knew we could shelter in the old house a while. She came back here to protect me, not realizing at the time this place would become my life just as it became hers. When we found you here, sheltering in this cave, wounded. When she saw you again, she knew she’d found her purpose. And I knew you were the creature who stole the light from her eyes all those years ago.”

Galvarys stared back into Donal’s eyes for long, uncomfortable moments. It seemed somehow wrong to look away now, even as every word the man spoke was another tooth in his throat, choking the life from him. “She…she spoke to me of purpose, a time or two. While she stitched me again.”

“I’ll be she did.” Donal spat the words like bile onto the floor. “She convinced herself that God spared her for a reason, the same reason he’d spared you. That most of the world was wrapped in some vicious cycle, some pattern of killing. Wars and conquest dragon slayers and fire and death and vengeance. Her faith returned when she realized her purpose was simple. It was simply not to take revenge. She’d never hurt anyone, not during the war, not during the dragon slaying, she’d only helped people. And so he spared her your wrath, because she was an innocent among the wicked. Just as you were, when your family was first killed. She was once told me her purpose was to break the cycle, by never choosing violence. By always choosing kindness. That was why she stayed here, because she wanted this place to be…a sanctuary. Somewhere safe. That is why she always helped you when you came here, and that is why she helped the gryphons when they came here, and the wounded dragon slayer, and everyone else. She wanted to pass on kindness in the hopes that it would stick. I loved my mother, but I thought that was a load of bollocks she’d dreamt up in her broken hearted dreams.” Donal sighed, easing back into his chair. He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head. “And then your woman said the same thing about you.”

Galvarys pulled his head back, his spines slowly flaring out in surprise. “What?”

“Elyra.” Donal grit his teeth. He turned his head to stare at the slowly dying flames inside the three stoves. “She said that God kept sparing you because you’d broken the cycle. That you made peace with men, and that was why you kept surviving no matter how many times they tried to slay you. She thinks you did it for your mother. Maybe you did. Maybe you did it for mine. Maybe you just got tired of killing people. I don’t suppose it matters.” Donal slowly pushed himself up to his feet, turning away from the dragon. “I think I’ve probably said enough.”

Galvarys lingered in silence. Elyra really said that about him? The dragon never thought she’d think that way. They’d certainly never discussed her beliefs, and she’d never questioned or even asked about his own. That was one of the things he’d always liked about her. Even when she knew she didn’t have to fear him anymore, she respected him enough not to push him on issues he was not comfortable discussing. Galvarys saw it in a more practical light. They’d failed to slay him because he was simply stronger and greater than they were. Yet, he could not deny that part of him liked Elyra’s idea.

Part of him liked the idea of having purpose beyond simply existing.

“Wait.” The dragon lifted his head, turning his gaze towards Donal. “There was something I wanted to ask you.”

Donal paused at the doorway, resting his hand upon the barn door. Without looking back, he asked, “What is it, Dragon?”

“When I am healed and strong enough to assist you,” Galvarys said, staring at the man silhouetted by moonlight. “If you are willing to shed the old reminders, I would like to help you bury these ruins.”

Donal worked his hand up and down the edge of the door. “You know, back when my mother first found her…purpose…again. She sometimes talked about rebuilding this village. She wanted it to be a sanctuary, of sorts. Where people in need could come, or people like us could escape those who’d sooner see us in bonds. She wanted to invite other healers out here, and make a whole community based on…helping those who need it. Nothing ever came of it, obviously.” Donal glanced back, scowling. “She was afraid if she brought people out here to rebuild you might just burn it down again. But that’s why she stayed, Dragon. That’s why I keep coming back, year after year. Why I feel bound to this place. Why I hope my own son will come back out here someday, and carry this on when I’m gone.”

“You…have a son?” Galvarys cocked his head. How old was Donal? He’d never been good at judging the age of humans.

“Aye, we do.” He thumped his hand against the doorframe. “He’s off in the city, got an apprenticeship out there learning some trades. If you get your scaly ass out of here before the heaviest of the snows set in, we’re going to go stay with him for the winter.”

“I hope to be curled amidst my soft things back in my fortress long before any heavy snow.” He snorted, perking his ears. “What about my offer?”

“I guess if my mother’s sanctuary is ever to be more than an old man, his wife and a couple of goats, we’d better start building before I’m too old to swing a hammer.” Donal buttoned up his cloak for the walk back home. “If you want to start knocking down the wreckage you created, I don’t think anyone will stop you.”

As Donal pulled the barn door shut, Galvarys settled down against the thin straw bedding to try and sleep. Despite his fatigue, the dragon did not find slumber easily. Instead, he found himself lying awake for much of the night, uncertain and uneasy, thinking about his place in the world. Try as he might, the dragon could not stop thinking about what Elyra called his purpose. Yet by the time the warm embrace of drowsiness finally dragged him beneath slumber’s dark waters it was not his purpose he thought of.

As Galvarys finally toppled into dream, his thoughts had turned to happiness, to Elyra, and to all she had grown to mean to him.

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Chapter Twenty Four

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The scent of sizzling eggs, potatoes and cured sausages drew Elyra from her slumber before the coming day had even drawn back night’s dark blanket. She spent a few moments trying to get back to sleep, but the aromas stirred a hunger that kept her awake. Careful not to catch her stitches on the wool, she eased back the blankets and stepped out of bed. A bed of embers in the hearth cast just enough faint orange light for Elyra to find her way to the fresh clothes Nyira left draped over the back of a chair. Elyra did not want to have to call for help, so she took her time and dressed herself in the near darkness. All the movement left her wounds throbbing, though the pain had faded slightly from the day before.When Elyra was dressed she picked up the simple brush Nyira gave her, and headed for the kitchen.

The smell of breakfast perfumed the whole house, pouring over her as soon as she opened the bedroom door. It made Elyra smile, and for a moment it brought about teasing flickers of shadowy memories. Waking in a wagon. Eating eggs on the move. Her mother’s face. Elyra focused on that memory, fidgeting with the golden blouse Nyira left her. It didn’t fit quite right and kept catching on her stitches. She settled into a chair at the kitchen table, smiling.

“Morning, Elyra.” Nyira waved a wooden spoon from her place over the cooking fire. “Nice to see you smiling.”

“We had chickens.” Elyra adjusted her borrowed skirt over her legs. It was soft and pale gray, and Elyra didn’t care at all that it didn’t match her blouse. “Lots of them.”

“What’s that, dear?” Nyira glanced over at Elyra, rolling the sausages over with her spoon.

“They were hens, really.” Elyra reached for the pitcher of water that sat near a few wooden cups, and poured some for herself. “Laid plenty of eggs.”

Nyira peered down at her large iron pan, stirring eggs and potatoes. “Might have to back your herbs off a bit. But don’t worry dear, your mind will catch up with your body as the morning goes on.”

Elyra blinked, and then smirked to herself. She took a drink of water. She must sound like a crazy person. “I was just reminding something from my childhood. Before we ended up in the city, before I was a slave, we were wanderers. My mother and I, and a few other families like us. We all raised lots of chickens, carried them in cages atop our wagons. Had to bring them when it stormed. Lots of eggs.” Elyra rested her head against her hand, staring at a small painting of an immense apple tree. “I just remembered the eggs when I woke up.”

“Good memories, I hope.” Nyira set a kettle over the fire. “Would you like some tea? Regular tea, I mean. I’ll give you the herbs later.”

“Love some, thank you.” Elyra peered around the kitchen a moment. A dirtied plate sat unwashed on the counter, bits of breakfast still clung to it. “Where’s Donal?”

Nyira chuckled to herself, taking spoonfuls of dried, shredded tea leaves from a few different clay pots. “Walking the town with an axe and a shovel.”

Elyra smiled to herself. “Hopefully that means he’s taking up Galvarys on his offer.”

“I think it does, yes.” Nyira spooned the tea leaves into two cups, then poured hot water over the top of them. She stirred them with a little spoon, then brought one of the steaming cups to Elyra. “So you lived in a wagon growing up?”

“For a little while,” Elyra said. She lifted her up to blow on the tea. “Don’t remember much about it, to be honest. I remember the mountains, though. We lived or traveled near mountains a lot. I remember a glimpse of my father, he probably lived in a mountain village. Or his wanderer clan stayed there in the summer.”

“So you…” Nyira left the question unasked.

Elyra waved off her concerns. “I never really knew him. I think he and my mother were lovers of opportunity whenever they saw one another. Wasn’t that uncommon among the wanderers.” Elyra sipped her tea, then smirked. “I actually think he was a spy. Maybe they both were.”

“Spy?” Nyira gave a little laugh, then began to spoon some food onto a plate. “That sounds exciting.”

“Maybe for a time. Didn’t exactly work out well for our people in the end. But I know they accused us all of sorts of things.” Elyra shrugged, blowing on her tea a little more. “I don’t even remember exactly how my mother and I ended up in the city. I think they rounded us up. I know there were armed guards escorting us, but I was too little to understand it or remember much of it. Ended up crammed in some poor district of town. Grow up there for a little while, till they put this on me.” She tapped her cheek. “Spent most of my life after that in the Hall Of Nobility, serving our conquerors.”

“At least all that’s behind you.” Nyira squeezed Elyra’s shoulder with her free hand when she set her breakfast down.

“Yes.” Elyra’s smile nearly split her face in half. “It is.”

Elyra took a few bites of food. The freshness of the eggs reminded her again of those she had as a child. The cured sausages were lightly spiced, with bits of pepper and thyme strewn throughout the coarse ground meat. The potatoes were cubed and cooked up with a few handfuls of fresh herbs. Tasting such simple but delicious foods cooked over a single fire made Elyra want to learn to cook. She wasn’t sure Galvarys would appreciate the nuances of simple home cooking, but it would be a skill she’d enjoy learning and practicing nonetheless.

“This food is delicious.” Elyra speared a hunk of potato with her fork and waved it about. “Do you think you might teach me a few things while I’m here? About cooking, I mean.”

“You don’t know how to cook?” Nyira’s eyes widened, and she clucked her tongue, then smiled. “Certainly, though I’m hardly an expert.”

“Cooking was never one of my duties.” Elyra popped the potato into her mouth, murmuring her enjoyment as she chewed it. “I was always better at stealing food from the nobles than cooking my own.”

Nyira giggled as she dug into her own food, speaking between mouthfuls. “I’d be happy to teach you what I can. What do you usually eat when you’re at home…well…do you call it being at home?”

Elyra found herself grinning. She hadn’t really considered it, but the fact she felt so at home living with a dragon must be a hard concept for some people to wrap their minds around. “Yes, I call that being at home. And I can cook a little. Sometimes we bring back food from the villages. Otherwise I usually I just cook myself some of the meat Galvarys brings back. But half the time it ends up burned, or undercooked. But your food is so full of nuance and flavor!”

Nyira chuckled, shrugging. “Just herbs and spices, really. And experience. You’ll pick it up fast enough.”

“Good to know.” Elyra ate a little more of her food and sipped her tea. As she ate, she kept glancing back at the painting of the apple tree. Though the painting was small, it was a beautiful image and vibrantly colored. The leaves were a nearly emerald green and the sky beyond them a deep sapphire blue. Each apple was painted a ruby red, with a few little golden flecks painted on the rinds. “That’s a lovely painting, did you do that?”

“Oh no,” Nyira said, shaking her head. “I don’t think I could paint a canvas white.”

Elyra smirked. “I can paint a bit. Used to steal art supplies from the Hall. Made myself a few paintings and drawings that I’d decorate my little section of wall with. Took some of them with me to hang up in the dragon’s home.”

“And he let you?” Nyira quirked a brow.

“Of course.” Elyra giggled, finishing off the last few bites of breakfast. “Actually I just put places to string them up without telling him, but he didn’t seem to mind once he noticed. One of them was a portrait of my mother. Done from memory, of course, but meaningful to me.” Elyra chewed her bottom lip, tracing little circles with her fork against her plate. “Must have reminded him, but he never said anything.”

Nyira put a hand on Elyra’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “I get the feeling whatever he’s told you since you’ve been here is the most he’s ever talked about himself.” She smiled, and took Elyra’s empty plate for her, carrying it to the counter. “So what else did you paint?”

“Mountains mostly.” Elyra leaned back in her chair, adjusting her sleeve over her stitches. “I always wanted to see the mountains again before I died. When I laid awake at night, dreading the next day, I’d stare at the mountains I painted and find some small escape in them. I always fantasized about somehow running away and living out there, in the mountains. And now I do! I get to gaze upon them every morning when I wake, hear my laughter echo across their slopes when Galvarys takes my flying. The whole thing has been like some dream I never want to wake from.” She smiled to herself, then gestured at the painting with her tea cup. “What about that painting? Does it mean anything to you, or is it just pretty?”

“A bit of both.” Nyira glanced at the painting as she began to wash Elyra’s plate at the counter wash basin. “Apples like that grow in my homeland. They’re got sort of a folkloric significance back home, actually. So, it’s a pretty image to look at in the winter and think of summer, and it’s a nice reminder of home.”

“I’m sure.” Elyra glanced at the sky through one of the windows. It was still dark but a hint of purple crept across it. “I don’t suppose Galvarys is up yet.”

“Probably not.” Nyira worked a towel over the clean wooden plates. “Though he’s usually up not long after dawn. Been up before you most days.”

“I think I’ll go check on him, then.” Elyra eased up from her chair.

“And what about your wounds?” Nyira flicked the air with her towel. “They still need to be tended for the morning.”

Elyra chuckled and shook her head, messy red hair swishing about her face. “Later, Nyira.”

“Alright, but take a cloak or something with you. It’s quite cold out there right now. There should be one by the door.”

Elyra thanked the woman and followed glowing lamplight to the front door. She plucked the warm, fur-lined cloak from the wooden hook it hung from, next to the door frame. Elyra took care as she wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, then glanced down at her bare foot. The wooden floor felt a little cool, but she spotted Nyira’s work boots nearby. After calling out to make sure Nyira wouldn’t mind her using them, Elyra pushed her feet into the boots, then pulled the door open.

Though Nyira warned her about the cold, the air outside was bracing. After a few nights spent recovering in warm bed next to a blazing hearth left Elyra unprepared for the crisp chill of an early autumn night in the mountains. With everything they’d been through lately and the need to spend so much time resting, she’d almost forgotten what time of year it was. Still, it was not yet so cold as to kill off all the thick green grass and late season wildflowers that carpeted the hill between firs, pines, and old ruins. Elyra wrapped the cloak tighter around herself and walked down the trail that lead to the barn.

Halfway there Elyra paused to peer up at the sky. The sky had brightened from inky black to shades of royal purple and bruised lilac as the coming dawn sought to make itself known. Elyra liked the purple shades of the predawn sky, they reminded her of the color of Galvarys blush during one of the dragon’s rare moments of embarrassment. To the east, hints of midnight blue crept across the horizon, soon streamers of gold would herald the coming of the sun.

Elyra smiled as she went to the barn. She grabbed the barn down with both hands, but the sharp tightness of the stitches in her arm made her think better of it. She shifted a little, and used only her good arm to ease the door open just far enough to slip inside. Warm air rolled across her through the open doorway, inviting her inside. She closed the door behind her. The barn was even darker than the outside world, but the curled lump in the center of it was unmistakable. While Elyra waited for her eyes to adjust a little more, she listened to the sound of the dragon’s breathing.

Elyra liked the sound of the dragon’s breathing. It was deep and even, steady and oddly soothing. She liked the sound of Galvarys heartbeat even more, though she could hardly just go flop against him and press her ear to the plates of his chest whenever she wished. But when she’d had the privilege she always enjoyed the sound. At first she told herself it was just the calming nature of it, the steady, primal rhythm of a dragon’s heartbeat. Now though, Elyra knew there was more to it than that. Elyra loved the sound of the dragon’s heartbeat simply because it belonged to Galvarys. Because he was her friend. Her best friend, and there was nothing Elyra would not do for Galvarys.

Elyra just hoped she returned some of the same joy to the dragon that the dragon brought her.

When her eyes adjusted, Elyra padded closer to the dragon. He must have had all three wood stoves burning through the night to heat the barn so comfortably. Each stove still had a small fire going in it, and a bit of orange light shone through the slats. There was just enough illumination for her adjusted eyes to make out the sleeping dragon’s details. Galvarys lay on his side, away from his wounded ribs. He was half curled around himself, his neck and tail tucked around his body, with his head laying atop his tail. He’d draped his wings over himself like ebony-edged indigo blankets. His wings slowly rose and fell with the movements of his breathing. The dragon looked so perfectly peaceful Elyra almost hated that the coming light would soon wake him.

As quiet as she could, Elyra walked a circle around the dragon. Though she knew little about the healing arts, the dragon seemed to be recovering very well. Fresh, pinkish membranes were growing in the places were his wings were wounded. Most of the minor cuts and scratches along his face and neck were already halfway healed, just little pink lines marking his pebbly scales. Before long those would gone as well. Whatever infection had settled into Elyra’s wounds didn’t seem to have given the dragon any trouble. Were dragons simply that much better at healing and fighting infections than humans? Or was it because he’d fought gryphons before? Was there some substance on their claws his body had already developed an immunity to? Elyra wished she knew more about medicine.

As Elyra circled the dragon, she paused to look at all his bandaged areas as well. Though she couldn’t see those wounds, they seemed to be improving nonetheless. There were no signs of any more seepage from the wounds that had to be stitched together. It made Elyra wish her own wounds would heal up that fast. All her injuries together were not as bad as just one of Galvarys, and yet hers were still oozing even now that the fever was broken. Ah, but to be a dragon. Still, poor Galvarys was going to be in pain for quite a while. And he’d probably limp even longer after that, thanks to the wounds in the back of his thigh and his shoulder.

But she’d be here for him if he needed her.

Elyra settled herself down on the straw near where the dragon’s head rested upon his tail. She smiled, watching him sleep for a moment. Till she met Galvarys, she’d never have imagined a dragon could ever look so peaceful, even in slumber. She wanted to reach out and stroke his nose, yet she did not wish to wake him. Elyra hoped his dreams were pleasant. When the dragon twitched a little, she leaned forward and stroked the scales of his neck as gently as she could. She wanted to sooth his slumber, not end it. When the dragon calmed again, Elyra decided to watch over him till he woke.

When the sun finally crested the far horizon, beams of golden light poured through holes and slats in the wall. The glowing sunlight dappled the dragon’s blue hide, dust motes danced above his scales. Some of the light struck his face, and Galvarys shifted, grumbling under his breath. His eyes slowly opened, flight membranes peeled back. The sunlight almost stole the silver from his eyes, casting them in false golden hue. He pinned his spines back and turned his head away from the light.

“Morning.” Elyra said, smiling. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No.” Galvarys squinted, flicking his ears. “The damn sunlight did.”

“Aw, don’t be a grumpy dragon.” Elyra giggled and reached out to stroke the dragon’s neck. His scales there were warm and smoother than the pebbly ones on his face.

“I’m not a grumpy dragon,” Galvarys said, though he certainly sounded grumpy. He arched his neck into her touch. “How long have you been there?”

“A little while, at least.” Elyra ran her hand back and forth over the arch of his blue-scaled neck.

“Were you watching me sleep?” The dragon cocked his head, scales crinkling as he fought against a smirk.

“Seems I was, yes.” Heat crept into Elyra’s face. She hadn’t really considered it that way until the dragon put it to words. She was grateful for the streamers of sunlight that silhouetted her and helped hide her blush.

“Why?” Galvarys lifted his central spines, perking his ears a little. Thankfully he seemed more curious than put-off.

“I…I don’t know,” Elyra said, shaking her head. She stroked his neck again. “Came in here to check on you, but I didn’t want to wake you. I thought you could use someone to watch over you while you slept.”

“Oh?” The dragon lifted his head, flaring his spines a little more. “I appreciate the thought.”

“No you don’t,” Elyra said, giggling to herself. “Even I think it sounds foolish when I say it out loud.”

Galvarys snorted, then turned his wedge shaped head to fix his silver gaze upon Elyra. “I do appreciate. I doubt anyone has ever sought to watch over me while I slumbered since I was a hatchling. It is…nice to wake alongside someone who cares.” The dragon opened one of his wings, gesturing at the ground with it. “I would invite you to sleep out here with me, but lacking my pile of soft things I do not think this ground would make a suitable bed for a human.”

Elyra’s blush deepened, but it came with a smile. “You’d…” She glanced away, swallowing. For a moment, she couldn’t even find words to die upon her tongue. Even her thoughts were little more cluttered, incomprehensible syllables. What exactly was he offering? And did it mean anything coming from a dragon? It seemed strange to her. She’d spent most of her life sleeping in the same room as a dozen other women and yet the idea of actually sleeping alongside the dragon left her all twisted up inside.

“Are you alright, Elyra?” The dragon cocked his head back and forth, then lifted it to gaze down at her. He pushed himself up, and stretched his wing to blot out some of the sunlight streaming in behind her. “With the way the sun is hitting you, I cannot see what color you are turning.”

“What color?” Those weren’t exactly the words Elyra was looking for, but at least the laughter that followed helped her find her tongue again. “I turn colors? Why are you trying to see that?”

“Human expressions are hard to read. The colors you turn help me decipher them. Usually some shade of red or purple, or you lose your color.” He lowered his head till the soft area of his nose brushed her own. “Have I embarrassed you? I was not offering to mate, merely to allow you to sleep alongside me.”

It took conscious effort for Elyra to keep from swallowing her own tongue. She pushed the dragon’s muzzle away. “I wasn’t embarrassed, I was flattered. But now I’m embarrassed!”

“Ah, I should have known.” Galvarys pulled his head, a few of his fangs flashing in the golden streams of sunlight when he smiled. “You never have taken flattery or compliments well. And you humans are awfully easy to embarrass when it comes to mating.”

“Really.” Elyra’s tone was flat. She started to fold her arms, though when her blouse tugged at her stitches and her wounds ached, she relaxed. She stared at the dragon a moment. “You’re saying I’m easily embarrassed about mating?”

“Well…” Galvarys trailed off, glancing around the barn as if looking for some escape route. “Perhaps not as much so as some, but yes, I mentioned mating and I embarrassed you, didn’t I?”

“That isn’t exactly why I was embarrassed, Galvarys.” Elyra pushed herself up to her feet, grimacing when the claw wounds in her side ached. “Besides, of the two of us I seem to recall a certain time in the tub.”

“Yes, I recall that as well.” Galvarys cut her off, rising to his paws. He padded towards the door, limping a bit. “Will you help me get some water? My trough is empty.”

“Of course I will.” Elyra followed him towards the door, grinning. “I can tell you which one of us was embarrassed about your erection in the tub, and it wasn’t me.”

Galvarys glanced back at her, his spined tail swishing. “Proud of yourself are you?”

Elyra grinned at the dragon was she walked up beside him to the door. “For my lack of embarrassment?” With her good hand, she pushed the door open wide enough for the dragon to move through. “Or for giving you an erection in the first place?”

“Seems like you’re proud of both,” the dragon said, brushing his tail against her body for a moment. “This way to the well.”

“I doubt there are many women who can say they’ve had that effect on a dragon.” Elyra tugged the door closed again and followed the dragon outside. The air was still gold, but the bright morning sunlight that cast everything in shades of burnt gold took the bitter edge off the chill. Elyra followed the dragon onto the trail that lead to the old granite brick well. In the time since they’d arrived, the dragon’s paws had already flattened the grass down on both sides of the trail. “At least not without the dragon forcing their hand. Or hands.”

“Yes, Elyra, you’re quite the word smith.” Galvarys chuckled, his wings rustling against his back. “Are you enjoying needling an injured dragon?”

