A Dragon's Betrayal

by C L Patterson

  “Luck,” Naeru said humbly. He loaded a second stone and swung the sling again. The stone flew straight at the log and embedded itself in the wood.

  “Natural skill, I think,” Thomas said, awing the feat.

  “Do you think you could get one of those turkeys?” Maerek asked softly. “You’ll only have one shot.”

  “Lead on, Maerek.”

  The traders struggled to see the flock of turkeys up in the trees, even after being away from the firelight and letting their eyes adjust to the darkened hues of the evening shadows. Eventually, the traders were able to see a series of distinct, oval shadows perched together on a limb.

  “Those are the turkeys,” Maerek whispered as crouched down, as if to pounce. “I set you and the log the same distance apart as you are now from the turkeys, also taking into consideration gravity and aiming upward.”

  Naeru took one of the rounded stones, loaded the sling, swung it three times around his head and then released the rock. It collided with the turkey on the end of the perch in a flurry of feathers and commotion. The other birds flew off and glided away, some jumping up to higher perches.

  “Nice shot!” Keane said, clapping Naeru on the back. Naeru smiled, folded the sling and placed it in his belt. The other traders raced ahead, trying to find the bird. Naeru stayed behind shook his head.

  “I was aiming for the bird on the other side,” he whispered.

  “What matters is that you will eat tonight.” Maerek smiled and let out a low, content grumble. The turkey was skinned, rather than gutted, and breasts, legs, wings, and meat along the back of the bird were cut away from the carcass. The meat was skewered with some sticks and left to roast over the fire. After the cuts of meat were cooked, the traders each took turns taking pieces of each portion and commenting on gamy taste. Maerek was satisfied chewing the carcass and swallowing it whole. With hunger and appetites temporarily assuaged, the traders relaxed, licking turkey-juices from their fingers and content in the blissful silence of the moment.

  “We best be havin’ an early start tomorrow morning to negotiate with the nomads,” Japeth said, placing both hands on his stomach.

  “Speaking of nomads, what is the name of their patriarch, their… elder? No, that’s not the right word either…” Ledría stared blankly into the fire but not for remembering.

  “Their chief-father?” Thomas asked. Ledría nodded in agreement, not looking up from the fire. “The last time we traded with them, it was Iserum.”

  “Who was no friend to the Tessírans or the Syndicate, I recall,” Aelex said, placing a hand on his sister’s shoulder for comfort. Ledría breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Of all my captors, he was the least cruel… or at least didn’t treat me unkindly, nor did he treat me kindly either. I was… something of use, something of importance to him, so he cared for me as such, ensuring that I was fed, covered, and warm when the situation required. But I was an exile to their tribe. Exile would imply I was once a part of it. It is better to say I was not accepted among their people.”

  “Do you fear him?” Maerek asked, lowering his head next to the fire.

  “No. Neither would I enjoy anymore of his company than what is needed.”

  “It is understandable,” Naeru said. “You may stand or sit in the midst of us when we travel with him, if you’d like.” Ledría nodded in reply.

  “I will keep watch for the night,” Maerek said softly, breathing a warm breath on the coals, “and tend the fire. You have expended much strength and we all need to be on point for tomorrow. Rest well.”

  Maerek placed two more thick logs onto the fire as the traders nestled onto the blanket and fell asleep, warmed by the reflected heat, calmed by the watchful dragon. Keane, however, sat up and walked over to the dragon, not saying a word.

  “What bothers you, Keane?”

  “It isn’t me that is bothered.” Keane paused and looked at the fire. “You have been through much more than any of us in these past few weeks, and you say that we have expended much strength?” Keane raised an eyebrow at Maerek and then looked back at the fire. “You seek solitude primarily to ponder and contemplate, second to keep watch. There isn’t a somber threat around, is there?”

  “I never stated that there was a threat. I said I would keep watch, and that is what I will do.”

  “Like I said,” Keane gave a half chuckle, “It isn’t me that’s bothered.”

