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Chapter Thirty One

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“This is a pretty big book, Rev. Longer than I expected it to be." Mirelle paused at the end of the chapter. She leaned against Revaramek's chest, with his foreleg around her middle and the book resting on her lap. She patted the back of his scaly forepaw, glancing at the dragon's face. “There's no way we can finish this in one afternoon."

“That's alright, Mirelle." Revaramek smiled at her, his frills spread to display their golden eyes. “That just means we'll have something to do while I heal, and – OW!" The dragon tensed, his muzzle scrunched, spines flared and trembling. “That hurts!"

“I know, I know." Enora stood alongside the sprawled dragon, an oversized needle in one hand. A blanket spread near her feet made a resting place for a few baskets of supplies for cleaning and stitching wounds. Cloths, bandages, bottles of spirits, needles and sinew threads. “But you're the one who decided to get drunk and have a rough and tumble roll in the hay with two gryphons."

“There was no hay involved, we were rolling here in the grass." Revaramek thumped his tail, webbed spikes extended.

Mirelle clapped her hand over her mouth to try and keep from laughing.

“What?" Revaramek furrowed his eye ridges, canting his head. “What are you giggling about?"

Mirelle tilted her head back against the dragon's chest plates, peering up at him. “I don't think that means what you think it means."

“What are you implying?" The dragon gasped, then arched his neck and twisted his head around to glare at Enora. “I did not do that with them! At least…I don't think I did. I'm not sure! But it's not nice to tease me about things I don't know!"

Enora patted his scales, then crouched down to pick up a cloth and dab at the wound she was stitching. “My point was, you shouldn't have been wrestling with them in the first place, regardless of what it led to. Not when you arrived, not last night, and certainly not this morning. If you'd just rested…" She pressed the cloth to the dragon's wound, making him hiss. “Your wounds would have stayed closed, and I wouldn't have had to stitch them up."

“Oh, sure, blame it on the dragon who was busy saving the-OWW! Not so rough!" Revaramek's tail coiled, his grip tightened around Mirelle's middle.

Mirelle squeezed a few of Revaramek's fingers. “You okay?"

Revaramek curled his head and nuzzled at her cheek. His muzzle scales were fine, and softer than those that covered much of his body. “No. Enora's hurting me! Tell her she's mean!"

Mirelle giggled, and lifted her hand to stroke the dragon's cheek, careful of the cuts on his face. Thankfully his sparring with the gryphon's hadn't reopened those up as well. Most of his wounds were healing well enough on their own. Only those he'd broken open needed to be stitched. She traced a single finger over a pink line marring the side of his muzzle, one of many fresh scars Aylaryl gave him in their battle. With any luck, the scar would dissipate as quickly as the wound itself was healing.

“Mean or not, she's the only one here who knows how to stitch wounds together."

“And the more she jabs at me with her needles, the more I doubt her expertise." Revaramek hissed through his teeth. “I'm a wounded dragon, you have to treat my injuries with care!"

“Why?" Enora waved her needle in the air before she threaded more sinew through it. “You clearly haven't. If you had, I wouldn't have to be doing this now."

“That's at least the third time you've said that." Revaramek turned his head away from Mirelle, so she stroked his neck. “Can't you do that more gently? You can't just sew me up like you're stitching a quilt together!"

“You're going to look like a quilt, when I'm done with you."

“That's what I'm afraid of. Are you even a healer?"

“Why do you keep asking that?" Enora clucked her tongue. She tapped the needle against the dragon's scales. “You're going to get the same answer. Of course I'm not a healer. But you can't stitch yourself up, and Mirelle's never done it before." She soaked a cloth with spirits, then used them to wipe down the needle. “I don't know why you're being so difficult. I know it hurts, but it wasn't that long ago you were laughing off getting smacked in your most tender area. That had to be far more painful!"

“That's different." The dragon whined, and lowered his head to Mirelle again. “Things happen when you're roughhousing. Now it's…needles, under my scales and…" He shivered, scales clicking. “Are you almost done?"

“Getting there. But it's time to start the next one, if you're ready."

“I'm not ready!"

“Hold still anyway!"

“Mirelle, Enora's being mean! Ow! Ow! OWWW!"

