Erik visibly sighed with relief, the strain showing plainly on his face. Placing a hand on Boris’ shoulder, he smiled. “Well done, Boris. Would you see that preparations begin immediately? The sooner we begin, the better. I’ll be in my tent, let me know how quickly we can be underway.”
Boris looked down at Ammon and Fulgid. “Once again, you’ve done us all a great service, and for that, I thank you.” He strode away from the table and almost immediately his booming voice began barking orders.
Ammon pushed his half-finished meal in front of Fulgid and watched as the little dragon wolfed it down and sniffed around for stray crumbs. “You deserve all the credit, all I did was chase after you.”
***
Within an hour, tents throughout the camp were being pulled down and packed away as word spread quickly of the move. Ammon went back to his tent to pack the few belongings he had. He was already wearing his armor, sword, and ring, and what was left could easily fit into his old sack. He picked up a small bag and a handful of crystals he’d collected from the cavern tumbled to the floor. Fulgid pounced as they scattered, grabbing one with his teeth and crushing it with a loud crunch.
“Fulgid no!”
He reached for the dragon, but it was too late, in one gulp the dragon had eaten the entire crystal.
“Why do you keep eating these? It can’t be good for you!”
A golden voice bubbled up, ringing through his head like wind chimes. “HOT!”
Ammon shook his finger at the dragon’s nose and scolded. “That’s not hot, it’s sharp! Now don’t eat any more!”
Before Ammon could gather the rest of the crystals, Fulgid had managed to swallow two more. He threw his hands in the air in frustration and rolled his eyes. Theo once told him dragons were as stubborn as mules but he was beginning to think the mules took lessons from dragons.
By morning, a steady stream of people filed into the tunnel, following the trail of torches to the other side of the mountains. At regular intervals, a knight would enter the tunnel with his dragon crouching down and wings folded tight against its body. Erik, Boris, Theo, and Ammon watched the steady procession from the riverbank.
Boris squinted at the sun climbing into the sky. “I’d say we should have everyone through by mid morning as long as there aren’t any problems. Ellis will have a tough time squeezing through, but as long as his saddle and bags are stripped off, I think he can do it. Before I remove them, I’m going to take a quick flight to see how close Tirate is. We don’t need any unpleasant surprises.”
He turned and placed a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “Keep them moving, I don’t want anyone left behind. Ditch equipment if you need to and supplies if you must, but not a soul gets left behind. I’ll be back shortly.”
Ammon watched the number of people entering the tunnel. It was amazing how quickly the camp had grown from a few hundred knights with their dragons to over five hundred men, women, and children of the palace staff. Most had flown in to the camp in the first week as the dragons were sent to pick up refugees of Tirate’s rule. They had left almost everything behind to escape and now they shuffled past, looking at the tunnel suspiciously before entering. Some of the children cried, and more than a few paled as they peered into the dark depths of the long passageway. None spoke of what lie ahead.
Erik paced in small circles, his brow furrowed with concern as he watched his people disappear into the mountainside. Ammon could feel the tension in the air, and even Fulgid seemed agitated. He lay on the ground swishing his tail and pivoting his ears, listening to every sound.
As the hours passed, the stream of people thinned to a slow trickle, with only a few dragons left with their riders. Theo strode quickly towards them, dipping his head respectfully to Erik.
“My King, we are ready for you to go. As soon as Boris is back, we’ll be ready to block the entrance from the inside.”
Erik peered up into the sky, his blue eyes scanning the horizon. “No Theo, not yet. A king’s duty is to protect his people and a king’s right is to be first in battle and last to leave. Our threat comes from behind, and safety lies on the other side of the mountain. I will stay until the last man goes through.”
Theo sighed. He looked at Ammon and shook his head. “I suppose you won’t leave either?”
Ammon smiled. He would wait until Boris returned, and they’d all go together.
Suddenly the blast of a horn sounded, and Ellis’ great wingspan appeared above the distant tree line, flying faster than Ammon would ever believe a dragon could. Once more the horn blasted, and within seconds the great dragon was circling over them with Boris shouting down.
“Tirate pushed his army on through the night; he’ll descend on the camp any minute! I’ll hold him back while the rest get through the tunnel!”
Theo sprinted towards the tunnel, barking orders to the few stragglers at the entrance. The few knights and dragons left began to lope like giant horses towards the opening. One by one they squeezed in until only Theo’s dragon, Ebony remained. Erik stood as still as a stone, watching for Boris. Ellis’ massive shape rose over the treetops and the shouting of men followed close behind him as they burst into sight. Several groups appeared pulling the large-wheeled crossbows behind them and they worked frantically to ready the weapon.
Ellis suddenly flipped upside down and dove towards them with Boris hanging from his saddle, his long sword drawn and held over his head. A man atop of the crossbow barely managed to leap aside as Boris’ blade sliced through the bowstring. With a loud crack, the bow snapped back and hit the man in the back of the head, tossing him to the ground where he lay in a crumpled heap, unmoving.
