Bound

(Author's note: Please excuse the inclusion of AI-generated art with this piece. This was created fairly early in the public adoption of generative AI, and I hadn't yet understood the impact and consequences of using it. I've chosen to give myself some grace and leave the art attached to the stories they were generated for, as they were an earnest part of my creative process at that time.)

The kingdom of Wheir had a history of conflict between humankind and dragons. Conflict was not born from differences between the two races so much as from their similarities. You may know from experience that people, individually and in groups, are capable of both great goodness and great evil. The same can be said of dragons. Both races are equally susceptible to inflating a small misunderstanding into all-out war. Trust was built and broken again and again throughout the ages.

Two centuries ago, a wise king of men and an open-hearted sage among dragons came together in peace. They forged an enchanted contract to be enforced by the natural magic that touches all things. Now when a dragon and human meet, they are bound, unable to quit each others' company, until each has done a service for the other.

---

Merrie was in an exceptionally good mood. She lounged on a stack of hay in a gently bouncing carriage pulled by pair of donkeys. The sky was sunny, the wind was pleasant, and neither donkey had forced a pit stop in at least half an hour. The journey from the little town of Ashford to the crossroads city of Warcester was long enough when the tempers and tummies of the donkeys cooperated. It would have been days shorter on horseback, but horses aren't cheap. Gerald and Gardenia kindly allowed Merrie to tag along for free on their seasonal supply run in return for help with the animals.

Ashford was small and out-of-the-way, and generally had just one or two folks in each profession. There was a doctor in residence, but he was a recent arrival and his methods were more modern than the rural community was accustomed to. "Merrie's Apothacerrie" was a family business. The name changed whenever a new generation took over, but it was always the same shop your grandmother visited when she was a little girl. Merrie would never hesitate to accompany a patient to the doctor's practice if the case would be better handled by modern medicine. Even so, demand for her family's traditional remedies was as high as ever.

In the early afternoon, they arrived at the crossroad with the crooked signpost. That was Merrie's stop. She handed her shopping list to the farmers with her thanks and hopped out of the cart. The rough intersecting path snaked eastward and led to a forest, and the forest led to the mountains. People tended to avoid the area, so the vegetation was allowed to flourish unimpeded. Depending on the season, there were plants, fungi and even a few stones Merrie could gather here either for medicine or to sell. She could spend days there gathering by herself, but fortunately she usually had help.

As Merrie approached the meeting place — a certain tree with twisted branches roughly halfway through the wood — she looked around. Usually she could see her friend from a good distance away, but they appeared to be absent. A sound like a dog clearing its throat drew Merrie's attention to the back side of the tree.

A slender Groundling dragon with spring-green scales stood on his hind legs, leaning against the tree with his arms folded like a human. Merrie smirked. Groundlings usually stayed on all fours, but he'd picked up the gesture from her in an effort to be "cool" in front of other, more bipedal dragons. He could see nearly eye-to-eye with her this way, too. Doubly cool.

"What's up, Little Mac?" Marie said. Of course "Mac" wasn't his dragon name, but their language was difficult for humans to pronounce. Most dragons Merrie met allowed her to give them human names for the sake of convenience.

"Oh, husshit. I ain't little no more." He liked to speak as colloquially as dragonly possible to be triply cool.

"Okay, Mac." Merrie made an honest effort to avoid sounding patronizing. "Where's Amalinda?"

"Can't come. Asked me to bring you by 'er den," said Mac with a youthful air of importance.

This was a first. Merrie had been to Amalinda's den before, but the invitation had always come straight from the dragon's mouth. Amalinda had never missed a meeting, and dragons don't forget.

"Did something happen?"

Mac lowered his head in approximation of a shrug. (Groundlings' shoulders don't really do that.) "Dunno. She wouldn't let me in." He dropped to the ground and began to lead the way.

Amalinda's den was a short climb up the foot of the nearest mountain. She was one of those dragons that enjoyed interacting with lost travelers who stumble into her front yard, so she chose a den with an "accessible" entrance. The slope began gently enough that Merrie was able to carry her basket unassisted all the way. That said, her two feet couldn't close the distance as quickly as Mac's four. Mac ran a few circles around her during the ascent.

