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((This is where I'm going to store my story in progress about Dragon-Bound. Please feel free to comment in this thread. I'll be posting installments as I hit good stopping points. enjoy.))

My anger boiled hot and I knew the dragon felt it. He had been feeling it for hours, quietly taking it and acknowledging it and not doing a damned thing about it. The beast only lay there on his side, propped up on his forelegs so he could watch the sunset, his only movement perhaps a flick of his elongated ears, or the very tip of his tail – a nervous little flicker – like a waiting cat. Once the sun set and the moon was up the dragon's scales would shine with a silver sheen and his gray mane would be transformed into liquid water. He said it was the blessing of the Moon Goddess. I had said at the time that the blessings of the gods were lies. I had been forbidden to speak for days as a result of his anger, just as I was forbidden to speak now.

Still, he felt my anger.

“You have enough arrows.”

It wasn't a question. Maderick wasn't delicate enough to hide when he was shifting through my thoughts like flipping through a book for the right chapter. He knew how many arrows I had in the hut that passed as my dwelling. Three bows. Three quivers. The crossbow was the only one he cared about for it was the only one strong enough to puncture a dragon's scales consistently. The hunting bow could sometimes get through the leathery coat on a dragon's chest and belly but would easily skip off the turtle-like surface with an angled shot. A crossbow could break through and would stick.

I scowled at his back, letting him feel my disapproval. His wings looked like mere gossamer in the fading light, the thin membrane between each piece of bone hardly enough to lift the muscle and fire that was a dragon. No, their flight was part of the magic of this world and the humans had stolen it from them.

It was why I was here, paying for sins I was born into but never committed.

“Rin?”

I heard him shift and I turned my back to him, standing in the clearing with my arms crossed. Behind me the tree line opened up to a sharp ravine that ended with a narrow river at the base before reaching up into the deep forest again. It afforded us a bit of a view of the sky and some clear land upon which I'd settled. Before me was the forest, old growth that had never been cut. The trees were spaced wide and there was little underbrush. I could see the scars of dragon-claws on the bark, clean white marks. Only old growth trees could stand up to a dragon.

“Rin, I cannot tell anything apart.”

Now there was anger in his voice. Maderick was a primal creature and had yet to learn the complexity of a human that some others in the clan had. I was thankful for that. It was easy to let my thoughts run wild and confuse the dragon to the point where he could no longer reach in and simply take what he wanted to know from my mind.

“You may speak.”

A petty victory, but I took what I could.

“What were you thinking!?” I yelled, whirling as I did to face the dragon. We stood apart, Maderick on all fours and standing so that I barely reached his shoulder. I, wild and unkempt, my reddish hair long and loose, wearing thin linen pants and a shirt just as worn. I had been the huntress of my family, my elder brother the heir of our lands and my younger brother determined to join an in-land militia.

My family had never been without one blessed by Narktu, dragon-god of the hunt, even if it was a woman.

“It was a challenge,” the dragon replied. I could sense his irritation at having to explain this.

“I know,” I said, “And if we want to keep what miserable spec of hunting land we've got, we have to answer it. I know. But I will not carry my war bow. I'll cut the string first.”

The sun finally gave over to the night. I could still see, the world outlined in the faint green of dragon's night-vision. It was the same world Maderick saw with his own eyes.

“I forbid it.”

I flinched.

“I can fight you.”

And that was a threat indeed. When the humans had torn the world apart and taken the power of flight it had split the souls of the dragons. They were grounded and the soul of flight was buried into the bodies of humans. The ritual was incomplete, however, and instead of gaining the ability to fly and be masters of the sky, the humans that had dared command such power were killed by their own magics. And we were left with the yearning to fly but the power was locked to dragons and dragons alone. I was merely human.

So the dragons took back what was theirs. That piece of flight was what bound me to Maderick and he held all the strings to that bond. My thoughts were not my own. My feelings, my will, nothing.

