Pertinent information is at the beginning of this series. This story was written for the real M'chell. Comments are welcome at quasito_cat@hotmail.com or quasito_cat@yahoo.com
The Black Dragon of Pern
M.C. Gordon
Chapter 12
D'vis wasn't sure what to expect when he returned to the southern continent on bronze Trelanth. He would have known if the mysterious flyer had caused his foster-father's death. Every dragon rider on Pern would have known because Raganth would have gone `between' and the dragons would have begun a death knell. Nor did Raganth broadcast any distress from M'chell. Still, when D'vis returned to the cave he had his blade at the ready. The flyer's life was forfeit if there was even one scratch on the rider of the only golden male dragon in the history of Pern.
M'chell was the center of D'vis life. His love for the man who had fostered him, taught him, held him in his grief after Tomin's death, loved him, was the focus of everything he did. He had learned all of the Teaching songs, studied the passage of the Red Star and the patterns of thread-fall, spoken with polite respect to each and every dragon and rider in his own weyr and others. It had been the driving force of his life that he Impress a bronze dragon: for Tomin ... and for M'chell.
His heart led him to be a Healer. He wanted to prevent any other deaths among men or dragonkind: for Tomin, his beloved twin and for Andren, whom he had fallen in love with as a boy and loved still. Andren would never acknowledge that love because his heart belonged to Julani, and would until both of them took their last breath. But D'vis knew, as surely as he knew his own name and that of his dragon, that he would forever love Andren. And he also knew, as surely as the sun rose and set each day, that the only love that would ever be returned to him would be from M'chell ... the man who had inspired him and made him the rider he was. He could not lavish his love on Andren so he focused on the respect and adoration in which he held his foster-father.
. . .
The cave was bathed in semi-darkness, for the sun had not reached the point at which it would send gentle rays to the interior. D'vis thanked his dragon for the swift journey `between' and sent him to the ocean to bathe, knowing that Trelanth would be listening should the rider need his dragon.
D'vis entered slowly, carefully so as not to stumble. The further he ventured into the cave, the more dark and quiet it became. D'vis unsheathed his belt knife and stopped, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
A single glowbasket was open, providing slight light, and D'vis allowed his eyes to adjust. He had, and yet had not, expected what he saw.
. . .
M'chell moved slowly, gently, because he was lying on the flyer's injured wing. They had managed, somehow in their sleep, to work the wing beneath him. Slowly drifting awake, M'chell `felt' a sharp pain in the wing. He stopped his movement until the sudden lines of pain vanished from his lover's face.
There was no need for words between them for their coupling had given M'chell much the same kind of connection he had with Raganth. The bond was new, still forming, and would require time before there was complete understanding of each other's thoughts and emotions. Dragons and fire-lizards impressed' at hatching; M'chell was unsure if he and the flyer had actually impressed' or ... he wasn't sure what the `or' was either. He only knew that he had some sense of his lover's physical state, including the sensation of pain in the healing wing.
And he sensed something else ... something more emotional and disturbing. He sensed anger and, perhaps, jealousy. With it, confused and frightened, was a feeling of territoriality ... possessiveness of something that was, which had never been before ... himself.
M'chell opened his eyes and saw D'vis standing a short distance away, blade drawn. He felt the flyer tense next to him and saw the rainbow-hued eyes begin to turn the red of anger.
Chapter 13
"D'vis," M'chell said as steadily as his voice would allow, "I'm not in any danger. Please wait outside until I call you."
The young healer hesitated then nodded his head in acknowledgement, turned sharply on the heel of his boot, and trod back to the cave entrance.
"Trelanth," he called to his dragon, "where is Raganth?"
"He sleeps," the dragon responded.
In the cave, M'chell carefully raised himself from the injured wing and realized that the flyer had moved the left wing, which had covered them as they slept, so that their nude bodies had been exposed to D'vis. Challenge? Possession? M'chell wasn't sure of the reason behind that action.
Since the flyer had made no move to rise, M'chell lay down on him and looked seriously into his eyes. The deep red was easing. "I don't know how much you're going to understand," he whispered, "but I need to explain something to you. D'vis is, well, sort of like a hatchling. He's a young one of my kind, like Trelanth is young compared to Raganth. He and his brother were put in my care when they were just little boys. I love him, and I always will. But I love him as if he were my son, not a lover. That part of my heart belongs to you now. Do you understand?"
The eyes were almost placid now, the tenseness in the flyer's body gone. M'chell didn't know how much the flyer comprehended but something he said seemed to have made a difference.