Ellis rolled upright as his powerful wings pumped the air and he gained altitude. Wheeling in midair, they dove again for another attack. A thin, black streak shot through the air and struck Ellis in the chest and a loud, ear-piercing shriek filled the air. Ammon watched in horror as Ellis tried to regain control with one wing flapping uselessly and the shaft of the large bolt jutting from his side. Boris had somehow been thrown from the saddle and hung upside down by one foot in the stirrup. He flailed wildly beneath Ellis as they fell to earth in a rapidly spinning spiral. With a sickening thud, they crashed onto the steep riverbank and slowly rolled down towards the raging river until they stopped, half-submerged in the roiling current. Out from the trees, a dozen men charged toward Ellis and began pushing the helpless dragon further into the water.
With a fierceness in his heart he’d never felt before, Ammon drew his sword and charged across the ground with Fulgid running beside him. He barely recognized the danger he was putting himself in, his thoughts were blurred by the fury he felt through the link with Fulgid. The tiny bubble in his head boiled and flowed through him like fire. Engulfed in rage, he struck at the closest man with a wild swing of his sword. The man easily blocked the blow with his own blade and pushed Ammon back, sneering as he attacked. The training Boris had drilled into him became instinct as the man slashed down. As the blades connected, Ammon jumped aside and used the momentum of the strike to carry his own sword in a backward arc that struck the man across the back of his legs. With a scream, his opponent dropped his sword and crumpled to the ground.
Almost instantly, another man rushed forward and Ammon gasped for air as their swords clashed again and again. With each blow he felt his breath coming harder and harder. Sensing his fatigue, the man raised his sword high and brought it down in a crushing blow. Ammon blocked the strike and reeled as the force of it sent painful jolts through his arms. Grinning, the man struck once more and this time Ammon let his sword drop, letting the man’s blade glance harmlessly off his armored vest. Without resistance, the empty blow threw the man off balance and as he stumbled, Ammon raised his sword and lunged forward piercing the man’s stomach. Shock filled his eyes as he fell to his knees and Ammon pulled his sword free.
He spun, expecting the next attack, but none came. Theo stood several paces away, eyeing him curiously as he slowly sheathed hi
s longsword. Fulgid prowled nearby, his eyes glowed white-hot and lips pulled back in a fierce snarl. Groaning men lay scattered haphazardly about and there was shouting coming from the trees.
The riverbank was empty except for the deep claw marks in the earth leading down the steep embankment. Boris’ longsword lay half buried in the mud beside a large crimson stain in the grass. Ammon rushed to the water’s edge and felt his heart sink as he saw Ellis’ body rolling in the turbulent whitewater, then disappear down the hole in the mountain.
“Boris!” The roar of the water carried away the sound of his cry. He was too late.
With tear-filled eyes, he retrieved the engraved blade from the muck and clutched it tightly to his chest. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he called to Fulgid and followed Theo back towards the tunnel where Erik stood waiting.
Erik’s voice was barely audible when he spoke. “Come. It is time to go.”
As they moved further in, Theo coaxed Ebony to strike the roof of the tunnel a few times with her tail. Each time there was a loud crash as the entrance collapsed into a pile of rubble and dust. Slowly they moved up the tunnel together. There was no fear of being followed now. It would take Tirate’s men months to clear out that debris. Erik put his arm around Ammon and in the dim torchlight, Ammon could see tears streaming down his cheeks from the loss of his oldest and dearest friend. Ammon’s own cheeks glistened wetly as he carried Boris’ longsword close to his heart.
***
The ruins were at a higher elevation than Gaul and early mornings already had the taste of autumn in the air. With oncoming winter just months away, they had little time to prepare for the cold and unknown weather patterns of this strange region. Dragons, knights, men, and women helped in gathering firewood from the large forests surrounding the city.
Because of his experience with furnaces in the Nest, Erik placed Ammon in charge of the heating system. He spent days with the blacksmiths directing the repairs of the multiple furnaces in the Hold beneath the palace. He couldn’t help but marvel at the clever design of the palace builders. Although most of the rooms had fireplaces, it was unlikely they would be needed except in the coldest weather. The heat produced from the furnaces to keep the dragons warm also traveled through small channels to the upper floors, keeping the entire palace at a comfortable temperature.
Today he decided to check how quickly the firewood supply was building. Beside each of the dragons quarters was a large room for firewood, and Ammon directed each to be filled to the ceiling. The builders wouldn’t have built rooms that size for wood storage if most of it were a waste of space. After two weeks, only a third of them were filled. He shook his head and frowned. It had to be brought in soon or it wouldn’t be dry enough to burn. He wandered through the hold until he found Theo splitting wood with a rusted axe.
His taunt arms flexed as he sank the axe deep into a chunk of wood, and even in the cool air, his bare chest glistened with sweat. His lean frame shifted fluidly, wasting no movement as he deftly cracked the wood apart with precise blows and tossed them aside. He paused as Ammon approached and knuckled his back before wiping the sweat from his face with a rag.
