Ellis slowed as he approached the landing area of the courtyard beside the palace and Boris felt his temper rising. The landing area had been designed to allow room for several dragons to land or take off simultaneously without the danger of hitting anything, but as they got closer, he could see the entire yard was littered with wagons, carts and men loitering about. Never in all his years of service was anything like this allowed to happen, and it would never happen again if he had anything to say about it.
Picking the least congested area, he skillfully guided Ellis down. The moment the dragons giant claws touched the earth they dug deep into the ground, showering everything nearby with dirt and small stones. Panicked horses and men ran in all directions, knocking over a wagon of ale and splintering dozens of the wooden kegs. Boris’ temples throbbed in fury as he watched the contents of the barrels spread over the landing area. No alcohol of any kind was ever permitted within the walls of the guard’s quarters! What could have happened to his Guards?
He jumped from the saddle and stormed across the yard towards the supply warehouse. Stretched out in a chair tipped against the wall lounged a man in a guard uniform that Boris didn’t recognize. Disgusted, he hooked his foot under the chair and kicked it out, sending the surprised man crashing to the ground.
Scrambling clumsily to his feet with a loud curse, the guard snarled at him.
“See here old man, who do ya think ya are? I could skewer you right now and none would be the wiser…” His hand fell to his sword hilt.
Squaring his feet Boris crossed his arms and leaned forward, his eyes glinting.
“If you think you can, do it.”
The guard’s eyes narrowed and he grinned as he grabbed the sword at his side. Boris took two steps back and waited, calmly assessing the man’s skill. With a roar, the guard charged forward, leveling his blade at Boris throat. Boris’ hands moved so quickly that all the guard saw was a blur. In one quick, fluid move, Boris drew his long sword and brought the flat of the blade down squarely on the man’s sword hand, breaking his wrist. Screaming, the guard dropped his sword and fell to his knees holding his hand tightly against his chest.
Boris re-sheathed his sword, reached over, and grabbed the man by his collar with one hand and lifted him until his feet came off the ground. He put his face so close they almost touched and growled.
“This old man is the captain of the Guard, and you are poor excuse for a pig. You are relieved of duty. Gather your things and get out. Now. Before I lose my patience.”
Wide-eyed, the man stared back in disbelief and shook his head. Boris shoved him aside and walked into the supply warehouse. A thin, bespectacled old man sat at a small desk just inside the doorway where he was watching the whole event with a sly grin. Winking merrily at Boris he leaned back in his chair.
“Ah Boris! I see you haven’t changed much have you? Still good at making friends with the new recruits!”
Shaking his head, Boris looked back out the door at the man stumbling across the yard to retrieve his sword from the dirt. “Shane, if this is the way of the new Guard, it is definitely time I retire.”
The older man looked up at Boris, his voice now sober. “My friend, we’ve both been doing this longer than any of these whelps have been alive. Until recently, that riffraff never would have made it past the gates. Now they are in charge of them.”
Shane sighed and lowered his voice so only Boris could hear. “Times have changed, and not for the better I’m afraid. Tirate forced the rest of the Guard with dragons into retirement two days ago, and he’s slowly weeded out anyone else worth their salt. These new guards have replaced them all. Any of the men they suspected you were training were ushered out as fast as possible. Not even knights with the newly hatched remain in service; tossed out the door like so much trash to make room for more of Tirate’s mercenaries. I can’t even imagine where he’s found them all. Today is my last day too. It’s time for this old man to leave gracefully before they throw me out.”
Boris was speechless. “The Dragon Knights are gone? Even the recruits? That’s insane!”
He nodded. “That’s not all. Tirate claims he’s linked with a mutant dragon. Supposedly he’s nursing it in private, trying to keep it alive. He also sent notice throughout the city that King Erik is near death from his long illness, and he will take succession of the throne when it happens. I don’t doubt that the king is ill and dying, but no dragon would ever link to a black heart like Tirate’s. You know as well as I do that if they sense bad intentions they’d rather die in their shells. That was taught to us the moment we entered into knighthood! If he really has linked then the rules of dragons have changed, and not for the better.”
Boris studied the old man in front of him. Shane had lost his dragon twenty years ago near the end of the war with the Boer. The loss had left him devastated and he resigned from the service a broken man. Like most knights, he had never married and had no close family. Eventually he had come to work in the supply warehouse just to be nearer to the dragons coming in and out of the landing yard. He took his job seriously and somehow had a knack for knowing what supplies would be needed and how much to pack.
Shane’s attention turned to Ellis out in the yard. “How is the old boy? Still turning left instead of right?”
Boris chuckled. “Oh he’s long gotten over that little quirk. He’s doing well, but like us, he’s getting older and his joints don’t like the cold weather.”
Shane cackled. “Show me a dragon that does like cold weather! So, what brings you down here? You shouldn’t need supplies again for another week at least.”
Boris lowered his voice. “The traits of dragons may be changing, but not as you think!”