“I’m hardly needling you, Galvarys.” Elyra grasped one of the dragon’s tail spines as she walked behind him. He slowed his limping gait a little, and she clutched the black spine as she followed him. “Besides, there isn’t much I can say or do that actually embarrasses you, so I’ve got to seize my moments when I have them.”

“I suppose you do.” The dragon licked his nose, glancing back at her. A hint of purple marked his nostrils.

Elyra smiled at him, then released his tail spine when they reached the well. The wooden bucket set upon the wall, and Galvarys nosed it over the edge. The splash echoed back up to them. Elyra began to turn the crank with her good hand, easing the bucket of water back up. She smirked at the dragon across the well, and her smirk only grew when he made a show of looking away.

“Was that the first time a human’s had that effect on you?”

Galvarys glanced back at her. The purple she saw on his nose spread to his ears and frills, both of which he quickly pinned back against his head. “Aren’t you suddenly the curious one.”

Elyra grit her teeth as her arm burned from turning the crank. When the bucket reached the top, she hauled it up, set it on the wall, and held it in place for the dragon to drink from. “I’ve been curious since that day in the tub.” Galvarys grunted, and lowered his muzzle to the bucket of water. The dragon lapped at it, sloshing cold water over her fingers. “But I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. First because you were my master, for lack of a better term. And then because you were my friend. I didn’t want to do or say anything that would make it unpleasant for you. That’s why I was careful afterwards whenever we bathed.”

The dragon lifted his head, beads of water clung to the pebbly blue scales of his chin before he licked them off. By now Galvarys’ whole face held a light purple tint. His eyes gleamed gold in the sunlight, then he glanced away to stare at a stone edifice that rose from the grassy hillside. “Yes, Elyra. That was the first time a human has ever had that effect on me.” The dragon turned his head, his silver gaze met Elyra’s once more. Galvarys slowly perked his ears, flaring out his frills and baring a few fangs in a smile. “It was surprising to me, but it was not at all unpleasant.”

“That’s good to know.” Elyra smiled back at him as the dragon returned to drinking.

Galvarys drained the last of the bucket of water before he lifted his head. He nudged the bucket back into the well. He arched his neck, peering down at Elyra with perked ears. “Is it?”

“Yes, it is.” Elyra let the bucket settle beneath the water before she began to work the crank again. Then she gave the dragon a grin, deciding to let his mind wander.

Wander it did. “Isn’t this where you’re supposed to tell me not to get the wrong idea?”

Elyra grunted as she worked the crank. “You can get whatever idea you want, Galvarys.”

“You naughty thing.”

“It’s your mind, Galvarys. If it lingers in dirty places that is your doing, not mine.” Elyra giggled to herself, leaning forward to peer down in the water. Water glinted far below. “I might well just be happy it wasn’t an unpleasant moment for you.”

“Not giggling like that you aren’t.” Galvarys pushed his head back the thatched eve that sheltered the well. “Elyra, are you contemplating having that effect on me again?”

“Certainly not,” Elyra said, though she couldn’t force as much righteous conviction into her voice as she attempted. “But, from time to time, things just seem to happen. Especially with men. An innocent touch here or there, a gentle caress and before you know it…well, I now know from experience you dragons are the same way.”

Galvarys snorted. He clicked his teeth, his ears still perked. “It can’t be called innocent if you do it again knowing the result.”

“I can be very forgetful, Galvarys.” Elyra hauled the bucket up, and set it on the edge of the well for him to drink from again. She tried to give the dragon an innocent smile, yet feared she only ended up looking devious. “Anyway, it’s nice to know it was a pleasant experience for you. That way I won’t feel as guilty if it happens again.”

Galvarys muzzle hovered over the bucket of water. “You are, aren’t you. You’re planning it.”

“Not while we’re all stitched up,” Elyra said, her voice little more than a whisper nearly erased by the wind. She knew the dragon would hear it, and the wide-eyed, flared-spine expression her words earned was a pure delight. She burst out laughing, and the dragon hissed through his teeth. He started drinking again, lapping up the water more noisily than before. “I am looking forward to getting to take a bath again, though. Nyira and Donal have a lovely hammered copper tub, but they won’t let me use it while I’ve still got the stitches. Just been washing with some clothes lately, not really the same.”

Galvarys lifted his head to glare at Elyra, his ears pinned back. “You’re a devious tease.”

“Tease would imply that you hoped I was being serious.”

Galvarys stared at her a moment. Then the dragon swiveled his ears forward, smirking. His spines slowly rose. “Perhaps I did.”

If Galvarys expected that to embarrass Elyra, he was going to have to try harder. She had no intention of relinquishing this particular upper hand just yet. “Then perhaps I was being serious.” Galvarys smirk faded after a moment, and he went back to drinking from the bucket. Elyra waited till he was mid-gulp before she added, “Besides, you never did show it to me like you promised.”

Galvarys choked on his water, coughing and sputtering. He lifted his head, turning it away, his spines fixed at full extent and shaking as the dragon couched. A moment of regret stung Elyra and let she could not stop herself from laughing. “Elyra!” The dragon squeezed out her name between choking coughs. Soon it sounded as though he was laughing just as much as he was coughing. “You…made my wounds hurt!”

“I’m sorry!” Elyra hadn’t thought that through. She dropped the bucket back into the well and went to comfort the dragon. She rubbed at his neck, patting him a few times. “There, there, you’re alright. I hope I didn’t make them hurt badly!”

Galvarys glanced back at her when he caught his breath. “They’re fine.” Then, just to be sure, he glanced around at his bandaged areas. “I think.”

“They look alright.” Elyra walked around the dragon, quickly inspecting his bandages as well. “No sign of blood or anything. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cough so hard.”

“Well played, nonetheless.” The dragon craned his neck to nose at the bandages along his ribs. “And accurate.”

“Don’t lick your wounds.” Elyra took the dragon’s muzzle in her hands and gently eased it away from his bandaged areas.

“I cannot lick them, they have bandages in the way.” Galvarys eased himself back to his haunches, then yelped when bumped his arrow-wound against the ground. He jerked back upright, hissing in pain. “Stupid arrows!” Galvarys sighed, then made a second attempt to settle down, this time sitting to one side to keep the pressure off his wounded hind leg.

“Poor dragon,” Elyra said. She hugged his head against her body when he was settled, trying not to giggle. “Shot him right in his scaly ass.”

“It’s not funny,” Galvarys said, closing his eyes when Elyra stroked his crests.

“You wouldn’t be laughing if I was the one with an arrow wound in my ass?”

Galvarys opened one eye. “It might be a little funny.”

“That’s what I thought.” Elyra leaned over the dragon’s head to kiss his scales. “Don’t worry. When you’re all healed up, you’ll be able to laugh at it too.”

“That would be nice.” Galvarys opened his other eye, glancing up at her. “Then perhaps we can take that bath, and I can fulfill my promise.”

“You’re going to have to try harder than that if you want to embarrass me, Galvarys.” Elyra grinned, and when the dragon lifted his head a little, she scratched under his indigo chin. “You know, Galvarys, if I did…” She trailed off for a moment, her words and courage both dying for a moment.

“If you…” Galvarys tilted his head, peering down at her.

Elyra could see the mischief dancing in the dragon’s silver eyes, she could just about hear the words forming on his tongue. There was a chink in her armor, and the dragon was going to drive a spear of pure embarrassment right through it. Elyra waited, trying to steel herself to fight the coming blush. Instead, the dragon closed his muzzle, swallowed his words. He bit back his chance to retaliate for the embarrassment she’d caused him, and Elyra cherished his silence all the more.

“If I did that…” Elyra choose her words with care, as her courage began to return. She did not want to frighten it away again. “For you, I mean.” The dragon brushed his muzzle against her in silent encouragement. Elyra caressed his cheek, tracing circles around his pebbly blue scales. “It would be the first time I’d ever done that for someone of my own free will. The first time I’d ever gotten to do that for someone I care for.”

“Elyra,” Galvarys said, easing his head back. He furrowed his eye-ridges, lifting his ears. “That is…unfortunate. That seems a joy that everyone should get to experience in life.”

Elyra smiled, tracing larger and larger circles over the dragon’s scales. “That’s just the way life is, sometimes. We don’t all get to experience all of its joys. I gave up on some of those things long ago, Galvarys. But I think I’d like to know what that’s like someday. To make someone happy I truly care for.”

“Elyra,” Galvarys said, lowering his voice. He flicked his ears back. “You don’t need to do that to make someone happy. You make me happy just being with me.”

Elyra slipped under the dragon’s neck to press herself to his chest. She leaned her head against his cerulean plates, listening to the steady thump of the dragon’s powerful heart. Her heart soared to hear she made the dragon happy. She closed her eyes, her arms wrapped as far around his body as she could stretch them. “I know, Galvarys, and I want you know that…life with you…it’s been a joy, Galvarys, and…to know I make you happy, just as you…for me? Its…” Elyra heart thumped in her throat, her tongue felt as though it was somehow swollen and knotted at the same time. Her thoughts were jumbled, her words all came out in a tangle. “I don’t think you know! But its…good knowing that if I…ever wanted to do that…not unpleasant! I…want to live with you, and…you should know! It’s just…Galvarys, I-”

“Elyra, you need not speak till you’ve found your thoughts.” Galvarys lifted a foreleg to stroke Elyra’s back. “Just hug me you silly human.”

Elyra giggled to herself as she buried her face against the dragon’s scales. She squeezed his scaled body while he stroked her back. She arched herself into his touch, even now she was still awed by just how gentle the dragon could be. His pads were soft, their warmth reached her even through her blouse. At the top of her back, her worked his paw in a circle over her shoulders then trailed it down to her lower back. “You’re very gentle, Galvarys.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Elyra.”

Elyra smiled, shaking her head. He still didn’t quite seem to understand. That was alright. She kissed his chest plates, then lay her cheek against him to listen to her heart. “You make me happy too, Galvarys.”

“You see?” The dragon rumbled low in his throat. “That wasn’t so hard to say, was it?”

“No,” Elyra said, her voice a murmur caressing his scales. Elyra sighed, closing her eyes, focusing on his heartbeat.

Those were not really the words she wanted to say to the dragon. But those words could come later.

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Chapter Twenty Five

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Snow fell on black fluff. Snow fell on gray fluff, too, and brown fluff. The little gryphon was a patchwork puffball of earthen colors. He shook himself to clear the snow that speckled his dark colors with white, fluffing up his down. He loved the snow but he’d already been chiseled out of one snowball today. Sure was fun toppling down that hill, though. Maybe later he’d scale it and roll back down again. Unless he got too cold cause snow was cold. But feathers was warm and he had plenty of those so he played in the snow that was cold.

The little hatchling paused to listen to the snow, and smell the cold air. The scent of winter air held a frigid crispness to it the hatchling always liked. Better yet, snow made everything so quiet. Even the sounds he’d grown used too in the village where he now lived were muffled by the layers of soft white that blanketed the world, and the fluffy shrouds that fell from the milk-white sky. The noisy clang of hammers on anvils and the funny bleating of sheep and goats were but a distant whisper when the snows fell so heavily. He didn’t like the clank of the hammers but he did like the goats.

Goats was funny. “Blarrrrrgh!”

The hatchling giggled at his best bleating goat imitation. No, wait. That was only his second best. He spread his fore paws in the snow, took a deep breath and opened his beak. Then he closed it again, realizing there was no one around. Why waste his best bleat when there was no one to hear it? Better to find an audience first. The hatchling fluffed himself up, shook the feathers from his black and gray wings, and headed into the village.

At least two winters now they’d lived here. Mother and him. He wasn’t good with years yet but he remembered at least two first winter snows here. Of course he remembered snow before, from the colder, hungrier place. But here the first snows were fun. Here there was a warm bed and warmer food and a warmest fire. Here, Mother didn’t get sick when it got cold. Here, Mother was happy. Here, they were welcome.

Even if they was the onliest gryphons. That also meant they was the bestest gryphons. Just ask anyone and surely they’d tell you that Little Dove and his mother were the bestest of gryphons. That was what the humans let live here, of course. Cause they wasn’t mean and they was fluffy and who didn’t want a fluffy gryphon living in their village?

The village lay at the base of a hill, alongside a bendy stream that was all iced up right now. Towering trees that hugged their blue-green needles tight all year long surrounded the village, with a few more scattered throughout it. Most of the village followed a single road with a deep bend in it like a crooked tail. Buildings of log and wooden beam lined both sides of the road, with a few other lanes leading to other sections of village. Every day people walked around between the buildings and banged things on other things and the little gryphon never really knew why but it sure was noisy. Once in a while they even made new buildings, like house skeletons rising from the ground. The gryphon liked to play in the house skeletons and stalk the builders even though he got yelled at when he eated their lunches.

That was in the summer though and now it was the winter and they didn’t make the buildings grow in the winter. In the winter when it got cold and frozen there was less people around. It was harder for humans to live here in the winter than it was in the summer but the gryphon understood that. It was harder for Mother to live in cold places in the winter too, but now that they had a home there was always somewhere warm for Mother to stay in the winter.

It was nice to have a home.

The humans even helped build them a little place to stay. A place of wooden walls and stone fireboxes and warm beds. A place of their own. The humans called it The Birdhouse and laughed and Mother smiled and shook her head and the little hatchling never knew what was so funny. But he was glad to have a birdhouse to live in just the same.

From the Birdhouse it was only a short walk down the village where the humans lived. It was faster if he climbed to the top of the hill and rolled all the way down the steep part. But then he might get stuck in a big snowball and have to walk around with just his legs sticking out. Also he might get dizzy and puke again. So he walked through the snow, squawking at squirrels and chirping at a fox he saw stalking in the distance.

As he neared the white-blanketed village, he saw a human busy scraping at the lane with a shovel. He recognized the human. It was Shovel Man. Whenever it snowed Shovel Man always made big piles of snow at the sides of the road. At first Ka’vrill thought human paws didn’t work in the snow, but soon realized the man was just making big piles of snow for him to him to play in and climb on.

The hatchling began to creep sideways through the snow. Shovel Man hadn’t noticed him yet. Cautiously as he could, he made for the newest pile of white, marked with splotches of earth that got scooped up with the snow. He’d climb that little mountain, proclaim himself the King Of All Everything, and order his new subject to fetch him the treatiest of treats.

Better get a running start. The gryphon backed up a few paces, waggled his snow-speckled haunches, and then sprinted back over his own paw prints. He leapt straight for the top of the pile, and promptly vanished. While the snow covering the ground was only a few inches deep, the pile he leapt into was taller than he was. The snow muffled the hatchling’s squawk as he sunk into the snow, his vision white. He flailed for a few moments, struggling until his head popped out of the snowy mountain. No sooner had the fledgling poked his head free than the next shovelful of snow covered him up once again.

“AWWKK!” The gryphon squawked again, his protest much louder this time. He struggled and twisted and finally popped free of the snow once more, little more than topaz eyes peering out from white armor. He flared his tiny crown feathers in indignity, the crimson tips of the gray feathers looked like spots of blood amidst the snow.

“Ka’vrill?” The human came to a stop, turning towards the sound. He set his shovel down, and dug his gloved hands into the icy mountain to divest the snow of its fluffy prisoner. He pulled the gryphon free started laughing. “Aww, I’m sorry little bird, I didn’t see you there.”

Ka’vrill hung limp from the man’s hands for a few moments. He stared back at the human, his hind paws dangling, his gray forepaws resting on the man’s arms. The human had a red face, but they all had red faces in winter. Ka’vrill wished he could change colors for the season, too. Most of the humans had red-orange fur on their heads. Shovel Man even had a big red braid hanging from his chin like a lumpy tail. His big fluffy gray coat would never be as fluffy as Ka’vrill, and it did not muffle the human’s funny smell.

When Shovel Man stuck his facer closer to the gryphon, Ka’vrill blinked at him. Oh! Now was the perfect time to showcase his best goat impression. “BLLAAAARRRRGGHH!”

The man gave a startled yell and dropped the gryphon. Ka’vrill dropped back to the snow ground on all four paws, giggling to himself. The gryphon ran a few laps around the man’s snow-speckled boots, and then peered up at him, his little tufted tail lashing. “Blaaaarggh! I’mma goat!”

Then the little goat bound away from the man, still giggling. He raced up the recently shoveled lane, resisting the urge to jump in all the snow piles so temptingly lined up along the street. As he made his way, Ka’vrill peered up at all the buildings. Each of them was painted in different bright colors. One was green, one was blue, another red, oh and that one was yellow. One building had flowers painted on it, another had a mural of men fighting monsters. Ka’vrill didn’t always like that one cause monsters was scary but at least they were fighting it. Each building had plenty of gray smoke pouring from their chimneys. Ka’vrill knew that meant it was nice and warm inside just like back home at the birdhouse. Warmth came from fire and fire came from wood and so they always made sure mother had plenty of wood and plenty of fire.

In the middle of the bend the village followed was a big empty space. They called it the plaza but Ka’vrill couldn’t pronounce that yet so he just called it the big empty space. Sometimes everyone in the village came out to listen to someone else talk. That was boring. But sometimes they had feasts there with long tables covered in food. That was fun. Even if he got yelled at for jumping up on the tables and walking through people’s food. Sometimes the village hunters came back with their kills and showed them off before cutting them up to offer to the village. Soon he’d be a hunter himself. Just as soon as he was old enough to fly and that was only…well, it couldn’t be that long, he was sure of it.

Today the big empty space was just a big empty space covered in snow. A flock of birds hopped and flitted about where someone had thrown piles of seed for them. Ka’vrill came to a stop, watching all the birds. There were blue birds and black birds and brown birds and red birds and that was about it. Ka’vrill liked birds. When one of them hopped sideways a few paces, he did the same. Another bird ruffled its wings, and Ka’vrill did that too. The blue bird hopped forward, and Ka’vrill did that was well. But his paws slipped on an icy patch and he banged his beak against the ground.

Ka’vrill winced and quickly pushed himself back up. He shook the snow from his feathers. No one saw that, right? Right. His beak ached, but the pain was soon forgotten as he watched the funny birds hop about, chirping to each other. Ka’vrill cocked his head, lifting his crown feathers. “Chirp!”

When they ignored his impression, the gryphon hatchling stared at the birds and watched them peck at the snow. Birds was funny, like tiny gryphons with less legs. Silly birds. “Where’s all your legs?”

The birds ignored him. How rude. Ka’vrill didn’t like rude birds. He took a few steps towards them, speaking up again. “Birds!” He stomped a little gray-furred forepaw. “Where’s your legs!”

The nearest bird, black with a red head, turned to eye the gryphon. It chirped at him.

Ka’vrill gasped, his mobile beak hanging open. Birds was talking! He imitated the noise. “Chirp!” He wasn’t sure what the bird was saying, though. He didn’t talk bird. Gryphons was better than birds because gryphons could make bird noises and they could talk words. All the humans was impressed by how fast Ka’vrill learned to talk their words. “Birds, you gotta learn to talk human.”

The bird just stared back at him. Ka’vrill took another step towards it, and the red-headed bird ascended in a flurry of feathers and snow. The movement startled the rest of the birds into flight. They ascended as a single flock but soon broke apart, flying in all directions. Ka’vrill waggled his own black feathered wings against the snow-filled air, his gray and red edge-feathers splayed out. He wanted to fly too! He hopped about a few times and beat his wings, but couldn’t get himself off the ground. With a growl of hatchling frustration, he folded his little wings back against his body. He’d fly soon enough. For now, he knew another way to get off the ground.

Ka’vrill padded across the big empty space towards a towering fur tree on the other side. Why they called it a fur tree he didn’t know. It didn’t have any fur, just pokey needles that couldn’t decide if they wanted to be blue or green. Ka’vrill liked the way the tree smelled, though. It had a spicy-sweet aroma that smelled like springtime even in the coldest of winters.

Speaking of things that had smells, he’d better smell the ground where the birds were. The little gryphon sniffed about the area where all the birds had been, each bird had its own unique scent. Ka’vrill could picture each bird from the way it smelled. The red-headed bird was a boy, the blue feathered bird was a girl, the big brown bird was a boy with an unfamiliar scent. Must be from far away. Someday Ka’vrill wanted to visit far away. Everything new came from there. Like the lady visiting who wore a green blanket when it was cold and brought cookies and called him Fluffball.

Ka’vrill clacked his beak. Now he wanted cookies. Sometimes the Bird Seed Lady brought him treats too. Maybe he could get double treats today. Unless they were too scared to go outside in the snow because their paws didn’t work. Ka’vrill extended a wing and turned his head to preen it. He pulled away a loose feather and spat it out as he thought about cookies. Maybe he could just sneak into their house and take all the cookies if they weren’t going to bring them to him. Just like the stories Mother told him about the brave gryphons stealing back their homes from the evil monsters.

Yes, he was a brave gryphon, surely he could steal cookies!

But first he had a bird to question about legs.

The bird with the red head had settled on a high bough on the fur tree. Ka’vrill might not be able to fly yet but he sure could climb. He trotted up to the tree trunk, then reared back on his hind legs and pressed his forepaws to the wood. He unsheathed his sharp little claws and dug them into the rough bark. Paw by paw began to scale the tree. He liked climbing trees and no he certainly hadn’t learned to do so from watching cats no matter how much the humans said so. Silly humans, if anything the cats learned to climb trees from watching him.

The height of the tree seemed limitless, but Ka’vrill was brave. Higher and higher the fledging climbed until he was sure he’d scaled the tree nearly to the top. Climbing was fun. Climbing was easy. Getting down was…well, at least climbing was fun. Once he reached the bough he needed, he carefully stretched himself and latched his claws onto the bough, then climbed out along it. He glanced down at the snowy ground far below. He sure was high. Ka’vrill spread his wings for balance, gray feathers tipped in red lined their back edges. He eased his way towards the bird, his ears perked and beak twisted into a grin.

“Hi Birdy!” Ka’vrill offered as friendly a greeting as he could muster.

The bird chirped a greeting in return.

Ka’vrill warbled his laughter. “Where’s your legs?”

The bird cocked its head, staring at Ka’vrill. Was it looking at his legs? Ka’vrill hoped the bird didn’t think he was going to share. He barely had enough legs for himself, he couldn’t afford to share them with some silly bird that lost its own. He’d be all wobbly without his extra legs.

Ka’vrill shook his head. “That’s my legs.”

The bird clacked its beak, ruffling up the red-feathers across its head. Maybe it wanted to talk about feathers instead of legs.

“I got red feathers too!”

Ka’vrill flared the little crown feathers that circled the back of his head. They were pale gray, but their tips were a striking red color. Mother said they were handsome feathers for a handsome gryphon. She also said when he was older, those red tips would warn away the monsters who hurt gryphons. Ka’vrill shook his crown feathers at the bird. It seemed neither smitten with his handsomeness nor fearful of his warning.

Didn’t the stupid bird know a handsome, dangerous warrior when it saw one? “You’re dumb, bird!”

The bird flexed its wings.

Perhaps the bird liked goats. “Blllaaaaarrggghh!”

The bird squawked and leapt from the branch, winging its way across the big empty space to another tree. Ka’vrill giggled to himself. Birds was scared of goats. Maybe he should climb down and scale the other tree to go show that red-headed bird his goat impression again. First though, he’d have to actually climb down. Only then did it occur to the hatchling that he’d never actually successfully climbed back down a tree. Perhaps he should have thought this through. Maybe he could find something soft to jump into. He didn’t want to plummet to his certain demise.

Ka’vrill peered down at the ground below him. Some of the birds returned to the center of the big empty space. He heard a creaking sound, and twisted his head around to peer at the nearest building. It was built of logs stacked atop one another, and Ka’vrill often wondered if it would all fall down if he pushed it. He hadn’t tried because he didn’t want it to fall on him. Cheery blue banners with bright yellow sunflowers were hung on either side of the front door, and delicious smells emanated from it every day. Bird Seed Lady lived there and Bird Seed Lady gave seed to the birds and baked treats for gryphons.

