Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton)

by Stevens, James

  “Ammon, I feared I’d never see you again! And your dragon too! He looks magnificent!”

  Stunned by the unexpected show of affection, Ammon stammered. “Yes, uh…thank you…sire!”

  Erik greeted both Shane and Theo warmly. “It is good to have you all back!”

  Theo stood slack jawed, staring at Erik in disbelief. “Sire, I mean no disrespect but I must say you look much, much healthier since I saw you last!”

  Shane nodded slowly. “He should, now that Tirate isn’t able to poison him anymore.”

  Boris suddenly stepped forward from the back of the tent. “WHAT?”

  King Erik raised his hand towards Boris. “Easy my friend. Tell me Knight Shane, what do you mean?”

  Shane rubbed his withered face with a wiry hand. “After you escaped with Boris, I started shipping wagonloads of supplies out to all the knights I knew were still in the area and instructed them to head north with their dragons to find you. I knew a battle with Tirate was likely, so I emptied the storeroom of all the herbs and medicines I could. In the back I found an empty barrel of dragonsbane.”

  Confused, Boris shook his head. “Dragonsbane?”

  Shane nodded. “Yes. There was a breakout of River Fever about nine years ago and we discovered it was an effective treatment. When it was over Tirate insisted we keeping a large enough supply to treat the entire city if necessary.”

  Erik frowned. “Tirate has never done anything charitable unless he stood to benefit from it somehow.”

  “Exactly my thoughts sire,” Shane continued, “but regardless of his motive, at the time it seemed a very reasonable request. It took two years for the local mistresses of herbs to obtain enough to fill one small barrel. She gave me strict warnings on its usage, for any more than an occasional small amount would cause the body to waste away. She also told me a great secret, one that I had not thought about in fifteen years. Dragonsbane is odorless, tasteless, and extremely poisonous to dragons. For that reason, I kept it in a locked storeroom. Only myself and Tirate had a key.”

  Boris’ face darkened and his knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists. “Sire, if Shane’s suspicions are true, that was what killed your dragon Laud! Tirate poisoned him just the same as he poisoned you!”

  Erik suddenly looked old as he turned and sat heavily in his chair. His eyes glistened wetly and he buried his head in his hands.

  “Leave me for awhile my friends. I need to be alone with my thoughts.”

  Wordlessly, they each bowed before leaving. Ammon walked to the door but Fulgid stayed behind, refusing to come.

  Boris pushed Ammon out the door and whispered gently. “Don’t worry. He may be of more comfort to him than anything we can do.”

  King Erik sat quietly with his head in his hands unaware of Fulgid’s presence until the little dragon crawled into his lap. Staring down in surprise, he stroked the golden head, then pulled him close and wept until the tears wouldn’t come anymore.

  ***

  In the center of the open meadow the sun beat down unmercifully on Ammon’s bare back. The muscles in his arms throbbed and his palms were sweating, making it difficult to keep his grip on the sword. For days now, Boris and Theo had been training him hard. He had learned quickly that his biggest advantage was in his ability to move and strike rather than match blow for blow. Still, Boris insisted he learn to stand his ground, in case a time came when he could not dodge in and out.

  With the tip of his sword, Boris pointed at Ammon’s mostly healed ankle. “Imagine an injury like that during a fight. If you can’t stand and fight, you’re in serious trouble.”

  So now Ammon stood in one spot as Boris approached from different directions with his leather-wrapped sword.

  “You will never win a fight by just deflecting your opponents blows. You have to find an opening and attack! Always think at least one or two moves ahead. Use the momentum of your swing to power the next move, whether it’s a strike or defense.”

  Ammon only nodded. After two hours of nonstop sword work, his arms felt limp and he was breathing hard. Boris however, had hardly begun to sweat, and once more, he began his relentless barrage against Ammon’s defense.

  A strong, distinctive voice behind them made Boris pause in mid-strike. “Teaching the young lad the finer points of diplomacy I see?”

  Boris glanced over his shoulder and Ammon, seeing his chance, gently poked Boris in the stomach with the rounded tip of his leather-wrapped sword. Boris jumped back in surprise and the voice suddenly roared with laughter.

  “Aye, you’ve taught him well too! Distraction can be as effective as the sharpest sword!”

  Boris shook his head and chuckled good-naturedly. “Skewered by a boy! I must be getting too old for this!”

  Ammon smiled as Erik walked towards them. As the poison gradually left the king’s body, his health once more returned with vigor. His eyes were now bright and his back ramrod straight as his lean frame moved through the tall grass. Fulgid loped beside him, a bright beam of living sunshine. Every time Ammon started sword practice, the little dragon ran off to find Erik and pester him into walking about the huge camp. The two were becoming a common sight as they strolled together inspecting the dragon regiment just as Erik used to before the death of Laud. Boris privately commented to Ammon that Fulgid’s sudden friendship with Erik had done more to restore his health than anything else had. Soon after, Boris insisted that Ammon’s tent be placed beside Erik’s.

  Erik paused to take a long sip from a steaming cup of black brew he carried with him. “Has Theo returned from his rendezvous this morning?”

