Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton)

by Stevens, James

  “Yes, Lord Tirate! He won’t get away!”

  Ammon groaned. He didn’t know why Tirate wouldn’t simply take the dragon from his back and be on his way, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. He certainly had no intentions of letting the clumsy fat keeper stab him with a sword. Ammon sprinted towards the stairs.

  If he had to fight either man, he knew he had a much better chance of getting past Calis. He remembered his belongings as he ran past his chambers and reaching in the doorway he grabbed his sack and turned towards the stairs.

  Calis was half way up the long passageway and panting heavily as he hurried up the steps. Seeing Ammon standing at the top, he paused for a second to draw his sword, but because of his large girth and narrow walls of the staircase he had difficulty pulling it from its scabbard. Turning sideways he gave it a great yank and it finally came free, nearly cutting his hand off with the effort. Feeling braver with a sword in his hand and facing an unarmed boy, the keeper lurched forward up the stairs again.

  Trapped, Ammon spun looking for an escape. The knight had just climbed out of the Nest and had his long sword in his hand. With Calis blocking the stairway there was no other way out. Ammon leaned against the wall and felt a light breeze against the back of his neck. He spun to face the ash chute and without a second thought, hefted the sack in front of him and dove headfirst through the tiny door. He plunged through the darkness banging against the walls at breakneck speed, his shoulders scraping painfully against the walls on both sides. Great clouds of ash swirled around, into his eyes, nose and mouth as he slid downward until, with a loud crash, he landed in a heap in the ash cart at the bottom.

  Coughing and sputtering, he scrambled out of the cart and ran down the street, turned a corner, then followed the road until he came to the bottom of the hill where the inner city walls rose up. Panting, he slipped into a narrow alley between two buildings and stumbled his way to the back. With his heart pounding, he listened for the sound of pursuing footsteps, but none followed. He sat down on an old wooden barrel that lay on its side and gasped for breath as he tried to think. What just happened?

  Calis said he was linked to the dragon, but what did that mean? All he’d done was to pick up the egg and it wasn’t his fault it hatched in his hands! He was just cleaning out the nest, he certainly didn’t plan this! All he wanted was to finish his job and collect his gold! This couldn’t be happening! His headache was throbbing even worse now and his mouth tasted of bitter ash. He tried to spit but his mouth was too dry.

  He buried his face in his hands and leaned back against the building. The sudden feel of a lump on his back made him jerk forward again. He felt the blood drain from his face and his stomach turned. He had almost forgotten he still had the dragon on his back! Turning his head, he could just see a claw over each of his shoulders, but now the golden color was blackened with soot. Warily he reached up and tried unsuccessfully to pry the claw from his shirt. The beast had gripped his thick leather shirt so hard there were holes poked through. Despite that, at least the claws had missed his skin and for that he was grateful.

  He shook the back of his shirt vigorously but it didn’t fall off. Maybe if he could remove the shirt and wrap the thing up with it, he could leave the dragon there in the alley. Someone would surely find it and then it would be their problem, let them bring it back. Gingerly, he tried to slide the shirt over his head, but as soon as he started to pull the dragon again gripped it hard, drawing tight against his chest. Frustrated, he let go and the dragon relaxed. He sighed, taking the shirt off was not an option. For a brief moment he thought about returning to the Nest. Perhaps if he explained to Calis that he didn’t want it he’d have mercy on him. Maybe he’d just take the dragon and let him go. But what if he bumped into Tirate? The man had said he would kill him, and Ammon doubted anything was going to change his mind. Calis certainly wouldn’t interfere, not when he could save himself the six gold talons he owed Ammon.

  He knew he would never get paid the gold talons he had earned. At this point he didn’t really care either, all Ammon wanted was to be rid of the thing on his back and to get away with his life. There had to be a way somehow. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of shouting a few streets away. They were probably already gathering men for a search.

  Quickly he decided his best chance was to leave the city. If he stayed, it was just a matter of time before he’d be caught. He figured Calis and Tirate had already alerted the city guards. So it wouldn’t be long before word reached the gates, then they would stop and search everyone trying to leave. Escaping with a bright golden dragon hanging on his back was obviously out of the question. If he couldn’t remove it, then he had to hide it somehow.

  He dumped the contents of his sack on the ground and using his belt knife, he cut a flap between the shoulder straps of the sack. Then he unwrapped the oilcloth around the sword and stretched it out in front of him. He placed everything but his blanket in the middle of the cloth, rolled it back up, pushed it to the bottom of the sack, and closed the top. Then he tied the blanket between the shoulder straps and carefully slid it over his back. The dragon was now completely covered by the sack with its body snugly in the hole and out of sight. He buckled his sword to his belt and looked over his shoulder one more time. With a deep breath, he strode down the alley, turned, and walked quickly towards the gates. Just another dusty traveler passing through.

  Chapter 2

  Escape

  With his hands shoved deep in his pockets to hide the shaking, Ammon slowed his pace to a casual walk. The closer he got to the entrance to the city the more he realized how difficult it would be to escape if the guards were looking for him. The double gates were made of thick timber and large enough to drive three wagons through at once. Two guard towers rose high above the walls on each side while half a dozen disinterested soldiers stood lounging about watching the people come and go. Ammon lowered his head and joined the steady line of people waiting to pass through the gate.