“I know, Rev." Mirelle wrapped her arms around the dragon's head, hugging it against her body. “But you're alright. It'll be over soon. You're being very brave."

“Of course I am. I'm a dragon." He tilted his head, pressing it against her. “But it wasn't fair for her to ambush me during story time."

“She thought the story would help distract you. And it did, right?" Mirelle glanced at Enora, who was focused on her work. She pushed the needle into the dragon's flesh, then pulled the sinew thread through the hole. Mirelle shifted to rub the soft part of Revaramek's nose. “Why, you barely even noticed it while we were reading."

“It was a fascinating world. I've never been to a desert before." A smile split the dragon's pained grimace. “I like hearing about new places."

“I've heard there's a desert beyond the mountains." Mirelle ran her hand up his head, feeling the differences between the scales. They were small and fine at his nose, a little larger and broader nearer his horns and frills. “Maybe, when things settle down, we can travel over there and you can see it firsthand."

“We?" Revaramek's ears perked, his bronze eyes glowing in the afternoon sun. “You'd go with me?"

Mirelle's hand stilled upon his head. That wasn't really how she meant it. And yet…oh, what the hell. “Sure, I'll go with you. You'd probably get lost without me."

“Oh, Mirelle, a real journey! It will be so exciting." Revaramek lifted his head, turning to gaze down at Enora. “Did you hear that, Enora? Mirelle and I are going on a journey, just like-"

“In the exciting tales, I know." Enora waggled her stitching needle at him. “Now stop wriggling about."

“I'm hardly wriggling." Revaramek huffed, shifting his wings against his back. “Enora, I'm bleeding! What are you doing to me?"

Enora scowled, and wiped a few lines and droplets of fresh blood from the dragon's scales. “Afraid that happens when you stitch someone up. Now pay attention to Mirelle."

“Mirelle, she's making me bleed!" Revaramek's ears drooped as he pushed his head back against Mirelle's body. “I don't like bleeding."

“You say that like anyone does." Mirelle curled her arm around the dragon's head, gently hugging him. “Try not to think about it, though. Think about getting to see the desert!"

“Yes! It will be so exciting! We should go tomorrow!" He started to lift his head, and Mirelle tugged it back down. “Oh, no, we'd better kick Aylaryl's ass first. Make sure your village is safe."

Out of the corner of her eye, Mirelle saw Enora stiffen. She gave the woman a questioning look, but Enora waved her off and went back to closing up the dragon's wound. Mirelle pursed her lips. They hadn't exactly had a detailed discussion with Enora and the gryphons about why they were here. They'd explained that Revaramek got into a fight with the female dragon after Aylaryl was harassing one of the towns Rev protected. They'd also told the others how Rev hurt his back, though, they'd played down how close they both came to death, for now. But unless Rev explained more while Mirelle was away, they hadn't talked about Asterbury, or why Aylaryl was in that town in the first place.

Mirelle scowled. She didn't even she didn't know why Aylaryl was working for that little runt. He'd burned a few smaller villages, and now he seemed to want to conquer the larger ones for himself. Maybe Aylaryl just wanted to take back the lands her kind had been driven out of it. Could that be all Asterbury wanted, too? Maybe he was just a power hungry little monster who fancied himself a noble who ought to have an empire to rule. Mirelle supposed it didn't really matter as long as they were able to stop him.

Still, something about him set her ill at ease. He was like an itch, just under her skin she could never quite scratch. She knew sooner or later she'd have to broach the subject with Enora and the gryphons. And they'd have to tell her about Kurekka's wing. She had a sneaking suspicion the miraculous healing they'd referenced wasn't the sort of thing she'd have believed until she saw Asterbury heal that lizard. How he pulled that off, she'd never know.

“Right, Rev." Mirelle scratched at the green dragon's eye ridges. He murmured in delight and pressed his head to her hand. Much as she hated to admit it, it was sort of cute the way he responded to certain attentions. He was like a happy cat getting scratched in just the right spot. A happy cat that could accidentally trample her to death. “We've got to take care of her and her friend first, and once we've sent her off to lick her wounds, we can go and see the desert beyond the mountains."