Bird Seed Lady herself strolled out through the open door with a wooden box in her arms. She wore a blue blanket with yellow petals on the edges, and soft gray fur inside. Ka’vrill knew humans called them cloaks when they wore them, but humans had too many names for the same things. Paws was paws whether on forelegs or hind, and hands and feet was too many words. Just like a big warm soft thing was a blanket whether you laid on it or put it on your back. Bird Seed Lady set the box down near the center of the big empty space, and whistled to the birds. She tossed handfuls of seed out onto the snow to replace what they’d already eaten. She shifted the blanket on her back and Ka’vrill spotted the silvery handle of her sword. She always wore a sword but so did most humans. Swords was dangerous but monsters was more dangerous and swords was for fighting monsters.

A gust of wind swirled snow around her, and Bird Seed Lady pulled her blanket tight. Actually, a blanket sounded like a perfect soft landing place. Ka’vrill waggled his haunches, and rustled his wings. He gauged his aim carefully. This would have to be precise leap worthy of a mighty gryphon, or he was going misjudge it and hurtle straight to his doom. Ka’vrill wasn’t totally sure what doom was, but he didn’t think he’d enjoy it very much. He waggled his golden-brown haunches again, and as soon as Bird Seed Lady bent over to fetch another handful of seed from the box, Ka’vrill leapt.

Or at least he would have leapt if he had remembered to pull his claws from the tree limb first. Instead, they stuck in the wood and he flopped over, hanging at the side of the limb, his wrists and ankles wrenched and aching. Worse, now he was dangling preciously over the snowy abyss. He yowled in pain and sudden fear, hatchling heart accelerating. He beat his wings against the air. Oh, if only he could fly. His claws started to come lose. Oh. No. NO! He was going to fall.

Bird Seed Lady heard his yowl, and straightened up. She turned around, and began to laugh when she spotted the hatchling dangling by his claws. Oh, sure, laugh at the poor little fledging about to topple to his death. His little legs began to burn, his paws ached from his weight pulling against his claws. He panted, twisted his head around, and squawked at Bird Seed Lady.

“Help! I’mma fall! Catch me or I’mma die!”

“Oh, we can’t have that, now can we.” Bird Seed Lady towards him, smiling. “Where would our village be without an adorable fluffball always getting himself in trouble?”

Ka’vrill didn’t have time to wonder about this mysterious other fluffball because he was busy trying not to die. “Heeeeeeelp!”

“Alright, alright.” Bird Seed Lady was still laughing as she simply reached out and put her hands around Ka’vrill, her grip gentle and comforting yet secure. “You can let go now.”

Oh. Right. Perhaps he wasn’t up so high after all. He plucked his claws from the branch, and when Bird Seed Lady pulled him down against her chest he threw his forelegs around her neck. He wasn’t trembling. No, not at all. Nor was he panting. Or embarrassed. He was too fluffy and brave for any of that. But he didn’t mind when she smoothed down his feathers and stroked his wings and petted his head and cooed to him.

“There, there, Little Dove.” Bird Seed Lady murmured not his ear as she held him against her with one arm under his haunches, stroking his head with the other. “You’re safe now.”

Little Dove. That was what Mother always called him, but the humans had picked up on it too. Ka’vrill snuggled into her warmth, and she wrapped part of her blue, fur-lined blanket around him. Soon, the little hatching was purring, his eyes closed as he rested his head against her shoulder. Bird Seed Lady laughed to herself, she always laughed when he purred.

“A purring bird,” she said, grinning. “I’ll never get over it. Must be the cat in you.”

“Notta bird,” Ka’vrill murmured, opening his eyes to slits. As his fear ebbed and his heart rate eased, a little indignity crept into the hatchling. “Notta cat! I’mma gerfin.”

Alright, so he couldn’t quite pronounce their word for his people.

“Yes, you certainly are,” Bird Seed Lady said, stroking his feathers. “But you do sound a bit like a very loud cat when you purr. I cannot wait to hear how your purr sounds when you’re all grown up.”

“I’mma be big!” Ka’vrill tried to flare his wings to emphasize his own impending enormity, but they got stuck inside the woman’s cloak. He struggled a bit, and when Bird Seed Lady set him down, he promptly pounced her boot. He wrestled it a moment, then clamped his beak down on her boot lace and took off running. Ka’vrill giggled in glee as the knot in her boot laces opened up, and they began to unspool behind him.

“Hey!” Bird Seed Lady bent over to try and tie her boot again.

Ka’vrill used that opportunity to sprint straight towards the open door that led into Bird Seed Lady’s bakery. Warmth from several tone baking stoves washed over the little gryphon, melting fluffy flakes of snow that clung to his feathers. A wave of delightful aromas slapped him across the beak. The scents of freshly baked bread mingled with the sweeter smells of cookies and honey cakes, hints of cinnamon and exotic spices served as a tantalizing undercurrent. Ka’vrill tilted his head back, peering about the place. Bird Seed Lady’s daily goods were displayed on layers of tiered wooden shelves all around the front room. Ka’vrill didn’t want the bread. Ka’vrill wanted the treats. Bread was good but treats was better.

Ka’vrill bound around behind the raised counter. He jumped up onto the chair Bird Seed Lady kept there, and from the chair he leapt atop the wooden counter. The surface was pitted but still smoother than the bark of the trees he usually climbed. He glanced around the counter but saw no cookies sitting out. A wooden display stand held a whitish colored plaque that was polished to a sheen. Words were scrawled across it but Ka’vrill couldn’t read them. He knew it was made of monster bone, though. Lots of places in the village had things made from polished monster bones.

Ka’vrill didn’t have time to wonder about the plaque as Bird Seed Lady was already stomping in after him. She shook the snow from her blanket and then shook her finger at the little gryphon. Ka’vrill never knew why humans did that when they wanted to be menacing. There was nothing menacing about a finger. Unless they planned to tickle him with it, and that was just cruel.

“Ka’vrill, get down from there!”

Uh oh. Unlike Shovel Man, Bird Seed Lady rarely used his real name. She must be angry. If she was already angry, no sense in letting it go to waste. Ka’vrill bound down the length of the counter and leapt to one of the bread shelves upon the wall. Tiny claws dug into the wood, and Ka’vrill ran down the shelf. He hurtled one loaf of bread and sent another toppling to the floor. Bird Seed Lady yelled again and Ka’vrill ignored her. At the end of the shelf he stretched out and clambered up onto a different wooden ledge. From there it was a short hop to the ledge where the day’s cookies and sweet biscuits were displayed. Ka’vrill began to snatch them up in his paws and shove them into his beak.

“Hey! Don’t eat those!” Bird Seed Lady sounded as though she couldn’t decide if she should yell or laugh and so she did both.

Bird Seed Lady tried to snatch him off the shelf, and Ka’vrill yelped and wriggled free, running to another platter of sweets. No fair! He had to jump and climb to get to the shelf and she just had to reach up to it. The hatchling couldn’t wait till he was grown so he could just come in here and reach whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He’d just have to stop growing before he got too big to fit through the door. Mother could fit through the bakery door but she always told him he’d grow up bigger than her.

“Get down at once before I pull you down by your tail!” Bird Seed Lady stomped her foot. That sounded unpleasant. Ka’vrill wasn’t scared, though. They both knew Bird Seed Lady was all words and no pulling him down by his tail. Even when he was bad she ended up hugging him and petting him. “You want me to tell you mother about this?”

Ka’vrill froze with a sugar biscuit halfway in his beak. Uh oh. Bird Seed Lady might not do anything, but Mother would. She’d either swat his haunches or make him help Bird Seed Lady clean the bakery every day for a week again. Probably both. Cleaning was even less fun with sore haunches. He slowly pulled the biscuit out of his beak and set it back with the others on the shiny platter.

“No.”

“Then come down here at once. You’ve already made enough of a mess, don’t you think?”

Ka’vrill wasn’t sure how much of a mess was enough of a mess, but he didn’t think he’d crossed that line just yet. He glanced at the platter of biscuits. If they fell on the floor, he’d get to make a mess and he’d get to eat more biscuits because once things was on the floor humans didn’t eat them. Ka’vrill began to nudge it towards the edge with a forepaw. Staring at Bird Seed Lady.

“You really are like a damn cat,” she muttered, putting her hand on the tray before he could shove it off. “Take the one you were going to eat, because I’m not selling that one. Then come down from there.”

Ka’vrill beamed in fledging glee. Free biscuit! His ears perked, the mobile section at the base of his beak twisted up, and he snatched up the biscuit from the platter. He stuffed it into his beak but did not yet chew it up. Half the treat stuck out from his beak. He waggled his haunches, sizing up his leap down to the floor. Actually, it looked awfully far to the floor from here. Bird Seed Lady sure was tall. She could pluck him right out of trees. Come to think of it, Bird Seed Lady made a better landing spot than the floor anyway. He waggled his haunches again, unfurling his black-feathered wings till the gray edge feathers were exposed.

“Don’t you even—”

Oh, he even. Ka’vrill leapt from the cookie shelf right for Bird Seed Lady’s shoulder. Of course as close as she was already, a simple hop would have sufficed, and he overshot her shoulder. Ka’vrill squawked in alarm as he plummeted, twisting and lashing out with his claws. They caught the fabric of the blue blanket she wrapped herself, his weight tugging her shoulders back where it was tied around her. She cried out, and Ka’vrill quickly scaled the fabric up to her shoulder. She coughed a little, and Ka’vrill draped himself across her shoulder, claws still in her cloak. He freed one paw, pulled the biscuit from his beak, and chirped into her ear.

“Hi!”

Bird Seed Lady gave an exaggerated sigh. “Hello, Little Dove.”

See? Ka’vrill began to eat the sweet biscuit. She was happy with him again already. When she reached up to pluck him from her shoulder, he scrambled around the back of her neck to lay out against her other shoulder. She yelped and squirmed and Ka’vrill giggled. He must be tickling her.

“Ow! Watch the claws!”

Or stabbing her with his claws. Oops.

Bird Seed Lady gave up trying to divest the hatchling from her shoulder for now. Ka’vrill relaxed and finished off his biscuit as she walked around the bakery, straightening things up. Her movements didn’t bother him. The little hatchling had excellent balance and agility when he wasn’t hanging from tree boughs by his claws or getting stuck in snow piles. He was used to riding larger creatures. Usually he rode around on his mother’s back, but since they’d finally found a welcoming home and made new friends, he also rode around on the humans shoulders sometimes too.

“You’re getting too big to ride my shoulders, Little Dove.” Bird Seed Lady reached up and stroked the feathers of his head. Ka’vrill thrummed a purr, leaning his head into her hand. “You won’t be able to do so much longer.”

“I’m big.” Ka’vrill nodded in agreement, ruffling up his feathers in pride. Soon, he’d be so big that all the monsters would flee from him instead of the other way around. He wasn’t scared of no monsters. Except for monsters that was bigger, stronger, meaner, and scarier. But some day, the monsters would be scared of him. Scared of gryphons. So scared they’d give back their home. “I’mma get bigger till I scare the monsters!”

“If you keep eating all my biscuits you’re going to get big and squishy.” Bird Seed Lady stroked one of his wings. “Too many of those will make you a fat little birdy.”

“Nuh uh!” Ka’vrill flared his little crown feathers. She couldn’t fool him. “I already eated a lot and I’m not fat and I’m notta birdy and Mother says I’m gonna be big someday.”

“Yes, you will,” Bird Seed Lady said, laughing. “When you’re big and strong, you can help track the monsters like your mother.”

“I’mma fight ‘em!” Ka’vrill clacked his beak. “Father fighted ‘em! And Chir…Chirik…that other gryphon!” His name was hard to say! “He fights ‘em!”

“Mostly Chir’reka helps track them.” Bird Seed Lady rubbed his head, and he leaned into her hand again. “But yes, sometimes they fight them, too, or help our people fight them. It’s not really safe to fight them all by yourself, you know. That’s why we always do so in groups. And why you gryphons are such a help to us.”

“I’m not scared of monsters!” Ka’vrill nipped playfully at her fingers, swatting her back with his tail. In the distance, a brassy bell tolled, the sound deep and resounding. Bird Seed Lady straightened and Ka’vrill squawked in surprise, trying to bury himself against her cloak. “Oh no, monsters!”

Bird Seed Lady plucked Ka’vrill from her shoulders, and clutched him to her chest. He put his forelegs around her neck and she shifted her grasp, slipping an arm beneath his haunches. He liked it when the humans held him that way, it was like he got to sit down and be cuddled at the same time. She pulled her blue blanket-cloak around him, and then ventured back out into the snow. The warmth of her body and the fur-lining of her cloak helped shield him from the cold outside. Not that he’d minded the cold when he was playing in the snow, but it seemed much colder outside now after spending time in the indoor warmth.

As they ventured outside, a second bell rang. The tone was higher than the first, yet not as high as the third bell that song cried out. Each toll was pitched above the last, fusing together into reverberating chord. The humans used mixtures of bells and sounds to signal each other, though Ka’vrill hadn’t yet learned all the meanings. As far as the gryphon was concerned, they all meant monsters.

“Monsters?” He chirped up at Bird Seed Lady as she strode across the big empty space. “Is it a monsters?”

“It’s nothing you have to worry about,” Bird Seed Lady said, her voice a little strained. That didn’t exactly answer his question.

Ka’vrill squirmed in the woman’s grasp, lifting his head up to peer over her shoulder. Snow fell heavier than before, swirled in gusts of wind. A shroud of white stole the colors from the painted buildings. A fresh layer of snow coated the cobbled lane Shovel Man had only just cleared. Footprints marked the snow. People in heavy cloaks and coats ventured from homes and businesses, swords at that hips, axes over their backs.

“Where’s we going?” Ka’vrill turned his head to look up at Bird Seed Lady. In the cold wind, her nose and cheeks had flushed nearly as red as her hair. Fat flakes of snow coated her curls.

“To find your mother.”

It did not take long. The heavy whump of vast, feathery wings beating the air soon rose above the sounds of shouting in the distance and the crunch of boots on snow. Mother was napping when Ka’vrill went to play. The bells must have awoken her. He hoped she wasn’t mad. It was cold out, and mother didn’t often go out in the cold. Mother didn’t like the cold cause the cold made her feel sick. Ever since they’d moved here, Mother was healthier and happier than Ka’vrill could ever remember. Here they had friends who cared about them, who built them a warm house to live in. Now Mother had no more coughing in the winter, no more shaking in the cold nights when she curled around him to keep him warm.

Bird Seed Lady came to a stop when Ka’vrill’s mother landed on the lane ahead of them. She stroked Ka’vrill’s head as she called out. “Hello, Aksyra! I’ve got him right here.”

“I hope he hasn’t been too much trouble.” Mother’s voice had a little more strength in it than usual.

“I’m not trouble!” Ka’vrill twisted himself round till he could peer out at his mother. His wings flailed against Bird Seed Lady’s cloak, his claws stuck in her clothes. “Hi, Mother!”

Bird Seed Lady gently untangled Ka’vrill from her garments, and then held him out towards his mother. Ka’vrill kicked his hind legs while they hung free. “No, he’s not been any trouble. Certainly nothing I can’t handle.”

Mother came to a stop in front of the human woman, and settled down on her haunches. She clacked her beak and perked her ears. Snow stuck to the pale fur of her forelegs as she reached for her son. “Sounds like she’s trying to keep you out of trouble, Little Dove.”

“I’mma good gerfin,” Ka’vrill said, nodding his head. He gave Mother the most innocent smile he could force across his face. Who could ever doubt an adorable little gryphon hatchling?

“Yes, of course you are, Little Dove.” Mother warbled, and cradled Ka’vrill in her forelegs. She cuddled him against her chest, wrapping her wings around them both to shield him from the snow. Her scent was warm and familiar, comforting him as it enveloped his senses. “Just remember you can’t just be good for me. You have to be good for all our friends here. They were very kind to take us in, we cannot repay them with bad behavior. We have to be a good example for our people.” Mother pushed her head inside her curled wings to smile at her son, and nuzzle his face. “Right?”

Ka’vrill nodded again, nuzzling at his mother’s beak. “Yes, Mother!”

Mother was much larger than Ka’vrill, but still the smallest of the adult gryphons he’d seen. She was slender, especially for a gryphon. Sometimes the humans said she was elegant. Ka’vrill knew that was a good thing, but once he heard a gryphon say it and it didn’t sound like a good thing. Mother’s colors were much lighter than his, with little of his black. Instead mother was all soft gray feathers and white under-fur. Black flecks were peppered in along her wings, with scattered faint brown markings across her haunches and tail feathers.

Amidst the pale ash gray of her head, her eyes shone with such warmth Ka’vrill always wondered how she could shiver so. He called them topaz, even though they looked brown to him. But when the big gryphon called them topaz, mother smiled. Ka’vrill liked it when mother smiled so he called her eyes topaz, too. The humans said Ka’vrill had his mother’s eyes. But Ka’vrill didn’t want Mother’s eyes cause he didn’t want mother to go blind.

As Ka’vrill nestled against his mother’s chest, she slowly pulled her head back. “I’ve never heard them ring the bells like that.” Mother’s voice sounded taut, as though it were some physical thing stretched too far. Ka’vrill giggled to himself at that thought. Once he stretched his wings too far, and then they were sore. “Not a three-toll in the middle of winter, I mean.”

“Nor have I.” Bird Seed Lady’s voice sounded harder than usual. Ka’vrill heard her boots crunch against the snow a few times. “Someone’s coming down the lane to deliver the news.”

“There’s only one thing three tolls means, isn’t there?” Mother shifted her grip on Ka’vrill.

“Monsters!” Ka’vrill wriggled free of his mother’s grasp, and scaled her chest to pop his head out from under her enclosing wings. “Is it a monsters?”

“Ow!” Mother squawked and clacked her beak. “Don’t use your claws, Little Dove. And the phrase they use is not ‘a monsters’, it is ‘a monster’.”

“It is?” Ka’vrill ducked his head back under mother’s wing to hide from the monster.

“That isn’t what I meant,” Mother sigh, huffing and warbling a laugh.

Bird Seed Lady laughed as well. “Glad to see I’m not the only one who has that sort of trouble with him, Aksyra.”

Ka’vrill swatted at his mother’s chest, peering out between some of her gray wing feathers. He lowered his voice to a hissing whisper. “Is it a monsters?”

“Those bells usually mean that they’ve got a monster they’re bringing in, yes.” Mother rumbled in her throat. “Didn’t realize they were hunting one today. But you don’t have to worry about it. Dead monsters can’t hurt us.”

“Actually,” Bird Seed Lady said, her voice dropping to a strange, shaky murmur. “With three bells, in that order?”

“It’s still alive?” Ka’vrill felt Mother tense up.

“It’s possible…”

“Why would it still be alive?” Ka’vrill squeaked when Mother tightened her grip on him.

“I don’t know Aksyra, I wasn’t in the hunting party.” Ka’vrill ducked his head further under Mother’s wing. He could hear Bird Seed Lady’s boots crunching back and forth in the snow. “Rumor was, there was one spotted far too close to the village for anyone’s comfort. Didn’t think much of it, not this close, not this time of year. But when the bells rang, I figured I’d better come bring your little fledging to you. Just in case.”

“I appreciate that,” Mother said, stroking Ka’vrills wings with her forepaw. “I still don’t know why they’d catch one alive.”

“A monster?” Ka’vrill started to climb up again. He’d never seen a living monster before. Only dead ones. Curiosity had a way of overcoming fear in a hatchling. “I wanna see it!”

“Shush, Ka’vrill.” Mother nuzzled him when he poked his head free. “There should be someone here already, right?”

“Yes.” Bird Seed Lady started down the road. “Someone had to come and tell them to ring the bells to prepare for the arrival, after all.”

“Let’s go see what this is about before the rest of them get here with it, then.” Mother pulled her wings back and folded them against her body. With a foreleg under Ka’vrill’s haunches she boosted him up towards her shoulder. “Get on my back, Little Dove.” As Ka’vrill scaled her shoulder, she turned her head to glare at him, clacking her beak. “And don’t even think about running off or I’ll give your haunches such a swatting you won’t be able to sit down for a week, much less play in the snow.”

“Yes, Mother.” Ka’vrill swallowed, hunkering down at the base of his mother’s neck. Mother always got cranky when monsters was around. Ka’vrill knew not to make Mother mad when she was cranky unless he wanted a spanking and Ka’vrill never wanted a spanking because hatchlings with sore butts didn’t get to play in the snow.

Mother padded down the snowy lane that led out of the village. From her back, Ka’vrill spotted Shovel Man’s shovel abandoned and sticking from a snow pile. Beyond where he’d shoveled, the snow grew deeper but it proved no match for Mother’s paws and long limbs. The semi-circular village was ringed with a simple wall made of rough-hewn logs with pointed ends lashed together. Ka’vrill thought it looked like a big spiny snake coiled around the village. It wouldn’t keep out the monsters cause monsters had wings like gryphons but it did keep the goats from running away.

Goats was funny.

“Momma!” Ka’vrill giggled to himself, swatting at his mother’s neck.

“Yes, Little Dove?” Mother glanced back at him, her topaz eyes narrowed in concern.

“I’mma goat!” He knew how to cheer her up.

“What?”

“BLAAAARGGGHH!”

Mother squawked and pinned her ears back, turning her head away. “Not in my ear, Ka’vrill!”

“But I’mma goat!” Ka’vrill giggled to himself again, tilting his head back. He opened his beak wide, his little tongue protruding. “BLAAAARRGHH!”

“Hush, Ka’vrill!” Mother hissed.

Ka’vrill hung his head, his ears drooping. Mother rarely hissed at him. “But goats is funny.”

“Now isn’t the time, Ka’vrill.” Mother lifted a wing and gently bushed him with it. “You can show me your latest goat impression later, alright?”

Ka’vrill nuzzled her wing, nodding. He snuggled up against her back, watching the world pass by for a few moments. By now everything was white, the whole village looked like little more than a series of white lumps and hills marked marked with footprints and people scurrying about. They passed a couple of people talking in frantic whispers. Mother glanced at them, and Ka’vrill swiveled his head to watch them as they passed by. They gestured at each other from beneath the snow-coated blankets they wore.

Up ahead, Ka’vrill heard louder voices. He shifted himself to peer around mother’s head. A larger group of people stood around inside the gate in the spiny snake-wall. The gates were big wooden doors with bars across them to lock them at night. Right now, the gates were open wide as could be. Ka’vrill knew they opened the gates like that whenever they had wagons coming in carrying supplies or dead monsters or parts of dead monsters. Men wielding spears and swords stood on either side of the open gate, as though they were the teeth in some gaping mouth. Come to think of it, why didn’t gryphon have teeth?

“Mother!” Ka’vrill swatted at her to get her attention. “Why don’t we has teeth?”

“Because we have beaks.” Ka’vrill thought Mother was taking the easy way out. She must have been too distracted to give him a real answer.

Mother came to a stop near the big mouth and its pointy metal teeth. She turned her head to gaze at Bird Seed Lady, then inclined it slightly towards the men with the weapons. Mother never seemed to want to speak up to the humans first. Which was funny because sometimes when Mother got talking to them she got awfully loud. Maybe it was because sometimes the humans didn’t want to stop talking.

Bird Seed Lady took a few steps towards the men. One of them broke away from the group. He sheathed his sword at his hip as he approached the gryphons and their bird feeding friend. His face was the reddest, he must have been out in the cold the longest. Ka’vrill caught a glimpse of metal under his cloak, heard his mail rattling. When he shook the snow from the fur-lined blanket draped over him, the hatchling spotted a few dark blotches marking the material. The man scratched at one of the blotches, and Ka’vrill saw more dark reddish stains on his hands.