The flyer didn't understand words as much as he did tone of voice, facial expression, and images in his mind of the words he heard. He was a little confused for the fire-lizards and dragon hadn't sent him images of men hatching but if M'chell called the boy a hatchling then it must be true. And he had sensed the thoughts of two very small boys with hair the color of the setting sun running and playing with a dragon rider, his beloved. A moment of extreme sorrow swept through him as he thought of the boy's sadness at the death of his clutch brother and remembered his own feelings as he had watched his own clutch mates die. And he felt, in an odd way, relieved. He had begun to like the boy before Raganth rose to mate with Ammorth, had hoped they would be friends. Now, understanding the way things were between the boy and M'chell, his mind was at ease. Smiling, he cupped M'chell's face in his hands and raised his head for a kiss ... whispering, more clearly this time ... "M'chell."
The dragon rider smiled into peaceful eyes when the kiss ended and called, "D'vis?"
"I'm still here," the young healer answered.
"Would you start some klah, please?"
D'vis felt his tension fade at the tone of his foster-father's voice and the happy swarm of fire-lizards that suddenly filled the cave.
"I brought more bubbly pies," he said, almost laughing as he put water to boil for klah.
Chapter 14
Their breakfast, if one considers klah and bubbly pies breakfast, passed in easy silence. M'chell understood that his mate accepted the way things were between himself and D'vis. Through Raganth and Trelanth D'vis realized that the flyer felt nothing but love and protection toward M'chell.
"Thread falls today," D'vis finally said. "I have to get back to the weyr or my wing-leader, M'rin, is gonna be mad. I'd like to take a look at your wing before I go," he told the flyer.
With a nod from M'chell and encouragement from the fire lizards, the winged being consented. The boy had been gentle with the injured wing in the past.
"I don't like this," D'vis said after a quick look. "You're healing but not as quickly as you should be," he told the flyer. "Maybe your recent activities caused more injury," he added with a wicked grin at M'chell.
He poked and prodded a bit more. "The tendon is what concerns me the most," he said. "The new membrane growing over the tear looks good, but I'd like to reinforce that tendon. M'chell?" he asked looking at the dragon rider, "would you ask Raganth if I can draw some ichor from him? I'd ask Trelanth but we'll be fighting Thread in a few hours."
"Certainly," M'chell responded and sent a mental message to the huge golden dragon. The answer was immediate. "Raganth considers it an honor."
The technique was an old one known to Pern's dragon healers for many Turns and Raganth felt no pain as D'vis withdrew ichor from his system. But the flyer had never seen a needle and panicked as the healer approached him.
"You'll have to help me," D'vis told his foster-father. "See if you can hold him still. If he tries to jerk away it's going to hurt."
M'chell asked for Raganth's help and, as the dragon sent out thoughts of comfort and soaring high through the skies of Pern, the dragon rider took his lover in his arms. Turning the flyer's face away from D'vis he whispered softly of the many things they would learn to do together. The healer's movements were swift and sure, and the flyer felt only a slight pain which passed quickly as D'vis sent the needle home and the healing ichor into the injured tendon.
"That's odd," he remarked when he had finished. "The fluid in his wings is ichor, but the rest of his body uses blood. I wish you'd let me tell the MasterHealer, or at least Andren, about this."
"In good time," M'chell replied. "You know how difficult it's been for him to adapt to my presence, yours, the dragons. Give us more time alone; let me try to convince him that he'll be safe meeting more of human and dragon-kind."
"I've sworn," D'vis said, "and I won't breathe a word until you say I can ... but you'll have to explain things to the MasterHealer when he finds out."
"Don't worry," M'chell said. "I'll take full responsibility for you keeping it a secret. Weyr business, you know. And you were brought up to obey me before anyone else."
D'vis smiled. "One of the little red-headed monsters obeying anyone? I'd like to be there when you try to convince the MasterHealer and Weyrleaders of that."
He was ready to leave when he finally caught sight of M'chell's back. He'd been so concerned with the flyer earlier that he hadn't noticed the scratches and welts. He was suddenly filled with fear for his foster-father and sought Trelanth's mind for guidance.
He was calm after a few deep breaths and reached into his pack. Withdrawing a small pot he handed it to the surprised flyer.
"I don't know if you know what I'm saying," he said, "but you'd better put this on M'chell's back. You probably need to do something about your talons the next time you two ... the next time you ... you know, the next time." He blushed and walked away hoping that the dragon rider could figure out a way to explain the possibility of infection from talon wounds, however innocent, during the height of passion.
The flyer understood more than either M'chell or D'vis realized. He handed the pot of salve to his mate and quickly followed the boy toward the entrance to the cave. He grasped D'vis by the shoulder and spun him around.
Before D'vis could react he found a taloned hand gripping his right forearm. The flyer was looking at him quizzically and nodding. The young healer thought he understood and returned the grasp.
The flyer smiled. The boy understood that he wanted to be friends, maybe even part of a new clutch.
He took several deep breaths and attempted another word -- for himself, for his mate, for the hatchling. Still gripping the young healer's forearm he said, "D'vis."