“Oh, Mirelle, I'd love that!" Revaramek rumbled a throaty purr, interrupted only by a few uncomfortable grunts when Enora stitched up a wound on his shoulder. “I've never seen a desert! I've seem marshes, of course, love marshes. I've seen villages.." He ticked things off on the digits of a forepaw. “I've been into the mountains. Seen a swamp." His voice darkened. “Horrible place." Then his tone brightened again. “But I've never been to a desert, it sounds so exciting. Do you think it's hot? And dry? Oh, we'd better bring our own water. You could strap some barrels to me before we fly there. Oh, do you think it'll be sandy? It sounds like lots of sand in that story. I've seen sands by a lake but never dunes."

Mirelle couldn't help but giggle, stroking his neck as he rambled. His child-like exuberance was infectious, and if anything she found it even more adorable than his reactions to affection. He was certainly a lot less obnoxious when he was excited about something than when he was trying to act…well…like he seemed to think dragons were supposed to act.

“Yes, Rev, I'm sure there will be lots of sand." She rubbed a single finger around the base of his unbroken horn, glancing back at Enora. The older woman gave her a single nod, she was nearly finished. “And I think taking water with us would be a necessity."

“I think I should like to roll around in the sand! Especially if it's nice and warm. Maybe I could try rolling down one of the dunes."

“I don't think deserts always have dunes, Rev. Besides, you'd hurt your wings."

The dragon made a thoughtful, growling noise. “Yes, and I'd probably get sand in my sheath. That sounds horribly uncomfortable."

“In your what?" Mirelle blinked, and when she realized what the dragon was talking about, she glanced away, her ears burning. “Oh, God, Rev. Really!"

“Yes, it really would be very uncomfortable."

“No, I meant…nevermind." Mirelle laughed and shook her head. “You're something else, Dragon."

“No, I'm definitely a dragon." Revaramek cocked his head to give her a confused look, his ears perked. “What else would I be?"

“That's not…" Mirelle trailed off when she saw Enora smirking at her. “I just can't get ahead with him, can I?"

“I never could." Enora picked up a small pair of shears and snipped off loose ends of sinew threads around the dragon's wounds.

Mirelle ran her fingers along Revaramek's arched black horn, bumping her finger tips over the ridges towards its pointed tip. When the dragon leaned his head over, she reached across to feel what was left of his other horn. Most of it was broken off, and likely lost somewhere in the village where he'd battled Aylaryl. The end of his horn was coarse, the broken edges sharp. She rubbed it, careful not to cut herself.

“Does this…hurt?"

“No." Revaramek's bronze eyes shifted and crossed, trying to focus on her arm above his head. “Hurt when she was bashing my head against the cobblestone, though."

Mirelle winced as the memory flooded her mind. It was all too vivid. The purple dragon's blue paws around Rev's head, smashing it against the street. At the edge of her vision, she saw Enora flinch. She probably hadn't heard that part of the fight from Rev. Mirelle let her fingers wander across the back of the dragon's head. She trailed them over his central frill, noticed it bore some fresh scar tissue. A few broken scales marred the back of his skull.

“You're lucky." Mirelle swallowed hard. “It could have been worse."

“Wasn't luck." Revaramek tilted his head a little to flash both women a smile. “It was my thick skull! Wait, that doesn't sound right."

“It sounds exactly right to me." Enora chuckled. She set her shears down, poured some spirits over a cloth, and wiped at the dragon's stitched wounds.

When Revaramek stiffed in pain, hissing through his sharp teeth, Mirelle stroked his central frill. “There, there, almost done. I do have to agree with Enora, though."

“About my thick skull?"

“That too." Mirelle patted his neck. “Though I was thinking more about the fact that you scarcely uttered a complaint about all your injuries, even after our…rough landing, shall we say? But get them treated and you turn into a fountain of complaints!"

“Better than the fountain of vomit you were the night before." Revaramek rumbled laughter, arching his neck into her touch.

Mirelle cringed. Just the reminder made her stomach churn. “Ugh. This should be where I swear to never drink so much again, but I know myself too well for that."

“Oh?" Revaramek turned his head to grin at her, sounding entirely too pleased with himself for her liking. “Not the first time you've drank till you erupted?"

