Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton)

by Stevens, James

  He looked up at Boris helplessly, and the concerned older man squeezed his shoulder. “We will get her back. I vow to you that we will get her back! For now I think you should come back to the palace. I’d like someone to look at those eyes of yours!”

  Ammon stared back at the tunnel where Fulgid was pacing just inside the entrance. Tendrils of fire and smoke drifted from his nose and mouth and his eyes glowed furiously white.

  ***

  El winced and tried to ignore the itchy feeling of dried blood on her temple. With her hands and feet tightly bound and draped over the back of a mule it was impossible to see what was around her, but at least she could hear. Flies swarmed around her, but her hood was over her head so at least they were off of her face. The steady clopping of another set of hooves and the thud of boots in the dirt told her there was at least one man on foot walking ahead.

  As they headed down a steep embankment, she heard a low groan followed by a string of curses. The footsteps paused for only a moment. “Shuddup, Ross an quit yer moanin! We’re almost there and ya can find someone to yank out that bloody knife! Ya should’a let me pulled it back at camp, but instead ya insisted we git to Gaul and let that herb witch yank it. Ya best remember to pay me that twenty talons to drag you here, and I been thinkin that I ought to keep that fancy knife too! It’s only fair for all the walkin I’m doin. Yer lucky Tirate had a trail cut, but even so I’ll be clear through these boots quick, and I paid good money for ‘em. So that there is the deal. If ya die before we get there I’ll take it out of ya hide! I swear I will!”

  The only answer from Ross was another curse and a longer moan. El smiled grimly. At least she’d given one of them something to remember. Judging from the shadows passing beneath her, she must have been unconscious for quite a while. She bit her lip in frustration. She had to find a way out of this predicament or Ammon would never let her leave the palace again. He meant well, but he was simply too overprotective. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and escaping from this would only prove it. She strained to lift her aching head, but all she could see was boulders and brush. So this was the land Ammon was fighting to reclaim? Men were so strange.

  It was well into the night when they arrived at the palace gates. At the door, a guard picked her off the mule and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. El stared at his back from beneath her hood. If she’d had any feeling in her feet at all, she would have kicked him. At least if she tilted her head, she could see where they were going. Before they went in, two more guards pulled Ross off the mule and dragged him in behind her, ignoring his groans. Once inside, a woman wearing a gaudy crown on her head and dressed in a long crimson gown met them at the end of the hallway.

  The lead guard stopped and bowed. “My queen, Lieutenant Pru and Captain Ross have brought back a prisoner from the tunnel in the Wall.”

  He moved aside as the queen casually stepped forward. “King Tirate is asleep, therefore you will report your findings to me. Was the tunnel opened and did you succeed in killing the vermin dragons and their knights?”

  Ross only groaned as the two other guards held him up, but the second man spoke up. “Queen Liah, we opened the tunnel, but were attacked by a thousand men an dragons that wit fire shootin’ from their mouths! We lost all the crossbows we sent through in a terrible battle! Ross an me, we barely escaped through the tunnel with our lives! We been travelin’ hard all day an night to bring news and so Captain Ross can git treated. This here boy snuck up and stabbed him durin’ the fight.”

  El’s stomach lurched as the guard flipped her off his shoulder and held her up in front of him. The queen reached over and yanked back the hood exposing the dark locks of hair that spilled over her shoulders.

  The queen’s voice was as cold as ice. “You mean to tell me the entire squadron sent into the tunnel armed with twenty dragon killing crossbows was wiped out? And you two imbeciles managed to survive this…massacre… from the fire breathing dragons and one thousand men?”

  Obviously shocked to learn El was female, Pru stared and stuttered. “Uh, yeah…I mean…er…yes yer highness!”

  The queen casually reached out and grabbed the knife protruding from Ross’s shoulder. With a quick jerk, she plucked it out and promptly plunged it into the center of his chest. She calmly stepped back as he slumped to the floor and coolly did the same to Pru. As the man slowly collapsed, she wiped the blade on his shirt and held up the knife to inspect the edge. “Take their bodies out and dump them in the river. I will not tolerate failure of any sort.”

  She twirled the blade in one hand and grabbed a handful of El’s hair with the other. With a cold smile she held the knife against El’s throat. “Thank you for the pretty knife.” She released her grip and nodded to the guard. “Take her to the cells. I will question her in the morning.”

  The guard dragged her into a small dark cell and cut the ropes binding her wrists and feet before slamming the door shut. She lay on the floor for a long time until the circulation returned to her limbs and she could finally stand. A trickle of light drifted in through a tiny barred window that allowed just enough illumination to see the four bare stone walls of the cell. The thick iron-strapped wooden door looked new, and after a brief study of her surroundings, she slid to the floor with her back against the wall. There was nothing she could do now but wait.

  ***

  El awoke from a fitful sleep to the rattling of keys in the lock, and she quickly scrambled to her feet. As the door swung open, a guard stepped in followed by Liah, who now wore a dark blue velvet gown. The gold knife was tucked neatly into her belt, and El felt her face heat with anger.

