Sasha puckered her lips and tilted her head thoughtfully. “A wise decision! All of you as advisors…and myself too of course! DoTaria is a large country with a diverse and complicated social structure. Ammon needs training and help to deal with the problems of rebuilding an entire nation with customs and traditions different from Gaul.” She cackled gleefully. “A challenge for the young king! A challenge worthy of a golden knight!”
Ammon felt like crawling under the bed and wondered if they’d ever find him in a room this size if he did.
***
After they’d left, Ammon sat alone in his new chambers in an overstuffed chair and watched as Fulgid curiously climbed across the bookshelves as he investigated his new surroundings. His head throbbed dully as the stresses of the day seeped into his brain and an unmistakable feeling of loss crept into his chest. Never again would he spend hours fishing in the Olog with his next meal his only concern. He twisted the gold ring on his finger and sighed. Like it or not, they were going to make him king over both DoTaria and Gaul and somehow he was supposed to deal with it.
Fulgid jumped into the cold fireplace and clawed through the ashes. Finding nothing of interest, he hopped onto the bed and curled up on the pillow, leaving a trail of ash across the clean white sheets.
“Kyle will have a fit when he sees the mess you made.” Fulgid rolled onto his back, spreading the ash deeper into the sheets. Ammon snickered. “I wish I was as carefree as you, Fulgid, but the responsibilities keep growing! By the dragon’s teeth, I can’t even read, and they want me to run a kingdom? How am I supposed to do that?”
A sullen voice at the doorway replied, “I’m supposed to teach you.”
Startled, Ammon instinctively leapt to his feet and as he spun, his hand reached for his sword. El was standing just outside the chamber doors, her arms folded tightly across her chest and a dark expression on her face. The voice was the same, but other than that, Ammon would not have recognized her. She no longer wore her bland brown hood, shirt, and loose breeches that Ammon had always seen her wear. Before him stood an elegantly dressed woman in a flowing sky blue gown that swept the floor in waves. Embroidered down the front were vine like flowers and her ruffled lace sleeves stopped at her elbows, exposing browned, sun tanned arms. Her flowing dark hair hung down loosely in ringlets to her shoulders, but the smoldering dark eyes glaring back at him were unchanged.
Ammon stammered as he loosened his grip on his sword. “Oh, I…um…I…didn’t hear you! You…look very nice! I didn’t recognize you for a moment!” Ammon bit down on his lip to stop himself from talking.
El gave a stiff curtsey. “Forgive me, my King! I didn’t realize how poorly I usually look!”
Ammon resisted the urge to smack himself in the head with his hand. “That’s not what I meant! I uh…I meant you look beautiful!” He felt his face going red. What was it about her that made everything he said come out backwards? Clearing his throat, he tried to regain his composure. “What was it you are supposed to teach me?”
El barely hid a sneer. “I am to teach you to read and instruct you in political history, as well as the customs of this land.”
Ammon frowned. “You were told to do this? By who?”
El lowered her eyes. “Grandmother Sasha has informed me it is my duty to educate you in these areas. I am to report to you each day at a convenient time where you can begin your studies. If this displeases you, I can relay that information to someone else.”
Ammon closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. It was beginning already. Would everyone soon address him with the same feigned respect? “I don’t care. If you don’t wish to teach me I’m sure Sasha will find someone who will. I certainly won’t make you do anything you don’t want to, no matter what she told you to do. Tell her I relieved you of that duty, or make something up that sounds right. You can go now.”
He turned his back to her and flopped back into the overstuffed chair. If he was going to be king then he’d make sure of at least one thing. Nobody would be forced to serve him against his or her will. He looked down at his hands and ripped the bandages off. Slowly he flexed his fingers, feeling the skin stretch where the blisters had been. He should be able to start practicing with the sword again soon. Maybe then he could work out some of his frustrations. In the meantime he had to find another outlet.
He looked at Fulgid stretched out on the pillow. “What do you think about escaping from this snooty palace for awhile and going for a walk? Maybe we can get out without anyone noticing and have some peace and quiet. Somewhere without all this confounded royal treatment.”
“I’d love to.”
Ammon jumped in surprise and turned in the chair to see El still standing there. “I thought you left?”
El shook her head. “I didn’t. I think that walk sounds nice. If anyone asks I’ll tell them it’s part of your education. After all, you should know the city if you’re going to be king.”
Ammon stared at the pretty girl in front of him and wondered how he had ever mistaken her for a boy. “Only if you want to. I will not force you, or anyone to do anything for me.”
El smiled a genuine smile. “Lets go.”
As they walked down the long aisle of the throne room, Ammon noticed El walking uncomfortably. “Are you ok?”
El winced as she took another step and rolled her eyes. “These slippers aren’t exactly made for walking, but it’s how I’m supposed to dress now while inside the palace.”