“What’s going on?” Bird Seed Lady folded her arms. “Have you caught one?”

“Yeah.” Ka’vrill didn’t know that man, but he sounded grumpy. Why would he be grumpy after he caught a monster? “We did.”

“Caught.” Bird Seed Lady shifted, glanced at mother, and then looked at the cranky monster hunter again. “As in alive?”

“Yeah.” The man scowled, his reddened face grew even darker. “She’s still alive.”

“She?” Mother spoke up, ruffling her feathers a little. “It’s a female?”

“Yes.” The man shifted a few times. He must be itchy in all that armor.

“Why is she still alive?” Mother’s voice sharpened, she clicked her beak. “She have young, or something?”

“No.” Grumpy shook his head. His gaze lingered on mother, and then he peered back at Ka’vrill. Ka’vrill grinned and waved a paw at him. Grumpy gave him a little smile, and then worked his mouth like one of those sheep chewing grass all day. “She’s…not that old.”

“Oh.” Mother turned her head to peer at Ka’vrill. Bird Seed Lady looked at him too. Ka’vrill beamed when everyone stared at him. He liked to be the center of attention. He puffed up his feathers and shook himself. “That young?”

“I’mma goat!” Ka’vrill announced his impending favorite impression.

Mother snapped her beak. “No, Ka’vrill.”

“Aww.” Ka’vrill slumped back against mother.

“Not that young, no.” The grumpy man folded his arms over his chest. “But younger than I’m comfortable…you know.”

“So what happened?” Bird Seed Lady stepped forward, and brushed snow from Grumpy’s shoulder before she set her hand there.

“Young or not, she was here for a fight. Think she’d been prowling around for a few days, hoping to strike us in the middle of winter when we weren’t ready. We were tracking her, ended up cornering her, and instead of flying she lit into us. Didn’t kill anyone, thankfully, but tore a few of us up pretty good before we brought her down.”

“And then you couldn’t bring yourself to finish her off.” Mother lifted her head, ruffling her gray and white feathers.

Grumpy sighed, shaking his head. “Never killed one that young before.”

Ka’vrill blinked. Monsters was young too?

“Never knew them to come after us in the winter, either.” Bird Seed Lady shuffled her feet in the snow.

“We’ve thinned them out a bit, already. Might be getting desperate. And they’ve never come here, at all. If one’s found us, the rest will.”

“What do you plan to do with her?” Mother growled, Ka’vrill could feel her rumbling beneath him. The hatchling glanced around at everyone.

“Dunno.” Grumpy murmured and shook the snow from his blanket. “She’s pretty badly hurt.”

“You should have ended her in battle.” Mother’s hiss made Ka’vrill tense. It was different then the hiss she gave him earlier. There was something angrier in it, something he didn’t understand. It sounded as though this man had broken some rule the hatchling didn’t even know existed, and now Mother was growing angrier and angrier about it. He wondered if humans ever got spanked too. “What good is it to spare a young one’s life for a little while if all that brings her is more fear, and more pain? Even after those monsters stole everything from us, we do not have the right to make them suffer unduly. To slay them, and take back our homes, yes. But not to torture them. With all those the enclaves have taken over the years, perhaps she is the last she knows. Perhaps she came here to end herself in battle with you, and now you’ve left her to suffer. I should think they’d rather die in battle than live in pain and fear. If she hoped to die fighting us you should have granted that.” She glanced away. “Maybe she wanted to join her kin.”

The man shifted back and forth. Ka’vrill whimpered. He didn’t like this talk anymore. “Momma?” He nuzzled her neck, whining.

Mother lifted her wings to gently brush his back. “Shh, Little Dove. It’s alright. Just be quiet a moment.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Grumpy rested a hand on his sword. “We had her down, I had my sword, coulda pushed it through her heart. Woulda ended the pain but…never had to look in a young one’s eyes before. Yeah, she was hurt, and yeah, she was angry. Maybe she did come here looking to die, but Gods. There was fear in her eyes like I’d never seen in one of them. Like she’d just realized she wanted to live after all, and now it was too late. I think…we all must have seen the same thing. If she was older we’d have ended her anyway but…none of us did.”

“So now what?” Mother’s tone softened, yet there was still something bitter and angry in her voice Ka’vrill just didn’t quite understand. “You take her in? Raise her as your own? Wait for her to burn you to death in your beds?”

“Of course not.” Grumpy Man grew grumpier, straightening himself. “We’re not fools, you know. Yes, we should have killed her in battle, but we didn’t. Now we have to deal with that. If you want to go open some youngling’s throat up with your claws and watch her gurgle her last terrified breaths, be my guest.”

Mother snapped her beak. “Do not speak of that around my son.”

Ka’vrill rubbed his own throat with a paw. That sounded horrible. Even for a monster. Especially a young monster. “Is it gonna die?”

“It’s a monster, Ka’vrill.” Mother managed to give Grumpy a baleful glare while also giving her son a tender nuzzle. “Sometimes monsters have to die, you know that.”

“Cause they stealed our homes,” Ka’vrill murmured, the reply almost a habit by now.

“Our homes, our clans, our history, they took it all from us before even I was ever hatched, Little Dove. These brave humans, these kind people who took us in?” Mother waved her wing at them. “The monsters took their homes, too. And now they fight back. Sometimes the monsters have to die.”

“Sometimes?” Ka’vrill nuzzled against his mother’s beak. That was a new idea for him. That sometimes monsters didn’t have to die. Then again, young monsters were a new idea to him as well. “Sometimes not?”

“They banished us from our own lands, Little Dove, killed more of us than we could ever count. But…” Mother sighed, her own ears drooping as she rubbed her beak over his wings. “Sometimes they flee. Sometimes they take their young and go somewhere far from here. Those who leave…they don’t need to die.”

“Can the young monster leave?” Ka’vrill clambered up onto his mother’s head before she could stop him. He stared at Grumpy Man. “Will it leave and not die?”

“Maybe,” Grumpy said, wringing his hands.

Ka’vrill flattened himself out against his mother’s head when she swiveled it around. He grabbed at one of her ears for balance, tried to keep his paws out of her eyes. Mother spoke to Grumpy as though she wasn’t wearing a hatchling as a hat. “How badly hurt is she?”

“She’d live, if she gets the chance. But she’ll never walk right again.” Grumpy held his arm, and drew a line with his finger from his palm to his elbow. “Foreleg’s pretty mangled. Could bind it for her, help it heal, but it won’t be the same.”

“You seem more certain of her fate then you’d like to admit.” Mother tilted her head back till Ka’vrill slid back down her neck to her shoulders.

Grumpy grit his teeth, and stared at the snow that caked his boots. “She was crying. Shaking. Murmuring in that growly language. Sounded like a prayer. Or a plea. I…I never seen one cry before.” He shuffled his feet in the snow. “I gotta daughter back home. I just…couldn’t do it.”

When Ka’vrills mother spoke again, most of the bitterness had washed out of her voice. “So what can you do with her?”

“Thinking we bind the wounds. Ship her off somewhere. I know places that’d pay our enclave a lot of money for a live dragon.” He held up his hands. “Not to her hurt or anything. A pet or a mount or something maybe. Well, maybe not a mount if she ends up crippled.”

Ka’vrill’s mother clicked her beak. “And you think that is a better fate than a death in battle?”

“Look, if you got a better idea…”

“I am your guest here.” Mother’s voice fell and settled like the snow. “When I am able, I help you track the monsters, and from there it is up to you. I wish I was healthy enough to help you fight them like the gryphon in the other village. But as I am not, I will not tell you what to do with them when you find them. If you think this monster should live, then let her live. But you think hard about why it is you kill them, and why it would have been better to let her die.” Mother turned her head and nuzzled Ka’vrill. “I’m going to take my son home now before they drag her in here. He doesn’t need to see some crippled young dragon.”

“I wanna see it!” Ka’vrill chirped, leaving his head. In the distance, he thought heard the sound of creaking wagon wheels. It was very faint, the snow muffled the noise. Maybe he was imagining it. He started to climb down over his mother’s shoulder but she moved her wing to block him.

“No, Ka’vrill. It’s cold. We’re going home now.”

Ka’vrill sighed, and settled against his mother’s back as she pushed past Grumpy and Bird Seed Lady. He shook his wings to clear the snow that coated him. It never seemed to melt fast against thanks to his down locking in his warmth. Mother shook her wings too, and Ka’vrill snuggled against her as she began to walk up to the base of the snowy hill where the house was. As they traveled, something nagged at the back of Ka’vrill’s mind. Dragon. Mother called the monster a dragon. Humans used that word when they didn’t think he was listening. Otherwise they just called them monsters. Mother usually did the same.

“Dragon?” Ka’vrill chirped, lifting his head.

Mother gave him an odd look, squinting when a gust of wind swirled snow around her pale gray head. “What about them?”

“Dragons is monsters?”

Mother pinned her ears back, and gave a little sigh. “Yes, Little Dove. Dragons are monsters.”

If dragons was monsters, then someday Ka’vrill would fight dragons too.

---

Chapter Twenty Six

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Galvarys woke later than usual. Dark as it was in the barn, he didn’t realize he’d slept in at first. Beams of sunlight poured through the slats, but they did little to illuminate the deeper recesses of the cavern. Tired of waking with sunlight shining on his face, the dragon had moved what few sleeping furs he had as deep in the barn as he could. When he did finally wake, he took his time rising to his feet. He stretched himself out a single limb at a time, careful not to jar his wounds or tug too hard on his stitches.

Once the dragon was stretched, he limped towards the door. With each day that passed his wounds throbbed a little less, and he suffered fewer lingering effects of the poisons that had tainted his blood. Though he hated to admit it, Galvarys was thankful for Donal and Nyira’s help. Without it, the dragon’s healing process would be much slower and far more painful. Last time he’d been poisoned, he spent a week wandering in the woods, puking his guts out and feeling as though his body was tearing itself apart inside.

The dragon smirked. Even that hadn’t been enough to kill Galvarys The Wrathful. The humans had come close a few times, yet they’d never been able to slay him. All their plans and their poisons failed. If there was a venom strong enough to kill a dragon in moments Galvarys did not know of it. A high enough dose, and some might kill a dragon in minutes. But minutes were all it took for him to slay them first.

It helped the dragon that he’d adapted a bit of immunity to some of the things humans built against his kind. After he’d burned down the first village of dragonslayers, the woman told him some of the slayers used poisons. She’d taught him about plants he could eat to help build immunity. Galvarys hated eating plants, but he hated dying of poison even more, so he chewed the bitter things down.

Galvarys sometimes wondered why he kept living through every attempt to take his life when so many other dragons had fallen to the same tactics. Maybe he was just lucky. Or perhaps his body was just a little stronger than the other dragons. If he listened to Elyra’s babbling she’d no doubt tell him that some God had a purpose for him, and kept him alive. Galvarys had to admit, he did like the sound of that even if he didn’t believe it.

Still, not even dragons lived forever. He pressed a paw to his chest plates. Nyira worried about his heartbeat that first night. Something off about it, something irregular and weak. He rubbed a plate, snorting. Like she knew anything about the heartbeat of dragons. Still, he knew she was right. Between the poison squeezing his heart, the blood he’d lost and his struggle to get Elyra to help, he’d simply pushed himself too far that time. The poison weakened his heart, and then he’d gone and strained it before the effects had time to wear off. Galvarys set his paw back down, padding to the door with his ears pinned back. His belly twisted and ached at the thought.

Sooner or later his luck may run out.

If not for Elyra’s fevers, he’d have just wallowed in that forest and rested until it was safe for him to fly again, as usual. Hell, if not for Elyra he’d not have been drawn into that battle in the first place. Not that he’d ever blame her. If anyone, he should blame himself. He remembered the fledging now. He didn’t want to think about him, but he remembered that bird and his mother.

“Sooner or later, Galvarys,” he muttered to himself. “Sooner or later.”

That was alright. If there was someone worth dying for, it was certainly Elyra. Not that he had any intention of dying for her if he had a choice. He’d better work on building his legend a little faster, just in case. He couldn’t well go and get himself killed before everyone would remember his name. Dragons lived long lives, and there was little worse than to live so long and still be forgotten upon your death.

His mother…well, Ayvyrial didn’t get to live that long in the first place. Galvarys sometimes wondered if he was older now than she had ever been. He’d never know when that line had been crossed. However old she was when they killed her, it wasn’t old enough. She deserved better. She deserved to be remembered by more than just her son. And if the truce held, if the truce led to his own legend, then as that legend remembered Galvarys for all time, so too would it remember Ayvyrial.

Galvarys the Wrathful, eldest of Ayvyrial.

“Galvarys the Trucemaker.” The dragon muttered to himself as he reached for the barn door. “Galvarys the Merciful.” He paused with his paw upon the wood. Despite what Elyra thought, that made a better title for his mother. “Galvarys, The Azure Wrath. The Truce-Maker. Eldest of Ayvyrial the Merciful.” Galvarys pushed the door open, grinning to himself. “Yes, I like that.”

Blinding sunlight cascaded over the dragon’s face. He hissed in surprise, turning his head away. He squeezed his silver eyes closed for a moment. How the hell did the sun get that high in the sky already?

“Afternoon, Sleepy Scales.”

Galvarys squinted against the sunlight, peering in the direction of Elyra’s voice. “What do you mean, afternoon? What time is it?”

For a moment, Elyra was little more than a silhouette against the bright sunlight that warmed the autumn air. Gradually colors came into view as his eyes adjusted. She sat in the grass, scribbling at some parchment. “I mean, I just ate lunch. You’ve slept through the whole morning. You needed the sleep, though, so I made sure no one woke you.”

“Oh.” Galvarys glanced at the sky, the sun was already passed its zenith. “Haven’t slept in that late in years.”

“Sleep helps you heal.”

“So it does.” The dragon slunk out of the barn, his tail curling around a hind. He turned and closed the door again, glancing down at Elyra. She wore a new dress today, layered in shades of pink, orange and red. “You look like the damn sunset.”

“Thank you,” Elyra said, smiling at the dragon.

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Sunsets are beautiful, so I’m taking it as one.”

Galvarys chuckled to himself. “Your radiant beauty outshines any sunset, Elyra.” He waved his paw at her. “But that damn dress is hideous.”

Elyra went as red as the darkest part of her dress. She bit her lip and turned her head away, kneading the dress in her hands. “Th…thank you, Galvarys. I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to hearing things like that.”

“You’re welcome, Elyra.” The dragon gently rubbed her back with a paw. “You deserve an ocean of compliments for all the years you’ve gone without, and I am afraid I can offer you only a single droplet.”

Elyra gaped so much Galvarys half expected her tongue to fall out. Her lips twitched, yet she seemed unable to find words. When she finally got her mouth closed again, she gave the dragon an odd look, half embarrassment and half smirking smugness. She folded her arms, staring at him.

“What?” Galvarys pulled his head back, his neck arching.

“I’m just waiting for you to spoil your own beautiful words by blurting out something about how you’d like to mount me if I was a female dragon.” Elyra’s smirk grew.

“How would that spoil anything? That would be a compliment.” The dragon tossed his head, snorting. Humans.

“If you say so. Admittedly it would be nice if you’d let those beautiful moments you have get to breathe without smothering them beneath something crude.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re babbling about.” Galvarys took a few steps towards the house, then paused and shook his hind end. “I think I slept on my balls.”

Laughter bubbled from Elyra as she shook her head. “You see? I told you. You can’t help it.”

Galvarys curled his neck to peer back at her over his wings, grinning. “I said that on purpose just to rattle you.”

“Sure you did, Galvarys.” Elyra smoothed out a new piece of parchment against a wooden board. “Still, that would be fun to drawn.”

“My balls?” Galvarys lifted his spines.

“Not much there to draw, Dragon.” Elyra swirled a charcoal stick in the air. Oh, now that hurt. “No, you shaking your scaly ass like a dog with fleas in his tail.”

Grinning, Galvarys shook his haunches again. Might as well give the girl something to draw if that was what she wanted. When Elyra finished laughing, the dragon called back to her. “I’m going to see what they’ve got for me to eat. Then…” The dragon trailed off, pinning his ears back. His gaze wandered towards the ruins down the hillside. “Then I’m going to see about burying an old scar.”

Elyra smiled at him. “When you’re done eating, come get me. I’ll go with you into the village.”

Galvarys wandered down the trail towards the house. He stretched his black-marked wings a little, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight against them. The autumn was settling in, the days seemed warmer than usual lately. The dragon was happy to enjoy the warmth while he had the chance. He sniffed the wind, no trace of ice in it just yet. Though snow dusted the far peaks, he suspected it would be a little while longer yet before the snows settled in across the ruined village.

At Donal’s house, he lowered his head and thumped his horns against the door. Blue paint chipped and fluttered to the stoop. Scratch marks marred the wood. Whoops. Maybe they wouldn’t notice. Galvarys flicked his spined tail as he waited. He heard rustling inside, and a moment later the door flew open. Some delight aroma wafted out over his nose, hearty and rich and lightly spiced. Nyira stood in the doorway, wearing the same golden dress she’d loaned Elyra earlier. She peered at the door, and gave a long sigh.

“Uh…sorry about that.” Galvarys swallowed.

“There’s another mark on the list of damages you’ve caused.”

Galvarys blinked, cocking his head. He couldn’t tell if she was angry, amused, or somewhere in between. “I apologize.” The dragon glanced at the oversized wooden laden she tapped against her leg. “You’re not going to hit me with that, are you?”

Nyira scrunched her nose, and lifted the spoon. She stared at it a moment as if the idea was just occurring to her. “Of course not. Why, would Elyra…”

“I suspect Elyra would wallop me with it if she knew I’d damaged your door, yes.” He glanced back at Elyra, half-expecting her to be standing alongside at him, glaring. “So let’s not tell her.”

“For now I’m clinging to the hope that you really will bring money to pay for all the damage and my poor herd of goats.” She lowered the ladle, grinning. “So no, as much as I like the idea of whacking you on the nose right now, I’d rather not risk losing my arm in the process. Nor will I tell Elyra.”

“Good,” Galvarys said, licking his muzzle. “Because I doubt it’s my nose she’d aim it for.”

Nyira giggled to herself. “She is a feisty one, isn’t she? Anyway, how’re you feeling today? I hope all that sleep did you good.”

“Yes, she is.” Galvarys grinned to himself, perking his ears again. He turned his head and watched Elyra draw for a few moments. “It did, actually. I’m still sore but not in too much pain right now. Heart seems fine, belly’s not aching.”

“Your liver.” Nyira gently lay a hand upon the scales of his neck. “Can I listen to your heart a moment?”

“You may, and what about my liver?” Galvarys turned his head back towards the woman.

“It was your liver aching, I think, filtering the poisons out.” She slipped beneath his neck, and pressed her ear to the plates of his chest. “Not your belly. Just felt that way.”

“Either way, I feel better today than I have since I’ve been here.” The dragon took a few slow breaths as she listened to his chest. Her head felt warm against him, though her hair tickled at the fine lines where his plates intersected.

“Your heart definitely sounds good today.” Nyira pulled her head back and smiled at him. “May I check your wounds?”

“As long as you’re not planning on poking at them.” Galvarys rumbled, and rubbed at his chest where her hair tickled him.

“I was, but since you mentioned it, I won’t.” Galvarys tilted his head back to let her inspect the various cuts and scratches adorning his face and neck. She stroked a few fresh scar lines with a finger, and smiled at him. “These are nearly healed already.”

“Dragons heal swiftly from most injuries.” Galvarys licked his nose when she pulled her hand back. “Especially me.”

“You’re lucky to be such a strong species.”

Galvarys lifted his wings a little to give Nyira access to his body as she moved around him. “Lucky in some ways.” The dragon grimaced when Nyira pulled the bandage away from his shoulder, tugging at the stitches a little. He flicked his tail. “I thought you said you wouldn’t poke at my injuries.”

“Just a little poking.”

Galvarys hissed when a spike of pain throbbed behind his shoulder. He turned his head to glare at Nyira. “Stop that!”

“Sorry.” Nyira bowed her head in apology, black hair swishing around her olive-skinned face. “Your bandages are clean, though, and your wounds don’t seem to be seeping anymore. By now the bandages are basically just protecting your stitches.”

“Then take them off.” Galvarys tossed his head.

“If you catch your stitches on anything—”

“Then you will give me new ones.” The dragon flared his frills, cocking his head. “This is not my first time with stitches. Remove the bandages if I do not require them.”

“Very well, Dragon.” Nyira shook her head. “But if you pull your stitches out early, don’t expect me to whiskey you up again when I re-stitch them. Let me see your wing.”

Galvarys lowered his wing for her. She traced a few fingers over the areas where the membranes were healing back together. Her touch tickled, and the dragon’s wing twitched a few times. “I shall be as cautious as I can.”

“Good.” Nyira glanced at him, her temporary brusqueness seemed to have vanished. “Your wings are healing very well.”

“Of course they are.” The dragon folded his wings back against his body, grinning.

It would take more than some ugly gryphon to ruin Galvarys The Wrathful’s glorious wings. The dragon growled to himself, sinking claws into the earth. Then again, the gryphon wanted him to follow. If he’d been seeking to steal the dragon’s flight, he might have gone for tendons. It had been a while since he’d fought a gryphon. Next time he had to remember how damn fast they could be, and make sure the bird didn’t get a shot at his wings.

Hot pain burned across the dragon’s side when Nyira peeled away the bandage protecting his axe wound. When she poked the healing flesh, Galvarys grit his teeth, pinning back all his spines. The dragon didn’t want to give Nyira the satisfaction of hearing him cry out. Might give her an excuse to put the damage bandage back on. He glanced back at himself, examining his wound. An ugly, puff pink scar marred the beautiful blue scales protecting his ribcage. Loops of thick sinewy stiches held the pink flesh together.

“Going to have quite a scar here, dragon.” Nyira prodded the wound a little more, fire stretched across it.

Galvarys flexed his claws in the earth, grimacing. “I have many scars. It will fade in time like the others.”

“I’d noticed your others when I was washing all the blood of you the first night. Most of them look pretty old.” Nyira brushed her hand over an old gray scar near his belly.

“First time I’d fought humans in years.” Galvarys lifted his central crest, his neck arched as he watched the healer. “Let alone a gryphon. Hopefully it is the last time I’ll be forced to do so.”

“We share that hope.”

Nyira walked around the dragon, her fingers trailing over his scales. The sensation was not unpleasant. He liked it better when Elyra stroked his scales, but if he wasn’t careful that woman was going to ruin him. What sort of dragon enjoyed being petted? Certainly not a magnificent and wrathful one.

Nyira patted his hind leg as she walked around behind him. “One more wound to check, and then we’ll get you something to eat. I assume that’s the only reason you came here, after all.”

“No, Nyira, I was hoping to have you jab your fingers into my most tender areas. Glad you’ve obliged.” Galvarys’s spines flared out as Nyira worked away the bandage over the arrow wound on the back of his thigh.

“Oh, hush.” Nyira tossed the bandage to the grass, smirking at the dragon around his hind leg. “From where I’m standing there’s a few more tender areas I could poke if you prefer.”

Galvarys blinked, then tucked his tail a little. “Oh. Sorry.”

Nyira stroked the dragon’s tail a moment. “While I appreciate your attempt at modesty, your tail is in the way now. Besides, I’m used to seeing your sapphires while I tend your wounded leg.”

Galvarys smirked to himself. Not a bad name for them. He’d have to remember that. He shifted his tail, grunting when his wound throbbed from being inspected. “Are you almost done?”

