“I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell you.” He said. “The people who had this before me died because of it. I had to keep it a secret.”
“Not from Serak.” Anweh said, lowering her knife.
Nyssa did the same while shaking her head in disappointment. The others followed, leaving Targon desperately alone.
“Maybe we should do as the Counsellor says.” Nyssa suggested. Her stare sent a chill down Targon’s spine. “Take you back to the king and collect those ten thousand. What do you say, Serak?”
A smile twisted Serak’s expression.
“This is too good to be true. Your own people giving you up, Captain.”
“You’re all my people!” Targon said. He circled himself, stumbling slightly, looking for some support. He glanced at Anweh and the look she gave him felt like a knife going through his gut.
“Wait a moment.” Balcazar said. “Let me see that.” He swept Thamet aside carelessly, took the letter from Targon’s hand and aimed it at the fireplace.
The secret message became clearly visible and several gasps came from the crowd of Runners.
“I wrote this.” Balcazar smiled. “Took me a week…” He shook his head as if he had just found an old friend. “No wonder Stane never replied. He never got this letter, did he?”
Targon shook his head.
“I don’t think so. I found it on the corpse of a Runner, on the surface, near Niveh.”
“And you thought this meant a poison?” Balcazar was greatly amused.
Targon shrugged.
“It was possible… the letter suggested Kanuur was an Alchemist, which you have confirmed.”
“Ah! That does make sense, but no, it’s not a poison.”
“So you have found a way to kill them.” Targon said.
“No.” Balcazar replied. “Master Kanuur did. I just helped.”
“Well, blurt it out, man. What is it?” Anweh said.
The alchemy apprentice drew his own knife, showing them its blade. It was translucent and had a ghostly blueish hue.
“It’s a crystal.” He said smiling. “Glowstone is its name. Goes through Dragon scales faster than wine through my Master’s throat.” He laughed at his own joke.
Serak took his knife from Carn’s throat.
“Well, shit.” He pushed the whimpering Counsellor aside. “You could have said that sooner.”
* * *
“So…” Thamet mumbled. “You used that… blade to kill a Dragon?”
“Well,” Balcazar said. “I certainly didn’t use it to befriend one.”
“Alone?” Nyssa asked.
“Oh, goddess, no. There were ten of us. Mostly Harvest Watchers and soldiers from the king of Sandahar’s retinue. Even a couple of retired Runners. Long story short – it still seemed like we were the outnumbered ones.”
“So why aren’t you filthy rich?” Yarek asked.
“Yeah.” His brother agreed. “You could have collected the reward.”
“That’s actually a very good question.” Targon said. “In Samehria, nobody had heard of Taggesh’s proclamation, but here in Akham… Surely the news travelled to your city.”
“Oh yes…” Balcazar sighed. “That’s all everyone talks about in Sandahar. Has been for almost a year.” He shook his head. “But I killed my Dragon two years ago, so you can imagine how I felt like an idiot when I heard of the reward…”
“Why didn’t you go after another Dragon?” Thaeus asked. “You still had your magic dagger.”
“I’m not sure the dagger is magic.” Balcazar smiled. “But that is easier said than done. Me and Master Kanuur spent a fortune hiring the first team, and the expedition wasn’t exactly lucrative, even if we did learn a lot. We’ve been surviving on love potions and youth elixir’s ever since. None of those work, in case you’re wondering. The problem was, we couldn’t just tell everyone about our discovery.” He held the letter with the secret message up. “As your Captain has learned.”
“Why?” Anweh asked. “The Captain says that, whoever had it before him, died for it. Why?”
Thamet stole the letter from Balcazar and studied it.
“That actually makes sense.” He said. “These crystals, if they work…”
“Can make you the most powerful man in all of Arkhemia.” Targon said. “Why do you think Taggesh is offering so much money for a Dragon?”
Anweh shrugged.
“I just thought he wanted an expensive trophy.” She said. “Who knows how a king thinks?”
“Kings are just like every other man,” Balcazar told her. “They want more of what they already have. Which in their case, is power.”
“If he can defeat Dragons, he can conquer the Surface.” Targon said. “And if he has the Surface, he has everything else. Endless farms, safe trade routes. He could expand beyond Saggad, rule over every underground city in Arkhemia.”
“Shit…” Nasur chuckled. “He could build a city above the ground.”
There was a silence, as everyone took in that last realization, but Targon interrupted everyone’s thoughts with a loud clap of his hands.
“Right, so is it settled, then?” He asked. “Shall we continue to Sandahar?”
“Actually, there is no need for that.” Balcazar said. “I was the one who found the crystals. I can take you there. All I ask is that you include me when you share that reward.”
“That’s only fair.” Targon said. Then, he spoke to the Dodgers. “So, everyone agrees?”
“I say we take a vote.” Thamet said.
“Oh, come on, Tham.” Targon said. “Do you expect the man to work for free?”
Thamet nodded solemnly.
“No, Captain. I say we vote on whether we keep going or not.”
Targon deflated like an empty winebag.