  “You’re right. I am bothered. Everything seems too…” Maerek let out a low rumble. “Too planned against me. Ever since I was taken, and ever since my release, Ledría and I have been hunted. Cockatrice is all that I have feasted on prior to tonight, and it isn’t the most mentally rejuvenating of meals. The turkey carcass I snacked on provided a little more clarity, and I know we are being driven by that Seer. That much is obvious to you humans.

  “But that isn’t what bothers me. This plan, in all of its intricacies, in all of the perfectly coordinated ambushes and attacks, the skill, the understanding of leverage, of family, of everything, too me, it seems too complex and challenging for a single human mind to conceptualize, let alone execute in perfect timing and succession. Even with the Seer’s gift of foresight, there are too many strings for one individual human to pull.”

  “So, you wonder if it is a group of people then?” Keane asked, placing a third log on the fire.

  “Perhaps. And if it is a group, then they must have in their employ, or be employed by, someone who has a firm understanding of dragon culture and dragon-keep dynamic. And how many humans can you think of who study dragons?”

  “There are books, um, writings-”

  “I know what books are, Keane.”

  “Old books, old studies from a long time that were done strictly as an academic work. I’ve heard about them, only briefly and in portions of conversations I caught while in taverns in Tessír.”

  “But those are old books,” Maerek lowered his head and looked into the fire. “And I would wager that the studies, if they even are studies, are more lore and myth than observation and fact.”

  “Perhaps,” Keane replied. “But then again, Mearto is being held against her will and-”

  “A dragon would not turn against their own,” Maerek hissed.

  “Are you sure?” Keane asked cautiously.

  “It is not in our nature to go against our blood. It cannot be done. Loyalty is instinctual. It is easier for you to bite off your own thumb than it is for one of us to turn against our own.”

  “And that is what is bothering you.”

  “Yes. That.” Maerek sighed and then took a calming breath. “An unseen enemy moves against me, against us, and that bothers me. As I think back, I realize that I, we, have been driven away from suitable prey. My mind has not been completely clear, and even now, I can sense that my acuity is fading. That bothers me. Yes, Keane, I am bothered.” Maerek sighed again. “I apologize. I do not mean to take my frustrations out on you.”

  “There is no harm done,” Keane replied, rubbing Maerek’s scaled arm with his hand. “My advice, for what it’s worth, is that if there was enough in front of you, to tell you who it was that was pulling the strings, you would have your answer already. Even if it took days for you to explain to us, you would have your answer already. My family had a saying: ‘a clear path, a quick journey’. When you find out whoever is behind it, things will happen quickly.”

  “I appreciate your council, truly,” Maerek said calmly. “I will still keep watch through the night. You need to rest.”

  “And when will you sleep?”

  “I will sleep tomorrow, when we travel with the nomads.”

  With that, Keane went to where the other traders were, laid down on an open spot on the blanket, closed his eyes, and fell asleep almost instantly.

  All of the events, from the ambush of Moving Mountain, to this evening on the river with his new family, were too fresh, moved too fast, and seemed to him, too unorganized individually, yet all together, too well orches
trated and seemed to fit perfectly to manipulate him into a trap. He didn’t tell Keane, but even with their choice to change where they wanted to go, Maerek wondered if he was falling into another trap. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and then focused on what his real intentions were.

  He needed to save Mearto. To do that, he needed to get to Port Rasmú to draw out the Seer. Yet a part of him felt concerned for his band of travelers, his family. He determined that even after Mearto was saved, he would find a way to make sure that the traders would be taken care of, that their plans for the future, whatever they would be, would be successful. They had sacrificed so much to help him, with no thought of personal gain. It was a debt that he wanted to repay.

  CHAPTER 16

  Maerek was back in his human form, wearing the same scratchy, stifling canvas robe from before. The constant rubbing and itchiness irritated his human skin. He itched and scratched, pausing every now and again to rub his back up against a tree. Maerek thought that between the robe, the rough trail, and the constant barrage of mosquitoes, that he would lose himself to the Instinct if he didn’t find relief soon.

