Date: Sat, 19 Jun 2004 19:27:44 -0700 (PDT)
From: Corrinne S <quasito_cat@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Black Dragon of Pern - Part 5

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."