“Almost. I’m going to affix another bandage here to keep your stitches safe when you sit down.”

“If you must.”

Galvarys waited for Nyira to fetch a pot filled with some of the sticky resin she used to stick the bandages with his scales. She smeared some around the edges of a fresh gauzy bandage, then gently pressed the bandage in place along the back of the dragon’s leg. The pain made his limb tense, but it eased quickly enough when Nyira stopped pressing on him.

“Now are you done?” The dragon curled his neck to gaze down at Nyira when she came around the front of him again.

“Now I’m done.” Nyira smiled. She reached towards him, then her hand froze in midair. Galvarys lowered his head a little, and she took the invitation to pet his nose. “Do you like that?”

“More than I’d care to admit,” the dragon said, closing his eyes. He rumbled to himself. Human fingers gently stroking the soft area around his nostrils could be quite soothing. Especially when it was Elyra touching him. After a moment, he opened his eyes to silver slits and peered at Nyira. “As I doubt you will give me medical permission to hunt, what’s for breakfast?”

“Lunch, by now, but I’ve something for you.” She patted his muzzle and then headed inside, her golden dress swishing around her.

Galvarys eased onto his haunches. He settled most of his weight on his uninjured leg, leaning to the side a little. He curled his tail in the grass, then tilted his head back to stare up at the sky. A few lonely clouds drifted across the vast blue expanse, their white forms contorting and changing. Galvarys wondered how long this warm autumn would last. If it held a little longer, he had a place he’d like to take Elyra to visit before it grew too cold. It was a beautiful place, but icy in the winter and treacherous for those without claws to help with purchase.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” Nyira returned, setting a tray of food down in the grass in front of the dragon. “Nice of it to warm back up against while you’re recovering.”

“I was just thinking about that,” Galvarys said, watching a twisting cloud crawl across the sky. “There’s a place I want to take Elyra, as soon as I’m able. I think she’d really enjoy it.”

“Shouldn’t be long before you can fly.” Nyira folded her hands, smiling. “Just don’t overdo it helping my husband with this little demolition project you’ve talked him into.”

“I’ve not talked him into anything.” The dragon watched the cloud drift towards another as if even clouds sought companionship. “I’ve only offered to help him move forward with this place.”

“I know, Dragon.” Nyira’s voice softened. She patted the dragon’s shoulder. “Thank you for that. Now eat your lunch. You need to keep your strength up while you heal.”

The blue dragon pulled his gaze from the sky to see what Nyira brought him. A large wooden bowl of goat stew sat atop the platter, alongside a few dried fish, and a loaf of bread sliced into thick chunks. Not exactly the most filling meal for a dragon, but Galvarys knew they were already digging far deeper into their stocks to feed him than they could really afford. Soon as he was able he’d see he made it up to them. He sniffed at the food, the aromas wafting from the meal made his belly rumble. He licked his muzzle a few times, nearly drooling.

Nyira vanished into the house, and the door clicked shut behind her. That was fine with Galvarys, he’d rather eat by himself than have a human staring at him the whole time. Save perhaps Elyra, she could stare at him whenever she wanted. He was tempted to take his food back to the barn to sit with her while he ate, but he didn’t want to interrupt her artwork. That and with his luck he’d probably end up with the bowl of stew on his head. At least he couldn’t get stuck in it like that damn pastry box. Or could he? Galvarys cocked his head, sizing up the bowl carefully. Didn’t look like he could get his snout stuck in there, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

Galvarys ate the dried fish first, crunching them up bones and all. The slightly salted taste their flesh had was oddly pleasing to the dragon, as was the smoky flavor that lingered in the oily meat. The dragon moved to the stew next, lapping most of it right out of the bowl. When it was getting dangerous close to the bottom, he poked his claws into the thick slabs of firm bread and used them to mop up some of the stew. He’d seen Elyra do it before, seemed a suitable use for the stuff. When the bread was all gone, he picked up the bowl in his forepaws, and after measuring it against his snout, licked it clean. The dragon dropped the bowl and rose with a loud, satisfied belch.

“Excuse you!” Elyra called to him across the hillside.

Galvarys licked his muzzle clean as he padded back towards Elyra. “For what?”

“For that earthquake of a belch you just unleashed.” Elyra giggled and shook her head.

“I don’t understand.” Galvarys cocked his head when he reached the woman in the sunset-colored dress. “Why do I need an excuse to belch?”

“You don’t.” Elyra waggled a charcoal stick at him. “That’s the problem.”

“Elyra, it is far too early in the…” He glanced at the sky and huffed. “…Afternoon for you to talk in riddles. How is your drawing coming along?”

“Good.” She lifted up the parchment and held it to the dragon. “What do you think?”

A half-drawn dragon adorned the page, along with a few lines indicating the shaking motion of the dragon’s rump. Galvarys grinned, perking his ears. “It looks excellent. Far better than I could do. But don’t show it to anyone else, it’s embarrassing.”

“I’ll just show it to Amell.” Elyra chuckled and pulled the parchment back.

Galvarys narrowed his eyes, lifting his spines. “You most certainly will not.”

“Oh hush, you grumpy lizard.” Elyra stretched her arm to rub the dragon’s nose a little, grinning. “I wouldn’t show her anything you didn’t want.” She gazed along his body, knitting her brows. “I see Nyira let you go without most of your bandages.”

“I wouldn’t let her put them back on.” Galvarys glanced back at his shoulder. Elyra leaned over, her face scrunching and eyes flickering as she gazed at all the stitches. Galvarys stretched his neck to nuzzle her cheek with his nose. “I’m fine, Elyra. Do not worry.”

Elyra’s eyes met his, and her expression eased a little as she rubbed her cheek back against him. “Alright, Galvarys.” Smiling again she began to pack her art supplies into a brown leather satchel sitting nearby. “You ready to go down into the old village?”

Galvarys glanced away. Something cold gripped his heart for a moment, and a shiver passed through him, making his scales click. “No.” Icy fingers knotted his bowels. “But I never will be, so we may as well go before I change my mind.”

Elyra pushed herself to her feet. She cradled the dragon’s pebbly-scaled chin in her hand. “It’s alright, Galvarys. No one can blame you for what you did.”

“I can think of a lot of people who would disagree with you, and one of them just served me lunch.” Galvarys flared a wing, pointing with its tip towards the distance graveyard. “Most of others are buried over there or rotting in some other burned out village.”

“Galvarys, after what those people did, they deserved—”

“I know what they deserved Elyra.” The dragon nuzzled at her cheek a little. “But that does not make it easier for me to walk amongst the lives I destroyed many years later.”

Elyra’s hands roamed over his muzzle, then down his neck. “I know you don’t really want to talk about it anymore than you already have. So I’ll just say, I’m here for you, Galvarys. And I’ll be at your side the whole time.”

Galvarys sighed, closing his eyes to savor her touch, her comfort. Elyra brought him so much tranquility lately he wondered how he’d ever felt at peace without her. He eased his head against her body, and when she stroked his throat, he let his tongue play against her neck. Galvarys heard her murmur at that, and he licked her skin again. In return she pushed herself just a little more against the dragon’s face, moving her hands to caress his ears. The intimate contact soon had the dragon tingling, yet he did not wish to pull away.

Nor did he want to embarrass himself at such a tender moment. He eased his head back a little, resting the tip of his chin against Elyra’s shoulder. She worked her hands back and forth across his arched neck. “Elyra, when I look upon my life before I met you, I see only emptiness where once I felt complete.”

Elyra pulled back from the dragon. He peered at her, smiling when she took his muzzle between his hands. He’d expected her to flush and shy away but this time she found her tongue and put thoughts to words. “And before you, Galvarys, the black haze through which I shuffled could not be called a life at all.”

Sudden, joyous warmth blossomed in the dragon’s heart, banishing the cold ghosts of the past. “Elyra, I think we may share…feelings.” That wasn’t at all what he meant to say. He tried to correct himself, and found his tongue tied in unbreakable knots. “For…each other. Feelings. That we have.”

Galvarys could see it in the sparkling silver flecks of Elyra’s gray eyes. She was going to giggle at him. She was going to laugh. He couldn’t blame her, with the way that had all come out he’d have laughed at himself too. Only, she didn’t. She swallowed her giggles, and still holding his muzzle between her hands, she pressed her lips to his nose.

“Galvarys, I think we may.” She stroked his jawline, whispering to him. “But right now, Donal is staring at us.”

“Oh, balls.” Galvarys growled and lifted his head He gazed around till he spotted Donal on the pathway that lead into the highest part of the ruins. When he saw them looking, he waved his dirt-crusted shovel. “We had better go join him, then. It seems if we are to talk, Elyra, we are going to have to get some privacy.”

“Is that something you think we should talk about?” Elyra rested a hand on the dragon’s neck. “Our feelings?”

“Not when you put it that way.” Galvarys lowered his head again, and gave Elyra’s cheek a slow, tantalizing lick. Instead of push him away, she shivered in a way that made the dragon grin. “But soon I will be healed enough to fly again, and there is somewhere beautiful I should like to show you.”

Elyra rubbed her cheek against the dragon’s nose. Her skin felt so wonderfully warm, and soft. “I’d like that very much, Galvarys.”

“As would I, Elyra.” More than he could put to words.

---

Happiness buoyed Elyra as she walked the overgrown lane through long-crumbling ruins. Despite the solemnity of the moment, she could not stop the joy that bubbled from her heart. Whatever Galvarys was trying to say was something wonderful. Even if it amounted to nothing more than a declaration of lifelong friendship, it was still more than she’d ever expected to know in her life just months earlier. She had hoped to find happiness with someone, but never truly expected it to happen. Now, whatever Galvarys may feel for her, she knew at least she’d found that happiness in his friendship.

Elyra walked with Galvarys into the ruins, following Donal to the first structures he’d chosen to demolish. The dragon was quiet during the journey, so Elyra kept her thoughts to herself. As they walked the dragon turned his head a few times to share a smile with her. Each smile raised her heart higher into the sky, and she could hope hers did the same for him. She kept a hand upon his scales even when his attention was focused on the wreckage of the town, or Donal’s requests for his assistance. Elyra wanted Galvarys to know she was there for him in every way.

The dragonslayer’s village was built along four terraced roads along the slope of the hill, with another lane at the very bottom, and a few smaller lanes cutting between the others. By now, there was little left of the roads but cracked cobblestone smothered by grass and bramble. The smaller dirt lanes were completely re-taken by nature, no trace of them remained at all. Donal had paced the old roads enough lately to flatten down a simple trail, but Elyra kept watch for bramble to warn Galvarys. She and Donal had boots but she did not want the dragon to injure his pads on the thorns. Then again she imagined his pads were used to the hazards of nature. But he smiled at her warnings, and thanked her anyway.

Blackened, skeletal framework of old buildings lined the road. Though a few remained more intact than others, it was nearly impossible for Elyra to tell what function the buildings originally served. Most of them were probably houses. A massive stone hearth stained with ancient soot marked one foundation. A few rusted anvils peeked out from shrouds of berry brambles nearby. Some buildings still had a wall or two standing, others had random charred beams leaning against one another, lines of snaking ivy with heart-shaped leaves crawled over blackened framework. Other buildings were completely gone, remembered only by bits of burnt, rotten wood jutting from a rubble pile cloaked in weeds and dandelion blossoms.

There was little remnant left of the lives the people here once lived. There was no fluttering cloth, no clotheslines lingered between singed wooden poles. A few houses held twisted metal tubs and ruined pots, a desiccated bedframe sat against a half-standing wall. In the years that passed since fire consumed this place, everything still usable had been scavenged, and nature took the rest. In the place of man, nature had taken root. Elyra saw bird nests in crumbling eaves, and a snake soaking up the last of the autumn warmth on a rusting tin plate. She saw small but shining eyes peering at her from a darkened recess beneath a rubble pile that was once a wall.

“It’s a shame the animals are going to lose their homes.” Elyra spoke her thoughts aloud before she could really think better of them. Galvarys glanced back at her, cocking his head, and she fidgeted with her sunrise-colored dress. “I mean, they’ll find others…”

“Yes,” Galvarys said, chuckling. “They are very resilient, and they have an entire forest to find their shelter in.”

“Better now than after the snows set in.” Donal paused for a moment, looking over some of the ruined buildings. He folded his arms. “They’ll all be welcome back once the place gets rebuilt, anyway.”

“You really plan to start a new village here?” Elyra stroked Galvary’s upper foreleg, gazing at Donal.

“Maybe.” The red-haired man chuckled, shrugging. “It’s what my mother would have wanted, anyway. Of course, if the dragon here finds he’s still wracked with guilt even after he’s helped me bury this place, he’ll be welcome to come back next summer and help me start rebuilding it.”

“You may be pressing your luck there, Donal. I think I am better suited to protect it once it’s built than I am to help build it.” Galvarys snorted, shredding some bramble with his tail spines.

“Maybe we could hire some people from the Five Villages.” Elyra looked back and forth between Galvarys and Donal a few times. “I’m sure there are plenty of carpenters who’d be happy to take the job. Maybe hire a few guards to keep watch over the place year round.”

Donal chuckled to himself. “Haven’t got that kind of money. Most of what was in the villages treasury has been used up over the years, but we’re pretty self-sufficient out here. Bring crops and goats and things to sell when we go into town for the winters, or to visit our son. Got a bit in reserve, but not enough to start paying a bunch of workers.”

Elyra peered up at Galvarys. He gave her a blank stare and she nudged him with her elbow. Which only made him blink and look away. She huffed. Damn dragon wouldn’t take a hint even if it was biting him on his scaly ass. “Galvarys has a lot of coin.”

“And a lot of junk, apparently.” The dragon snorted, hissing through his teeth.

“Oh!” Elyra grinned. “There’s an idea!” She was going to try and suggest Galvarys help foot the bill, but maybe she could talk him into something else instead. “Perhaps my Lord Azure Wrath could convince the Five Villages to donate some of your glorious tributes to paying to build a sanctuary village out here.”

Galvarys pinned his ears and muttered something incomprehensible under his breath.

Elyra stroked his scales, grinning. “At least the Village of Rings. Varm’s already paying you extra, wouldn’t it be wonderful if that bastard’s money actually went to building something beautiful, where anyone who needed help or a place to stay was welcome?”

Galvarys bared his fangs at Elyra, but the shine in his silver eyes told her it was more a gesture borne on principal than actual anger. “It is not the worst idea you’ve come up with.”

“Just think about it, Galvarys.” Elyra swept her hand through the air. “This whole place, alive and thriving with people who don’t think dragons are monsters, who welcome you when you arrive! Maybe they even welcome other dragons from other lands.” Elyra relished the silvery joy she saw shining in Galvarys eyes as she went on. “They could visit, or live here, and people would get to know them as I’ve gotten to know you. Maybe they could even invite some gryphons and you could all learn to get along.”

Galvarys stiffened and snapped his jaws. Oops. She’d gone one species too far.

Donal stroked the red stubble on his chin. “That’s the sort of thing Mother wanted. A place anyone could find sanctuary, human, dragon, gryphon, or anything. She’d help anyone who came here, no matter what. She wanted a whole village who could do that, it just…never came to be. A gryphon would probably be a big help building the place, though. And keeping it safe.”

Galvarys lashed his tail, his spines all flared. “Yes, just what you need, a bunch of thieving cat-birds to steal the whole village out from under you.”

Donal whirled around on the dragon, shaking a finger at him. “Listen, Dragon. If that gryphon you fought showed up here, I’d have helped him too. The gryphons have done a hell of a lot more for us than your kind ever have, but that didn’t stop me, or my mother, from tending you every time you showed up here bleeding all over yourself. If this place ever gets off the ground, if it works out? Everyone’s welcome, Dragon. That means gryphons. That even means you. I didn’t bring you down here to hear you badmouthing other creatures.”

“No.” Galvarys flared his wings, growling. He lowered his head till he was eye to eye with Donal. “You did not. But that gryphon nearly killed Elyra, and I cannot forgive him that.”

Elyra slipped forward to stand between Donal and Galvarys. She lifted a hand and set it on Galvarys’ cheek hoping to soothe the dragon. She rubbed his scales, whispering to him. “Galvarys, you shouldn’t direct your anger at the gryphon towards Donal. Please, take a breath and try to calm yourself.”

Galvarys rumbled, the sound a menacing threat that rolled through his chest. “I do not want gryphons upon my land. Especially not that gryphon.”

“No, I suppose not, it sounds like he’s just another life you’ve wrecked.” Donal grit his teeth, but did not back down from the dragon. “But these are not your lands, Dragon.”

Elyra turned away from the dragon to glare at Donal. She agreed with him, but she could not placate the dragon long enough for him to see reason if Donal kept antagonizing him. She held her hand up in hopes of silencing him. “Donal, you’re not helping. You two cannot get anywhere with this place if you’re constantly at each other’s throats.”

To Elyra’s surprise, Galvarys heaved a very defeated-sounding sigh behind her back. “Donal is right.” Elyra twisted round to the dragon again. His wings now hung limp at his sides, his ears drooped a little and his spines had sagged back against his head. “These are not my lands anymore. I’ve not had the courage to come back here in decades. If he wants to risk letting gryphons settle here, I will not stand in his way.” He glanced at Donal again, his voice sinking into a low growl. “But do not expect me to come rescue you should the cat-birds decide this land now belongs to them and they want you off it.”

“Won’t be a problem.” Donal’s face was flush, his jaw set. “You still wanna help me?”

Galvarys glanced down at Elyra. She stroked his jaw, smiling at him. This was a question the dragon had to answer for himself. When he gave Donal his answer, pride welled up inside Elyra. She knew the dragon would make the right choice.

“Just tell me what to knock down first.”

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Chapter Twenty Seven

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The first building to go was a mass of tangled, charred framework and twisted rubble long overgrown with thorny vines. The back wall stood burnt and crumbling but otherwise intact. A section of roof remained like an overhanging eave, drooping between the moldering support beams and crisscrossing wooden structures that held it aloft. The eave sagged as though exhausted and ready to fall yet denied that simple final dignity. A coil of ivy vines twisted up one of the remaining beams. A hearth of cracked red bricks that somehow clung together stood near a former wall. An abandoned nest of twining sticks protruded from the hearth’s opening. If Donal had a reason for starting with this ruin, if the building held some symbolic value it was not shared, and Galvarys did not ask.

Galvarys did not want to think about it, anyway. He did not want to think about the people who once dwelled in this ruined village. He didn’t want to remember why he came here, or how they brought this destruction on themselves. Galvarys didn’t want to think about thieving-cat birds or who stole who’s land, he did not want to ponder who was right and who was wrong. He just wanted to live his life.

Enough talking, enough thinking. Humans talked, dragons acted. It was time to bury this place, and move on.

Galvarys tore into the ruined building as though it were his enemy. He lashed out with his fore leg, unsheathed claws tore through moldering wood. Beams snapped with a loud crack, chunks of burnt wood and broken splinters sprayed through the air. The dragon barely even felt the impact reverberate up his foreleg. Elyra and Donal scrambled back and Galvarys kept moving. He rammed the top of his skull into the bottom of the drooping eave, then threw his head up, tearing it from its rotten mornings. In the process, another support beam came crashing down. He tossed his head, debris crashed to the ground and broke apart.

The dragon backed away a few paces, and then spun on his paws. His tail spines whistled through the air, shattering a section of cross-beam framework. Charred splinters rained upon the earth. Galvarys glanced over his flattened wings and kicked a hind leg out. He slammed his hind paw into the wall that yet stood, cracking what was left of the frame work. Another kick and the whole wall bucked, sagging in on itself.

Galvarys turned back towards the wreckage of the old house, advancing on the crumbling wall. With a furious snarl, he battered it with his forepaws. Unsheathed claws tore gouges through wood and crumbling mortar, and even as the wall collapsed completely, Galvarys struck it again and again. Galvarys tore the wall apart, old memories flickering in his mind. His mother’s smile, his first mate’s laugh, his father’s stories. Screams. Pain, fear. Smoke.

Fire.

Galvarys roared as he tore the wall apart. When there was nothing left of it but shredded wood and ash, he turned on the red-brick hearth. He put his forepaws against it, dug his hind legs into the debris-strewn ground and pushed. Stone and mortar cracked and the hearth broke apart into several chunks. Galvarys lashed at the stone bricks, chipped his claws. Screams still rang in his ears, and he hoisted up one of the heavy chunks of hearth, bricks still stubbornly mortared together. With a second roar he hurled it as far as he could down the hill. Before it shattered somewhere in the distance, the dragon had already picked up and hurled another one, and another, until there was no hearth left.

Until the dragon stood in nothing but the broken ruin of a mistake made.

“You feel better?” Donal’s voice drew the dragon from his memories.

Galvarys turned his head, gazing at the scattered debris pile where the ruined building stood only moments earlier. “A little. I feel tired, anyway.”

“That’s a start.” Donal fetched his shovel, and drove it into the earth. “Now we dig. You’ll be a lot more tired after that. But you might feel a little better, too.”

Elyra picked her way amidst the debris to hug Galvary’s head. Galvarys closed his eyes, leaning his head against her. Her warmth was comforting as always. She stroked his jaw, and Galvarys allowed himself to purr, even though Donal was there. Her fingers felt soft and soothing against his scales. Though he could not banish his memories, with Elyra’s help he was able to lock them away again for a little while.

As the dragon’s adrenaline faded, pain took its place. His paws ached from battering wood and stone, bruised pads would make even walking uncomfortable for a little while. He’d pulled and tugged and jarred all of his wounds. The glanced around at himself, a few lines of blood dribbled from a popped stitch. He knew the pain was only going to get worse, though, so he may as well work now and deal with the pain later.

Galvarys nuzzling Elyra’s cheek, savoring her touch, her scent. Even her now-familiar smell brought him comfort. He licked her cheek, and she tilted her head into his tongue. He licked her again, then when she tilted her head back he let his tongue slide over her throat. Galvarys doubted she had any idea how trusting a gesture that was, but appreciated it nonetheless.

He nudged her with his indigo snout, perking his ears. “Alright, alright. I’ve got to get back to work.”

“I’ll help.” Elyra pulled away from the dragon to find a shovel.

“You’re healing.” The dragon snorted. He didn’t want her risking her progress just to help dig a hole to bury his past.

“You’re bleeding.” Elyra glared at him. Damn. He was hoping she wouldn’t notice yet. “So you either let me help, or I drag you back to Nyira.”

Before Galvarys even had a chance to answer, Donal fetched himself a pick and handed Elyra his shovel. “Just take it slow.”

Together the three of them dug a grave for an old memory, a place to bury a scar. Galvarys did not know why Donal chose to bury the rubble. Galvarys doubted it was just because it was easier than loading it up into one of Donal’s carriages and carrying it off somewhere. Removing this place may have been just as cathartic for Donal as it was for Galvarys. Dragons burned their dead, when given a chance, but humans put them in the ground. Galvarys had already burned this place, and Donal’s mother put its lost in the ground. But it wasn’t just the people who died that day. Their whole village, and everything it stood for died with them. So too did part of Donal’s mother. Though he’d buried her, he had not buried what she was before Galvarys’ attack.

The dead had long been buried, but the wound they left behind would not close until the whole village joined them in the ground.

They were burying a village of dragon slayers to build a sanctuary in its stead.

Digging the hole took longer than Galvarys expected, and left his forelegs and shoulders aching worse than he’d anticipated. Worse, it left all his wounds throbbing in angry protest. Fresh droplets of blood ran from the broken stitches behind his shoulder. Galvarys pushed onward, and kept digging. The scent of freshly tilled mountain soil was nearly overwhelming, drowning out the sour scent of human scent and the faint copper tinge of dragon blood. In all his life, this might well be the first noble thing he’d ever done. He was damn sure not going to muck it up by raising a complete about a few aches and pains. When the hole was deep enough, they filled it with rubble then mounded the dirt atop it.

