The Black Dragon of Pern
M.C. Gordon
Disclaimer is noted at the beginning of this series. This story is written for the real M'chell.
Chapter 7
M'chell woke early the next morning, more than a little convinced that he'd had a hallucination in the middle of the night. He'd been almost out of his mind with pain and lack of sleep. He didn't even remember wrapping his hands in fresh linen but he must have for they were neatly bandaged.
He ate his last bubbly pie, wishing his hands were well enough that he could make a fire to fix some hot klah. He flexed his fingers and found that they moved a little more easily, a good sign that he might have full use of them before too much longer.
Sending Raganth to hunt and feed, for the dragon hadn't eaten in several days, M'chell decided to spend the day exploring the area around his small cave. No one had been to Southern in more turns than anyone could remember. Some even claimed that the continent was only a legend. Others believed it to be the birth-place of both men and dragons.
He knew he was on a high plateau which ended in cliffs that plunged down to meet the sandy beach below. The sound of waves crashing on the beach was clear so M'chell decided the tide must be coming in. He would ask Raganth to fly him to the beach when the tide went back out. In the meantime, the plateau warranted his interest.
He walked for nearly an hour, observing the different types of grasses and flowers that grew in wild abundance as if Thread hadn't fallen just the day before. It was something he would mention to L'noth when he returned to Benden. He was beginning to grow tired and decided to go no further than the tall grasses that formed a hedge just ahead.
The same curiosity that had led him into an abandoned cave above Benden as a child now led him to go just past the grassy wall. The plateau ended beyond the grass, as M'chell learned when right foot slipped over the edge of a precipice.
He tried to keep himself from falling by grabbing at the grass but it was too late. Before he could stop himself or call to Raganth for aid, he careened over the side into a narrow ravine. Fear of Raganth going into the eternal cold of between filled his mind more than fear of his own imminent death.
The flyer had maintained a safe distance from Raganth, fear of the huge fire lizard overcoming his curiosity. He was gliding on upper air currents, watching the stranger he had seen the night before when he saw him fall from the cliff toward the jagged rocks at the bottom of the ravine.
Locking his wings close to his body, the flyer plummeted toward the falling dragon rider, for some deep instinct told him that Raganth would not be able to help. M'chell had fallen less than half-way when the flyer caught him in his arms. Unaccustomed to a man's weight, he failed to compensate and felt one of the tendons is his right foresail pull free from the wing's bone structure when he opened his wings to stop the fall. Searing pain spread through his mind but he managed to use his left wing to catch one of the strong wind currents blowing through the ravine and propelled them to a wide ledge. His injured wing struck a rocky outcrop as they landed and the flyer lost consciousness as part of the wing was torn.
M'chell's initial split-second thought when he saw the flyer heading toward him had been one of fear.
But he realized the ravine was too narrow for Raganth's huge body while the flyer had plenty of room to maneuver. He hadn't expected to land on his back on a ledge with the unconscious body of his rescuer beneath him.
The ledge was wide enough to hold them and M'chell carefully slid from the flyer and sat down to catch his breath. His hands were hurting for they had been bumped in the landing. He leaned against the wall and bent his legs until he could rest his chin on his knees, and looked at his rescuer. It was his hallucination from the night before.
The eyes were closed and long black lashes lay softly atop high cheek-bones. Hair, as black as the wings, was long and fell across broad shoulders. Even in the dimmed light filtering down into the depths of the ravine M'chell could see the deep amber tones of the flesh that covered the human part of this entity. The face was youthful, perhaps that of a young man in his late teens or early twenties. The flyer had muscular arms and legs, not bulging or unnatural but, rather, those one would expect of any man who was forced to live by and fend for himself.
This, then, was what had so frightened him in the early morning hours when his mind had been wracked by the pain in his hands and nightmares of the family he had tried in vain to save. This beautiful being had succeeded where he had failed, and had saved his life.
And now he lay, one wing perhaps broken for all M'chell could tell, on a narrow ledge half-way down a narrow ravine.
When M'chell felt he had regained his equilibrium he looked around to see if there was some way he could get to the top of the ravine. The only thing he could see was a large fair of fire lizards flying around himself and his injured rescuer, chirping madly to each other.
"Raganth?" he called.
"I am here," the queen answered. "The fire lizards are telling me that there is a place not far from you with room enough for me to help. They want to know if their friend is hurt because he does not move."