Ammon thought for a moment. “So you can dress any way you want when outside the palace?” El stumbled before nodding her head. “Aren’t we going outside of the palace?”
El stopped and looked at Ammon for a moment before a smile crept across her face. “I certainly can’t give you a tour dressed like this can I? Would you mind if I make a quick stop at my quarters before we leave?”
Ammon smiled back. “I’d be happy to wait.” She really was quite pretty when she smiled. Idly he wondered why she had to wear those clothes inside the palace when everyone else was dressed normal. It certainly seemed absurd, but he shrugged it off.
He waited outside the chamber door with Fulgid while she changed back into her familiar shirt, breeches, and boots. This time she left the hood down, letting her hair hang loosely down her back. Before long they were outside the palace and wandering the still abandoned areas of the city. Green flags hung on the sides of buildings to indicate they had been purged of Kala-Azar and safe to enter. Fulgid ran ahead as they strolled through the alleys and peered into the ruins. Occasionally El found the remnants of a sign on the side of a building and pointed out individual letters, making Ammon repeat them afterwards.
As they walked from one building to another, El suddenly became serious. “Did you really mean what you said? That you would never force me, or anyone else to do something we don’t wish to do?”
Ammon shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked over the street before them. “I’m being forced to become something…someone I’m not. I don’t have a choice. If I have to be king, then I will surround with people who wish to be there, not those who have to be.”
El walked on silently for a little while. “That isn’t the behavior I expected from a king, Ammon.”
He shrugged. “I hope that’s a good thing?”
She laughed a little. “Yes, I think that’s a good thing.”
Ammon breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I hope this means you don’t hate me anymore?”
El held her thumb and forefinger up spaced slightly apart and grinned mischievously. “Maybe just a little.”
Ammon groaned and plucked a piece of long grass from between the cobblestones and threw it at her. “You’re impossible!”
They spent the afternoon exploring and searching for more signs and by the time they returned to the palace he was able to recognize several of the letters on his own. Fulgid loped ahead down the hall and suddenly he skidded to a stop in front of Sasha. She stood in the doorway of her chambers silently casting a di
sapproving eye at El’s clothing.
Ammon stepped in front of El. “Good afternoon Sasha. I hope you don’t mind that I asked El to change and help acquaint me to the city. It was quite a learning experience!”
Expressionless, Sasha looked at them both. “Indeed? I’m happy to hear this! Perhaps after she’s changed into more appropriate attire, she can further that learning experience in your chambers with pen and ink!”
El’s face dropped, and without a word, she slipped past Sasha and closed the door. Sasha leaned forward and dusted some imaginary dirt off Ammon’s shoulder. “I don’t know how old you think I may be, but I assure you I wasn’t born within the last fortnight.” With that, she turned and entered her chambers, closing the door behind her.
Flabbergasted, Ammon looked down at Fulgid. “What was that supposed to mean?”
***
Sasha closed the door behind her and smiled. The boy was quick. Just like Halos was. She eased her aching bones into a chair and sighed. She was tired now. At eighty-four years of age, she hoped she still had enough strength left to see her work through to the end. The events had already been set into motion and the prophecy was being fulfilled, although nothing like she’d imagined. It was only a few short weeks ago that she had been shocked to see a living gold dragon on the boy’s shoulder. For centuries scholars had assumed the prophecy of the gold dragon was a metaphor for the House of Les. When Halos died with no heirs to the throne she had given up on the prophecies as mere fanciful stories.
Now this marvelous gilded creature roamed the palace hallways and a direct descendant of the royal bloodline was his link. Although young, the boy had already shown his leadership abilities when he took charge during the attack of the Kala-Azar. Unfortunately he was painfully shy and lacked the self-assurance needed to be an effective king. That would come in time of course, but time was something she had little of at her age.
The boy needed backbone to stand up against those who opposed him in the Hall of Knights, or he’d be over-run and useless as a king. The House of Les had led the DoTarian Empire well with a doggedly determined stubbornness and sheer will. Now more than ever, a strong leader needed to sit on the throne in Laton if they were going to rebuild DoTaria and heal the rift between the Houses. Within a week a gathering of the knights would occur for the first time in over fifty years, and getting the knights to trust a very young Ammon as their king would be a hard battle. Their perception of him as an outsider would only make it even harder. He needed to learn as much as he could about DoTaria as quickly as possible, but without pushing him too hard. He needed to want to learn.
She looked up just as El came out of her bedchambers wearing the blue gown. She was a beautiful girl, and the perfect way to capture the attention of the young lad. She smiled at her granddaughter. Yes, the perfect learning tool!