  Boris nodded and pushed a few loose strands of gray hair from his eyes. “Yes, but he’ll make another trip later today with more dragons. We underestimated how many loyal subjects were left in the palace and couldn’t bring them all back at once. Yesterday he brought back the entire kitchen staff! Everyone from the head cook to the spit dogs, not to mention all the supplies they could carry to the meeting place. By the end of today we’ll have every one of the palace pages, the seamstress, laundry maids, blacksmiths, fletchers, just about the entire staff!” He smiled broadly. “Tirate may call himself king, but he’ll have to wash and sew his own undergarments!”

  Erik drained the last few drops from his mug and said wryly, “It would be too much to hope he’d succumb to his own cooking as I almost did.” He passed the empty cup to Ammon. “Would you bring this back to Kyle please? It looks as if you’ll have the afternoon free if Theo is heading back to Gaul. Boris and I have to start planning how to get past those crossbow defenses.”

  Ammon slipped on his shirt and headed back to the tent with Fulgid bouncing along beside him chasing grasshoppers from the tall grass. Since his arrival a week ago, he’d had very little free time between his sword lessons and dragon training. It would be nice to walk around and maybe see the other dragons or sit by the river and relax. He walked past the tents until he was in the sliver of shade cast by the sheer vertical face of the mountain called The Wall. Small rocks and boulders that had broken off from high above littered the ground and he picked his way through.

  He was just within sight of his tent when Fulgid charged past in pursuit of a horsefly. He suddenly leapt behind a flat boulder leaning against the wall and disappeared. Ammon stopped and could hear the scraping sound of Fulgid’s claws against stone. He peered around the boulder and saw a hole in the wall formed by a crack. Pushing the boulder away he stuck his head into the hole and yelled.

  “Fulgid! Get back here! FULGID!”

  The sound of claws against stone grew fainter as the dragon moved deeper into the dark crevice. Ammon placed the mug on top of the boulder and bent over to inspect the opening. The hole was big enough that he could crouch down on his hands and knees and crawl in, so he went in a short way and called again. He could only just barely hear the scraping sound now.

  He clenched his teeth and scowled. Why wouldn’t Fulgid listen to him? Exasperated, he crawled in a little further an
d called again and waited. The sounds continued to fade and finally he decided Fulgid would come back down when he got hungry. He shuffled backward a few inches and felt the sword at his waist jam against the sides of the crevice. He tried to twist it free, but the hole was so narrow he couldn’t turn or reach behind him to pull the sword free. As he moved forward it came loose but each time he backed up it would only wedge itself again. Over and over he tried but only managed to work himself further up into the hole. Panting with the effort he stopped to think. Calling for help was useless. Only Boris, Kyle, the king, and himself frequented this part of the camp. Boris and the king were discussing plans, and Kyle would be at the tent cooking the next meal.

  The faintest gust of cool air lightly brushed his face and he peered up into the darkness ahead. Air movement coming down the crevice meant there must be an opening somewhere! As long as it didn’t become any narrower he should be able to continue and either turn around or find another way out.

  For what seemed like hours, he crawled on his elbows, pushing himself forward and up. The hole didn’t get any narrower, but it didn’t get wider either. It just continued to rise steadily before him until finally he came to a steep incline. Dim light shone at the top and he climbed upwards until he scrambled out of the opening. He found himself standing inside a large cavern filled with a dazzling display of white and yellow crystals that seemed to sprout from the floor and walls like flowers. High above him a thin beam of sunlight streamed down from a small hole in the ceiling.

  Ammon looked up just in time to see Fulgid bounding up a large pile of rocks where a portion of the cavern ceiling had collapsed and scampering out through the hole.

  “Fulgid!”

  The echoes of his voice inside the cavern were nearly deafening. Grumbling, he climbed up the mound of rocks and squeezed through the hole. He sputtered as he wiped dirt away from his face and paused as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight.

  It was cold, and as he gazed upon his surroundings, his jaw dropped. There was no grass or trees anywhere on the steep rocky surface he stood on, and patches of ice glistened in the sun further up the slope. Fulgid stood just a few strides away, staring at three large shapes in the distance half-buried in the snow. Ammon gasped, even from a quarter mile away he was pretty sure he knew what they were, but he had to be positive.

  He picked up Fulgid and the little dragon climbed onto his shoulder and held tight to his leather shirt. It took longer than he expected to climb the hill and he seemed unable to catch his breath. The ice-coated rocks made it difficult to get good footing, and as he picked his way up the slope, his stomach started to tighten with nausea. Finally he stopped a few paces away, disbelief pulling at every fiber of his body. This was so…wrong!

  Shivering with cold, he skidded and slid back down the hill as fast as he possibly could go. He had to get back and tell Boris and Erik what he’d seen! He had to tell them he’d found something horrible!