“Unfortunately, no. I don't do it often, but…I have been carried away a time or two before. Or six." Mirelle scratched around the base of one of the dragon's horns, coaxing a happy murmur from him. “And it wasn't that bad. Hardly an eruption. Makes me sound like a volcano."

“Looked like a volcano, too!" Revaramek pulled his paw away from her long enough to wave it in the air. “It'll be chronicled in the world's history." The dragon deepened his voice. “And it was in that moment that Mount Mirelle had a violent eruption, wiping away all known life around her."

“It was not that bad." Mirelle giggled even as heat rushed to her cheeks. As far as she could remember, the only other people who'd seen her overdo it that badly were Beka and Tavaat. “I certainly wasn't wiping away any life!"

Revaramek curled his foreleg around her again, his ears perked. “Tell that to the ant hill your river of red wine vomit washed away."

“You've definitely killed a patch of my poor grass." Enora stepped back from the dragon, looking him over. She crouched down and put her things away, then wrapped them up in the blanket to carry them back to her house. “There you are, my benevolent overlord, you're all stitched up. But do yourself a favor. Don't wrestle with the boys until the stitches are out. If you break them I'm going to have to do that all over again."

“Yes, ma'am." Revaramek glared at her as she walked off, hissing. “I'll wrestle whoever I want, whenever I want."

“She's right, you know." Mirelle ran her hand along the dragon's jawline. “It's going to hurt even worse if she has to do that again after they start healing."

Revaramek's muzzle contorted, his ears pinned back. “I suppose I've conquered the gryphons enough for one visit. But I do owe Chir'raal a smack in the-"

“If you do that, he's only going to end getting you back or wrestling you again, and then your stitches will pop, and the whole vicious cycle will repeat."

“I hate it when cycles repeat." The dragon heaved a great sigh. “Very well…My vengeance shall have to wait until I am fully healed. In the meantime, I shall settle for conquering you."

“Don't even think about it."

Revaramek tightened his grip around her middle, then curled his neck to smirk at her. “There. Consider yourself conquered."

Mirelle gave a playful sigh, stroking the scutes across his foreleg. “I suppose, just this once, I shall acquiesce to your conquest. But only because you're being unusually well behaved. And because you're healing." She traced her fingers across a fresh pink scar marring the green plates. “Impressively fast, at that. Do…do these still hurt? I'm sorry, I shouldn't be touching them."

“No, you're fine, Mirelle." Revaramek angled his head, peering at his own scars. Mirelle could almost see the pink lines reflected in his bronze eyes. “It is my understanding that compared to humans, dragons heal very fast. It's probably why we live longer, and don't get sick as easily. Our bodies are better at regenerating than yours."

“Lucky you." Mirelle leaned against his chest again, stroking his foreleg. She was oddly content just sitting there with him, in the sun. “I wish we could heal as well as you do, live as long. Overcome sickness as easily."

“We're not immortal, Mirelle." Revaramek turned his head, gazing across the horizon. A flickering ghost drifted across his bronze eyes, like dark clouds rolling over the sun. “And we can't overcome everything. A long sickness, or, a lifetime of poison in your blood, and…" He licked his nose, his ears splaying back. “Well, sooner or later dragons die just like you. And when our time comes, we are…terrified. Just like anyone else. It's…better, though…if we have someone to comfort us, to hold us, or…tell us a story. Some happy thought, some loving touch while we pass. To ease the fear in our final moments. I…" Revaremek sniffed, squeezing his eyes shut. His voice cracked, and his body trembled around her. “I hope I brought her that."

Mirelle didn't know what to say, but she hooked her arms around his neck, and hugged the dragon tight. She worked her mouth a few times, and finally found words she hoped would bring him comfort. “I know you did, Rev."

Revaramek lifted his paw to ever so gently brush her forearm in silent gratitude. After a few moments, he gave a heavy a sigh. “I suppose, in the end, we are just meant to make the best of whatever body we are given, whatever time we have. If we cannot find a way to enjoy our lives in the time we are given, then…I cannot help but feel they been have misspent. We may never know when our stories are to end, so we must enjoy our fleeting moments while we can, as if we may never see another day."