By the time he finished telling Ammon’s story, Shane’s eyebrows had lifted nearly to the top of his head. “Ah! Now things are starting to make sense! If the mutant dies in Tirate’s possession, he can claim to have been linked and nobody will be the wiser!”
Boris nodded. “The Houses of the Court require the future king to have linked before taking the throne, but nothing says the dragon has to live past coronation. And because other dragons sense when a person has been linked…”
Shane lifted his hand to his forehead. “…the dragons would pass their suspicions on to their riders, and the knights would eventually figure it out! No wonder he’s run them all out of the palace!” Silence fell between them. Shane leaned back at his desk, and with a gleam in his eye looked up at Boris. “How long will you be here?”
Rubbing a thick hand across his jaw, Boris glanced out the door at the shadows and estimated the time. “After what I’ve seen here today, I’m like to leave before dark, although if the king is really that sick, I may try to see him one last time.”
“Good.” Shane smiled and leapt to his feet. “I’ll ready your supplies. Meet me back here in a few hours. If I’m not here, wait for me as long as you can. Now go!”
Boris stepped out of the warehouse and strode across the yard to check on Ellis before he headed into the palace. As he turned to go down the hallway, he bumped into a page heading the other way. Bowing low, the page apologized and Boris recognized the young boy as one he used frequently in his own quarters.
“What are you doing here in the palace instead of the guards’ quarters?”
The boy looked nervously around. “I…I’m sorry sire! After you left the new guards ordered the headmistress to close the knights’ apartments! They said the knights weren’t coming back, so I was not needed there anymore! I removed your belongings and sent them to your estate like you asked before they could take them.”
Boris snickered. It was a good thing he’d made arrangements before he’d left. He patted the boy on the shoulder and pressed a gold talon into his hand. He had been a good worker, and Boris hoped that moving into the palace meant he would receive better pay and living conditions than what the Guard was able to provide. He left the smiling boy behind and climbed the stairs to the royal chambers.
&n
bsp; It had been many weeks since he’d last seen Erik and he wanted to at least pay his respects one last time. As he approached the chamber door two unfamiliar guards leaned lazily against the wall. One put out a hand on Boris’ chest and stopped him. The man needed a shave and his hair was oily and unclean, obviously one of Tirate’s men.
Shoving the dirty hand aside, Boris narrowed his eyes. “I’m here to see the king; I’m his adviser Captain Knight Boris.”
The guard sniffed and rubbed his grubby nose with the back of his hand. “I don’t care who ya are, nobody gets to see the king ‘cept Lord Tirate.”
Boris raised an eyebrow. So the dispersing of the Dragon Knights was not the only thing that changed. Only Tirate was allowed to see the king?
Boris thumped the man in the chest with a finger. “You go announce to his Highness the King that his adviser is here. Now. If he refuses to see me, I’ll leave.”
The two guards looked at each other for a moment and the oily-haired man squinted at him, sizing him up. “Boris is it? Lord Tirate sent word that ya might come, he wants to see ya. I’ll show you to his quarters.”
Boris crossed his arms menacingly. “I will see the king first, then talk to Tirate when I’m done.”
The two men exchanged glances once more, and one went sprinting down the hall. Before the other man could move Boris pushed past him, slipped through the door and slammed it shut behind him, twisting the lock with a satisfying click. It wouldn’t hold the man out for long, but it would at least delay him for a bit. He hurried across the chambers knowing if he wanted to speak with Erik, he had to make it fast. Already he could hear the man’s fists pounding against the door.
From across the room he could see the pale face of the king as he lay in a large canopy bed against the wall. He approached from the side and stopped to kneel with his fist against his chest.
“My king. It is your adviser, Boris.”
The king opened his eyes slowly, barely turning his head. “Ah, Boris, my friend! I am glad to see you. Few come to my bedside these past few months. I thought I might pass on without seeing your face again!”
Boris raised his head and looked at his friend. His face was ashen and his eyes sunken and dull. The once-strong body was now reduced to skin and bones.
“My king, your nephew Tirate has refused anyone audience with you. He even posted guards at your door to try to prevent me from entering. I…forced my way past.”
The king’s thin gray eyebrows rose and he chuckled weakly. “Yes, I wouldn’t think a few guards would ever stop you from doing anything you had a mind to do. So, he refused my own adviser? Boris, that man has no honor. Even as a child he was wicked, and I prayed he would change. But now, I suppose it doesn’t matter. He is the only heir to the throne, and now that he has a dragon, once I’m gone, the kingdom belongs to him.”
Boris touched the king’s hand. “Sire, that is why I’ve come to speak to you. He has not linked to a dragon! He sent me off to chase after a boy tender that accidentally linked to a mutant dragon. He plans to sever that link and claim the mutant as his own until it dies so he can take the throne.”
The king’s eyes widened. “Sever a link? How? By killing the boy? And how is it possible this tender became linked?”