  Liah looked down over a perfectly powdered nose and sniffed with disdain. “Tell me girl. What happened on the other side of the tunnel? What is on the other side?”

  El sneered at the woman. “You already heard it from your own men, just before you killed them that is.”

  The woman snarled. “You could very easily be next! Now tell me what is on the other side!”

  El crossed her arms defiantly. “I have nothing to tell you.”

  Liah’s eye suddenly gleamed and she smiled. “Oh good! For a moment I was afraid you would be boring! I always enjoy a challenge, but still, I wonder how much sport you will be?” She snapped her fingers, and two more guards rushed into the tiny room and pinned El tightly against the wall. Once she could no longer move, Liah grasped El’s left hand and held it up so the glittering ring on her finger caught the dim light.

  “I wonder how your husband will feel once he finds out where you are? I’ll come back to visit again soon, then maybe you’ll tell me all about who you are and what you know about the other side of that tunnel.”

  One of the guards pried open El’s fist and roughly removed the ring from her finger before leaving her crumpled in a heap on the floor. The cell door slammed shut with a thunderous crash, and their footsteps slowly echoed away. As she rubbed the bruised skin where her ring had been, she felt the tears welling up. Try as she might, they wouldn’t stop.

  ***

  Ammon paced the hallway while Boris interrogated the prisoners. So far the news had been grim. Although twenty crossbows had been destroyed or captured, the guards said if their attack failed, the next squadron to enter the tunnel would use men, women, and children from Gaul as shields. There would be no way for the dragons to get past without killing scores of innocent people, and even then they still had to face more of the great crossbows. Inside the narrow confines of the tunnel there was no way to avoid the deadly bolts, and even if they managed to break through, they’d be shot down the moment they came out into the open.

  Ammon could hear the bitter twang of crossbows and the trill of bolts loosed against their targets as Stalwart’s men tested the range of the captured machines in the courtyard below. All around him was a frenzy of activity as every knight and able bodied man in the palace prepared for battle. Steel blades were sharpened while fletchers worked tirelessly to fill
every quiver available. Below them in the Hold, dragons snorted black smoke as they echoed the agitation from their links. Even Fulgid was restless and snubbed at the food Kyle waved beneath his nose. Everyone was ready to charge through the tunnel and into battle the moment the word was spoken. Almost everyone. As desperate as he was to get El back, he could not lead these men to slaughter in that passageway. Another way had to be found.

  Boris emerged from the prisoner’s room and with a silent nod, Ammon followed him up the stairs to the royal chambers. Stalwart, Erik, and Theo were already waiting as he and Boris entered the sitting room. As they took their seats, Ammon crossed the room to stare out the window at the whitecapped mountains. There had to be another way to get to Gaul.

  With a sudden jerk, he spun on his heel. “Do we have any maps? Maps of those mountains?”

  Stalwart nodded slowly. “Aye sire, we do, but if you’re thinking of flying over them, I’m afraid it won’t work. In all the histories of DoTaria, there is no mention of anyone crossing over.” He shrugged. “The slopes are too steep to climb and the dragons can’t tolerate the cold at those altitudes for very long or they get sluggish. If they’re exposed too long, they fall into a deep sleep and eventually die.”

  Ammon shook his head. “I still want to see the maps myself.”

  Stalwart got up, and from one of the many shelves in the sitting room, selected a large book. He brought it back and spread it open on the table. Erik lowered his voice and gently offered to read it, but Ammon waved him off.

  “I’m able to read a little now, but maps are more like pictures than words.”

  Centered on the old map was Laton. Like a spider’s web, roads lead away in every direction towards long forgotten cities and regions. The river Olog emerged far to the east of the city from beneath the jagged drawings of a mountain range that extended completely across one side of the map. To the west was a mountain with a small anvil drawn on the side and smoke coming from the top. “This is where the Honor Blades are made?”

  Stalwart nodded. “Aye, there are three smoking mountains in DoTaria and that is the closest.”

  Ammon looked for the others. The rest formed a line, each one closer to the mountains than the last. Ammon drew a line with his finger from the first to the last. “What if the dragons warmed themselves at each one before trying to fly over the mountains?”

  Stalwart turned the map and looked at it. “That would get you a bit further, but it’s hard to say what is beyond the mountains shown on this map. You might make it to the other side, or you might end up frozen on the side of a mountain for all eternity too. There is no way to know until you get there, and by then it’s too late to turn back.”

  Boris rubbed briskly at his moustache. “I’d be willing to try it myself, but Ellis wouldn’t be able to do it. He’s already having a hard time with the cold at his age. I’d wager most of the older, more experienced dragons would have the same problem. Younger dragons are slightly less affected by the cold.”

  Ammon looked at the men around the table. “We have to get over those mountains. They won’t be expecting an attack from behind. Once the tunnel is open the rest can come through and it’s on to Gaul…and El.”

  Boris sniffed. “I suspect I already know a few who’d volunteer, I just have to put the question to them.”