By then, Galvarys was exhausted. Not that the dragon would ever admit it. But when Elyra told Galvarys she thought he’d pushed himself far enough for one day, Galvarys was too tired to offer more than a token protest. As far as he was concerned, he’d done a good days work already. The dragon knew each day it would get a little easier.

Galvarys limped back to the barn alongside Elyra. Nyira gave him a few new stitches, a lecture about going too far, and then a meal. No sooner had Galvarys finished his food then he’d curled up and dropped into a deep, restful slumber. Morning came early, and when the first streamers of sunlight shone into his cavernous guest chamber, Galvarys was ready to start again. His body ached, but it was nothing he did not expect.

Day by passing day, he worked to bury the village he’d burned. Only once he began did he realize how much of an open wound the place was. Torn and gaping, the broken bones of the past exposed to the sun. A wound in need of closure that lingered upon the earth and in the souls of those who remained. Donal could not move on from his mother’s memory until this place was buried. Neither could Galvarys.

Galvarys rose each day when the sun was still low in the sky. He ate breakfast, and then began to work while morning sunlight painted the world in vibrant gold. Donal gave the dragon instructions on which buildings to demolish next and then let the dragon go to work. With shovel, pick, and axe Donal and Elyra helped where they could, but Galvarys did the hardest work. They dug holes in the earth to push the debris into, graves for buildings and lives that were snuffed out ages ago. Soon, the grassy hillside was increased pocked with mounds of freshly tilled earth between the blackened structures that lingered as tombs to the forgotten dragonslayer enclave.

It was an arduous process made all the more difficult by Galvarys’ many wounds. Though they were healing well, putting himself to strenuous work made each of them throb as though his were flesh were torn anew. After digging through hard earth and piles of broken rubble the dragon felt as though someone were jabbing a spear into his shoulder over and over. When he used his weight and power to bring down a stone hearth, fire poured through his side as though his ribs were being wrenched apart. And when he set his hind paws against the ground, dug in his claws and pushed against old walls, hot spikes pulsed in the arrow wound marking his scaly thigh.

Despite both pleas and demands from Elyra and Nyira that he not overexert himself, the dragon did just that. In the early going, it was rare for the dragon to make it through a whole day without popping out at least a few stitches from a wound or two. Galvarys was not sure which was worse, having still-healing wounds re-stitched without whiskey, or listening to the inevitable I-told-you-so. At least he did not totally re-open any of the wounds. They were healed well enough now that they stayed mostly closed even with the loss of a few stitches. They still bled though, and the dragon was starting to get used to the sight of crimson stripes on his indigo scales.

It did not take long before Galvarys decided he needed a nightly bath. His scales were caked in dried blood from broken stitches, and soot and soil from burying the old ruins. After a few days, Galvarys was more than ready to be clean again but Nyira did not want him submerging himself till his wounds were fully healed. Nyira asked if he’d be willing to settle for someone cleaning him with a tub of water and washcloths. At first Galvarys told her he’d be damned if he’d sit there like a panting hound being scrubbed down by its master. Granted, Nyira had bathed him muzzle to tail when he first arrived covered in a variety of blood, but in his defense he’d been half conscious at best. He eventually relented, but only because Elyra offered to be the one to bathe him, and in private.

At first it was embarrassing to need Elyra’s help bathing himself. While she’d bathed him before, that was quite different. That was under pleasant circumstances. He hadn’t needed her assistance then, now he actually required it. The dragon could not wait until he could just crawl into the water once more. Laying there feeling helpless as Elyra bathed him was awkward at first, but Galvarys’ humiliation gradually faded as time went on.

Bathing became a sort of nightly ritual for Galvarys and Elyra. First Elyra bathed herself with her own cloths and soapy water, and then she got fresh water to wash the dragon with. She did not use much soap for him, and not just because he hated the stuff. He was too big to easily rinse off, so she only used soap when she really had to scrub at some blood or grimy soot caked onto his scales. Though it began as an embarrassment, Galvarys had soon grown to enjoy being bathed by her.

Just as the first time she’d bathed him, her touch was always gentle, always soothing. She worked soft cloths against the scales of his face, stroked them down his neck. Elyra gently scrubbed his paws and forelegs, and took extra care when cleaning the dragon’s pads, bruised from days of hard labor. Since they were alone, Galvarys did not even bother to try and hide his purr when Elyra washed him.

Galvarys moved and shifted himself for Elyra as she washed him, but only when he had to. By the end of each day his whole body ached, and each of his wounds throbbed with a dull persistence that grew worse with motion. He had Elyra focus on bathing the areas that had gotten dirtiest during his labor, or where he’d bleed on himself from popping his stitches out again. Elyra even resisted the urge Galvarys imagined she had to tease him while bathing him.

For the most part, anyway.

When stitches in his thigh popped and left the indigo scales of his hind leg caked with lines of rusty red, Galvarys had to prop his hind limb up against a sturdy chair to give Elyra access to the length of it. Elyra washed away each snaking stripe with extra tenderness slow motions of her cloth-wrapped hands. She washed the dragon’s scaly thigh all the way up to where it met his body. As Elyra scrubbed the inside of Galvarys’ indigo thigh, her fingers brushed the dragon’s testicles a time or two before she worked her washcloth back down his limb. They exchanged a glance and a smile, and that was that.

There were a few such incidents while Elyra bathed him. They seemed to happen often enough that the dragon suspected she was doing it on purpose, but remained just isolated enough he could not prove it even if he wished too. Not that he minded, though it was for the best such incidents remained isolated. Even if the two of them wished to pursue such unusual indulges, recuperating in someone’s barn was hardly the ideal time and place. But the idea was there.

It had been for some time, in fact. Galvarys could not forget the first time she’d bathed him, and the effect her teasing had then. Nor could he forget the way she’d shuddered when he stroked her skin with his paw. There was something there between them, something they longed for. Something that Galvarys had gone long without now, and something he wondered if Elyra had ever before experienced. He knew how she’d been used, but had she ever been with someone she cared for? Had she ever been given but one chance to enjoy the experience herself?

The days passed, and as Galvarys body slowly healed, he could not stop himself from wondering. Not just about Elyra, but about the two of them. Together. What would their lives be like if they both shared the same feelings? Somehow, he imagined that dragons and humans approached that situation very differently. Doubly so when another species was involved. Surely many humans would think of a dragon and human together as an abomination. But dragons? Dragons saw the world differently from humans, and in many ways things were simpler in a dragon’s mind. Strength and happiness, justice and vengeance, love and pleasure.

Dragons lived long lives, but only when allowed it. For many dragons, life was short. Galvarys knew that far too well. Life was meant to be enjoyed because it could end at any moment, and to a dragon, love was love. It was a simple phrase that there were not enough dragons left to remember. Somehow Galvarys knew humans could complicate even that beautiful simplicity. Was that what he felt? Galvarys wished he had more experience. Though he had plenty of experience with females, he had little of it with love itself. There was a time when he was falling in love with a female, but like everyone else in his life she was taken from him far too early.

After that, after this place, Galvarys had few deep friendships. The woman who lived here was not exactly someone he’d call a friend. Though he’d met and befriend other dragons, and spend time with females, those were friendships of a more casual sort than what he now had with Elyra. Those were the sort of friendships where he’d spend a few weeks living with a female he fancied, share companionships, laughs, and pleasure, and then go home again. He always thought he enjoyed the solitude, now he wondered if he’d only tolerated it because he knew little alterative.

Whatever he had with Elyra, whatever it led too, it was something deeper and more powerful than he’d ever experienced. It was a rising tide, a flood that grasped and pulled at his heart, threatening to wash him away. The greater the flood became, the more he wished to let it wash over him and pull him under its warm embrace. Whatever that feeling was, he wanted to wrap himself in it forever even if it drowned him.

Galvarys knew it was fear that prevented him from speaking his thoughts earlier. He’d tried, but even when not being interrupted the words were an anchor chained round his tongue. Rare was the time the dragon did not speak his thoughts the moment he had them, yet he’d never been faced with this dilemma. He feared her reply. That fear that kept him from putting his feelings to words even when he struggled to force them past his tongue.

As his body healed, his tasks grew easier, and his thoughts grew clearer. Each ruined building Galvarys helped demolish was another stitch in an old wound left open far too long. Focusing his energy on his work also helped him focus his thoughts. By the end of each day, he’d fit a new piece in the puzzle in his heart. One by one, those pieces built a beautiful whole. Elyra’s every smile untangled the knots that bound his uncertain heart. Every comforting touch she offered was a warm balm upon his very soul until at last Galvarys knew. Until at last his mind echoed the words that settled in his heart long before.

Galvarys loved her.

That simple admission was all it took to ease the last of his burden. The lingering fear bled from him like water sliding across his scales. The dragon realized it did not matter how she replied. It did not matter if she loved him back, or what the world would think, or how deeply he feared his inability to protect her. His feelings would not change, and life was better spent enjoying the present than fearing the future. To Galvarys, all that mattered was that he loved Elyra. Whatever that meant for them, Elyra deserved to know.

Now he simply needed a chance to tell her. But not here, not in this place of tragedy and pain. Not where their last bumbling attempts at intimate conversations kept getting interrupted. No, he would tell her when he could take her somewhere private. The wait would be difficult, but Galvarys knew he could handle it. He’d waited this long to admit things to himself, he could wait a little while longer to tell Elyra.

As soon as the damn stitches were out, that was when he’d tell her. When he could fly again, he would take her somewhere beautiful, somewhere meaningful. And when they were alone, Galvarys would bare his heart, and tell her the truth. Galvarys knew she may well reject him, they were not even the same species. But love was love and he could not deny it. The one he loved deserved to know how he felt. Enough words had been wasted in stumbling attempts to broach the subject. He had the words now, and he was ready to say them. Humans talked, dragons acted.

Soon Galvarys would act upon his love.

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“You know, you could probably go a few more days on these stitches.”

“I don’t care.” Elyra fixed her gray gaze upon Nyira, smirking. “If Galvarys is getting his out, I want mine out too.”

“Dragons heal faster than humans.” Nyira prodded one of Elyra’s stitched wounds.

Elyra grimaced, though the pain from the wound was almost gone. Weeks had passed since the first began to help bury the old village. “Galvarys’ wounds are also much larger, so if his are healed, I’m sure mine are. Mine are just little claw punctures, anyway.”

Nyira chuckled, shaking her head. Black hair swished in front of her eyes before she hooked it behind her ears. “Claw punctures that could have killed you.”

“Only because they took infection. Now they’re just lovely scars.” Elyra turned her head to look at the four stitched wounds on her bare arm. They looked like fat pink warts with thick, bristly hairs.

“You sound like the dragon.” Nyira touched another wound. “Never seen a creature so proud of his own scars.”

“No, this sounds like the dragon.” Elyra dropped her voice into a gruff growl. “Take my damn stitches out, Girl!”

Nyira giggled, testing the next wound. “That was pretty good.”

“Thanks.” Elyra tried to toss her head like Galvarys. Fiery red hair didn’t toss quite as well as spines and horns. “I mean it, though. Take the damn stitches out or I’m doing it myself.”

“Very well.” Nyira rose up to fetch some a small pair of shears, some medicinal spirits and few cloths. “Shouldn’t take long, but it’ll sting a bit.”

“That’s fine.” Elyra shifted herself. She leaned forward in the chair to rest her arm against the wooden table. At the moment she wore a blue skirt but no shirt to give Nyira access to her wounds. Instead Elyra simply rolled her blouse up a little and draped it around her neck so that it hung down to cover her breasts. After a life spent in one room with a dozen women, nudity wouldn’t have bothered Elyra but it was nice to be allowed her modesty. “How long will it take to get all of Galvarys stitches out?”

“Longer than yours.” Nyira dragged a chair towards Elyra. She felt silent, and Elyra could almost feel the other woman’s eyes roaming the scars her bare back. It wasn’t the first time, and Elyra knew must be curious. As always Nyira held her tongue on the matter, and appreciated it. “As long as the dragon doesn’t squirm or complain it shouldn’t take too long.”

“After all you two have done for us, if he complains about anything at all, I suggest you kick him square in the balls.” Elyra smirked at Nyira.

Nyira laughed as she settled backwards in her chair, looking over Elyra’s arm. “I think you’re the only one who could get away with kicking the dragon in the sapphires without being devoured.”

“Fine then.” Elyra moved her arm a little closer to Nyira. “Let me know if he complains, and I’ll kick him for you.”

“Sounds as though you already have.” Nyira worked her shears into position, and snipped a loop of stitch.

Elyra grit her teeth as the sinew stitch was pulled through the still-tender flesh. “I had to, he dared me.”

Nyira paused. “He dared you…to…”

Wait, that didn’t come out right. “No, I mean…It was more of a challenge, really. I told him it would happen if he called me a wench, and he called me a wench anyway.”

“You’re braver than I am,” Nyira murmured, snipping another set of stitches. She glanced up at Elyra. “I must ask though. Did it work?”

“Too well, actually.” Elyra laughed at the memory. “He toppled over onto me like a big scaly sack of grain. But on the plus side, he hasn’t dared call me a wench since.”

Nyira shared the other woman’s laughter as she moved to the next stitch. “I suppose you both learned a lesson.”

“Yes, next time I’ll kick him from behind.” Elyra giggled again, watching the stitches slide through her skin. “That doesn’t hurt too much, actually.”

“It will when I rinse them.” Nyira patted the flask of spirits. “I suspect your dragon has other reasons for not using that word. I wouldn’t call my friends names they hate, either. Could you lean back?”

Elyra leaned back to expose the stitches along her side. “You’re right.”

Elyra smiled to herself as Nyira began to pull the stitches out of her other wounds. Galvarys had shown himself to respect her too much to call her that now. It was not lost on Elyra that a dragon showed her more respect than humanity ever had. A creature they all thought was some wicked monster was the one to show her how it felt to be respected, to be cared for. She’d gone to him seeking only an escape from her daily abuse, and found in him a friendship of the likes she never believed she’d have. More than that, she found—

“You seem happy.” Nyira pulled the last of the stitches out, setting them atop the table.

Elyra hadn’t realized she was smiling, let alone how bright that smile shone until Nyira mentioned it. She must have looked like a young girl dreaming of some boy she fancied, not a woman who simply thought the very world of a dragon. Embarrassment reddened her ears, heat rose in her cheeks and she glanced away.

Elyra forced a sheepish laugh. “Happy to be getting those damn stitches out.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s what it is.” Nyira smirked and patted Elyra’s hand.

Elyra’s face grew so hot she feared her hair would combust. Was it that obvious? She wondered if Galvarys knew. He must, right? Then again, he seemed to have as much trouble reading her as she sometimes had with him. Elyra also knew she’d inadvertently shut him down a few times when he seemed on the verge of telling her he…well…perhaps it was best not to think too hard about it. Could he even? He wasn’t even human. But he still felt it. She certainly did. Elyra lifted her hand and wiped away the perspiration beading on her forehead.

“I’m going to rinse your wounds now. After that, you can put your blouse back on and go find your dragon.” Nyira began to pour harsh spirits over the cloth. The astringent aroma burned Elyra’s nostrils.

“Go ahead.” Elyra set her jaw. From the Nyira emphasized her words, she must have known. But did it matter?

Nyira pressed the cloth to Elyra’s arm, rubbing it over her four wounds. Fiery pinpricks ignited across her skin. Elyra sucked in a hissing breath, gritting her teeth. She balled up her fists. That hurt more than she’d expected, but at least the holes would close up easily enough on their own. When Nyira finished with her arm, soaked the cloth with fresh spirits before pressing it to the wounds marring Elyra’s side. Elyra’s back arched in pain as a new set of sharp claws prodded her tender scars. When Nyira finally pulled the cloth away, the pain eased and Elyra let her breath out.

“There you are.” Nyira smiled at her, and squeezed her shoulder. “You’re all done. If it was up to me, you’d have kept those stitches in a few days longer, and you’d stick around here another week or so just to make sure you don’t take any new infections. But I’m sure you two are more than ready to go home.”

Elyra chuckled to herself. She turned away from Nyira and pulled her blouse from around her neck. It was purple, the sleeves a little frillier than Elyra liked, but she wasn’t going to complain about borrowed clothing. Though she hadn’t asked Nyira about any of the things she was given to wear, most of them seemed too nice to sully with farm work. Probably the sort of thing the woman wore when they went into town for the winter. Pulling it over her head made her freshly washed scars burn a little more, but the discomfort faded quickly enough.

“We’ll stay until we’ve got the last of the ruins removed, but after that we really should be going.” Elyra picked up a brush from the table and struggled to tame her scarlet hair. Without a good bath it was getting increasingly tangled and knotted. “But we do need to get back. The Five Villages probably think poor Galvarys got himself killed.”

“Do you think they’d see that as good, or bad?”

Elyra paused, the brush nearly hanging from her hair. Nyira seemed to mean the question innocently enough, but it did make her think. “I don’t know. Bad, I think. He does keep them safe.”

“Yes, I’m sure they’ve just been overrun with bandit hoards running roughshod everywhere without him.” Nyira began to pack away her things in a wooden box with feathers engraved upon it.

Elyra scrunched her nose. “He does more for them than you know.”

“I meant no insult.” Nyira spoke softly, locking the box.

“I know,” Elyra said, brushing her hair again. “He really does try and keep them safe. I think he’s proud of that. When that gryphon came, Galvarys was going to fight him. Not for me, but to protect the town. Galvarys, he’s…he’s better than what everyone thinks of him. I am honored to know the best parts of him, to know his heart, and yet sometimes it saddens me that no one knows him like I do.”

Nyira rose up to put her box of supplies away. “Whatever makes you happy, Elyra.”

Elyra blinked in a moment of confusion. “What do you mean?”

Nyira paused, then set the box down on the table. She sank back into her chair, and lay her hand upon Elyra’s. “It’s there in your eyes, Elyra, that happy spark when you think of him. And it’s there in your voice when you speak of him. Whatever makes you happy, Elyra.”

Elyra bit her lip and looked away when she caught on. “I know he’s not…human. But he…I know people will think…”

“You already live with him, Elyra, people already think that.” Nyira squeezed her hand again, smiling. “But you don’t strike me as the type to care what people think. It is your life to live, Elyra. Yours and no one else’s. What the rest of us think is irrelevant. You don’t need our approval to be happy.”

Elyra stared down at Nyira’s hand, smiling. “No, I don’t.”

“And don’t forget it.” Nyira patted Elyra’s hand and stood up. “Now go find your dragon. And don’t let him forget he owes us for all my poor goats.”

Elyra pushed herself up out of her chair, unable to wipe the smile from her face even if she wanted too. Nyira was right. It did not matter if anyone else approved or not. It was her life, hers and Galvarys, and their life together was no one else’s business. What did it matter if they were looked down upon for it? Elyra was used to being looked down upon. She’d lived a life of scorn just for being born who she was, why should loving a dragon be any different?

Elyra tripped and stumbled when the word rolled through her mind. She caught her balance before she fell, bracing herself with a hand against a pine wood door frame. It wasn’t that the word was really a surprise. The feeling had been there, coiled in the warmest shadows of her heart for some time now. But it was rare that she actually let that word cross her thoughts, let alone her tongue. And while she knew the dragon cared for her, she did not know deep that river ran. He seemed embarrassed enough just to admit he liked her. Did that embarrassment hint at something deeper? It did seem to be the only subject he didn’t just blurt out his thoughts at every opportunity.

Even if he did, would he want her that way? She was human. To a dragon she imagined herself as nearly a lesser being. Surely he’d rather go and find himself a female dragon to spend his years with. For that matter, how many years would he live? Probably more than her. Did any of that matter? Even if he saw her only as a comforting friend, Elyra would wake every morning filled with joy to know she got to spend her life with Galvarys.

Her life with Galvarys. What a wonderful idea.

Elyra left the house and strode into the late morning sunshine. The warmth in her heart would have chased away the lingering nighttime chill if the sunlight hadn’t already done so. When she felt soft, sun-warmed grass beneath her bare feet she realized she hadn’t even remembered to put her borrowed shoes on. She’d been too lost in thought to bother, and now she didn’t even walk to take the time to find them. She just wanted to go and hug her dragon.

It was not hard to find him. Galvarys was in front of the barn, strutting about and stretching his limbs as though he had a whole harem of female dragons to show himself off too. It was a shame the only one watching his display was Donal, and he did not seem pleased with it. Elyra giggled to herself as she walked towards him. The dragon paused, stretched his hind leg and groaned. Then he took a few steps, and stretched his foreleg the same way with a similar noise.

“I didn’t take the stitches out just so you could try and open up your wounds again, Dragon!” Donal folded his arms, grunting.

Galvarys glanced at the man, spines lifted. “Don’t be a fool. If I’m going to open them, I’d rather do before I take to the air.” Galvarys spread his wings, beat them swiftly a few times. He peered at the thick pink scar between his ribs, then beat his wings again. “They haven’t bled from the last week’s work, so I think they are healed. I just wish to be sure before I take Elyra flying.”

“Take me flying?” Elyra grinned.

Galvarys swung his head around towards her. The warm light shining in his silver eyes seemed almost as joyous to see her in that moment as she was to see him. “I did promise, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but we don’t have to rush things.”

“No, Elyra. This is the time.” The dragon padded towards her, folding his wings again. “Are you freed from your bindings?”

Elyra giggled. “I wouldn’t exactly call them bindings, but yes, my stitches are all out. I’ll take your display to mean yours are as well.”

Galvarys looked back at himself as if making sure. He lifted a foreleg, stretched his hind leg, and then nodded. “They are.”

As soon as he looked at her again, Elyra grabbed the dragons head and hugged it as fiercely as she ever had. She pressed herself to Galvary’s head, wanting to wrap the dragon in her warmth. She laid her face against his scales and closed her eyes. Then she worked a hand up his neck to stroke him, breathing a happy sigh against his indigo armor. When she felt the dragon’s paw against her back, she arched into it a little and Galvarys rubbed her back. She felt his muzzle and throat vibrate a little, a silken purr crept from him before he quelled it.

“I think we’re making Donal uncomfortable.” Galvarys rumbled his amusement.

Elyra kissed the dragon’s scales, grinning. “I’m too busy hugging you to care.”

Elyra pulled back from the dragon eventually, dusting off her blouse. She glanced over at Donal, who was doing his best to look at anything but the two of them. “Thank you so much for taking such wonderful care of us, Donal. Do you think Galvarys is ready to fly?”

Donal shrugged, turning his gaze back to the dragon. “I can say no, but he’s going to do it anyway. I don’t think he’s going to open anything up, though.”

Elyra moved around the dragon to put her hand upon his neck. She stroked his scales, smiling at Donal. “Then do you think we have a day off? He did promise to take me flying as soon as he got his stitches out.”

“Again, pretty sure even if I told him to stay here and work, he’d fly off anyway.” Donal chuckled, nudging his boot against grass long since flattened by weeks of being trod upon by a dragon. “Hell, he’s more than earned it. You both have. You don’t gotta stick around to help anymore, if you won’t.”

“As flattered as I am by your attempts to be rid of me, I have no such intentions.” Galvarys turned his head to gaze at Donal, his neck curling beneath Elyra’s hand. “I will not leave this place until the task is completed.”

“As you wish, Dragon.” Donal bowed his head.

“But as she said, I promised Elyra flight.” Galvarys rested his head on Elyra’s shoulder.

She grinned, shifting herself to rub his nose. “That you did.”

“I also promised myself a bath.” Galvarys lifted a foreleg and curled it around Elyra’s belly. “As fine a job as you’ve done keeping my paws clean, I’d like to actually soak myself again.”