She was waiting for them at the entrance. Amalinda was a winged dragon, closer to what comes to mind when you think of a knight's quest or a kidnapped princess. She towered over humans but was magnitudes smaller than the Raiders who pick fights in far-away kingdoms for glory and sport. She was the color of sand with flecks of gold, as if a goddess had gilded a desert to tempt a man to his doom in the wastes. Her wings, strong and practical, were folded on her back, occasionally twitching. Her limbs were perfectly versatile, but she often rested with them nestled away like a cat. She was in a restful pose as her visitors approached, but those twitching wings and a softly pounding tail betrayed her mood.

Merrie's memory could never do justice to Amalinda's powerful beauty, and she felt the same awe during the first moments of every meeting. She took a deep breath to collect herself before she spoke.

"Greetings, Amalinda. Are you well?"

The dragon exhaled. "Yes, I am well." She turned her head to Mac. "I thank you for this service, little one. Now begone."

Mac had been trying to sneak a peek deeper into the den for any clue as to what was the matter. "Y'sure? Got nothin' more I can do for ya?"

"Yes, very sure." There was a motherly fatigue in her tone. "If I have need of you again, I will call."

Mac turned to Merrie; it was her turn to perform a service. Merrie chuckled as Mac flopped onto his back like a dog. He was still a hatchling underneath his "big boy" attitude. She took her time giving him a thorough belly rub to hold him over until her next visit.

Amalinda watched in silence until Mac had skittered completely out of sight. "My apologies for failing to meet you at the agreed upon time and place. I found myself detained," she said at last.

"Oh, that's all right. Things happen. I'm sure even dragons deal with the unexpected now and again." Merrie actually had no idea whether that was the case, but it felt like a safe assumption.

Amalinda made some quiet grumble in reply.

Merrie set down her basket and began unwrapping things. "I won't keep you. If you have something to trade me for these I can—"

"Child." Amalinda interrupted. "I require your assistance. Come inside."

---

Most non-migratory dragons have hoards. Some hoard wealth, some trinkets, some knowledge. Amalinda loved humans and she hoarded human handicrafts. When a human found themselves lost in the forest, Amalinda would bring them home with her. After recovering from the shock of being kidnapped by a dragon, that human was given a proposal. "Make something for me and I will escort you out of this forest."

It was immediately apparent to Merrie that the den was in disarray. Amalinda liked to arrange and display the art she collected much like a gallery. There was a place for ceramics, another for tapestries, another for paintings and so on. Now, everything was in piles, shoved in corners, and covered with any textiles that would fit. A large earthenware pot sat conspicuously in the center of the chaos. It was braced by two hefty books and surrounded by cushions. Merrie looked back to the dragon with a puzzled expression.

"Go on, open it," said Amalinda.

If it had been anyone or anything else, Merrie would have asked questions before opening a strange vessel with unknown contents, but she trusted her host and didn't want to offend by probing her. As she approached the pot, she could hear movement and a soft cooing echo around the inside. Merrie silently counted to three and removed the lid with a decisive motion.

She looked into the pot. To her surprise, a human child with blonde hair and hazel eyes beamed back at her. The child opened and closed a hand, saying "Haa!" to greet her. Merrie mirrored the gesture.

"She was alone in the wood, naked and screaming. I could not leave her to the elements," Amalinda offered somewhat hastily.

"That makes sense," Merrie replied with some hesitation. "Should I take her with me when my ride comes back around?"

"Do you think that would work?" Amalinda replied urgently.

"Well, I wouldn't think a contract, magical or otherwise, would apply to a child."

Merrie took a package of modeling clay from her basket and presented it to Amalinda. The dragon retrieved a sachet of semi-precious stones gathered from the peaks above. The stones could be crushed into a powder that made an excellent binding agent for medicine-making, but they were too expensive to buy from the market. After making the trade, Merrie scooped up the child and headed away from the den while Amalinda remained inside.

A few yards down the mountain, Merrie's arms were suddenly empty. Well, that answerws that, she thought. She turned and hurried back to the den. As she approached Merrie heard the sound of something fragile shattering on the ground.

Scholars have yet to settle the issue of whether the natural magic is conscious, but the country folk all know it has a sense of humor. The little girl had materialized on a high shelf, the contents of which the dragon thought to be out of harm's way. Some weighty piece of pottery was on the floor in several sharp pieces. The toddler was thoughtfully searching for a direction to move while Amalinda gingerly blocked her progress with the backs of her claws. Merrie was nearly as amused as she was alarmed.