Mirelle eased back to stare at the dragon, stunned. She knew Revaramek well enough now to feel as if she should not be surprised when a crack opened in his childish veneer and some deeper, more profound thought coalesced and tumbled off his tongue. And yet hearing something like that from him left her dumbfounded. How he could so quickly alternate between making jokes about vomit and musing on the meaning of life was simply beyond her.

“You are…" Mirelle swallowed, leaning her forehead against his scales. “Truly a special creature, Revaramek."

“Thank you." The dragon stroked her forearm with a single finger, his touch gentle. “Wait, is that a compliment or an insult?"

“Yes." Mirelle smirked, her forehead still pressed to him. “But let's take it mostly as the first one."

“I can accept that, I think."

“Good." Mirelle pulled back a little, watching the dragon's expression. “I don't mean to pry, but if you ever wanted to…you know, talk. About your mother, or...Aylaryl, or anything, I'd be willing to listen."

Revaramek made a soft, velvety rumbling noise. “Been a long since anyone's offered just to listen to me talk."

Mirelle bit her lip, her stomach wobbling. “I suspect before I came to find you in the marsh, it had been a long time since you'd had anyone to talk to, at all."

Revaramek's ears drooped, and his frills sagged around his head. He glanced at Enora's house, but she'd already gone back inside. “Your suspicions are correct."

“It must have been hard without her. Alone." Mirelle's mouth felt dry. She swallowed a few times, trying to ease her parched throat. “I can…hardly imagine what it must have been like. For either of you. You know, when I lost-"

“Mirelle, do you hear that?" Revaramek swiveled his ears forward, lifting his head away from her.

“Rev, I'm trying to have an honest talk with you." Mirelle jabbed at his jaw with her finger. “I know your mind wanders but, but there are times when you just need to pay attention. I'm sure you've been too wrapped up in your own little world to notice, but I've been trying very hard to be nicer to you. I'm offering you a chance to-“

“Mirelle!" Revaramek slowly turned his wedge shaped head, scanning the horizon. His ears swiveled to track whatever he was listening for. The spines around his head slowly lifted in alarm. The old pain and thoughtfulness was gone from his voice, replaced by a cold, uncertain edge. “Do you hear that?"

A ball of ice lumped in Mirelle's belly, sinking into her bowels. “Hear what?"

“Wing beats." Rev focused his gaze upon a hill in the distance. A low growl crept up the dragon's throat, its warning vibrated his scales against Mirelle.

No. “Is it…is it the gryphons returning?" Mirelle put her hand on the dragon's neck. Goosebumps broke out across her skin. While Mirelle read to the dragon, Kurekka had gone to find his mate. 

 Revaramek unsheathed his claws, and dragged them through the grass, cutting lines in the sod. “No. They're dragon wings."

“It can't be." Mirelle's stomach clenched. “How could they…I mean, could it be another dragon?"

Revaramek glanced back at her, golden edges of his frills fully exposed. “I doubt it."

“But how could she know we're here?" In the back of her mind, Mirelle feared she already knew the answer.

“She knows Enora." Revaramek uncoiled from around Mirelle and rose to his paws. “You should go inside."

Without Revaramek's warmth against her, a chill overtook Mirelle. She closed the book she'd been reading to the dragon and set it aside, then stood, brushing off her skirt. “The hell with that, Rev. How does she know Enora?"

“How do you think?" The dragon twisted his head around to glare at Mirelle, his fangs bared. “There's only so many dragons and gryphons in the marsh that weren't chased off or murdered, and Enora knows all of them, I should think." He waved his unsheathed claws in the air, hissing. “Alyaryl and I were not always at each other's throats. We were very close, once."

“So I gathered." Mirelle looked around, searching for anything that might be of use. “I just hadn't realized you were close…" She gestured at Enora's property. “Out here!"

“My lands weren't safe for Aylaryl anymore. And Enora was no longer welcome there, thanks to your Council. This was a place at least I could slip away and meet with them once in a while, and a place where Alyaryl could feel welcome. For once."

“Then why the hell did you bring us here?" Mirelle stomped her boot against the grass, struggling to rein in her temper. Getting angry wasn't going to help. Now more than ever she felt as if Revaramek had dropped her into the middle of some deadly game without telling her any of the complicated rules. “I thought we were coming here for help!"