Still, even with the compulsion, I knew I could still cut the string to my warbow. A moment of resistance to the bond was all it would take. Maderick knew I could, too. It had been done before.

“Bring the crossbow then,” he finally said, “And the war bow. If things go poorly, you kill the Bound.”

It was very simple to his mind. Maderick, being young in the clan had a low social status. His clan was small and ruled by strength – the stronger, the more say a dragon had in the councils they held. Another dragon, also newly-bound, had challenged him before the older dragons over territory and now Maderick had to answer the challenge or lose both hunting ground and status. While dragons typically fought to submission their humans, their Bound, were considered expendable.

Hence the bows. My war bow was light and easy to draw. I could fire arrows fast but none would have the strength to pierce a dragon's hide.

Plenty strong enough for human flesh, however.

And if a Bound died... the dragon felt the death. That could not be shut out or ignored. And it would give Maderick more than enough of an opening to get his jaws around the neck of our rival. Of course, it was the exact strategy I was certain the other Bound would be using as well. The thing was... he wasn't blessed by Narktu. And while I doubted that being born of a lineage and under the omens of a dragon-god blessing had been anything but a curse in my life the other dragons of the clan knew it and respected it.

And my rival Bound feared it.

I could shoot him down before he even got close enough to harm me.

“Alright,” I said, “I'll go check the quivers.”

I hadn't realized how close to the shrine I had strayed until I hit my foot against one of the half-buried stone slabs that surrounded it. Maderick had woken in pain, finally unable to divert it off to his hapless Bound and to ease both of our suffering I had gone out to gather herbs. There was a plant that if crushed could be made into sort of a paste that would at least numb the burns Maderick had suffered until they healed. Hopefully it would be enough to keep him from off-loading the pain onto me. It was an odd thing, if one thought about. The mighty dragons, here, an adult male in a clan ruled by power and strength, and yet it was perfectly accepted – even expected as a common practice – that injuries and other annoyances be shuffled off for the Bound to deal with. Our expendable nature was firmly cemented in dragon society. If a Bound died... the dragon only had to get another. And for them, the binding was easy.

I had already found a handful of the plants I wanted along with some wild onions I was lucky enough to stumble across. I set my basket down upon the slab of rock and moved closer to the shrine. It sat on the very border of the clan's territory and everything beyond it was considered free land. No one had claimed it. Eventually, the younglings would grow and find Bounds of their own and take up territory and our borders would expand. Maderick's river and this shrine would no longer mark the end of the clan's reach. But until then, this was as far as the dragons went.

It was difficult to tell who had originally built the structure. Narktu's shrines were usually crude simply because the people who built them didn't have the time to make an elaborate temple like the cities did. They were hunters, rangers, outcasts. This particular shrine was now just a heap of rocks. A handful of flat stones had been laid into the earth to form a floor of sorts that was now overgrown with moss and weeds. At the center was a single stone, about waist-height, that had merely been set upright and then had the single arrow that was Narktu's symbol etched into its surface. Could have been done by a dragon. Could have been done by a human. It was difficult to say. There was a shrine similar to this one on the borders of my family's land. The main difference was the degree of upkeep.

I knelt before the stone and picked at the dirt and moss that had nestled into the lines of the carving. They said that the dragon-god Narktu was such a hunter that he only carried one arrow as he never needed more than that to make a kill. The only time he failed to kill his prey with one arrow was when he was unwittingly hunting a goddess. I had heard all the stories growing up. My family was blessed by the dragon-god. I heard how Narktu weaved through the history of our world, sometimes for good, sometimes for ill. But what could one expect from a god of the hunt, where the thrill of bringing the quarry down was all that mattered?

“Thought you'd given up on gods.”

I startled badly. I stood up, banging my knee against the stone and turned in a half-stumble, raising up one arm in a futile defensive movement. The woman just stood there, smiling slightly. There was gray streaked in her hair, unusual for a Bound as we shared our dragon's lifespan, and scars about her wrists. I took a moment to catch my breath.