  Shouts rose near the base of one of the towers and Ammon resisted the urge to run. Through the crowd he could see several rough looking men with long curved swords arguing with one of the guards. Instinctively Ammon moved to the opposite side of the crowd. The last thing he wanted was to get involved in a dispute and draw attention to himself. With a hard thud, he bumped into something and when he turned he nearly choked. The leather breastplate identified him as one of the guards, but what made Ammon gasp was the sheer size of the man. Towering over everyone in the crowd by several feet, the guard was easily the largest man Ammon had ever seen. His shaved head revealed a strangely pale scalp and beneath his heavy brow glared a set of blood colored eyes. From his jaw hung a thick silver beard that reached half way down his chest. Massive arms as big as tree trunks easily swept Ammon aside as he pushed his way towards the growing argument.

  When he realized everyone's attention was directed towards the scuffle, Ammon hurried past the onlookers. Holding his breath, he slipped past the gates and out of the city. Once outside he avoided the busy bridge to the south and turned north towards the rarely traveled wooded hills. He didn’t look back, even when the shouting suddenly got louder and a trumpet blasted, signaling more men to the gate.

  It wasn’t until he reached the edge of the woods almost a quarter mile away before he turned around to look back. Even from a distance he could see the gates were now shut and he felt his stomach tighten. The gates were only shut once darkness fell, so either the guards had locked them down to quell a riot, or word finally got through and they were searching for him. Quickly he stepped off the road and into the thick woods. It would be wise to stay off the roads for awhile until he decided where he was going to go, just in case search parties were sent. As valuable as dragons were, he doubted Tirate would give up trying to get it back so easily.

  Pushing through the woods became more difficult as the day went on. Brambles tore at his leather breeches and the low brush made walking a challenge. As the sun climbed, s
o did the temperatures until even the horseflies remained hidden. The few berries he found still in season did little to quench his thirst or quiet his growling stomach. His tongue was parched and his head still throbbed but he kept moving. He only hoped he might find a stream or a pond along the way.

  A branch caught on his shoulder strap and he pulled it free with a jerk and felt the dragon on his back move slightly. Idly he thought it couldn’t weigh much more than a cat, which was a blessing. If it had been the size of the other hatchlings he’d never had been able to carry it this far. He topped a small rise filled with cedar trees and from there he could see a swamp on the other side. There the grasses grew chest high and on the far end of the swamp a thick population of cattails waved slightly in a faint breeze. Smiling, he trudged through the soft turf and grabbed a dozen of the long stalks and pulled them up one at a time. He twisted off the tops and shoved the roots into his pocket. Then he followed the edge of the swamp until he came to the source of its water, a small spring bubbling up out of the ground from the side of a bank.

  Dropping to his knees he shoved his face into the tiny pool and drank greedily, pausing only to gasp for air between gulps. After he had drank his fill and completely drenched his head, he slid back and sat down on the bank. Slipping the straps off his shoulders, he let the sack drop to the ground. Once more the dragon on his back stirred slightly and he wondered how he could remove it without losing his own hide. If he used his knife to slice open the front of his shirt would the dragon stay with the shirt or would it climb onto his bare back? The thought of those razor claws raking his bare skin turned his stomach.

  Still, the dragon had done nothing except cling tightly to his back. The only reaction he’d seen was when it had attacked Tirate. Ammon chuckled to himself. He could hardly find fault for that reaction. After all, Tirate had charged at both of them with a sword. He looked over his shoulder and gently tugged at his shirt. The tiny claws tightened their grip, then relaxed again. Ammon sighed. For now he would leave it where it was until he could think of a way to safely remove it. He certainly had no intentions of spending the rest of his life with the beast on his back.

  Not far from the spring he found a dry spot on a large flat boulder surrounded by a small pile of rocks. He cleared away the smaller stones, leaves and sticks and dropped his sword next to the sack beside one of the larger stones. Using his belt knife, he shaved splinters off a cedar branch, then with a few quick strikes of his flint he soon had a roaring fire. If there was one thing Ammon had learned working as a tender, was how to build a fire quickly. He pulled the dented pot from his sack, filled it with water and set about boiling the roots. He had to refill the pot several times before the fibrous roots were soft enough to chew, but at least they were filling and his headache seemed to lessen somewhat.

  As he sat by the fire staring into the flames, he suddenly felt the dragon release his shirt and drop to the ground. Not daring to move, he watched and waited. Very slowly, the little dragon crawled past him and towards the fire. Still covered mostly in soot, a few glittering gold scales showed through the dirt as it curled so close to the fire Ammon thought it might burn. It stared through the flames at him with unblinking amber colored eyes and they sat that way for some time before the dragon’s lids drooped sleepily, the warmth of the fire apparently making it drowsy. Ammon leaned back against the boulder and studied his unusual traveling companion. Somehow the tiny creature didn’t seem quite so threatening now that he could see it clearly and he marveled at its long tail and sleek lines. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. His own lack of sleep was finally catching up as the afternoon sun beat down and soon Ammon's head nodded to his chest as he drifted off.