“We are!" Revaramek lashed his tail. The sharp-edged webbing of his tail spines scythed through long grass. “We need Kurekka and Chir'raal to help tip the odds against Aylaryl!"

“Why the hell would they help us fight her if they're all friends?" Mirelle stomped again, balling up her fists. “Your plan's got a hole as big as your ego! And why the hell haven't you bothered to tell me any of this?"

“I don't like to talk about it, Mirelle!" Revaramek tossed his head. “This is hardly the time for a lover's quarrel!"

“We aren't lovers! And you still haven't told me why the hell you think they'd help you if they're her friends!"

“Because they're not her friends anymore!" Revaramek whirled around on Mirelle, advancing towards her, his fangs bared, his claws unsheathed, his great copper dappled wings spread. Though she knew now that Revaramek would never harm her, the sight of an angry dragon stalking towards her still quickened Mirelle's heart, still sent a shiver through her. “Because she hates me now, because I'm a traitor! And she's angry with the gryphons because they refused to take her side, refused to take up any side! They just wanted to live in peace, but she wants war, and now she's found a crazy little mongrel to help her take back the marsh!" Revaramek came to a stop just in front of her, hissing through his many sharp teeth. His eyes glowed like molten coins. “They're going to help us because if they don't, Aylaryl is only going to make things worse!" He snapped his jaws. “For all of us! But you, Mirelle…"

The dragon tempered his tone, some of the shimmering flame faded from his bronze eyes. “You can make things better. You and your council…you can give them back their home. Make them citizens of your land, welcome them with open arms. You can invite Enora home, and all the beasts with her. Do that, and they will fight for you like nothing else. Hell…" He turned his head, staring at the horizon. In the far distance, a purple dragon was winging her way over the hills. “Prove that you'll do that, and maybe even Aylaryl will give up her crusade. Then we just have to string up that pyromaniac urd'thin."

“Rev, I…" Mirelle trailed off and took a deep breath. She shouldn't be angry at him, and she didn't want him angry at her, either. Especially not now. She reached out and cupped the dragon's chin in her hand, softening her voice. “I know it's difficult for you, but you have to start telling me these things. In advance. Not when they're literally bearing down on us about to bathe us in fiery death!"

Revaramek's frills sagged, wings hung low at his sides. “I don't think she's coming here kill us, Mirelle. I think if she truly wanted me dead, she'd have come after us in the marsh, after I saved you."

Mirelle's grip tightened against the dragon's chin, a smoldering flare of anger igniting in her heart even as another icy shudder wracked her. Memories of falling, of silent terror flooded her. “Rev…she already…"

Revaramek lifted his head from her hand to press his muzzle against her face, nuzzling her cheek. His voice was iron. “She won't do that again."

“Damn right she won't." Mirelle hugged the dragon's head, then turned away from him and jogged towards the barn. “There's no way in hell I'm letting her get her filthy claws on me again!"

Mirelle ran to the large barn, skidding to a stop just before the double doors. They already sat open, so Mirelle walked inside. She glanced around as her eyes adjusted. The scent of the gryphons was heavier there, like feathers and hay, mingling with herbal incense and spice from censers hanging on the walls. Off the side of the barn was an immense pile of firewood stacked all along the front wall. Somehow Mirelle doubted the gryphons had been splitting all the firewood themselves. Mirelle walked to the woodpile, and after searching around a moment, spotted an assortment of woodcutting tools hanging from hooks along the wall.

“Perfect."

Mirelle reached for an ax, and pulled it from the hooks. She hefted it, it was light enough for her to swing it easily, but she wasn't sure that was what she wanted now. She set it back, looked over the tools, and then smiled to herself when she spotted just what she needed. She took the heavier tool off the rack, hefted it, and left the barn.

“Mirelle!" Revaramek called out as she returned. The sound of distant wing beats gradually became audible. “About what I said, about giving them their home back!"

“I don't know that I can do that!" Mirelle hefted her new weapon, walking back to the dragon. “I'm only one person on the council, I only get one vote. But I can sure as hell speak my mind and make sure they listen. I can try, Rev, but I can't make any promises."

