Dragon Love

Byron was working in his garden, collecting his herbs for some medicines when a shadow fell across some plants. The smell of cooked chicken wafted to him and caught his attention immediately. When he looked up, Byron smiled at the sight of his guest.

"Healer, I must have lost track of time. Let me clean up and we'll eat."

Healer Raphael laughed, saying, "You always lose track of the time whenever you tend your garden. I'll set it up out here. The day is beautiful, and finally warm enough for it."

Byron nodded in agreement and went to wash the dirt from his hands, arms and face. He also gathered the plates, cutlery, cups and napkins they'd need before joining his friend. Raphael was settled and when he saw Byron his face lit up in a bright smile.

"Now, don't take this the wrong way, Bryon, but your garden isn't looking as full as usual for this time of year."

Byron shrugged and replied, "There was a bit of a drought during prime season and my herbs weren't able to fully form. I'm afraid that some of my plants even died. There are some medicines and tonics I won't be able to help make if I don't find the plants somehow."

"While I appreciate the medicines, I wish you would come down and work with me; get recognition for your treatments. sometimes, I think you treat the patients more than I do, even though you're not even there."

Byron smiled and shook his head, "Your talents as a healer are great, and my medicines only aide you. I can make them but I wouldn't know how to use them or what they're used for. Besides, I'm a witch, or at least that's what the village people say. While you may be tolerant of my oddities, others are not."

Raphael sighed his disappointment, but let the subject drop. Their lunch was finished in comfortable silences intermingled with small talk of events which had occurred since their last meeting. Byron loved spending time with his friend. Raphael was a generous man, always ready with a smile and a laugh. he treated patients with compassion and gentleness. Everyone liked Healer Raphael.

Whey they finished with lunch and cleaned everything up, Byron walked with Raphael to the edge of his property. Clasping his slender shoulder, Byron said, "I will see you for dinner in two days. Unfortunately, I won't be able to visit tomorrow and bring more medicines. I'll be going out of town in an attempt to find some herbs and plants elsewhere."

Raphael smiled and covered Byron's hand with his own, replying, "No worries, Byron. Be careful. I want you to visit more often, but nos as an actual patient."

The next day, Byron woke early, before the sun had even risen, and left his house with a large bag slung over a shoulder and a walking stick in hand. He didn't think the next town was spared the effects of the drought, so Byron decided to go further up into the mountains. Hopefully, some of the plants grew wild there. Then he could collect them to dry some and make his medicines. He felt bad that he wouldn't be able to give as many to Raphael as usual.

A few hours of walking later, and after a short break, Byron reached the foot of the mountains What he saw caused him to lose his breath. there, in front of him was a field of herb, plants and flowers. There were more than even in his own garden. It was beautiful, colorful, magical even. The light breeze swayed through the leaves and the sun seemed to make the field sparkle. The scents of the various plants reached Byron and he inhaled deeply, feeling peaceful.

He looked around, seeing if maybe he could spot a house, or some sign of ownership. When he didn't see any, no house, or buildings of any kind, Byron gleefully went about carefully selecting plants he would need.

The next few hours, Byron spent judiciously selecting plants, situating them in his bag so they wouldn't get crushed or unduly damaged. The sun was high, hotly beating down on him before he stopped for a break. Byron drank deeply of his water skein and ate the cheese, bread and honey he brought. He was just about to resume his collecting when a shadow appeared before him.

At first he assumed it was a cloud that moved in front of the sun until he realized the shadow had a shape. And that it was increasing in size. Byron looked up and almost fell backwards at what he saw.

A dragon was descending to the earth, and Byron suddenly found it difficult to breath. The dragon's color was a dark green with a gold belly. The body was long and sinuous with a wicked looking tail. The sharp claws caught the sunlight and Bryon would have sworn the dragon was grinning. And, although it flew, somehow it did so without wings.

It landed before Byron and stared at him. How Byron managed to remain on his legs was only due to the fact that every muscle seemed to have tightened and froze.

"Why are you stealing my plants?"

The mouth didn't move but Byron heard the words regardless. Instead of thinking too much on the hows and the whys, he answered in a quiet and shaky voice.

"I didn't know they belonged to anyone. My own garden suffered from the drought and I needed herbs to make medicines."

"Then, you are a healer?"

Byron hesitated before answered, but decided to answer truthfully.

"I am an herbalist. I make medicines and tonics and give them to my friend, Raphael. He is the healer. And I go with him when he does his rounds to the people who live outside the bounds of the village."

"But you are knowledgeable in healing and need these plants to make medicines?"

Byron nodded, wondering why it seemed so important to the dragon that he know whether Bryon knew about healing.

"Then I shall make you a deal. If you make some of those healing tonics and give them to me, as well as help with the upkeep of the garden, then I will allow you to use the plants you find here."

Byron looked at the dragon, hardly able to believe his luck. Not only was the dragon not going to kill him, but he was able to use these herbs; and he got to tend them! All he had to do was make extra medicines. He was going to be able to do the things he loved. Byron excitedly nodded, thanking the dragon for his generosity.