"Keep that up a bit longer while I clean." Merrie realized as she turned that the hand-sewn aprons were probably out-of-place, covering some pile of treasures.

"No!" Amalinda half roared. "No, I... Here, climb on my shoulders. You take her." The usually dignified dragon knelt hastily. "Quickly."

Merrie did as she was instructed and soon had the child in her arms again.

Amalinda composed herself and began to pick up the pieces. "It is safer to gather these with my hide than your flesh, anyway."

---

Merrie found some paper and charcoal to compose a note to Gerald and Gardenia. She would need to stay at least one night in the mountains, and the two humans had already gone through the one lunch she had packed for an afternoon of foraging. The farmers would have a stash of city food for the journey home, and Merrie promised to pay them back if they could spare some. She felt a little guilty for making such a request, but the farmers were good, charitable people. Merrie would never hear the end of it if they learned a child had gone hungry while it was in their power to prevent it.

Mac was summoned, and Merrie kept the child busy and out of sight while the dragons spoke. Mac would meet Gerald and Gardenia at the crossroads to deliver the letter and return with any provisions the farmers could spare. Mac was more than happy to do it. There would likely be a snack in it for him, too. After that, he was to fetch a certain tome from a repository at the northern end of the mountain range. This, he was less eager to do. That was a long hike both ways for a Groundling.

"Why cantcha get someone with wings ta run your errands?" asked Mac.

"This is a matter that requires discretion," Amalinda answered plainly. She lowered the angle of her head and called Mac by his proper name. That got his attention. At Merrie's suggestion, Amalinda made a conscious effort to avoid talking down to him. "I do not mean to dispatch you as an errand-boy. I am in need, and at this moment, no one is more able than you to aid me. So, can I depend on you?"

Mac puffed out his chest. "I s'pose. I'm a dependable guy, after all."

"I know it." Amalinda handed him a basket with Merrie's letter inside, and Mac was on his way.

Merrie joined Amalinda at the entrance of the den. "She's asleep."

"I was beginning to think she was incapable of sleep," the dragon replied wearily. "If you do not mind, I will take some rest myself."

"Have a good night!" Merrie bowed politely as the dragon took her leave. She watched as the last of the sunlight faded beyond the trees before returning to the child's side, where she settled into a quiet slumber.

Before Merrie opened her eyes, she noticed she felt warm. Perhaps her blanket was too heavy for the season. Wait, had she gone to sleep under a blanket? She opened her eyes and saw sunlight filtered through layers of fabric. Some wriggling and flailing later, she emerged from a pile of tapestries and sheets of hand-woven fabric. The blonde-haired child was hard at work covering Merrie with every "blanket" she could reach and drag across the cavern floor. Amalinda was still fast asleep.

At the entrance sat the basket — Mac must have come and gone in the night. Merrie opened it to find bread, cottage cheese, jam and a bite of dried meat. She took a moment to enjoy the meat alone before the little one realized breakfast had arrived.

Merrie didn't have much experience with children. She cared for their cuts and scrapes and minor illnesses often enough, but she could give them back to their parents after a few minutes. The previous day had been full of trial-and-error learning to feed, toilet and comfort a toddler with no experienced mothers or nurses to turn to. It was a little daunting, but Merrie was able to keep a brave face. She had assured Amalinda she was an expert in human needs, and that wasn't too far from the truth.

Until this moment Merrie had never considered whether or not small children could eat cottage cheese. She supposed that Gardenia wouldn't have sent it if not. The little girl saw Merrie setting out a breakfast picnic in the warm morning sunlight and eagerly joined the feast.

"Izzat a baby human?!" Mac skittered down from his hiding place above the den. The strange motion from an unexpected direction sent the child squealing into Merrie's skirt.

"Mac, you nearly gave me a heart attack. How long were you up there?"

"Oh, uh, not long. Just got back, see?" A hefty book was affixed to his back with a length of rope. "That's gotta be a baby, right? I never seen such a tiny human."

"Not exactly a baby." Merrie petted the child's hair to calm her. "She's probably a year old, maybe a little more."

Mac came in for a closer look. "What c'n she do?"