"I think his wing is injured," M'chell replied. "He's unconscious. I'm going to see if I can find that place before he wakes up."
M'chell edged himself along the ledge, careful to stay close to the wall of the ravine. The ledge followed a curve in the wall several paces down and M'chell saw that there was another ledge, a little higher, where Raganth would be able to reach them with his forearms.
The flyer was just beginning to wake when M'chell returned to him. Indicating the fire lizards flying around them and offering a hand to help him stand, the dragon rider was able to convey the idea that there was a way out.
The injured wing would be drug along the ravine wall if the flyer walked facing where he was going so M'chell motioned that he should turn around. Wrapping his left arm around the flyer's waist, he managed to safely guide them to the bend of the wall.
"The fire lizards tell me he trusts you," Raganth told his rider.
Chapter 8
Lightning flashed across the sky and thunder reverberated through the cavern where Raganth had flown M'chell and the flyer. This cavern was much larger than the one M'chell had been using and almost comfortable. He had found a stack of dry drift wood toward the rear of the cavern and placed a few of them near the center. The fire lizards had cheerfully breathed flame and the small fire both illuminated the area and gave off heat.
The flyer had maintained consciousness until M'chell helped him to the top of the second ledge in the ravine and Raganth's tremendous claws encircled him. M'chell assumed that primitive fear of the unknown, such as he had experienced himself when first faced by this strange being, had sent the flyer into shock. The fire lizards had led Raganth to this cave, obviously the flyer's home. The storm started soon after Raganth deposited them at the cavern's entrance.
It was just as well, M'chell thought, that his rescuer was unconscious because the injured wing needed tending and it was sure to be painful. He had seen Fenely and Andren tend injured dragons many times over the years. His medicinal supplies, in his own tiny cave, were dwindling and he pondered the situation, knowing he would need more. It would take a great deal of linen for the injured wing, and his hands were far from mended.
"Raganth," he whispered quietly to the majestic queen, "can you bespeak Telgath from here?"
"I can," the dragon replied.
"I need Telgath to ask D'vis to prepare supplies for me without asking questions."
The dragon's rainbow eyes whirled for a moment and he finally said, "The boy comes." The thought had barely passed between dragon and rider when bronze Telgath landed near Raganth outside the cave.
"Wow!" was D'vis's reaction when he saw the injured flyer. "You're always finding such interesting things, M'chell. What's wrong with it?"
"Him, D'vis, not `it'. He injured his wing saving my life. Can you do something before he regains consciousness?"
"Sure," D'vis replied. "I'm getting to be pretty good at fixing injured dragons, although he's not exactly what I'd call a dragon, not even an over-large fire lizard. What is he?"
"The fire lizards say he's a flyer."
"He can fly? I'd like to see that one day. I'll bet he's beautiful when he does. Now I'll just take a look at the wing and see what we can do to be sure that he does fly again."
The young journeyman was quick and neat. Careful stitches with fine needle and thread soaked in numbweed re-attached the torn ligament. He spread fine linen over the torn area and lathered it with numbweed, spreading the delicate scaling of the wing across it, neatly stitched to bind it until it healed.
"Keep an eye on the wing to be sure ichor forms," he told his foster-father. "If it doesn't then send for me and I'll take some from Raganth. I guess you want this to be a secret for now or you'd have sent for Andren."
"You're right," M'chell said. "Andren would have to notify the Masterhealer, and you really should but I hope you'll keep this confidential for a while."
"My lips are sealed," the young man promised. "Just keep me informed of his progress. Speaking of which ... your hands need tending before I leave."
"I can take care of myself, D'vis," M'chell replied. "I'd rather you left before he wakes up. I know he's intimidated by Raganth and don't know what might happen if he sees Telgath. Raganth says he can go between."
"Well, that's something he shouldn't be doing for a while," D'vis returned. "He might not make it back with that wing. I'm leaving you plenty of clean linen, more numbweed, some food, and hides. When your hands have healed more, try to keep a record of his recovery. I'm more interested in healing creatures than men and this is an opportunity no one else on Pern has ever had before. Now, his wing will be awkward with him lying down and won't heal correctly. Before I leave we need to make a few adjustments here."
Between the two of them, mostly D'vis and the eager tails of two dragons, rocks and small boulders in the cavern were moved around until the flyer was reclining against a large rock with the injured right wing stretched across a boulder of the correct proportion.
The two men hugged each other in the love and respect of father and son, and a shared conspiracy of silence. M'chell had never felt the need to father a child but D'vis had become like a son to him through the years and the bond between them was deep.