Ammon picked a waterskin off a nearby stump and handed it to him. “Theo, is there any way we can get the wood in faster? I’m concerned that it won’t season fast enough before the cold weather starts, and we don’t know how soon that will happen here.”
Theo paused to take a long drink. “I know we need more firewood, but the men are doing the best they can. I already have more than half of them working on it now. Most of the rest are out hunting, trying to bring in enough food to keep us and a few hundred dragons fed through the winter. Fortunately, this region seems pretty rich in game, so the hunting has been good.” He gestured to the dragons quarters with one hand. “Anyone who isn’t hunting or gathering wood are here making the place livable.”
Ammon sighed. “If you can think of any way…”
Theo hefted the axe again and smiled. “Don’t worry. The wood and the food will be in with time to spare. Have faith.”
Ammon nodded and headed back to his rooms. He knew they were doing everything they could, but he felt restless. The day they arrived at the ruins of this city he’d asked Erik for permission to locate the Olog River on this side of the mountains. He wanted to find the bodies of Boris and Ellis and at least mark the site with some sort of memorial, but Erik had refused him. He was needed here, not just for repairing the furnaces, but because he was now officially the heir to Erik’s throne.
Erik’s eyes had looked at him with sympathy and understanding, for Boris was his closest friend. “As heir to the throne, your life is no longer your own. You have a responsibility to the people, to the Knights of Gaul. You can no more wander off on a quest any more than I can.”
His life was no longer his own. As he walked the hallway to his chambers, those words echoed over and over in his head. He closed the door to his room and picked up his sword. He found he could release some of his frustrations practicing with it, and today he felt more apprehensive than usual. Fulgid lay quietly on the windowsill, watching as Ammon worked at the exercises Boris had taught him. The strange gray sword felt less awkward now. The blade whistled through the air with increasing speed and accuracy, cutting through the tiny targets of acorns he hung on strings from the ceiling. When he finished an hour later, Fulgid happily devoured the split acorns scattered across the floor.
He dipped a towel into a washbowl and wiped his face with cool water as he walked around the room. His quarters were situated next to Erik’s and were well appointed. A freshly stuffed mattress lay across a large bed and his golden armored vest hung inside a beautiful oak wardrobe. Desks, tables, and chairs in the sitting room had been pushed aside so he could practice his sword, and in the corner near the fireplace where he stood, was a washstand complete with an uncracked looking glass.
He turned to stare at his reflection, a sight he’d not yet become accustomed to seeing. He’d never seen himself except in the distorted images of rippling pools of water and curved lamp reflectors. Looking back from the glass was a young man with shoulder length blond hair and sharp blue eyes set squarely above the high cheekbones and determined jaw of a tanned face. Erik said he had many of the characteristics of his father, yet he could not recall a single memory of the man. With a sigh he turned away. Looking at the strange face in the glass made him feel odd.
A tap sounded at the door and he opened it to find a young pageboy looking up at him in awe. Ammon and Fulgid had become almost legendary after his attack on Tirate’s men in the failed effort to save Boris. Someone had overheard Theo discussing the fight with one of the other Knights and the story had spread through the palace staff like wildfire. With each telling, the battle got bigger and the two men he fought grew to dozens. Before long it was an entire legion, and no matter how many times he corrected them it never changed. One odd consistency in the story was that his eyes glowed white as he charged into battle. No doubt they meant Fulgid’s eyes, which did inexplicably glow at times. The story had taken on a life of its own and now everywhere he walked people gave him a wide berth. Erik said it would pass and that this was not a bad thing. The loss of Boris had struck a deep wound in their morale and the people needed a hero. Their view of Ammon filled that void.
It took the pageboy a moment to speak. “Uh…Lord Ammon! The king requests your presence in his chambers right away!”
Ammon tossed the damp towel over the back of a chair and looked over at Fulgid chewing on a bit of acorn. “You coming?”
Fulgid snatched another bit of acorn and loped out the door in front of Ammon. The page followed close behind, staring wide-eyed at the little dragon who swaggered along the hallway as if the palace were built for him. Reaching into his pocket for an acorn, Ammon handed it to the boy and nodded towards Fulgid. Timidly the boy tossed it and giggled with delight as Fulgid snapped it out of the air with a crunch.
Outside the doorway, Ammon waited for th
e page announce his arrival. Fulgid pressed against the back of his knee to get his attention. Although he was the size of a large cat, the dragon had taken to riding on Ammon’s back most of the time, and today was no different. Ammon bent down, and Fulgid gracefully leapt onto his back, wrapped his long golden tail around his waist, and rested his head on Ammon’s shoulder.
The page opened the door and bid him to enter. Erik sat in the center of the room on his makeshift throne, a heavy wooden chair padded with multicolored pillows. Theo and Cen stood on either side, and in front of them, on a small chair, sat what appeared to be a pile of dirty rags topped with a shock of tangled silver hair.
Motioning for Ammon to come closer, Erik spoke up. “Ammon, I thought you’d be interested to hear this. It appears our uninhabited city had a resident after all. One of the hunting parties saw movement in a window of a partially collapsed building near the north gate and decided to investigate.”
Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) Page 20