“Startled me,” I finally said.

“My apologies. I just thought you didn't pray to Narktu... not anymore.”

She walked to stand beside me and I absently made way for the Bound of one of our clan elders. She had learned to use the dragon magic. She knelt, her simple skirt flowing about her and continued the work I'd started. I dusted some leaves off the top of the stone.

“I don't,” I said, “I was just thinking – there's a shrine like this one on the borders of my family's land.”

“Homesick?”

I turned and looked away.

“You could go see them.”

“Maderick wouldn't allow it,” I whispered.

She laughed gently. “I know that dragon. Or rather, my dragon knows Maderick and so through that – so do I. He's just young and still confused by human emotions. He feels them, you know. Even if he keeps the link closed he still dips into your mind, does he not?”

I didn't reply.

“When he does, he feels them. And they gnaw at his mind. It changes a dragon, you see, and they all have their ways of coping with it. Some shut their link down entirely and the human becomes only an accessory, a tool to reach the skies and nothing more. Some embrace it and share everything they know, as my master has done. And some... well, Maderick is not one to go to either extreme. You will change him and he will change you. I know him.”

“There's a reason you're here,” I said dully, “The Bound of an elder doesn't seek out the Bound of a dragon so low in the hierarchy without a reason.”

“Maybe I wanted to pay my respects to Narktu.”

She stood.

“Or maybe I wanted to enlist the aid of someone blessed by Narktu.”

“Superstition,” I muttered.

“Then at the least, someone with a steady hand with a bow who can fit the part of a ranger.”

I turned away from the stone and looked at her. Her face was composed and blank, a smooth surface with only the smallest of signs to betray her age. I gently shook my head and looked away, unable to hold her gaze.

“Make your request to Maderick, not me,” I muttered, “He's the dragon.”

“No,” she said, simply, “I will not. There is great promise here and I will not see Maderick ruin a Bound simply because he's too confused by what he wants to listen to his human companion. He wields the dragon magic clumsily and I know him – he is capable of so much more. Both of you are. It is the responsibility of the elders to guide the newly bound in a way that will benefit the clans. Some, we leave as are as there is no hope or they are working things out on their own. Others... we nudge.”

She smiled softly and reached out, grasping my wrist tightly. I couldn't help but stare at the burn scars around her own wrists.

“The elder before us did the same when Shavaen was young and had just bound me. Finish your task here and then tell Maderick he is to expect a visit from myself and Shavaen. Tell him that when you venture into the human territory he will listen and obey you.”

“He'll never-”

“Yes. He will. I know Maderick. He will bend. Force him to.”

And she turned and walked away. When she reached the shadows of the trees she seemed to fade out of sight, like a mist in the morning fog. I shook my head in disbelief. Dragon magic and telling Maderick what to do. I turned my back to the shrine, walking quickly, and scooped up my basket of herbs. I didn't have enough but it wouldn't matter. No amount of paste over a burn wound would make Maderick happy after what I was going to have to tell him.

We flew by day for the first two days. Late in the evening Maderick would swoop low, just above the treetops and scare out any animals in hiding. I shot a deer on the first night and didn't bother on the second. I had my own rations and dragons did not need to hunt every night, not with an entire deer to feast on. We sat far apart from each other so I didn't have to hear him ripping the tendons and cracking the bones, swallowing almost entire parts of the deer whole. I saved the horns. They could be useful.

We flew by night for the next day and I slept in the harness upon Maderick's back. It was an uneasy night and I shivered from the cold. I left Maderick in the morning. He would stay hidden until I'd located a town and found out the current situation in the Borderlands. I doubted it had changed much in the three years I'd been gone.

I emerged from the woods into a pasture. The cattle looked at me in mild interest as I tromped past and I started looking for their keeper. Borderlands cattle was large with wicked long horns but you never left a herd alone this close to the forest. I found their shepard sitting on a stone wall marking the boundaries. I hailed him from a distance and the boy just squinted at me for a moment before waving in acknowledgement. He was young and just gave a quick glance to my ragged clothes and bow before dismissing me off as either a poor traveler or a ranger.