A loud crash signaled the entrance of the guard as he finally broke through the door. Rising, Boris turned to face the oily-haired guard as he burst into the room. A sneer spread across the guard’s face as he drew his sword.
“Lord Tirate will be pleased to have you delivered to him, dead or alive!”
Boris pulled his own sword from its scabbard on his back. The two men squared off, each waiting for the other to move.
King Erik called out from his bed. “Guard! Withdraw immediately!”
The guard spat on the rug towards the king. “Go to sleep old man, your time has come and gone. It’s Tirate’s game now.”
Boris relaxed into his fighting stance. Years of wielding a sword had taught him that it was skill, not strength that determined the outcome in a sword fight. The man was younger than Boris was and nearly as big. Confident, the guard lunged forward, his sword swinging in an arc. Boris dropped the tip of his long sword and neatly blocked the strike. As the man stepped back, Boris brought his sword across and sliced open the man’s shirt. Another lunge opened the guard’s sleeve, and yet another opened the pant leg of his breeches.
Boris calmly stepped back. “You wish to continue? You’re running out of clothes.”
Furious, the man charged, swinging his blade wildly. Boris sidestepped and brought the hilt of his sword down on the man’s head, knocking him flat. He lay there unconscious.
Erik was desperately trying to get out of the bed but could do no more than sit weakly on the edge, his eyes dark with anger. “You should have killed him Boris.”
Boris re-sheathed his sword and ran quickly to help the king to his feet. “Perhaps, but that was like fighting an unarmed man, hardly what I’d call fair play.”
Erik shook his head and smiled. “You are too honorable for your own good.”
Boris pulled a cloak from the wardrobe and wrapped it around the frail man’s shoulders. “You can demote me later, right now I think it would be best to leave this place while we still can. More of Tirate’s men will be arriving soon.”
Erik leaned heavily on his shoulder and Boris half carried the man to the doorway and down the hall. As he rounded a corner he found the young page running another errand. This time the boy’s jaw dropped at the sight of the king standing in front of him.
Boris snapped at him. “Don’t just stand there! Help me get the king to the landing yard!”
Without a word, the boy slipped beneath the king’s arm and the three of them hurried down the stairway. When they reached the doorway leading out to the yard, Boris stopped and peered out. Ellis was lying near the middle of the yard a hundred yards away while half a dozen of Tirate’s men armed with long spears stood nearby obviously waiting for Boris.
Boris stepped back from the door and whispered to the page. “Lad, you are loyal to your king, are you not?”
The boy nodded enthusiastically.
“Good! I have a job for you, more important than you could ever imagine. When we leave here, I want you to spread the word among the loyal servants, staff, and dragon knights that King Erik is alive. Make sure everyone knows and don’t get caught or Tirate will have your hide. Do you understand?”
Again, the boy nodded. Boris pulled from his finger a thick ring inscribed with a black dragon and handed it to him. “Show this to anyone who doubts you, and be careful whom you trust. Tirate is a ruthless criminal and will have many spies helping him to steal the throne. We will return soon with proof of his guilt.”
Erik watched the boy run down the hallway. Turning to Boris he whispered. “Do you know what you are doing here?”
Boris just grinned and let out a sharp whistle. Ellis leapt to his feet, his sharp ears pointing towards the door. Boris whistled again and Ellis thundered across the yard. Men shouted as they scrambled out of the way. Carts and wagons overturned as Ellis crashed through, oblivious to everything in his path. He skidded to a stop in front of the door and Boris lifted Erik over his shoulder like a sack and ran towards the dragon. With his free arm he grabbed the saddle as he thrust his foot into the stirrup and heaved Erik into the seat.
“LET’S FLY!” He barely had time to swing his leg over the saddle before Ellis leaped into the air, knocking over more carts and sending the guards diving for cover. They circled as they gained altitude and Boris looked sadly down at the rooftop of the warehouse.
“Sorry Shane, looks like I won’t be meeting up with you after all.”
Ellis suddenly lurched to the left as a black streak shot past. Surprised, Boris peered down to see men atop the battlements, arming the large crossbows. Another shaft flew past as Ellis jerked to the right.
“So that’s what those are for! To defend against the dragons!”
Ellis
quickly gained speed and was soon out of range. Erik sat unsteadily in the saddle and let the wind dry the tears from his cheeks as the city of Gaul disappeared behind them.
***
Tirate, followed by six of his best soldiers, stepped through the shattered door and into the king’s chambers. One of the guards he had posted at Erik’s door now sat dazed, in the middle of the room. A thin trickle of blood ran through matted hair and down one temple onto his torn clothes. He grabbed the man by the collar and roughly lifted him to his feet.
“Where are they? Where is the king, and where is Boris?”
Groaning, the man squeezed his eyes shut. “I…don’t know sire, he…I…don’t know!”
Tirate heaved the man backwards, causing him to collapse in a heap. Growling, he turned to his armed men.
Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) Page 8