***
El stormed down the hallway towards Ammon’s chambers, kicking at the dress as she went. The pale blue ruffles bounced and flowed with each stomp, making it all the more elegant. Hard as she tried, it was impossible to appear mad in the frilly outfit, and that made her even angrier. Her grandmother had no right to do this! Ammon’s stupid plan to roam the city worked for one lousy day, and now because of him, she had to wear the stupid dress every time she left her chambers! Each protest she made had been knocked flat by the fierce old woman who suddenly decided El had no business climbing through broken buildings, or fishing, or hunting, or any other activities that would be difficult to do in a dress.
She had lived on the edge of wilderness her entire life, and this wasn’t a change she thought she could, or would adapt to. Why her grandmother suddenly decided to force this upon her was even more frustrating. Until now she was allowed, and even encouraged, to learn how to provide for herself. Sasha had taught her to hunt, fish, and learn what vegetation was useable for food or medicinal purposes. Since the arrival of Ammon and the rest of the strangers from the other side of the mountains, her grandmother had been acting stranger than usual. Asking the old woman inevitably led to more questions than answers. She stopped at the entrance to Ammon’s chambers and tried to quiet her anger. She knew it wasn’t his fault, but it sure was easy to blame him. With a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped into the large sitting room.
***
Standing shirtless in the middle of the room, Ammon held his sword straight out and balanced on his heels. It had been awhile since he’d practiced with the sword because of his injuries, but the training Boris hammered into him came back instantly. Gracefully, he moved from one stance to another, each movement of the sword slicing open one of the many acorns suspended from the ceiling with string.
Fulgid waited patiently as they hit the floor, pouncing and devouring each one with a quick crunch of his golden jaws. With each stroke of the sword, he increased his speed until it was one long flowing movement. When the last few acorns were left, the sword whistled through the air sending most of them bouncing across the floor almost at once. Impaled on the tip of the sword was the last one and Ammon deftly pulled it off and tossed it to Fulgid.
He started to wipe the sweat from his brow and stopped when he realized the tender new skin on his hands had cracked and he was bleeding again. He slipped the sword back into its scabbard as he looked around for something to use as a bandage and saw El leaning against the doorway, her mouth open. Embarrassed, he quickly grabbed his shirt off the back of a chair and pulled it over his head.
El had recovered her composure by the time Ammon turned back around, and now she stood glaring up at him with her fists on her hips. “How do you expect those hands and the rest of your wounds to heal if you keep doing stupid things like that?”
She pointed her finger at a chair, silently ordering him to sit while she rummaged through the bag she was carrying filled with parchments and quills. It was the same bag she used to carry the bandages she frequently had used on Ammon, and there were still several bundles lying at the bottom along with a jar of ointment. Ammon sat quietly as she wrapped his hands and when she was finished, she sat back in her chair and looked at the small pile of paper and quills.
“Well, I suppose you won’t be doing much writing today with those hands. Grandmother will have my head wrapped in a pretty little bonnet at this rate.”
Ammon inspected his hands and flexed them under the bandages before carefully asking. “A bonnet?”
El snorted. “Don’t ask. I wouldn’t do it anyway, not for anyone.”
Ammon recognized the dangerous tone in her voice and decided to divert her attention to something less volatile. “Well, lets go into the city and read more signs then. It’s much more interesting than books anyway.”
El slumped back in the chair. “I can’t.” she said ruefully. “I’m not allowed to wear anything but these horrible gowns!” She gripped the frills across her lap with both hands in dismay. “I’d never be able to walk through the rubble in this!”
Ammon thought for a moment. “What about inside the palace? This place is huge and many of rooms I’ve only glanced at as we searched for slugs. Surely there are things to read like the painting we found?”
El dropped the frills from her hands. “Yes, I suppose there probably is. It’s rather boring, but better than reading The History of DoTaria.” She stood up and gently pulled Ammon to his feet. “Come on, the stairs are just down the hall from here.”
El took one of the torches off the wall, and Fulgid led the way up the stairs to the next level. At the top she pointed down the dusty hallway. “It’s all bed chambers on this floor. During a Gathering there would be more than a thousand knights here at once, although my grandmother told me there hadn’t been one that big in hundreds of years.”
They continued climbing to the next floor where there were rows of similar, but smaller chambers. “These were the chambers for knights awaiting a Hatch. Directly above us are the Nests.”
Ammon’s eyebrows rose. “The Nests are above the palace? How strange! In Gaul, the
Nest is inside a mountain above the city, the palace is some distance away.”
El frowned. “That makes no sense at all! Wouldn’t you want your knights nearby instead of in another building? What would happen if the eggs hatched and they didn’t get there in time?”
Ammon shrugged and scratched his head. “The knights stay all night in the Nest during the new moon, from evening until they’ve all hatched, so that isn’t really an issue. Let’s go see the Nests! I’m curious how different they are from ours.”
Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) Page 26