  He awoke just as the evening stars began to appear and he groaned. It was too dark to travel now and although he’d put some distance behind him, he knew his best chances were to get as far away from the city as possible. Something moved against his leg and he looked down in surprise. The dragon was no longer near the fire, instead it was stretched out on his lap exposing the gold scales on its stomach. The tiny head hung down from Ammon's lap and the sound of soft snoring filled the air. Ammon almost laughed it was such an odd sight. Unable to resist the urge, he very carefully reached out and gently stroked its belly. The dragon grunted softly before opening one eye and looking at him. Then with an indignant snort, the eye closed and the snoring resumed.

  He chuckled lightly to himself. “It appears I have a baby dragon for a pet!”

  He pulled the blanket from his sack and carefully stretched it out to cover them both. Tomorrow they’d have to make up for the lost time, but tonight they’d rest. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

  Something brushed against Ammon’s face and he turned his head. It tickled him again and he opened his eyes slowly, blinking at the bright light. The first rays of the morning sun streamed through the tree branches overhead. Droplets of dew clung to the blanket in little beads and the distant chirping of birds filled the air. He groggily lifted his head to look at the dragon sitting impatiently on his lap. The golden scales were clean now, and nearly blinding to look at as the sunlight danced across its sides. Its inquisitive face peered up at Ammon with its head cocked to one side and its ears perked forward. Sad amber eyes looked back expectantly as if searching for something. It looked lost.

  Overwhelmed with pity, Ammon gently stroked the tiny dragon behind its ears. He honestly felt sorry for the magnificent little creature. Having hatched only yesterday it probably had no idea how to survive on its own and he certainly had no idea how to care for it. Like most commoners, he knew little about dragons other than they were the mysterious and fierce beasts ridden by the knights that protected the city. He’d never seen one up close before, only from a distance as they flew high overhead. Remembering the size of the eggs in the Nest, it suddenly dawned on him how large they must be when full-grown. Most of the eggs had been big enough that he could have fit inside one himself, which meant the adult dragon that laid those eggs must have been massive!

  The dragon hopped off his lap and he felt something roll across the blanket. When he pulled back the folds there were three speckled pheasant eggs. Surprised, he gingerly picked them up. “By the dragons teeth!”

  It wasn’t long before he had them boiled over small fire. His stomach growled noisily as he eagerly broke the shells and tossed the hot eggs from hand to hand waiting for them to cool. Popping the first one in his mouth, he offered the second one to the dragon. Its golden neck stretched out and the tiny nose sniffed the egg. With a snort it turned away and curled up beside the fire like it had the night before.

  Ammon sniffed. “Well, I’m not be the best cook, but one could hardly mess up boiled eggs. You need to eat something too!” Again, the dragon snorted but otherwise showed no interest, so Ammon gratefully ate all three.

  Getting up to refill his cup from the spring, Ammon heard something move in the leaves a few feet away. Before he could even turn his head, a gold streak shot across the grass in front of him. He nearly dropped his cup in surprise when the dragon lifted his head up with a mouse in its jaws. In one quick swallow, it was gone, and the dragon slipped silently back through the tall grass to reclaim its spot by the fire.

  Ammon filled his cup and sat down to look at the dragon. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t have to worry too much about feeding you, eh?”

  The dragon stretched and yawned.

  Ammon shook his head, “As long as you don’t mistake me as your next meal!”

  Lifting its head slightly and pinning its ears, the dragon glared at Ammon. They stared at each other for a moment before Ammon shifted uncomfortably. "Okay, I’m sorry!" With an indignant grunt the dragon put its head back down and closed its eyes.

  Ammon studied the little golden body curled around the fire. The flames danced across its mirror-like scales making it appear to be a part of the flames. He could easily carry the dragon in one hand which made it difficult to imagine it growing to the size of a small house. Ho
w fast did they grow? And more importantly, how much would it eat? Hiding in the woods would be difficult as it was, but once the dragon reached its full size it would be impossible not to be noticed. Although it was unfamiliar to him, he had chosen to go north because it was largely unpopulated. But he knew hunters sometimes would trek deep into the woods for months at a time, and sooner or later the dragon would be seen. He would have to get even further away from the city than he had originally thought. Perhaps he could escape into the snow-covered mountains he could see in the distance.

  He picked up the sword and buckled it around his waist as he looked around. A few small hardwood saplings grew sparsely between the scattering of rocks. He picked out an ash tree about three fingers thick that had no branches near the bottom and drew the sword. Holding it awkwardly in front of him he swung it like an axe and to his surprise, the sapling fell easily as the blade slashed through with little resistance. He measured out two sword lengths and cut the top off with another swipe. He slid the sword back into its scabbard and brought the sapling back to camp and began stripping the bark off with his knife.

  The fire had died down to coals and the dragon sat very close to the glowing embers with its long tail curled around its feet watching him curiously. Small ears flickered at each sound the knife made as it scraped along the surface of the wood. A piece of bark broke off and landed in front of the dragon. Cautiously, it sniffed the bark curiously before dragging it closer with a clawed foot and playfully shredded it with its teeth.