“Where's your brother?” I asked the boy. He looked too young to be out here.

“Fightin'” he said with a shrug, “Da says I can't go.”

“Who they fighting?”

“Lord Tiost. From the north. His men, they stole some of the livestock and won't give it back. Lord Eskir has mustered all them old enough to fight.”

“Where's the camp?”

“Um. North. Just follow the road. Stay at the village, can't make it in one day.”

I left him there and made for the direction he had pointed. An idea was turning itself around in my head. I've heard stories about it from both the humans and the dragons. It'd curry the favor of at least one lord and get me enough pay that I wouldn't even have to find Niev's contact. It would also attract far too much attention and send my name skittering across all corners of the Borderlands. I sucked on my bottom lip, considering the options. It would also let the dragon hunters know where we were and Maderick might not be able to handle them without an edge. That thought wound about in my mind a bit before settling in my gut.

Maderick had said if he died, I would as well. The shock of our bond breaking would destroy my mind.

He could also be lying.

And if... if I led him to the hunters... would I be able to hide that in my mind from him?

The long hike to civilization gave me plenty of time to think. I reached the town shortly after dark with only a few things settled in my mind. I couldn't betray Maderick. He was loathe enough to listen to me while in the Borderlands that I had no doubt he wouldn't rifle through my thoughts at some point to understand what I was planning. Hells, he might even stumble upon the fact that I had even considered getting him killed and... I wasn't sure what he would do. I tried not to think about it.

The town had already closed its gates. A bit paranoid, as the sun had not been out of the sky for too long. The night watchman asked too many questions. I had to repeat myself.

“Rin,” I said impatiently, “Ranger from the south. I'm just stopping by to resupply.”

“Bad time for it,” he grumbled, finally opening the gate, “Got us a war brewing.”

“Heard on the way in. Nobility pissing fight?”

“Aye. Our Lord bout had enough with the last cattle raid. So if you're looking for arrows, ranger, gonna find them in short supply.”

“No, I make my own. Need a cloak though. Badly.”

He eyed me up and down with a critical eye.

“That you do, miss. Tavern is just up the street. Can't miss it.”

I talked with the locals. Rangers always did that. They were away so long in the wilds that it felt like a new world coming back. Me? Doubly so. I had lived among the dragons as a slave by my soul and nothing could ever be the same. I felt like I was watching a puppet show, drinking the ale, listening, thinking. It was Rin, to be sure, with a new cloak, ragged traveling clothes, pack and bows, talking to people in a inn with a well-worn wood floor and a solemn crowd. I noticed most of the men there were either too old to fight or too important to spare from the duties of a town. And as I listened, I started to think.

Neither Lord really wanted to war. It might just be a matter of showing up, looking over who had turned up, and going home. It happened that way sometimes. A superior show of force was enough to settle disputes as human life was a valuable thing out here. Especially with the dragons on our border. I wondered if my family had put up a marker for a grave that would never be filled, a marker with my name on it. I'd seen many of them. They were all the same.

'Taken by dragons.'

I stayed the night on the last of the coin I had on hand. The scales I could sell were now a backup plan, as I had a better one. It'd flush the dragon hunters out of hiding, get me some well-deserved payment, and hopefully allow me to travel openly with Maderick. Not to mention curry the favor of the local Lord. I made good time on the road, made even better when a cart laden with supplies for the mustering army picked me up for a ride. We chatted a bit. I said I was going to see what kind of price Lord Eskir would pay for another bow.

“Well enough, miss,” the man replied, “If you're a good enough shot to convince our Lord you can pick off enough men to scare the other force.”