“Is there a place you can fly us where we can bathe?” Elyra let her hand slip down to rest against Galvary’s paw. She stroked his fingers as he ran his paw up and down her side.

“As long as the hot spring I intend to fly too has not dried up in the years I’ve been away.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Elyra beamed at the dragon. After weeks spent breaking down ruins and bathing with wet clothes, nothing sounded more wonderful and more relaxing than to soak in a hot bath with her dragon. She glanced at Donal. “I hate to ask, but…”

Donal just shook his head, laughing. “Yeah, yeah. We’ve got towels you can borrow. And a cloak for you to wear while you fly. Come on, I’ll show you where they are.”

“Elyra.” Galvarys’ voice was uncharacteristically subdued. As he lifted his head from her shoulder, his spines trembled, half-lifted from his head. “There is something I’d like to share with you today.”

“I’d like that.” Those were the only words Elyra could find in the moment. She reached out to stroke the pebbly scales of his chin, then leaned forward to kiss him between his nostrils. “I’ll be right back, and then we’ll fly, and you can share anything you want with me.”

Elyra forced herself to pull back from the dragon. She wanted to stay there with him forever, but she knew she had plenty of time to spend with Galvarys today. With a smile, she turned away, her skirt flourishing around as she hurried back to the house to fetch her things. Elyra wasn’t sure what Galvarys wanted to share with her, but she knew what she wanted to share with the dragon.

Her life.

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Chapter Twenty Eight

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Elyra cried out to the sky as Galvarys ascended. There was no fear in the sound, in was not a scream. Elyra’s voice was an exultant roar, a joyous bell ringing to celebrate her return to the air, and Galvarys return to his wings. The dragon roared with her, the happy bellows twisting together as they reverberated across the land. Echoing evidence of the elation they shared to finally soar together again.

Elyra had swapped her clothes for something better suited to flight. Though the unseasonably warm autumn weather lingered, it was always colder on the wing. She’d also learned that skirts were not the most appropriate thing to wear while riding dragon-back. She’d put on a heavy lavender blouse with silver loops hemming the sleeves, and a few simple black buttons at the top. She also wore thick pair of brown leather breeches. The breeches did not fit as well as some of the other things she’d borrowed from Nyira but she wouldn’t have to wear them that long anyway. She wrapped a heavy cloak around herself lined with plush fur. She tied her scarlet hair behind her head with a green ribbon. Elyra had also packed several bags full of towels and some soap and wash clothes, and tied those bags to Galvarys legs and tail. The dragon didn’t seem especially pleased with that idea but he didn’t complain. Much.

As Galvarys rose, Elyra gazed out across the vastness of the world. The stone-capped hill that once sheltered the village of dragonslayers was once of many like it. They rose and fell in bumpy, gray and green patterns like the warts on some slumbering monster’s back. From above the all looked the same save one. The hill where Galvarys discovered his wrath was now marked by uneven lines where mounds of earth entombed much of the ruined village. Even that was out of sight within a few dozen wing beats.

Beyond the tallest hills lay the ocean of blue-green pine and fir that Elyra was more familiar with. Here, even the forest seemed molded in endless waves where the earth had buckled beneath the trees in ages past. Despite the late season warmth, the forest knew winter was coming. Autumn fire colored the forest in brilliant swirls of red and yellow. Soon the wind would tear the dying leaves from their stubborn moorings, and the trees would slumber in snowy blankets till the sunlight grew warm against.

In the far distance, at the edge of her vision, Elyra spotted something blackened that stood out against a towering, distant hill. Sunlight glittered off a stream that wound around the rise. Elyra squinted. She caught glimpses of burnt framework around the base of the hill, with the remains of a scorched, stone structure on top of it. Another dragonslayers enclave Galvarys burned down. Elyra stared at the ruin as it passed in the distance, gently rubbing the dragon’s neck.

“The fledgling.”

“What?” Elyra glanced at Galvarys.

The dragon turned his long neck, gazing at the ruin. “You were looking at that ruin. I remember the fledgling there.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

“I know.” Galvarys glanced back at her. The usual shine in his silver eyes was dulled by his flight membranes. “I remember that place. They took one of us there, in the winter.” The dragon’s voice trembled.

Elyra leaned forward to press her cheek to his neck. “It’s alright Galvarys!”

“I had to find my mother, first.” The dragon turned his head away from the ruins, fixing his gaze on the mountains looming ahead of them. “And when that did not end me, I had to end the rest of them, instead. A few of them had gryphons. The gryphons, they…they used to help. That was how the humans found our clan, found my mother and I. The gryphons led them to us. Sometimes they fought us. A few fought me in the villages. But not that one.”

“Not the fledgling?” Elyra stroked the scales of the dragon’s neck.

“No.” Galvarys flared his spines, snarling. “Nor his mother. She’d allied herself with the dragonslayers, she had no doubt helped them find us in our last sanctuary, and yet I could not kill her. She had a child, a squawking, brave little fledgling who would have flung himself at me to protect his home and his mother if she had not restrained him. For all the fear I saw in the flames reflecting his eyes, he would have given his life to protect his mother. I knew that feeling. I knew it so well. It gave me a moment’s pause. That was all it took to realize I did not want to put that fledgling through the same anguish they made me suffer. I would not harm a child, and I could not bring myself to take his mother from him. So I told her to take her son and fly as far from my lands as her wings would carry her, and then I burned down their home behind them.”

Elyra kissed the dragon’s neck, sickness twisting her stomach. “It’s him, isn’t it.” Despite what the creature did, she felt a moment of pity for him.

“I do not know who else it could be, Elyra.”

“It really is a cycle.” Elyra sighed, sitting up a little straighter on the dragon’s back. Wind buffeted the fur-lined hood around her face. The cold winds that stung her nose crept into her body, frozen fingers gripped her chest. Humans, dragons, gryphons, they all killed each other over land and belief and they all took revenge. “It has to end, Galvarys.”

“Yes.” The dragon pinned his spines back against his head. “I think it does.”

“I think you can end it, Galvarys.” Elyra called out to the dragon, smiling. “I really do!”

Galvarys turned his head. The dragon gave her a smile that melted the ice that clutched her heart. “If anything, Elyra, you are the one to show me the cycle can be ended. You prove to me there are other ways to make peace with humans. That even between humanity and dragons, there can be…” Galvarys trailed off.

His flight membranes pulled back, his silver eyes gleaming in the sun as he stared at her. Elyra blushed a moment under his stare. The wind made his eyes tear up, and the dragon closed his protective membranes again, turning away. He whispered something, but it was lost to the wind, and he turned his head away.

Elyra thought she knew what word he spoke, and she desperately wished she’d heard it. But she knew not to press Galvarys well. Instead, she had something else eating at her mind lately, some theory, some puzzle she’d been piecing together but did not know how cooperative the dragon would be in helping her complete it.

“How many?”

Galvarys glanced back at her again, and Elyra tilted her head towards the distant ruin.

“How many were there?”

“Five. A few outposts, and encampments, but five villages built on the bones of dragons.”

“Is that a coincidence? You burned five that tried to kill you, and spared the five that did not?”

Galvarys glanced back at her, lifting his spines. “They all tried to kill me, Elyra. They might not have all been built around death, but they all wished it upon me. There simply came a time that…I’d had enough. Enough of fighting for my life, enough of killing. I did not want to be remembered as just another dragon who burned and killed and was finally slain. I was the last of my clan, and no one remembered the others but me. If I died before they knew my name…I had to be remembered, Elyra. We had to be remembered. And legends are never forgotten.”

“Then we’ll make you the most legendary dragon this world has ever known!” Elyra leaned forward to hug the dragon’s neck.

“I’d like that.” Galvarys smiled back at her a moment. Elyra felt his muscles rolling beneath her as he beat his wings faster, accelerating. Already the fledgling’s ruined village was far behind them, yet Galvarys seemed eager for even more distance. “Enough unpleasantness. I wish only to share joy today!”

“I’ll share whatever you want, Galvarys.” Elyra kissed his neck, then eased back to watch the land glide away beneath them.

“Good!” The dragon raised a foreleg and swept it through the air. “The land up ahead of us is where I lived when I was young! This whole place once belonged to dragons. It only belongs to me, now, and perhaps even that is no longer true. But I did not bring you here for sorrow. I brought you here to share my happier times, my favorite memories!”

At the foot of the mountains stretched a vast rolling meadow, larger and lusher than any Elyra had seen since she left the Hall. Thick green grasses carpeted it even in the throes of autumn. Lush moss coated heavy boulders long since toppled down from the towering peaks, turning the massive stones into misshapen emerald monuments. Copses of aspens still clutched dandelion colored leaves. A few runner vines speckled with indigo blooms provided late season color, as did a peppering of flowers like tiny crimson wheels amidst all the green.

At the edge of the meadow, the mountains rose abruptly as if some great stony beast had collapsed as it strode the length of the meadow. Wind, weather and time had shaped each mountain differently. Each peak had its own story to tell about the creatures who once dwelled in them. A series of jagged peaks capped in snow were like white claws trying to drag down the sky. Another mountain had a pebbly surface run through with cracks, as though the dragons carved it in the image of their own scales. A sheer cliff marked a third, the shield of some timeless sentinel. A waterfall trickled over the edge, small streams cut valleys between each of the mountains. The barky, exposed roots of gnarled trees crept across stone and clung to earth-filled crevices. Darkened caverns pocked the faces of cliffs, trails snaked over ledges and across tundra meadows dotted with sage.

“It’s beautiful!” Elyra cried out, lifting her voice of the rushing wind.

“I know!” Galvarys looked back at her, happy memories shone in his eyes even past the dulling membranes that protected them. “It was even more so when there were other dragons in the sky!”

Elyra had no trouble imagining it. She saw Galvarys as a tiny hatchling, laughing and bounding across the meadow. A few other dragon children chased him, snapping at his tail. Strong as he was, he must have been king among the hatchlings, outrunning and outwrestling all the rest. She imagined Galvarys’ mother. She was sleek, blue and beautiful as she spun in the sky. His father lounged in the sun on a Cliffside ledge, watching her fly. A few other dragons lay atop one of the grassy rises, watching their children play.

“I wish I could have seen it!”

“As do I, Elyra.” As they approached the looming cliffs, Galvarys dipped his wing, lazily turning.

“When the cycle breaks, Galvarys.” Elyra smiled to herself, adjusting her cloak. “You can invite more dragons to come and live here with you again! If you can make peace with the villages, they all can!”

Galvarys did not reply to that idea, but Elyra did catch a glimpse of his smile before he managed to wipe it from his snout. When his turn was complete, he flew alongside the cliffs that edged the meadow. Winds gusted and buffeted him a little, and Elyra held herself against his neck till he smoothed out his flight. They flew past a series of ledges and caves close enough for Elyra to see scratches in the stone where dragon claws once found purchase.

“That was ours once I knew how to use my wings!” Galvarys called out as they flew past a wide ledge beneath one of the larger caves. He unsheathed a few claws, and waved them towards a smaller tunnel that emerged atop a stony-looking rise dotted with brambles and brush. “When I was a hatchling, we lived there. They didn’t want to worry about me toppling over the edge. At least not till I was old enough to catch myself with my wings.”

Elyra giggled to herself, resting her cheek on the back of the dragon’s neck as she clung to him. That sounded just like something Galvarys would do. Wake up at night, wander around in a groggy stupor, and tumble off a ledge. Come to think of it, he’d probably still do that now if he lived in a cave. He’d be so busy telling Elyra about his own greatness he wouldn’t see the cliff until he’d plunged over it.

“Of course, once my sister hatched we had to move back down there again for the same reason!” Galvarys laughed, shaking his head.

Sister? Elyra blinked, lifting her head a little. He’d never mentioned a sister. Just as she opened her mouth to ask him, she remembered his speech, the first day she’d ever met him. You feel the heartbeat of Galvarys the Wrathful. I am eldest of Ayvyrial.

Eldest.

It was there all along, and she’d never seen it. A thousand questions flooded her mind, a swarm of stinging possibilities, each more painful than the last. Elyra half wondered if he’d even meant to let that slip out. Was she…? She could not have been very old.

“Down there is where my friend Syly lived!” Galvarys rumbled, dipping lower towards the ground to soar past a boulder marked by old carvings and sigils. Beyond it was the mouth of the cave, more carved images and runes surrounded its entrance. “Syly was a lovely thing, almost as mischievous as I was.”

Galvarys had changed the subject before it even had a chance to begin. So be it, then. After all, he wanted to focus on Joy, and Elyra was happy to do the same. She stroked a few of his scales, his body rolling beneath her. “Mischievous? No wonder you two were friends.”

“Causing trouble was practically our pastime!” Galvarys grinned, winging away from the mountainside. “As she grew, she was perhaps the only one more headstrong than me.” He beat his wings, rising a little higher. Then he spun in the air, and soon flew above a swath of forest edging the meadow. He circled a glade, and Elyra saw a small spring bubbling up inside it. It glittered in the sunlight, soft moss surrounded it around it. “That was where we used to sneak away too, when we got a little older.”

“Oh?” Elyra grinned, leaning over to watch the sunlight sparkle on the water. “Was she your…”

“Yes, she was the first female I mounted!”

Elyra giggled, shaking her head. Not the way she was going to put it, but she’d expect nothing else from Galvarys. “How romantic of you.”

“It was perfectly romantic!” The dragon snapped his jaws, then tilted his head, circling the glad again. “Perhaps not the way I put it, but at the time, it was…it was beautiful. It was private, and peaceful, and…well, looking back it was awkward and quick, but at the time, it was perfect. We lay together all day, after, and we simply felt…at peace.”

Elyra shared the dragon’s smile. That did sound wonderful. She’d never felt at peace afterwards in all her life. Part of her envied the dragon that simple, private moment. “I’m glad, Galvarys! I’m glad you got to have that with her!”

Galvarys glanced back, smiling before he wheeled away from the glade. “So am I, Elyra. I have somewhere else for us to bathe, though. That spot is…”

“I understand completely, Galvarys! You leave that place just the way it is in your mind.” Elyra settled between his pumping wings, patting his back. “Whenever you remember the pain, remember that place, and the joy it brought you! Remember your best moments with her, not the worst times of your life!”

“I do, Elyra.” Galvarys turned his attention towards the mountains, and began to fly towards them again. “Even if more and more my best moments are with you.”

Elyra swallowed, heat rushing to her ears. She tugged the hood tighter around her face, trying to hide her blush. “You and Syly must have concocted quite a story to tell your parents if you were out that long.”

“Nonsense, Elyra. I told my mother we’d mated.”

“Really? She wasn’t upset with you?”

“Of course not.” Galvarys flared his spines. “What we were to wait for, Elyra? Marriage? Dragons believe that life is to be enjoyed! A gift to be cherished with those you cherish yourself. Mating and pleasure are celebrations of life, in a way, and Sylyryn was someone I…cherished.” Elyra felt Galvarys neck twitch when he swallowed. “We’d already lost half our clan by then, Elyra. We were still young, but we were hardly children. We both knew…we all knew that every day we awoke might be our last. Any one of us might be next. Our lives were gifts to be enjoyed, and we enjoyed together them while we still had the chance.”

“That’s…” Elyra licked her lips, glancing down. When it was put like that, it made her feel embarrassed on behalf of all humanity. It also made her long for someone in her life her cherished her that way. “That’s actually quite beautiful.”

“Of course it is.” Galvarys snorted. “It comes from dragons.”

Even Galvarys’ ego could not tarnish the beautiful simplicity of such an ideal.

Elyra hugged herself against Galvarys neck as the dragon adjusted course. He winged across the meadow, heading towards the mountains again. With a few flicks of his wings, he’d aimed himself for a narrow, winding canyon that cut up into the mountain range, torrents of water pouring over rocks at the bottom of it, collecting in swirling pools. Elyra had fallen back into the feelings and rhythms of flight easily enough. Though it took her time to adjust to the way flight made her stomach lurch when she first began riding the dragon, by the time she’d been captured by the gryphon she barely even noticed the feeling. She’d feared her time spent recovering would mean she’d have to take time to get used to flying all over again, but that was not the case.

Perhaps it was just the simple joy she found in flying that made it easier for her to grow comfortable with all the swooping motions. Humans might not be meant to fly, but they could damn sure enjoy it. It made Elyra wonder how many other people in the world had the privilege of flying on a dragon’s back. There could not be many. Hell, given the way most humans seemed to go out of their way to kill dragons, Elyra might be one of the few who’d ever befriended one. Even that was unintentional. Granted, dragons didn’t always make it easy to befriend them, what with their conquest and all. But humans did the same things to each other. When a human nation lay claim to a swath of land, they were expanding, colonizing. When a dragon did the same, it made them a monster to be slain.

It was a wonder there were any dragons left. Elyra grit her teeth, rubbing Galvarys scales as the dragon flew into the narrow canyon. Wind buffeted them, threatening to tear her fur-lined hood from her head. She wrapped one hand around the dragon’s neck, clutched her hood with the other. Elyra wondered just how many were left. She’d like to meet more of them someday, provided Galvarys was there to tell them she was a friend, not food. Maybe there was some part of the world yet unconquered by man, where dragons still roamed free. Galvarys knew a few other dragons, after all. Elyra wondered just how far away they lived. Did they dwell on free lands, or did they have a truce with humans like Galvarys? Could there be some realm where humans and dragons actually lived together? It sounded like a nice place. Yet it was such a lovely, peaceful ideal Elyra was sure someone would find a way to screw it up.

Then there were the gryphons. They seemed to get along better with humans than dragons did, and yet if anything they were even more hostile towards the dragons. Maybe that was just her experience speaking. Elyra knew she couldn’t judge every gryphon based on the one who attacked her, just as she couldn’t judge every dragon by Galvarys. Still, she wished more people could get to know him to judge his species based on their better attributes, and not their worst qualities. Surely, if humans and dragons could forge a truce or a friendship, then so too could dragons and gryphons.

That was all to say nothing of the other myriad races in the world. The Va’chaak, the Urd’thin and Koraagi, and who knows what else was out there. For all she knew, those so-called barbarian races might have their own nations out there somewhere. The nobles in the capital weren’t exactly interested in educating their servant wenches on the world beyond the Hall of Nobility.

At least Donal and Nyira had the right idea. A sanctuary where creatures of all species could go to find shelter and peace. Elyra wasn’t sure how they planned to mediate disputes between dragons and gryphons without any bloodshed but the ideal was solid. If it worked out, perhaps the various races might even find some sort of kinship there. It would be nice if there was at least one place they could go where they’d all agree to behave themselves. A tiny place, but it was a start. It was a shame Galvarys couldn’t use his influence to create his own such place. He certainly had the land for it, he could fit any number of dragons and gryphons and so on across his lands, if they were all willing to live near each other peacefully.

Then again, why couldn’t he? With all the lands he called his own, he could practically start his own nation for outcast and unwanted species. Not that the dragon’s grudges would ever allow him to do so. She could not blame him that, the birds seemed to have helped humans annihilate his clan. And they’d come for her to get to him. That was not an easy thing for her to forgive, either. Yet that was just one gryphon among what she assumed where many. It would be worth the pain of swallowing her pride and offering the creature forgiveness if it meant peace, if it meant an end to the cycle of violence. Yet she doubted Galvarys would ever go for it. Even if he did, the nobles wouldn’t exactly take lightly to him declaring his own little nation in the middle of what they considered their country.

Still, he wouldn’t have to make it official. And if the other dragons and gryphons were willing to help protect the roads and villages in return for a home to call their own, why would anyone have a problem with it? It all seemed so perfectly simple in theory. Which meant that it would be hopelessly complicated in practice. The dragons would demand this, the gryphons would demand that, the Five Villages would protest and before long the whole land would be awash in anger at best, bloodshed at worst.

Elyra was so wrapped in her thought she scarcely even noticed the landscape around them. Granite walls rose on either side of them, sometimes so close that Galvarys wing talons nearly brushed them. Dark water lines marked the rugged stone canyon walls, a few bushes clung to stone outcrops and ledges. Despite the narrowness of the canyon, the dragon negotiated it with ease and Elyra did not so much as tense even when the canyon twisted and turned, and crashing seemed impossible to avoid. Elyra smiled to herself. There was something wonderful about finding someone she trusted with her life.

The walls enclosing the canyon began to wide as Galvarys soared. Elyra pulled herself from her ruminations to gaze around them, wondering where the dragon was taking her. All at once the walls fell away as the canyon spilled into an immense basin, as though God himself had scooped away the earth and tossed it aside to form the mountains surrounding it. Much of the basin resembled the meadow they’d flown over earlier, long grass waving in the breeze, speckled with autumn’s last wild flowers.

Yet what truly drew Elyra’s attention as Galvarys descended was the structure in the center of the basin. Mounds of glittering crystal rose from the earth like frozen bubbles heaped atop one another. Sharp spires of crystal jutted out between the rounded shapes. Pools of deep blue water lay amidst the crystalline rises, little waterfalls that sparkled in the sun toppled over glassy ledges between the pools. The crystals all held different shades. Some were clear, or the color of wood smoke, others were blue-gray or tinted with hints of fiery red. A few were layered with shadow. Wispy coils of steam rose into the air. When the dragon swept over the crystalline springs, the mist swirled and dissipated. New clouds of steam took their place, coalescing into rising spirals like the tendrils of some great sea beast curious about what lay beyond the water’s surface. The scent of minerals tinted the air with an earthy freshness.

Elyra put her wonder on hold long enough to brace herself as Galvarys came in for a landing. Landing was almost always the bumpiest part. When the dragon touched down upon his hind paws, it jarred her against his back. Then he dropped down onto his front feet, bouncing her again before he trotted to a stop. As soon as Galvarys settled down onto his belly, Elyra swung her leg over him and hopped down to the earth.

“Galvarys, it’s beautiful!” Elyra moved around the dragon to remove all the packs strapped to him as quickly as she could.

“Yes, very beautiful.” Galvarys words sounded almost distant. He stared at Elyra with his spines half-lifted, and his ears raised.

“I’ve never seen anything like it!” Elyra unbuckled the straps from around the dragon’s tail, and pulled the pack free. She tossed it to the ground, ready to go and see the crystal springs up close.

“Nor have I, Elyra.” Galvarys continued to stare at her. A few of his teeth gleamed in the sun, an odd-looking smile stretched across his snout.

Elyra smiled back at him and then began to dig through the pack. “It’s a wonderful place.” She dug out a few bars, then waved one at the dragon. “Don’t worry, I’ll use these on myself once you’re clean and out of the water.”

Galvarys just stared at her, his smile growing. Elyra turned her face away after a moment, rubbing the back of her neck. She rose to her feet, and shrugged off her cloak. She dug a few towels from the pack, glanced at the dragon again. He was still watching her. Looked as though he’d never seen a human before. Elyra swallowed, wrapped her soap up in the towels and took a few steps towards the dragon.

“Why…why are you looking at me like that, Galvarys?” Elyra reached out to cradle his chin.

“I love you, Elyra.”

The beautiful simplicity of those words was stunning. Elyra dropped her towels and her jaw. Every part of her seized up. She wanted to reply, she wanted to scream and shut and hug him and kiss him and yet she could not find strength, words, or even breathe. Galvarys watched her a moment and then simply turned and walked away. Even as her mind raced she remained frozen, heat flushing her skin even as icy excitement squeezed her heart. For a moment, cold terror clutched at her spine. He’d said it, he’d finally said it, and she just stared at him. Now he was just walking away. Had her silence offended him? Or was that just his usual bluntness?

Oh, so, by the way Elyra, I love you. No big deal. Let’s take a bath.