  In The Ice

  Chapter 8

  Boris sat quietly and frowned while Erik rubbed his temples and stared at the papers strewn across the table. The population of the camp had exploded as more refugees from Gaul were flown in and their limited amount of supplies was diminishing quickly. The dragons were providing some food by hunting the wild boar common to the area, but that too would be quickly depleted, and then food for everyone would become a major issue. They were running out of time and hadn’t yet gathered enough information about Tirate’s defenses to attempt to retake Gaul.

  They both looked up in surprise when Ammon barged in and almost collapsed in front of them. Alarmed, Boris jumped to his feet. “Ammon? What happened to you? You’re covered in filth!”

  Ammon gasped, his sides ached and his chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. “I…I found…I found DRAGONS!”

  Boris exchanged confused looks with Erik. “Uh, yes well, there are nearly two hundred dragons here, Ammon…”

  Ammon shook his head furiously. “No! You don’t understand! Three of them! On the mountain! They’re dead!”

  This time it was Erik that came to his feet in alarm. “Boris? You’d better find out what he’s talking about!”

  Boris was already pushing Ammon towards the door of the tent. “I’m on my way! Show me where Ammon!”

  Ammon explained everything as he led the way back to the crevice. Boris took one look at the hole and shook his head. There was no way his wide shoulders would fit into that narrow space. He pushed a few stands of white hair out of his eyes as he looked back over the camp.

  “Come with me.”

  With surprising speed, he took off at a run to the landing field to where Theo was unloading more refugees. Halfway across the field Boris shouted. “Theo, I need you NOW!”

  Theo dropped the sack he was carrying and ran towards them. Boris’ voice boomed with authority. “I need you to follow Ammon. He’s found something, and we need to know if we’re facing a possible threat.”

  Hurrying back to the crevice, Ammon again explained what he’d found. Fulgid jumped down and scurried into the hole. Ammon removed his sword and leaned it against the boulder, and Theo reluctantly did the same. On their hands and knees, the two entered the blackness with Ammon in the lead.

  Theo gasped in surprise when they finally crawled out into the cavern with its dazzling crystals blossoming from everywhere. Fulgid waited impatiently for them up above until they came out into the cold sunlight, and he immediately latched onto Ammon’s back the moment he climbed through the hole.

  Slipping and sliding, they scaled up the steep slope until they reached the first of the dragons. The great black beast was sprawled out on its belly, one wing folded and the other partially extended. Theo walked around, and Ammon followed. A strange looking ornate saddle was attached above its shoulders, and Theo let out a low whistle as he studied it.

  “See the rigging on the side of the saddle? That’s for carrying weapons like extra swords and lances. These two leather pouches below the stirrups are for carrying rocks. A rope was attached to a flap on the bottom so you could drop them on your enemy as you flew over. It was a primitive, but useful weapon. This style of fighting saddle hasn’t been used in a hundred years or more and I’ve only seen drawings of them in books. If I had to guess I’d say these dragons have been laying here frozen for ages!”

  Shaking his head in amazement, he looked back down the hill. “It’s in incredibly good shape all things considered, probably because it’s so cold. We could certainly use it against Tirate if we can remove it without breaking it and haul it back through that narrow passage.”

  He gazed up the hill at the next shape lying in the snow and took a deep breath of the thin air. “I want to check out the others, they may be similarly outfitted. Are you coming?”

  Sadly, Ammon looked at the large dragon and nodded. He didn’t really want to see another dead dragon, but he didn’t want to be left alone next to one either. “Yes, I’ll come.”

  The second dragon was also a black and similarly outfitted, but the third dragon was gray, and Ammon gasped when he walked around to see the saddle. An armored figure still hung from one stirrup. Face down he lay half-buried in the ice.

  Theo studied the man soberly as he knelt beside him. “He’s been shot with an arrow, the fletching still shows through the ice. I think I understand what has happened here.”

  He rose to his feet and led Ammon back down the mountainside. As they walked back he explained. “A dragon needs their link to survive. A knight can live if his dragon dies, such as what happened to both King Erik and Shane. It’s a horrible experience, but they live. However, if the knight dies before his dragon, the dragon becomes lost. Their connection to this world is cut. They usually just fly away and are never seen again. I would guess that there must’ve been a terrible battle and these dragons came here to die in the cold.”

  Ammon swallowed hard and he felt Fulgid tighten his grip on his shirt.

  When they got back to the first dra
gon, Theo studied the saddle once more. “I wonder if we could disassemble it once it’s removed? Then we could bring it back through the hole in smaller pieces and reassemble it at the camp.”

  The saddle was facing downhill, so Theo climbed above the dragon and found the buckles of one of the girths. Warming it briefly between his hands, Theo then pulled on it gently. The frozen leather creaked beneath his fingers but didn’t break. Carefully he unbuckled the straps, then using a sharp rock, he chipped at the ice beneath the dragon.

  “You’ll have to help me with this Ammon. I know it’s unpleasant, but this might be a significant help to us against Tirate.”

  Reluctantly Ammon grabbed hold of the saddle and the two dug their heels into the snow. After several hard yanks on the straps beneath the dragon, it finally let go, and they pulled the saddle behind them as they half slid down to the entrance of the cavern.

  Theo immediately began disassembling it into smaller pieces.