I reassured him my bow would be more than sufficient. We reached the war camp around midday and I thanked the man, helped him unload as payment, and went wandering about. Maderick had already been briefed on what to do, late that night when he made a flyover the town I was in, high enough to be unseen, low enough to communicate. He was staying in the forests until noon. I noted the shabby formation of the camp. There was very little rhyme or reason, just scattered tents around a campfire here and there. The small clusters seemed familiar with each other. All from the same farmstead or town then. There, at the edge of camp, was a regimented group, everything in straight lines. A very small mercenary group, possibly barely twenty men, but at least it was something if push came to shove came to sword. I found the biggest pavilion there and addressed the guards. I waited a moment and felt Maderick's mind touch mine.

'Now?'

'Not yet. They're making me wait. How close are you?'

'If I catch the thermal here I can be there in a quarter turn of the sun.'

Quickly, then. Maderick could fly when he needed to and an updraft of heated air would only speed him along.

'Take it. Lord Eskir here needs some motivation.'

The Lord made me wait longer than I appreciated. I kept reminding myself that I was merely a ranger, just another hired bow, and the guards lost interest in chatter when they realized I was growing impatient over all this. I could hear muted voices from within the pavilion and the guards were eying me like they just wish I would go away.

That was when the cry went up. I looked to the mercenary camp and saw them forming up, two ranks deep, with bows ready. The black speck on the horizon was far too recognizable for those in the Borderlands. I had seen them before. But a flying dragon rarely posed a threat, unless they were out for blood. The camp had to be ready, just in case. In the midst of the panic I remained immobile, even when Lord Eskir himself came out and bellowed for his captains to go restore order and get the archers ready.

“I have a bow as well, Lord Eskir,” I said.

He didn't even look at me.

“The ranger for hire?”

“I am.”

“Hurry and name your price girl, that dragon seems intent on heading our way.”

Of course. I named my price. Now THAT got me noticed.

“Well,” I said, after he called me daft, “I must confess the price is not my doing. I only relay the demands of my master, after all. And he will not fight unless I am duly compensated so that we can travel in comfort. I've spent too long in dragon territory not to enjoy a hot bath and the best room in the inn.”

Lord Eskir swore. Invoked the Sun King. Maderick flew closer, finally banking up to stay out of arrow range, circling the camp. His finned wings were like smoked glass and the sun on his scales outlined silver edges. He demonstrated all that a dragon was, all that they were, when they ruled the skies.

“And he'll fight?”

“Will he even need to, when you show up on the battlefield with a dragon?”

Lord Eskir made a show of considering it. He gambled and made a counter-offer. We met in the middle and I called for Maderick to land while Lord Eskir called for everyone to stand down and lower bows. The mercenaries did not look happy. Maderick landed carefully, minding his tail and wings. As was, he blew one tent over and collapsed the poles on a second. I don't think anyone noticed.

“As you can see, he is Bound,” I said, “No threat to anyone here.”

“What do I call him?” the noble asked.

“Maderick,” my dragon replied, “My Bound informed me we have an arrangement?”

For a moment, Eskir seemed shaken. I squinted at him. He was a younger lord, probably only inherited his title for less than ten years now, if not fewer. Darker skinned with dark hair, most likely from some southern nomad blood in the family line. And he definitely didn't look like someone that knew much about dragons outside the story. I decided against humiliating my new purse and using that against him.

“I do not speak their tongue very well,” I said, “So he uses mine.”

“The practice has been helpful.”

A crowd had gathered. Maderick sat on his haunches, curled his tail around him and gazed calmly down at Eskir. I could feel the quiet satisfaction radiating from him and for a moment I felt I had just glimpsed something I did not know. My captor was enjoying the attention. And strangely enough, so was I.

We were in control here.

“Sir Maderick,” Lord Eskir said, offering him the bow he would give to anyone of equal rank, “It is good to have you in our company. Should you require anything please inform our quartermaster.”

“I hunt alone,” the dragon replied, “And refrain from titles. I have none and sir is reserved for the Order of the Dragon Knights, of which I am not.”