"If you come twice a week, that would be enough."

"Of course. The First and Fourth days are okay."

It was half question, half statement, and he smiled when the dragon said yes.

"I will expect you in four days, human."

"Byron, my name is Bryon."

The dragon just made a noise and flew off, leaving Byron blinking after him.


His Fifth day night dinners with Raphael were usually in a tavern, but sometimes in Raphael's home. This time, due to the nature of the conversation he wanted to have, Byron asked to eat in, to which Raphael readily agreed. They both prepared the dinner, working together in harmony, anticipating the other's needs. Therefore, their dinner was ready quickly and between them and their various knowledge of plants, herbs and seasonings, it almost always tasted good.

"So, you're telling me that you made a deal with a dragon? I hadn't even realized there was a dragon in those mountains."

"Are you knowledgeable of dragons then, Healer?" Byron's teasing question had an underlying of seriousness to it.

Raphael laughed quietly and shook his head, "More of a childhood obsession that only quieted but never truly left. I won't tell you to stop going, because I know you. And I don't need to warn you that dragons are dangerous and possessive in what they view as theirs. However, I will say that you be very careful."

Byron reached and grabbed Raphael's hand and saying with much feeling, "I promise to be as careful as one can when dealing with a dragon."

Byron settled into a routine. On First day, he went to the dragon's herb garden where he tended it. Picking weeds, pruning and organizing the field was relaxing to him. Second day was spent making medicines and tonics, as well as preparing some herbs to dry through the winter months. Third day, in the morning, he caught up on his chores, had lunch with Raphael, then usually went with him to visit the more rural patients that couldn't make it to the clinic. He didn't know much about finding a problem, but he knew which medicines would help once Raphael diagnosed the problem.

Fourth day, he went back to the dragon's garden and worked. Fifth day was spent tending his own, much smaller garden, then dinner with Raphael. Sixth day was his resting day, and Seventh day, he again joined Raphael on his rounds.

Byron enjoyed himself immensely. When he tended the garden, sometimes the dragon would be there, lying under the warm rays of the sun. Sometimes he would ask Byron various questions about the herbs in the garden and what they were used for.

Late in summer, when the weather had started to cool, and on a First day, a tickling of unease raced up Byron's spine as he neared his home. He slowed down and strained to see as far as he could in the darkness, but he had terrible night vision. He walked slower and tried to lighten his steps. When nothing occurred, he quickened his walk and hurried to his door. As soon as his hand touched the knob, Byron felt a sharp pain at the back of his head, then darkness closed in.

When he came to, his head pounded and his vision was fuzzy. He recognized smells first. The scents of piss, sweat, feces, blood and fear overwhelmed him. Next, he saw the stone walls, the single barred window and the bars in front of him. But why was he in a jail cell? How long had he been here?

Byron tried to roll over, but immediately stopped because of the wave of nausea that followed. He moaned and closed his eyes. They snapped open when he heard footsteps. Alternately holding his breath and breathing fast, Byron managed to settle himself into a seated position, leaning heavily on the wall.

A man stopped in front of his cell, but remained in the shadows, his face obscured.

Licking his lips, it took two tries for Byron to find his voice, and it was hoarse and quiet. "Who are your? Why am I here?"

The person didn't answer, just stood still.

"Answer me, please. What have I done to deserve this?"

The man called out, obviously not speaking to Byron.

"Bring the healer. We wouldn't want our prisoner to expire too soon. We've not even questioned him yet." The last bit was said with cruel glee. It was unsettling to Byron, more so than waking and finding himself in the jail.

"And give him some water and bread."

With that, the man walked away, leaving Byron to the dark. He didn't know how much time had passed until a bowl of dirty water and stale, moldy bread was thrown at him. He was hungry, so ate the bits that weren't moldy and left the water.

A short while later, Raphael came rushing in, his as the assistant trailing behind at a more leisurely pace. He waited impatiently as the cell door was unlocked and opened. Then he quickly ran in and dropped beside Byron.

"What happened to you?" Without waiting for a reply Raphael continued talking. "There wasn't anything I could do. i didn't know until it was too late and even then, they put Roberts on me as a guard."

"Raphael, what is going on? Why am I here?"

The healer gently lifted Byron's head and placed it on his lap, carefully feeling around until he found the bump on the back.

"Here, drink this. It helps to numb the pain and will aid in stopping the nausea."

Byron knew what everyone of the tonics did, but he appreciated Raphael telling it. He recited the herbs ingredients that went into them to occupy his mind with something other than being in a cell.

"You've been accused of being a witch, of summoning demons and of killing old man Stalkton. Which is absurd, as I've told them. He died and a weak heart, but since his brothers lived to be one hundred, they felt that he should have as well."

"Who accused me? Why would they do such a thing?"

"I don't know, Byron. I wish there was something more I could do, but they won't let me."

Byron easily heard the frustration in his friend's voice.

"No, don't do anything that will result in you getting thrown in here as well."

The healer sighed despondently.

