The Clan of Outcasts [Season 3]

Part 7: "Dealings With Dragons"

Many Years Ago, in a marketplace in the Outer Realm.....

"Knives for sale!"

"Liquor by the pint!"

"Get your choice of silks and furs from across the sea!"

Markus adjusted his hooded jacket and kept his eyes down. That was how you dealt with aggressive vendors in the markets of Outer Realm: eye contact indicated willingness to buy, to be solicited. If you looked at them, they were obligated to try their hardest to convince you to buy whatever it was they were selling, whether or not you actually needed or wanted it. Actually, if you didn't want it, that only made it more of a challenge for them to overcome, more of a success if they managed to wear you down.

"Oi, you!" Said a gruff voice, to no one in particular. "Wanna buy an animal?"

Markus fought the urge to look around and see who would be foolish enough to respond; chances were good that he would be the one left to take the bait, himself.

He found a gap between two people to shove himself through, get away from these lowlifes—but then his path was blocked by a body at knee-height, blacker than a shadow. Markus didn't feel the predator's muzzle connect with his left knee, but the panther surely did. It growled in warning, and the crowd suddenly thinned out to about one fourth of its previous size. Markus took the opportunity to shove his metallic hand into the deep pocket of his jacket and slink away unhindered, undetected.

"Rawk! Rawk!"
Markus flinched and reeled away from the ungodly screech accompanied by the rustle of stiff feathers. His eyes came up for the first time since entering the market.

A girl stood before him, with a monstrous crow clinging to her shoulder, half again as big as her own head.

"And when I find this key, what can I do with it?" she was asking someone obscured from his view. "What does it unlock?"

The crow turned and looked straight at Markus, and he ducked around the nearest corner. The outskirts of the Market was not a place to be noticed by anyone else. Unless you knew them and trusted them already, chances were good that any stranger might turn out to be your enemy. Markus leaned against the wall, his mechanical fingers pressing against the brick beside him.

Another sound overlapped the conversation he hid from, coming from somewhere behind him. Markus turned and peered through the rolling fog, desperately wishing that he had his cousin's Gift of Sight with which she could see clearly through just about anything, even solid stone. As it was, he needed to creep closer to see what could be making that mournful, growling noise.
Markus measured his steps, knowing full well that if it was some kind of predator, he could be exposing himself to an attack. The cry rang out again, but Markus heard notes of agony, rather than aggression.

He stepped close enough that surely the creature should be right in front of him--then, quite unexpectedly, a pile of rubble swept up against the wall just a few yards in front of him shifted and moved.

Markus had to gawk. A dragon lay buried under the remains of a wall it had very evidently crashed into, judging by the jagged edge just above it, and the fact that some of the stones pinning the dragon down were the same size and shape as the bricks used in the wall itself. It groaned, shifting its weight back and forth in an attempt to free itself from the rubble--but to no avail. Markus noted a particularly large stone resting on the thin membrane of its wing. He took a step closer, the gravel crunching underfoot.

Immediately, two golden eyes fixed on him, and he felt the puff of hot breath as the dragon became aware of his presence. Markus drew his hands out of his pockets, and pushed the hood off his head, to show the animal that he meant no harm, and posed no threat.

The dragon took its own time in evaluating the status of this intruder, spitting a small fireball just over his head. Markus stopped in his tracks, and then began moving closer. By the time he was within arm's reach of the dragon, it had not attacked him, merely watched him with a curious glint in its eye.

Markus reached out to grasp the stone pinning the dragon's wing, taking care to balance the whole of the weight on his mechanical hand, and use his flesh hand and natural muscles merely for gripping. It took a single heave of the pistons and gears to heft the rock off to the side, and from there, Markus could extend his prosthetic arm to sweep away the rubble from around the dragon. Once both wings were free, the dragon staggered up to a standing position on all fours, prompting Markus to back out of its way. He watched the creature spread its wings, test the joints, and groan when it noticed the tattered edge that had been torn by the debris. Its back and haunches, too, bore a few scars, but none of them too recent. It looked at Markus, blinking and bringing its head close to sniff at him.

Markus dared to reach out and lay his mechanical hand on the dragon's shoulder, just at elbow-level to him. "Easy, there," he said. "I can help with your injuries, if you let me." He gestured to the wing, letting the dragon make the first move. "May I?"

The red-scaled dragon responded by folding its wing down in front of Markus. He spread his prosthetic hand over the injured area, using the implants in his brain to activate the dispersion of aerosolized tissue-repair gel--a feature that the surgeons who designed his prosthetics had included, should Markus ever find himself on a battlefield somewhere and in need of a medic. He never did, of course--but now he found a use for it, spreading the ointment over the swath of wing. He moved on to the other injuries as well, and by the time he finished, the wing looked as good as new.

"Okay, boy," Markus prompted as he stepped away. "Try that on for size!"

The dragon held out its wing, running its nose along the edge, as if searching for a remnant of the pain it had felt from the injury. Finding none, it jumped onto the top of the wall in a single bound, where it clung to the rock and found room to spread its wings and flap them a few times.

Markus felt the rush of relief and excitement the dragon's movements as he watched it hop back down to the ground. It stood almost the height of a horse, though the long neck gave it a much higher vantage point. It bent its pointed head down to his eye-level, and nudged his shoulder in thanks.

Markus chuckled and rubbed his hand along the sinuous neck. "You're a fine fellow. Whereabouts did you come from, eh? And how did you get here, anyway?"