And never would be, thank the Gods for small miracles. Dragon Knights required far too much combat and training between Bound and dragon for our liking.

“I wouldn't mind talking to this quartermaster,” I said, “It's impossible to get good leather jerkins out in dragon territory.”

The deal was made. People kept a wide berth from me as I walked through camp to find the person responsible for all supplies. He gaped at me at first, as I had been the one helping unload the newest shipment hours earlier. Now I was rummaging through the armor, trying to find something my size.

“Pretty sparse,” I commented.

“Already divvied much of it out. Hold up, I think there's a studded vest that may fit. For a younger soldier, which we thankfully have few of.”

I tried it on and found it a bit too tight across the chest. Still, it would do. I swapped out my old wrist guards for some new bracers, filled up on arrows, and was content. The quartermaster talked the entire time, asking about dragons. I told him little.

“I hear Bounds are little more than slaves,” he said. I stiffened.

“Depends,” I replied, “Maderick's clan doesn't see too much value in their Bounds... at least the younger generation. They change, as they get older. The Elders... gods. If their Bound tells a dragon what to do, they do it. Sometimes I think they're more scared of the humans than the the dragons in the Elder council.”

I chuckled.

“But the Fallen...” the man asked.

“Never seen one. They stay to the west and only venture inland through areas where there are no clan holdings or they wouldn't be chased away.”

I shouldered my things to go find a place to make camp. We would meet in open field for battle tomorrow.

“Even when they do come west,” I continued, “it's usually up north, towards Yvette's holdings. The number of dragon hunters she's sent out has made every clan in her direction quite happy to let the Fallen pass through on a raid.”

Dragons could ignore their territorial instincts when it benefited them. And the constant harassment of Yvette's hunters gave the clans more than enough reason to welcome the most ruthless dragons on a warpath. Fallen... were an interesting breed. They earned their wings – some way or another – and their bodies were twisted to resemble the monstrous deeds they had done. Some destroyed their Bounds, tearing the mind apart like a child pulling an ant's legs off, one at a time. Others were more subtle in their methods. Either way, a Fallen sported wings – true wings – and flew without the aid of a Bound. Some said it was Marckius that gave them back their wings, reveling in their cruelty and the suffering they inflicted. But from what I had heard, that didn't fit with what was told of the Princeling God. After all, it had been a dragon that had rescued him from the chains he was bound in, after the war was lost to Lahmear. But the Fallen got their wings somehow, from some force in this world, the kind that left evil things in the dark corners. No one knew for sure. And the Fallen weren't the type you could just ask.

I made sure to visit the mercenaries before the end of the day. Their captain and I spoke on how to incorporate Maderick to our best advantage.

“Lord Eskir is inspiring,” the man said, “but I won't trust his skills on the battlefield. His men are convinced they've already won, but me? I'm practical. We may have a dragon but today is today and the battle is tomorrow.”

I found Maderick as the sun set. Eskir had food sent my way, from his own personal provisions. I had wine for the first time since Maderick carried me away as his Bound.

“You're happy,” Maderick said. He spoke in his own tongue. I had lied to Eskir. I was fluent in the dragon speech.

“It's good to be around humans,” I replied, “And the camp looks up to us as inspiration.”

“I never thought I'd be seen with anything but terror.”

“A dragon with a Bound isn't a problem. We could go further inland even, and once we made our intentions clear we could travel freely, with no fear of dragon hunters.”

“Truly?”

“So they say.”

“I'm not sure I would. This camp is full enough and I see images of cities in your mind. Narrow streets. Crowded, hot, and dusty.”

I leaned against his stomach. The dragon fire in his chest would be more than enough to keep me warm through the night.

“After we do this thing, for the Elders, would you wish to see your family?”

I tried to hide my thoughts and feelings. Maderick listened to them anyway and lay his head down to sleep for the night.

“Then I'll let you remain dead to them.”

They'd hear and know, even if I didn't visit. Word would spread. But I wasn't ready.

It took a long time for me to fall asleep.