"I'll have Telgath listen for Raganth in case you need me," D'vis said as he mounted his bronze. Moments later, dragon and rider went between.
Chapter 9
M'chell was exhausted by the time his foster-son left. He had several scrapes and bruises of his own from the fall and subsequent climb. His hands ached from overuse and felt raw beneath the torn and dirty linen coverings. He wanted nothing more than his hands soaked in numbweed and a comfortable place to sleep.
But things needed to be done and he decided that food was as important as sleep. D'vis had brought klah which needed only to be warmed near the fire. A small covered pot of stew was included in the supplies and M'chell also set it near the fire to warm.
D'vis had heated some water to wash the worst of the dirt and blood from the flyer and M'chell used what was left to wash away his own grime. He changed into clean clothing and was feeling a little better about the current state of affairs by the time the stew and klah were warm. His hands, also now clean, didn't look as bad as he'd expected. The new skin was sensitive but it was beginning to form over most of the burned area. He thought about dressing them right away but knew that he wouldn't be able to eat once his fingers were covered with numbweed.
When he judged the stew warm enough to eat he removed the lid. He was about to take a taste when he heard a noise and looked up to see the flyer watching him. Unsure what comprised a flyer's diet, M'chell poured some of the stew into a cup. He approached his rescuer cautiously knowing how difficult wild creatures can sometimes be when in pain. He sat the cup within the flyer's reach and sat down on a large rock himself. He carefully raised his own cup in a salute and began to drink the hot, well-seasoned sauce. The pieces of meat and tuber had been cut small enough that he didn't need a spoon. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying this one small memory of the Weyr and promised himself to find a special gift for the weyr cook.
The flyer followed his example and lifted his own cup, sniffing at the aroma before dipping his tongue cautiously into the liquid. His eyes grew round in wonder and M'chell didn't know if it was from the warmth or the taste. The flyer jerked his head back, lowered the cup, and peered into it curiously.
M'chell chuckled slightly and nodded his head as if to say it was all right. Setting his cup aside, he checked the pack D'vis had left to see what other surprises it might hold. His eyes lit up in a smile when he came across several bubbly pies. He took one and broke it in half, handing one piece to the flyer.
Remembering Lurah's training, M'chell obediently finished his cup of stew before he began to nibble on the pie. It wasn't warm anymore but it was still delicious and he licked the juice from his fingers and the corners of his mouth when he was finished. His new acquaintance watched him and finally finished his own share of stew and pie. M'chell watched in fascination as the flyer seemed to savor each new taste and texture for the exotic face displayed the reaction to every new sensation.
When they were finished, M'chell carefully cleaned his hands once more and rinsed out their cups.
The ache in his hands had subsided for a while but was back now and the dragon rider wanted only to soak and wrap them ... and sleep.
He took clean linens from the pack and was preparing to dress his burns when the flyer gestured for M'chell to approach him. Cautious, but not as fearful as he had been before they enjoyed a meal together, M'chell walked to where the flyer sat.
The flyer reached out and took the linens and small pot of numbweed, indicating that M'chell should sit. With great patience and tenderness, this startlingly beautiful yet wild being lifted M'chell's hands and wrapped them in numbweed-soaked linen. The dragon rider watched in amazement, speechless at how deft the nimble fingers were ... how the long claws aided, rather than hindered, in tucking small pieces of linen into place.
The cave was silent, even the fire lizards apparently observing what was happening, when a bolt of lightning struck nearby and thunder startled the fire lizards between. The storm had returned with a vengeance and cool, damp air filled the cave.
"Raganth?" M'chell questioned.
"The fire lizards say they found a place where it is not raining. I will go with them if you will be okay."
"I'll be fine," M'chell returned. "I'm sure the fire lizards will take good care of you."
"I do not need them to take care of me," the dragon replied before launching from his ledge and going between.
M'chell took two of the blankets D'vis brought and carefully draped one over the semi-nude body of the flyer. Taking the other for himself, he leaned back against a rock and tried to make himself comfortable.
The flyer leaned forward just enough to tap M'chell on the shoulder. When M'chell looked at him, he indicated that the dragon flyer should join him. M'chell checked the injured wing to be sure that it was still resting securely on the boulder and sat near his new friend. The flyer drew him closer, until M'chell's head leaned against his shoulder, and drew his left wing around them, encapsulating them in warmth.