  Rocks and shallow roots jolted and jarred the wagon as the suon pulled it along the trail. The birds started to chirp and sing high up in the trees. Dew that formed during the night was evaporating quickly with the morning sun. Maerek breathed deeply, inhaling the sweet air. There was a hint of smoke too. He inhaled slowly through his nose, taking in each individual smell that was on the air. The smoke smell was different than that of the campfire the night before. That smell was of burning wood and ash. This other smoke smell carried a plethora of other aromas with it that he couldn’t place. It was unlike anything he had ever smelled before.

  As the group came closer and closer to the edge of the forest, the air became drier, hotter and the ground gradually flattened. The trees were further spaced apart and the vegetation was spread out. Maerek looked ahead and could see where the desert met the forest. There was short, weak gust of wind but it was enough to carry the scent of another group of suon, man-sweat, salt, a myriad of spices that tickled his nose, all layered over by a heavy aroma of smoke. Maerek smiled, matching it to the other smoke smell from earlier.

  Japeth and the group stopped about fifteen yards away from the edge of the forest.

  “I’m not sure yet which of our customers will show up first. We usually work with the government caravans, the nomads, and a trader who makes a semi-annual trip to visit us from Caite.” Japeth then spoke in whispers to the group. “I am going to go up ahead and visit with whoever shows up first.” Maerek nodded in agreement.

  “The traders who are ahead of us,” said Maerek, “they carry some kind of spice, or spices. It sort of stings at the nose.”

  “Would you say the stinging is similar to the taste of a smoke?” Japeth asked. Maerek nodded. “I know that the government caravans wouldn’t be selling willing to trade something like that, let alone be interested in purchasing it,” Japeth said. “I’ll walk up further and see who will come by.”

  Naeru halted the suon as Japeth walked ahead, out of the tree-line and into the desert. Maerek squinted past Japeth, trying to peer out into the desert, but the heat rising up from the sand distorted the air, creating an illusion of water. Japeth stood just at the edge of Maerek’s vision. A nomadic caravan was the first to arrive. Japeth turned back toward the traders and waved for them to come out. The nomadic wagons were long, rectangular structures on two sets of wooden wheels rimmed with steel. The wagons were pulled by two suon that were much larger than the traders. The driver sat up on a bench at perched on top of the wagon.

  Japeth bowed low to the leader of the nomadic tribe, and the leader returned the gesture with a slight bow. The nomadic man was tall and muscular, dark skinned from the sun, and had a tattoo of two dueling snakes spiraling around each other on his neck.

  “Japeth, where are your goods? We had a deal did we not?”

  “Iserum, yes, we did have a deal, but this trip has been filled with all kinds of misfortune. Seeing you here, is the first thing that went right since we entered the western foothills of the Blades.”

  “Speak on.”

  “We came across this man, and a sister to one of the members of our band,” Japeth reached behind him and gestured to Maerek and Ledría, “who were enslaved within caves of the western foot hills. The girl claims that she once traveled among your family.” Iserum looked over at Ledría and nodded.

  “I am at peace to see she is back with her family,” Iserum said calmly.

  “After we took them into our group, we were robbed by sword and bow by the Tessíran guard. All of the valuables we were going to trade with you were taken. Only by luck and a bit of wild fire we were able to escape. We were faced with a decision to either double back to Ruiska, see if we could gain passage by boat to Port Rasmú and risk running into the slavers, or we could risk going through the pass.”

  Japeth was quiet for a moment.

  “You chose the pass I see, as usual. But how did you survive without supplies?”

  “By the Faye’s blessing, and some very carefully applied grotesque and pungent camouflage. We covered ourselves in the guts of a dead cockatrice. As far as the other birds knew, we were just another dead thing that they wanted no part of.”

  “And now I take it, your goal is to get to Port Rasmú, and helped these escaped… slaves get back to their family?”

