Date: Wed, 21 Apr 2004 17:52:28 -0700 (PDT)
From: Corrinne S <quasito_cat@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Black Dragon of Pern - Part 3

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.