"Healer, we have to go." Raphael's assistant sounded frightened. Byron wished he could remember the assistant's name, but he didn't really interact with the youth.

"Stay strong, Byron. I will come as often as I am able."

As he watched Raphael leave, Byron realized there was a sedative in the medicines because he immediately fell asleep.


A strong blow to the face woke Byron up.

"Wake up, Witch! It's time to fess up to your crimes."

A rough hand clamped onto Byron's arm and yanked him up, causing his head to restart its throbbing refrain. He was shoved in a different cell, no bars for entry; rather a heavy metal door. There was also no window, only a few wall sconces provided an oppressing sort of glow. Byron was shoved onto a chair with restraints around the ankles, wrists, neck and forehead. They were all strapped, leaving Byron immobile.

"Now, you have been accused of witchcraft. How you you plead?"

"Shouldn't I be able to face my accusers? To be tried in a court instead of in a cell?"

The man, wearing a black mask, back handed Byron. He couldn't move his head due to the restraints, which dug into his neck and forehead with the hit.

"That is not the answer to the question. Do you deny being a witch?"

"Yes. I am not a witch. I'm but a simple herbalist who tens his garden and makes medicines. Nothing more."

"If that was true, there would be no accusations. It has been stated that you leave to visit with a demon, and that is from where you are granted your otherworldly powers."

"That's not true! I have no power! I've nev-" Byron's earnest denials were cut off rudely.

"And that you killed old man Stalkton when he refused to do your bidding and give up his land to you and your unnatural urges."

"No, he died of a weak heart! The healer said."

The man leaned forward, his hands resting on Byron's trapped arms, his manner intense.

"Yes, the good, innocent healer you have enscorceled. You've be-spelled him to follow you, but we'll see to it that he's cured."

"No! He's my friend. I've never-I would never-" Byron tried to keep the desperate anger out of his voice, but he so wanted to be believed.

"We have the word of a respected member of this town. One who is seen daily, who is liked. Whereas you live on your own in the wilderness. you only come to town one evening during the week."

The man got up and walked to the door. When he opened it, light streamed in, causing Byron to blink rapidly and his eyes to water. Before the man completely exited, he turned around.

"I think we'll leave you here a while longer, until you're ready to confess. A few hours in the dark, with only hungry rats for company should get you to change your answer."

Darkness once again enveloped Byron. As soon as the echo of the lock clicking disappeared, Byron started struggling in his restraints. Perhaps he could loosen the leather...or wriggle through...

He didn't know how much time had passed; hours, maybe minutes but Byron had to quite as he felt the skin on his wrists split and blood slide down. He tried to ignore the tear that ran down his cheek. He felt a rat scurry across his foot, up his body, and more followed. He felt whiskers and a furry snout rub in the blood smearing a wrist. On the other, he felt the bite of little teeth.

"GET OFF!" He shouted, thrashing, trying to dislodge the rodents.

A noise at the door caused the rats to run away. The door opened he scented divine, delicious smelling food. It was set down at the entrance, so Byron could see it and smell it, but not eat it. Instead he had to watch the rats eat it all. At least then they wouldn't be eating him. Hopefully.

Byron's stomach burned as the acids churned, and his mouth watered. He felt so hungry, he hadn't eaten a proper meal before he was grabbed, and he had no real concept of how long he'd been locked up. He closed his eyes, tried to calm his breathing. He couldn't let himself be beaten by whomever was against him.

Byron had fallen asleep, or maybe he'd just passed out; regardless, when he came to, he found himself back in the cell, on the bed of straw. He looked at his wrists where the restraints had cut into them and where the rats had nibbled, and they were crudely wrapped in dirty cloth. his ankles were rubbed raw and red, but the skin hadn't broken. Byron closed his eyes and wished he was someplace far away, in a garden. Maybe even the dragon's garden. Why was it he was safer with a dragon than with humans? What he couldn't understand was why someone would do this to him.

"Byron!"

Raphael had come again.

"What have they done to you now?"

His hands were taken in gentle hands, and the dirty bandages removed. He felt a cool, sticky substance cover the wounds on his wrists, then they were re-bandaged. He was given water, which cooled his throat, and went a long way to reviving him.

"I'm sorry I don't have any food, but the guards wouldn't let me. I wish there was more I could do for you."

Byron moved so he was leaning against Raphael. He inhaled deeply and felt himself relaxing. The healer smelled nice; like fresh air and sunshine; herbs and spices; fresh bread and freedom. Things which Byron didn't currently have.

"I wish I knew who started this mess. Buy every time I try to tell anyone of this mistake, I'm told that I can't possibly know what I'm talking about as you've enscorceled me."

"Don't dwell on it, Raphael. Please don't do anything to get yourself into any trouble. I can handle me being in here, but not you."

"I will not stop trying to convince everyone of your innocence, Byron. Do not ask that of me! And I will come to visit you, even if it leads to me being locked up in here with you!"

Byron sighed, but didn't say anything, knowing there was nothing for him to say. Instead he settled himself closer against Raphael and fell asleep.