  “Yes, and we would like to travel with your caravan.”

  “That would come at a steep price.”

  “We are able to offer you something I believe you will find to be very valuable.”

  Japeth waved Iserum over to the wagon and uncovered the locks of calluna that had been gathered the day before. Iserum smiled and then waved for someone else to come to him. One of the nomads jumped down from his wagon and walked over to where Iserum stood.

  “Do you think this would be enough to get the Japeth’s band and...” Iserum tilted his head and stared at Ledría. “The girl, she is known to us, close to Port Rasmú?”

  The other nomad scratched his chin and looked at the plants, seeming to treat the short dialogue about Ledría as casual conversation. He picked up one strand and felt it in his fingers, smelled the flowers, then pinched, then rolled, and then tasted the leaves.

  “The potency is good,” the nomad said. “I’d say this is payment enough. It will come in much use with the rest of the tribe when we see them.”

  “Bring them,” Iserum said, “and load what flowers you have into the first wagon.” Japeth whistled loudly out of celebration.

  “There is just one other thing,” Japeth started as Thomas began unloading the calluna. “Do you happen to have a spare set of clothes for the man named Maerek?” Japeth gestured toward Maerek. “The man came out of the caves with nothing, and we haven’t had anything to clothe him with since after we made it through the pass.”

  “I’ll see what I can find,” Iserum said with a smile. He went to his wagon and returned shortly with a long grey robe and a pair of light leather boots. “It isn’t much, but it be more functional than the canvas. I assume you can find other clothing at the port.” The last part was not a question. Iserum handed the robe to Japeth, and Japeth repeatedly thanked him over and over as he took it and backed away. After a few steps, Japeth turned toward Maerek.

  “Thank you very much,” Maerek said as he quickly replaced the canvas robe with the lighter, more comfortable gray robe.

  As the traders walked with the nomadic caravan, each trader around Ledría, as if to shield her view from the nomads. Japeth walked ahead of them, and Maerek thought it best to take up the rear. It was almost like a royal honor guard protecting a queen in a palanquin, shielding her from unwanted attention. Again, Maerek was filled with a sense of family, of belonging, and he smiled as the group walked into the heat of the desert.

  [][][]

  Four days passed since the Maerek and the group of traders joined with the nomads and bega
n their journey toward Port Rasmú. The first two days were spent traveling around the sand covered hills. Most of the caravan, and even the suon, struggled to move through the sand. But on day three, the rolling hills ended, and the wind picked up tremendously. The terrain was dry and hard, with small mounds of intermittent sand that had wedged against a withering plant, or a lone rock. The going was still difficult, but much easier than trying to hike up a series of sandy hills. The nomadic wagons carried enough water to satisfy everyone’s thirst, and enough dried biscuits and salted pork jerky to bring the thirst right back.

  Maerek, satisfied with Ledría’s comfort and security, made his way to the front of the caravan and walked next to Iserum. A large black wolf with yellow eyes and a rope collar walked close to Iserum’s side. Maerek kept to himself mostly and listened as Iserum visited with his tribesmen and women. Interestingly, the wolf’s ears twitched toward whoever visited with Iserum, or inquired about routes, goods, rations, and plans after the Japeth and his group were gone. The wolf seemed to take interest in whatever conversation was occurring, watching whoever spoke as it walked

  Maerek learned that since the democracy was overturned, and the oligarchy created, the Capital Guard had been on more patrols to exterminate nomadic tribes that were deemed as threats against the peace. The Seer, who once helped the nomads sabotage government caravans, now betrayed them and told the Guard where caravans or camps site were going to be and when. The caravan Iserum was over was different than the others. Friends and families, small children and old men and women, all traveled in this group, and each was traveling to Port Rasmú in a hope of starting a new life and perhaps working long enough to flee to Caite for asylum.

  “It doesn’t make much sense,” Maerek commented. “I know that your tribe took part in the raiding of government caravans, but are you that much of a treat to them that the governing council would stoop to extermination?”