"Not much." The reply came from Amalinda. She glared at Mac. "And that is precisely our predicament."

They explained the situation to Mac. He was a part of it now, as he too would be bound to the child until the contract was fulfilled. Mac made a sheepish apology upon learning he'd complicated things.

"It's okay, Mac," said Merrie. "Now that you're here, you can help me keep her entertained.

---

The little girl quickly warmed up to Mac once she settled down. Mac rolled around and made faces for her and she giggled endlessly. They spent the morning chasing each other and making up games. Once, the child started to climb on Mac's back. Merrie moved to stop her, but Mac promised to be careful. The girl smacked his hide saying, "Go! Go!" and he slowly, gently walked her around the den. Merrie wondered if any other human or dragon alive had seen anything like this. She was also impressed to learn that rough-and-tumble Little Mac had a gentle side.

After a while Amalinda called for Merrie. The dragon had, of course, been poring over the volume retrieved by Mac. The book was old and sturdy. The front cover showed remnants of a design that was once ornate.

"Dragons prefer to collect existing books than to write themselves, but there are historians and scholars of magic among us," explained Amalinda. "This is a biography of the sage who forged the contract between races, written by one who was his student."

"I see," said Merrie. "So, does this book outline the terms of the contract?"

"It is not that simple." Amalinda paused to choose her words. "We call it a 'contract' so it can be understood by all, but it is not analogous to a human legal agreement. Rather, the natural magic interacts with the thoughts of one who invokes it — not merely the intentions, but the character and the values. Do you understand me?"

Merrie nodded slowly. "I think so. You mean that the spell works generally as the two intended it, but the specifics come from what the magic sees in their hearts. Is that it?"

Amalinda thoughtfully bobbed her head side-to-side. "More or less. That is a very human way to put it, but not incorrect."

"Did the book give you any insight?"

"Insight, yes, but it is not much help." Amalinda turned to a particular page. "The sage had a great deal of respect for children. It is evident he believed that all beings of every age have something of value to offer." She closed the book.

Merrie smirked. "Do you disagree?"

The dragon snorted. "No, Merrie, I do not disagree as a matter of philosophy, but in a practical sense I do not see how such a young child can satisfy the condition."

They were silent for a while.

"Perhaps she could stay until she's old enough to understand, or at least old enough to learn a skill, or have her help with some chore..." Merrie blurted.

"That would take months, at least. And what would I do in the meantime, take the child everywhere I go?"

"Well, that is what parents do."

Amalinda sighed deeply. "Perhaps you, Merrie, could find someone willing to stay with me for a time and care for the child. I could not do it alone. I cannot even hold her for fear of hurting her."

"That may be the best we can do." Merrie wished she could stay herself, but they both knew Ashford depended on her apothecary. Even if she left that moment, it could be days before someone could return to help with the child.

"'Scuse me, ladies," Mac called from behind. "Someone has a present for ya." He winked, another human trick he'd learned.

The girl toddled forward with her hand out to Amalinda. In her palm was a hunk of modeling clay that had been squished mostly flat. The clay's surface was marked with tiny craters in a random pattern. There was no telling what this sculpture was supposed to be, if anything, but no doubt of her intention. Her little face was beaming up at the dragon.

Amalinda hesitated. The clay was still wet and she worried she would crush it if she tried to pick it up. She looked to Merrie, and received a "go on" gesture from her. Very carefully the dragon took the sculpture and transported it to a shelf nearby, placing it in a prominent position.

Amalinda lowered herself as near as she could to the girl's height. "I thank you, my dear," she said warmly, "for the splendid, heartfelt gift."

---

Merrie and Amalinda traded the rest of their supplies. There hadn't been time to forage, but she could make do without a few plants and fungi for a season or two. The dragons escorted the girls as far as the twisted tree. Merrie and the child took their time saying their goodbyes to Mac with all the belly-rubs and head-pats he could ever want.

Amalinda made a quiet snort. "I do not know how you have so much energy left. I could sleep for a week."

"Are you sure it won't be too quiet without us?" Merrie teased.

"Quite sure," came the reply, almost too seriously.

As they started down the path, Merrie held the girl on her shoulder so she could wave goodbye. The tiny hand opened and closed again and again as the humans shrank into the horizon. The clawed hands of the two dragons easily returned her wave. They would meet again when the leaves turned.

END.