“Trying will have to do. When we get a chance, we need to offer that to the gryphons and Enora, and then…" The dragon trailed off, his bronze eyes widening at the sight of what Mirelle hefted. “What the hell is that? Some huge va'chaak axe?"

“This…" Mirelle hefted it up to show it to the dragon. “Is a wood-splitting maul. And it does just what it's named for. Mauls." Mirelle turned it over. The makeshift weapon weighed a good deal more than the woodcutters ax, but was not so unwieldy as to prevent her from swinging it. A sharp ax blade made up one side of its head, with a heavy, flat hammer on the other. The handle was oak, sanded smooth with leather weave around its haft for grip. The iron head of it was painted blood red. “Figured she's got all those scales, right? Aylaryl, I mean. They might deflect a blade, but I bet this'll still crush a bone."

“Planning to fight her, are you?" Revaramek lifted a forepaw and placed it under the head of the maul, hefting its weight. “Ought to do the trick. But I don't think she would have come here to fight in Enora's home."

“All I'm planning is to make sure she doesn't get her paws on me again. If she tries, I'm gonna bury this thing in her skull." Mirelle shifted her maul, her arms aching a little. She rested it on her shoulder. “Then maybe we can go find Asterbury and I can cave his head in with it."

“I don't think you're going to have to look very far." Revaramek stared into the distance, watching the rapidly growing form of the purple dragon as she flew in over the rolling hills surrounded Enora's land. “He's with her."

“Shit!" Mirelle lifted the maul from her shoulder, and clutched it in both hands. “Are you sure they're not here just to kill us while you're recovering? And where are the damn gryphons?"

“They should be back soon." Revaramek pinned his ears back, flaring his wings. He took a breath, glancing back. “Cover your ears!"

Mirelle barely had time to drop the maul and clap her hands over her ears before Revaramek split the sky with a bone-rattling roar. Even with her ears covered, the ferocious sound made her head hurt. Aylaryl circled far above them, and soon shrieked her own terrible, thunderous cry. Mirelle couldn't tell if the dragons were challenging each other, or just issuing some twisted greeting between ex-lovers. But just seeing the purple female, flying above her, left Mirelle trembling. As soon as the roars were ended, she snatched up her maul again, her every nerve on edge.

Aylaryl circled again, and Mirelle had a better look at Asterbury riding upon her back. The little monster's purple and gold cloak billowed out behind him. He stood up on Aylaryl's back and spread his arms, golden clothing rippling around him. He swayed to and fro in the wind while the dragon flew a wide circuit around Enora's land.

“That little mongrel really is crazy!" Mirelle snarled through grit teeth. “I hope he falls, we'd be one less-AH!"

When Asterbury stepped off the dragon's back and plunged towards the earth, Mirelle gasped. For a revolting moment she was torn between horror and relief. The little bastard was killing himself right in front of her. Mirelle turned her head away. She might want him dead but she didn't want to see him splatter. She didn't even hear a scream. Or a thump. All she heard was Revaramek's startled gasp.

“Mirelle, he…"

Mirelle turned her eyes back in time to see the ground rippling like water. The meadow was like a pond with a stone tossed in it. The grassy earth heaved and flowed outward from the place Asterbury impacted. The ripples flowed across the pasture, sending waves across the lake. Fences rose and fell. In the center of it all stood Asterbury, alive, unharmed, and smiling.

Asterbury threw his hands wide as the undulations of the earth slowly died around him. “Well, if it isn't everybody's best friend, Lord Asterbury! You're so happy to see me, you're speechless! Wonderful, it's good to see you all again, too. Are those books I spy?" Asterbury cackled and strode towards them. “I hope I haven't interrupted story time! Thought I'd drop in for a chat! Hah! Get it?"

“How…" Mirelle stumbled over her words, her mind struggling to catch up with what her eyes just saw. “How did…"

Asterbury tilted his head. “Weren't you paying attention the first time Mirelle? Let me rehash it for you!" He spun in a circle, waving his hand at everything around them. “Story!" He pivoted to a stop, pointing at himself. “Story-changer. Any more questions, Stutters? No? Good! Then let's get down to business before the gryphons get back! I'd hate for things to get messy."

******

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