  Stalwart shook his head disapprovingly. “This is an insane plan, and the chances that it will fail are too high!” He dropped a heavy fist down onto the table with a thud. “Phaw! But no more than a straight on attack through the tunnel I suppose. I know many of my knights will gladly volunteer. They’ve become quite fond of queen El and are itching to get her back. Besides, this scoundrel Tirate deserves to taste the fury of DoTarian dragons!”

  Ammon looked at Fulgid sitting quietly beside him and took a deep breath. “Then let’s get started. I’m going with them.” He held up his hand before they could object. “That was not a request, it was a statement. It is my right as king.”

  Boris and Stalwart glared at him in surprise and Ammon stared back coolly. He was going no matter what they said. El was on the other side, and he was going to get her back or die trying. His knuckles cracked as he clenched them in fists. If so much as a hair on her head was harmed…No, It was better not to try to think of that now, he needed to keep a clear head. He forced his hands to relax and turned to Erik.

  “I’ll leave the day to day operations of the palace to you until I return. Boris and Stalwart will maintain the cities defenses in case Tirate’s men try to advance through the tunnel, or if the Kala-Azar return, which isn’t likely in this cold. I want men and dragons ready to move through the tunnel at a moment’s notice. Once we’re on the other side, I don’t know how long we can hold them until reinforcements arrive. I’ll send someone through the tunnel to notify you. How long before you can have those volunteers? I want to leave within the hour.”

  Ammon braced himself for an argument as Erik stood up, but he only bowed with his fist to his chest. “It will be as you say, King Ammon.” After a pause, Erik smiled. “I do believe you wear the crown well. I would prefer you sent others over the mountains, but under these circumstances, I fully understand your desire to accompany them. I only ask that you take as little chance with your life as possible. I believe you have the potential to be one of the greatest kings that ever lived, but you have to live long enough to do so.”

  Boris cleared his throat, obviously unhappy with Ammon’s intentions. “Theo can have riders ready within the hour, although I…oh we’ll just have them ready.” He nodded to Theo, and the thin man hurried out to assemble the Gaul knights.

  Stalwart grinned at Boris for a moment, then turned to Ammon. “I’ll have my men ready as well. Please excuse me.”

  Boris cleared his throat and leaned towards Erik. “Would you mind if I have a private word with the king for a moment?” Erik just smiled and nodded, then patted Boris on the shoulder as he left.

  When they were alone, Ammon turned back to look out the window and felt Boris’ intent stare on his back. “You don’t approve of me going.”

  Boris sighed and Ammon could hear the chair creak as he leaned back. “No, Ammon, I don’t. You don’t know if this will work. You could very well just lead yourself and the others to an icy grave, and that won’t help get El back. If you die up there we won’t know until you don’t come back, and then what? Besides, twice now in the midst of a battle your eyes have changed color and no one has yet been able to tell me why, although Stalwart has a theory. He tells me there is a condition called Rage when the eyes of a linked knight will change, but it’s always been a permanent condition and always leads to madness. The last thing we need is for you to go mad.”

  Ammon stared at the snow-capped mountains in the distance. “I have not gone mad, and whatever happened to my eyes had resolved before we got back to the palace. Besides, we both know that El is the best person to treat something like that, and she’s in Gaul. Now, let me ask you something, Boris? If the king did nothing but sit on a throne directing others to do his bidding, would you, or any knight, truly serve with all your heart or just because it is your duty? I refuse to send anyone to do something I wouldn’t do myself. Isn’t that what leadership is? Besides, El has been gone for two days, and we haven’t come up with anything better than charging through the tunnel to certain death. I don’t want this fight, but I can’t turn away.” He turned to face his friend. “Tirate wants this war and will stop at nothing until we give it to him, including enslaving every last person in Gaul.”

  Boris looked down at his outspread hands. “Aye, many prefer to follow a king who leads rather than pushes, but leadership also requires sending others into dangerous situations for the good of the whole. You are my king and I will follow you. That doesn’t mean I have to like this plan of yours. As far as Tirate, well, I doubt slavery is the worst he’s done in Gaul. For now, let’s just hope he doesn’t have El yet.”

  ***

  Ammon strode purposely do
wn the hall with Fulgid by his side and mumbled quietly to himself. El was alive. He knew it with every bone in his body. She was alive, and he was going to bring her back and out of harms way. Once she was safely back, he was going to find a way to make her listen to him. There would be no more of this queen’s right nonsense, he would lock her in the palace if he had to.

  He pushed the door open that led out to the courtyard and stopped, his mouth agape. The early afternoon sun beamed down from a cloudless sky over a crowded courtyard of knights and dragons. Theo appeared beside him with a broad grin spread across his face. Puzzled, he nodded his head at the gathering. “What’s going on? Is this a send-off?”

  Theo chuckled. “No, sire. You asked for a few volunteers to accompany you over the mountains, and this…” He gestured with his hand in a broad sweep. “This is less than half of the ones who demanded to be allowed to go!”

  He felt himself gasp. There were dozens of them! “Half?”

  Theo laughed. “Oh yes, and there would have been a whole lot more, but we put a limit on how many could go. We thought fifty ought be more than enough.”