“Galvarys.” Elyra somehow squeezed a tiny whisper through her clenched throat. Tears brimmed in her eyes. The dragon’s ears perked, and he glanced back at her. Yet all she could do was speak his name again in a harsh croak. “Galvarys!”

“Yes?” The dragon cocked his head.

Elyra’s body shook. He…he really did, didn’t he. And…and so…so did she! He had to know, yet she could not get the worse past her tightened throat. She wanted to curl up and sob, overwhelmed with the simple joy of being loved for the first time in all her life. Elyra was so completely overwhelmed she wanted to cry and scream and squeal with glee at the same time, to writhe and thrash until this overpowering feeling was exhausted, until she was too tired to think about it, and then just wrap herself in the joy that was the dragon’s love.

Beyond all that, she just wanted him to know. Somehow, she found strength. Some iron will, some power fueled by the sort of happiness she’d always hoped for but never expected. The knowledge, the realization that she didn’t just love him, but she had someone who loved her back. She balled up her fists, and with a power that surprised her, she fought through her tears and roared the dragon’s name.

“Galvarys! Galvarys, I love you too!”

The dragon flicked his tail, smiling at her. There was something in his eyes, some kind of warmth and happiness she’d never seen there before. It glowed like silver fire even as relief washed over his scaly face. His spines settled down, eased of their nervous tension. Now Elyra knew. That really was what he’d tried to say to her time and again, and fear held him back. Till he took her here to say it, in the most beautiful, serene place he could think of. Where they’d be alone, where they’d have no interruptions, where he could finally speak his heart. The only thing that buoyed Elyra’s spirt even more than hearing those words from the dragon was the happiness she saw shining his eyes when she returned them.

“Good,” the dragon said, bobbing his head. He turned away again and padded towards the spring.

Elyra blinked. “Good?” Even from Galvarys, that sounded almost ludicrous in its obviousness. “That’s all you have to say back?” Elyra couldn’t help but, she began to laugh. It started as a giggle, and soon bubbled from her in glorious, tension relieving laughter. “I say I love you too and you say good?”

Galvarys faltered, looking back at Elyra. His ears drooped a little. “I’m sorry, I…I don’t know what else to say, Elyra. I’ve never…”

Elyra had never seen the dragon actually worried he’d said the wrong thing until now. Her breath caught as she realized something. He’d never said it before, either, and even now the dragon was terrified of messing it up. Elyra shook her head, smiling at him. He didn’t have to say anything, and there was nothing he had to fear.

“Galvarys,” Elyra said, walking towards him. She had to say something to put him at ease. But what to say? The words she sought eluded her. There had to be a better way. Well, she could…could she?

Oh, hell with it.

Galvarys himself once told her humans spoke, dragons acted.

Time to act.

Elyra strode to the dragon’s head and seized his muzzle in her hands. She pulled his head to her face and pressed her lips to him. She did not offer the dragon some tender kiss on the nose, she kissed the end of Galvarys’ mouth, pushing her lips against his own. Elyra did not know if it was truly possible to kiss a dragon the way she would a man had she ever known a man worthy of it. She didn’t even know if dragons kissed, but she intended to try. Even if he did not return the gesture she knew the meaning would be clear.

To her surprise, Galvarys seemed to follow her lead, reciprocating her actions. When the nobles of the Hall occasionally deigned to kiss her deeply they always did so with force, yet Galvarys was as always, more gentle than she ever could have expected. The dragon also seemed to have little idea how to proceed. Perhaps dragons did not kiss during times of passion the way humans did. Elyra did her best to show him how.

She parted her lips, brushing them across his own, kissing him along the side of his mouth then back to the front of it again. Though the dragon’s silver eyes widened, he parted his muzzle just a little to let her kiss his lips, and brushed himself against her skin. Elyra’s hands roamed his face, stroking his scales. She caressed his jawline, rubbing it back and forth as she kissed the softer areas of his lips, where the pebbly scales melted away to soft flesh. She licked one of his lips, felt the dragon’s breath wash across her.

When she trailed her lips across his in a series of small kisses, Galvarys tried to do the same to her. Bumping and brushing his lips against her mouth, her cheeks, flicking his tongue against her skin. When she felt Galvarys’ tongue against her own lips she further parted them for him. Her tongue met the dragons, and together they made their kiss work with growing passion. She twisted her tongue around the tip of his, tasting him, cherishing the feeling. Heat grew in her, a flush that came not from embarrassment but from something far more beautiful. It came from sharing such passion with someone she loved, and in that moment Elyra knew that they could make their love work.

When the kiss broke, Elyra eased away from him, smiling. She trailed a single finger along the pebbly scales of the dragon’s chin. “I hope that eased your fears, Galvarys.”

Galvarys licked his muzzle a few times as if still savoring her taste. “More than you can know, Elyra.”

“I think I know all too well, Galvarys.” She leaned her head against his nose, stroking his scaly cheek. “I’ve never…well, I’ve kissed men, but never because I wanted too.” She kissed him a little more, brushing her lips against the softness between his nostrils. “Thank you for giving me that chance, Galvarys.”

“You need not thank me for loving you, Elyra. It is not a choice I made, it is a feeling that has grown in me for some time, now.” The dragon’s eyes closed and he gave a happy sigh. He lifted a forelaw, and Elyra arched her back into his gentle touch. “What we did, just now. I have not…”

“Dragons don’t really kiss, do they?” Elyra lifted her head a little more. She ran her hands back over his frilled ears, gently caressing them.

“Not the same way you do.” Galvarys murmured, nosing at her face. “Then again, I have not loved a female, only mated. For those who share their lives, it may be different.” The dragon chuckled to himself, eyes flicking as he glanced away. “It was…very nice.”

“Yes, it was.” Elyra cradled the dragon’s muzzle. She shifted a little to kiss up the side of his face. Then she brushed her lips over his ear, her words a teasing whisper. “There are other nice things I could do for you, as well. If you’d like me too.”

To Elyra’s delight, Galvarys shivered so hard his scales clicked together. “Are there?”

“Of course.” Elyra pulled her head back to look into the dragon’s eyes. “Only if you were comfortable with them, of course, if you desired them.”

“Would…you be…comfortable doing such things? With a dragon?”

“I care not what you are, Galvarys.” Elyra kissed the dragon’s ear again, stroking his throat. “I care only that I love you. You are the first person I have ever wanted to share this with.”

“That is good to know, Elyra.” Galvarys tilted his head, leaning it against Elyra’s face. “And we do love one another.”

“Yes, Galvarys.” Elyra’s heart thudded. Excitement tingled throughout her, nervous delight twisted in her belly. “We do. If I may ask, did that kiss…excite you?”

Galvarys grinned, pinning his ears back. Elyra flicked her tongue over the tip of one of his flattened ears, and the dragon shuddered again. “It did a bit, yes.”

Elyra smiled, then slowly crouched down alongside the dragon. She trailed her fingers down his foreleg, glancing under his belly. The dragon’s spear had partly emerged from its protective sheath. Elyra heard Galvarys breath catch as she studied his body, did he fear she would not like the look of him? She rose back up, brushing fingers over his scales again. She’d put that fear to rest just as swiftly as the last one.

“Come, Galvarys. You owe me a bath.” Elyra strode towards the crystalline ledges leading into the spring. “And when we are clean, I should very much like to see the rest of you.”

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Chapter Twenty Nine

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Elyra’s head swam and her heart trembled as she walked to the crystalline springs. Her whole body tingled with warmth and wonder. She’d just kissed Galvarys and neither of them regretted it. That needed only a moment to sink in it made beautiful sense. Why regret it? They loved one another. She glanced back at Galvarys over her shoulder, red hair swishing. The dragon’s silver eyes were fixed upon her, his spines half lifted. She giggled to herself. Those weren’t the only things rising to attention.

Elyra tripped over her own feet, and stumbled a few paces. She caught her balance before she fell, rubbing her forehead as if the blush would go away. As if it was caused by embarrassment. “Better watch where I’m going.”

“Yes, you’d better.” Galvarys padded up alongside her, brushing his scales against her body. Did he do that on purpose? “You’ll want to come around his way, though. We’ve cut steps in the crystal over here. Be wary of the moss, though.”

“I’ve gotten used to slipping on slime in your bathtub so I’m sure I can handle this.” Elyra lifted her foot to pull off her boots. “Better not wreck Nyira’s boots, though.” She dropped the boot down in a dry area, then pulled the other free. “I’ll leave her boots and clothes up here where they won’t get soaked when you start sloshing about in there.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” Galvarys padded around the far end of the spring, then settled down on his haunches. A bit of red flesh caught her eye. The dragon glanced away and curled his tail. “It’s not polite to stare, Elyra.”

“Wasn’t staring,” Elyra said, grinning. “I was peeking.”

“Staring, peeking, it still isn’t polite.” The dragon pinned his ears back and glanced away, the tip of his nose purple.

“I’m still a little surprised just how embarrassed you are about it.” Elyra unbuttoned the top of her blouse, smiling. “It’s not like you make any effort to hide the rest of your parts.”

“It is different when we are aroused.”

“Is it?” Elyra began to pull her blouse off, the paused. “Would you be embarrassed to be standing at full attention in front of a female dragon?”

Galvarys tilted his head, swiveling his ears. He crinkled his nose a little, must have taken him a moment to understand the human metaphor. “Depends on the female, and how she was looking at me.”

“You mean if she was holding back a laugh?” Elyra shrugged. “If it’s the size you’re worried about, from what I’ve seen so far it’s already more impressive than a man, and you’ve barely exposed it.”

“It is not the size!” Galvarys’ eyes bulged, and purple spread across nearly his whole face. Then he snorted, trying to regain his usual smugness. He hoisted his central crest. “And of course it’s more impressive, it belongs to a dragon.”

Elyra took a few steps away from her boots, still toying with her blouse. “What if it was a female dragon who cared for you? Who wanted to see it for the first time, to learn what really delights you? Would you be embarrassed then?”

“No.” The dragon swallowed, rustling his wings. “I would be excited.”

“Good.” Elyra eased her blouse up over her belly, then her breasts before she pulled it away and tossed it to the ground. “Because that’s how I’m going to be looking at it.”

As she walked around the mossy edges beyond the first crystal bubbles, Elyra undid the top button on her breeches. She made no effort to hide her breasts from the dragon’s gaze this time, bracing herself for another comment about her ‘milk glands’. It never came, and soon she had reached the dragon’s side. He turned his head to look at her, and she lifted a hand to stroke the glossy blue scales of his shoulder.

“Is it more embarrassing for you because I’m human?” She leaned in to kiss a few of his scales.

“In a way,” the dragon said, his voice lowering. “It is almost as if you are unmated, and I am expected to teach you. That would make me uncomfortable.”

Unmated? Elyra twisted her face. Oh, that must be how he translated the word virgin. She ran her hand down his foreleg, laughing to herself. “Galvarys, that is the last thing you have to worry about. I probably have more experience with men than you have with the females you sometimes visit.”

“I have visited them often!” Indignity flared the dragon’s spines.

“And I have been made to ‘visit’ men almost every day for my entire adult life.” Elyra faltered. She hadn’t really meant to put it that way. She knew Galvarys was aware, but she tried not to think about it. Being used as little more than a whore for years didn’t exactly make her an appealing wife. Not that she’d be his wife. His…mate? Damn. Elyra wished she hadn’t said that. She turned away from him a moment, looking down at her bare feet. “My…my point is…”

When she trailed off, Galvarys lifted his foreleg, and circled it around her bare waist. “No one will ever make you do that again, Elyra. Not so long as I draw breath. Your life is yours to live, as you choose.”

Elyra leaned her back against the dragon’s body. His gentle yet protective hold upon her was like a wave washing away her fears, her pains. She set a hand upon his, stroking the backs of his larger fingers with her own. His soft paw pad glided against her belly. “For you, Galvarys, I want to do just that. You are the first person I’ve ever wanted to satisfy that way. But only if you’re comfortable, only if you wish me too. I’d never do anything that made you uncomfortable, never anything you did not want.”

“Nor I, Elyra.” Galvarys snaked his head around to rest his muzzle upon her shoulder. “Shall we bathe, then, and see where it leads?”

Elyra turned her head to kiss the side of his snout. “I’d like that.”

Galvarys smiled, licked her cheek and rose back to all fours to descend into the spring.

“Let me grab my soap, first.” Elyra gazed across the pools of water to where she’d dropped her towels and soap. “Some big scaly beast startled me and I dropped it.”

Galvarys chuckled as he eased down into the hot waters. “You were not expecting my declaration?”

“No.” Elyra let her hand slide across the dragon’s tail as he passed her. Then she began to pick her way around the crystalline bubbles. “Hoping? Yes. But expecting? Never.”

“I have been contemplating it.” The dragon glanced at her, then sighed as he sunk into the pools.

“I thought so.” Elyra stepped across a beautiful frozen bubble of blue stone. “Galvarys, back when that gryphon first attacked him. After he was gone, where you…did I cut you off before you could say it then?”

The dragon lifted his head, smirking. “You may have, Elyra. I have…given it a lot of thought, since then. I was fearful you would never feel the same way, but I realized you deserved to know even if you did not share the feeling.”

“Thank you, Galvarys.” Elyra crouched down to scoop her towels up in her arms. She checked to make sure the soap was still there, and made her way back around to the other side of the springs. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, as well. I’ve known, I think, for a while now. No one’s ever treated me like you do, Galvarys. I’ve never known such simple joy as I have come to know in my life with you.” She dropped the towels down on the ground a safe distance from the water and smiled at the dragon. “I was afraid of what it might mean to love a dragon, but Nyira told me something that helped ease my mind.”

“Did she?” Galvarys shifted himself in the water, little ripples rolled across its surface. “You mean aside from instructing you to yell at me about my stitches?”

“Aside from that, yes.” Elyra grinned as she crouched down to unroll one of the towels and retrieve the bar of lard soap along with a washcloth. “She told me my life is my own, and it does not matter what anyone else thinks.”

“That seems like common sense to me.” Galvarys snorted.

“Perhaps to a dragon.” Elyra turned the soap over in her hands a few times. “To a human, sometimes it’s hard to realize that simple truth. I’m glad she said it, though. Because it doesn’t matter if she approves, or if the Five Villages approve or anyone else. It is my life to live. I want to live it with you, if you’d have me.”

“I want nothing more, Elyra.”

Elyra’s smile grew so wide she feared the rest of her head would topple from her jaws and roll into the water. Her cheeks ached after a moment and still she could not stop smiling. She set the soap and washcloth down on a lump of crystal, and finished undoing her breeches. She wondered if the rest of her body had gone was red as her face. She certainly felt just as hot everywhere else.

When Elyra began to pull down her breeches, she realized Galvarys was watching. The dragon’s curious gaze made her skin prickle with excitement. Elyra eased her breeches down, turning in place, teasing the dragon with her unveiled skin. Though Galvarys had seen her naked before, now she took her time and let him stare. She even trailed her fingers through the coils of reddish hair she’d exposed between her thighs, wondering if it seemed exotic to the dragon. Finally, she stepped clear of her breeches and stood naked before her love.

“What do you think?” Elyra ran her hands across her skin. She’d never truly cared what the nobles thought of her body. They’d use her either way. But Galvarys? She cared a great deep what he thought, and she could only hope she measured up to whatever standard he might have for beauty human or otherwise.

“I think you are the most beautiful female I’ve ever seen.”

Elyra’s near-painful smile returned. That was so sweet of him. Then her breath caught in her lungs when she realized just what he’d said. He didn’t say human. “I…what?” She swallowed, stammered, and rubbed at her cheeks as if to diffuse the burn. “I’d better just…”

“Get in the water?” Galvarys smiled, easing forward through the spring. “Step carefully, the stairs are slick and cut for dragons. Here, let me help you.” The dragon lifted a dripping forepaw from the water, and offered it to Elyra. “Hold onto me so if you slip you won’t fall and hurt yourself.”

Elyra was thankful for the dragon’s offer, and for the distraction from his stunning compliment. She knew she was not near that beautiful by human standards, she was just some red-headed wanderer turned noble’s whore. And surely she could not compare to the female dragons he’d been with. Yet she did not think Galvarys was lying just to make her feel good about herself. In his eyes, she must be truly beautiful.

Each time Elyra did not think she could possibly any feel better about herself, Galvarys somehow lifted her heart even higher.

“It may take me a while to get used to hearing such wonderful words.” Elyra wrapped her hands around the dragon’s foreleg, and eased herself down onto the first step.

“Then I shall have to keep offering them to you until you do.”

Elyra kissed the back of the dragon’s paw, then gazed around their surroundings. “This place is beautiful.”

“I’m glad it’s still here.” Galvarys eased back to help her down another step. “I was afraid the humans might have found it by now and turned it into a quarry. It was an important place for us, once. I wouldn’t say dragons called it sacred, but it had that feeling. A sort of natural serenity.”

From the ground level, the place was even more beautiful. There were three total pools, each of them surrounded by mounds of crystalline bubbles and pointed spires of quartz. The pool they were in was the largest and located at the top. The water was hot but not uncomfortable, and it burbled over glassy ledges shrouded in layers of green and yellow moss. Many of the smooth rocky mounds around her were a pale blue color, others tinted with swirls of frozen smoke or striations of red and black. Steam rose from the water, the scent redolent with earth and minerals rather than sulfur. The steps were softened by the moss that clung to them beneath the water, as was the bottom of the basin. Along with the moss, Elyra felt sand against her feet.

Once she’d reached the bottom, she released Galvarys’ paw and turned to look around. Two of the larger crystalline towers jutted out above their heads, angular and sharp and colored with waves of fire like some natural monument to the dragons who once called the place home. Elyra raised her arm and gently touched one of them. It was smooth and warmed by the steam that rose beneath it. Galvarys was right. If humans knew this place existed they’d have cut these crystals away and used them to decorate their walls ages ago.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Nor have I.” Galvarys lifted his own foreleg, running a pad along the surface of the crystal. “For all the land I’ve traveled upon my wings, this is the most beautiful place I know. It seemed a fitting place to declare my love to someone whose beauty outshines even this glorious wonder.”

Elyra sucked in a breath at his words. She bit her lip and turned away. Gods, if he didn’t know how to make her heart hammer. She just wished she’d hurry up and get used to hearing that so she wouldn’t react in such a way. Hell, who was she kidding, she hoped she never got used to being given such beautiful compliments. After a moment, she gazed at the dragon out of the corner of her eye, smiling.

“I’m sure I’m the not the only female you’ve brought here.”

“The only one I brought here to tell her I loved her.” Galvarys tilted his head, smiling down at Elyra.

“You…could offer me no greater happiness nor honor, Galvarys.” Elyra’s hands slipped from the crystal, settled upon Galvarys scales. She cradled his muzzle, and pressed her lips to his nose. “I have never known such joy as I have known with you. I never truly understood respect until I felt respected, and only you have shown me –”

“I respected you, Elyra, because you respected yourself as you rightly deserve.” Galvarys rubbed the tip of his nose against your cheek. “You came to me because you deemed yourself worthy of more than cold mistreatment where others wallowed in acceptance and self-pity. I did not know that at the time, yet you were courageous where others were frightened. Where others bowed and trembled and whimpered, you stood up against me because you had come to respect yourself too much to let me push you around. Even if you had not realized it, you found respect for yourself where no one else would offer it. That is why I respected you in turn from the very beginning.”

Elyra closed her eyes, sighing against Galvarys. She stroked his cheek, tracing circles around a few pebbly scales. “Thank you, Galvarys.”

“I don’t know why you’re thanking me, Elyra. You have nothing to thank me.” The dragon rumbled, a faint purr that Elyra felt more than heard.

Elyra smiled, imitating the way the dragon nuzzled her. “Then just know I would gladly spend every moment of my life at your side if you would have me. In your fortress, in your caves, beneath the trees, anywhere you go, I would go with you. In the company of many or in solitude, so long as I was with you I would be happy for all of my days. I would never need set eyes upon another soul because your presence alone fills me with such peace and comfort.”

“Would you not?” Galvarys pulled his head back a little, his eyes shining with the sort of trembling fear Elyra rarely saw break through his silvery armor. “Would you not feel lonely for the presence of other humans? For a mate who could give you a child?”

Elyra ran her hands up to his frills, gently holding the sensitive, spined membranes. “Would you pine for a female dragon to bear your eggs even as I shared my love with you for as long as I drew breath?”

“No.” Galvarys shook his head against her hands. “I would be content sharing my life with someone I love, regardless of species.”

“Then you know how I feel.” Elyra pressed her face to Galvarys’ muzzle, moving her hands to stroke his frilled ears. “I’ve spent my life surrounded by people yet I have scarcely connected with them. Most of them are little more than empty shells. The nobles fill their shells with greed and lust, and the servants with self-pity and pain. You are the greatest friend I’ve ever known, Galvarys, and I want nothing so much as to spend my life with you.”

“Even knowing I will endanger you?” The dragon pulled his head back, fresh worry flicking in his mercury gaze. “That gryphon will not be the last who seeks to take my life. I fear they will use you –”

“Fear is part of life, Galvarys.” Elyra slid her hands down his muzzle, cradling his chin. “We will face it together. I would not turn away from the best part of my life because people my threaten us, Galvarys, I would turn against those threats and fight them. I have found love with you, Galvarys, and I would fight to my death to see you protected. If they come, we will fight, and if we should lose one another someday, then our grief will be tempered by the knowledge that that we found love together. That in our brief, smoldering ember of a life we found someone who cared for us, someone who would shed blood to see us live another day. There can be nothing greater in all of existence, Galvarys, than to know someone loves you. And to spend your life with them, however it may end. If you love me as I love you, then I am sure you would fight for me just the same.”

“To the very last drop of my blood, Elyra.” The dragon’s voice grew hoarse. “I would end myself for you.”

“Then you know I care not what comes of this, Galvarys, so long as we are together.” Elyra’s grip tightened against the dragon’s scales, her hands shaking.“I would fight for you. I would scream your name to the skies, I would build your legend, and I would strike down your enemies.” As Elyra spoke, her throat tightened, her eyes burned. Yet her voice grew stronger even as it quaked with rising emotion. “I would bind your wounds and care for you and hold when you cry and I would spend every breath I have alongside you if you would but have me there.”

“I would, Elyra.” The dragon sniffed, lifting his muzzle to wipe away one of Elyra’s tears with his nose. “You are a part of my life I never want to lose. Would you…would you be my mate, Elyra?”

After all they’d just shared, the question seemed almost too simplistic. Something she might have expected the dragon to casually ask, yet he almost seemed to hold it back. He’d confessed his love and yet he’d made no mention of becoming mates until it was clear how deeply they wanted to share each other’s life. The way he spoke of mating with the females he sometimes visited, it seemed a casual thing for dragons to mate. A shared enjoyment of life, as he himself put it. And yet, asking to be his mate must be far more profound. This was as new to him as it was to her, and Galvarys’ heart was as bare as Elyra could ever imagine it.

“Yes, Galvarys, yes!” Elyra lifted her face from his muzzle to meet the dragon’s eyes. Tears glittered upon his pebbly, indigo scales, but joy shone in his silver eyes. “I would be your mate!”

“Then our lives are joined, Elyra, and you are of my clan. My lands, my homes, my tributes, my heart.” Galvarys’ voice was soft, filled with reverence. Elyra caressed his scales as he spoke. “My very life is yours to share for all of our days together.”

“As my life is yours, Galvarys, may those days be many.” Elyra smiled at him, holding his head in her arms. She had nothing else to say in that moment, it was already perfect. Any more elation and her heart would burst, and leave Galvarys to mourn the mate he’d only just accepted. After a moment, she lay a simple, tender kiss against his nose. “I love you, Galvarys.”

The dragon flicked his tongue across her lips, returning the kiss his own way. “I love you too, Elyra.”