“Alright.” He swallowed in a dry throat. “Let’s vote then. Who says we keep going and get rich?”
“Wait a moment.” Serak interrupted. “I don’t think the Captain should be allowed to vote on this one.”
“Why the surface not?” Targon replied.
“Because you are the one that got us in this mess without asking our opinion.” Serak spat.
“Then you shouldn’t vote either.” Anweh told Serak. “Cause we all know you would choose anything just to piss him off.” She turned to Thamet. “Doc, either we all vote or no one does.”
There was a chorus of ‘yeah’s’.
“She’s right, Tham.” Nasur said.
“I agree.” Thamet said. “Everyone votes.”
“Alright, who says we tell the Captain to shove it, and go back home?” Serak yelled, sticking his arm up.
Targon held his breath as arms went up. He counted one, two, three, then a couple more, then no one else. Targon almost sighed of relief.
“Is that it?” He asked. “No one else?” He waited for a little while, holding his breath. “So, to be clear, does everyone else agree that we keep going?”
The Runners exchanged looks and said yes in an uncoordinated unison.
“Yeah!” Nyssa yelled with fierce conviction. “Let’s hunt a Dragon.”
Chapter 7: The Shamissai Mountains
The next morning, before leaving, Balcazar gave Enrig a canteen filled with Mist Flower tea to numb the pain in his arm. He felt like vomiting with every single gulp and as soon as he was finished, Balcazar gave him a small flask of Erandine seed oil – a gooey, brownish liquid that stuck in his throat for hours.
“That much Mist Flower tea would put a Dragon to sleep.” The Alchemy apprentice chuckled. “Well… actually, not really, but… you get what I mean. Anyway, the Erandine oil should keep you awake and running throughout the day.”
During the second day after leaving the cave, the tall oak trees that filled the landscape became scarcer and scarcer, and the forest quickly transformed into a brownish shrubland where nothing grew above their waist. The lack of cover made Targon uneasy. The skies had been clear during the first hours of dawn, but soon, a Dragon
was bound to show up. He decided to order the Company to speed up.
The sun arched across the sky, becoming hotter with every step they Ran. Soon, they were boiling inside their clothes, and by noon, Targon knew his men were quickly becoming dehydrated. He cursed as he checked his map for the third time. He had bought it in a city called Belleragar, back in Samehria, from a merchant he trusted, and it had been quite accurate so far, but the damned thing indicated a ridge of some sort, somewhere in their vicinity, although all he could see was pebbles and dying bushes. He showed the map to Balcazar, who examined it with a squint of his eyes.
“Whoever did this did a good job on this western section.” He said. “But here,” He pointed at where they were and where they were going. “He got sloppy with his measurements. Distances are all messed up.”
“So this ridge, does it exist or not?” Targon asked, glancing at the second column, making sure it wasn’t his time to move.
“It does, but it’s much farther than it seems.”
Targon cursed.
“Then the Shamissai Mountains…”
“Oh, they’re way up to the north, Captain.”
“How long? Four days?”
Balcazar thought about it for a moment.
“Seven. Probably eight.”
“Shit!”
* * *
They ran out of supplies by the third day, which meant the Company had to hunt for food at night, sacrificing precious hours of rest and sleep. On the fifth day, the landscape started to become reddish and the soil became dry. There were a few cacti scattered around, but no other signs of life. Except, of course, Dragons.
Forced to hide under their cloaks until the shrieking beasts glided away, their advance became even slower. Fortunately, Anweh managed to hit a coyote with an arrow, without even stopping to take aim. It was the end of the afternoon and Targon only allowed them to stop by sundown, so Thamet volunteered to carry the dead coyote, happy they would at least have something to eat that night.
They risked lighting a fire so they could cook the animal, but ended up eating it half raw anyway. At least, they could already see the Shamissai peaks rising on the horizon. It wasn’t the first time the Dodgers saw them. The Shamissai were the eastern border of their home region – Samehria. But from this side, the Mountains looked different, as if they had been painted in a different shade of dark.
“Hey, Captain.” Enrig called.
Night had fallen hours ago and the moon shone through a slit. Targon had chosen Anweh and Enrig to stand watch with him, making the boy feel useful for the first time since he had stupidly broken his arm.
“Yes?” Targon said.
“Do people in Samehria also pray to the goddess Fyr?”
“Kid, there’s only one thing Samehrians enjoy more than a god – Several gods. We have gods for everything. The air, the sun, the moon. Cyrinians, like her,” He pointed at Anweh. “even have a fart god.”
Enrig laughed.
“I’m serious.” Targon chuckled.
“Don’t listen to him.” Anweh said. “Cyrinians are just like all other Samehrians, we pray to the same gods.”
“No, you’re not.” Targon replied. “You’re weird. Even your accent is funny” He turned to Enrig. “Noticed how she talks like she’s chewing on a stick?”
“I can’t tell the difference, you all sound the same to me.”
“You mean elegant? Classy?”
Enrig chuckled.
“I was going to say, not very polite, actually.”
Targon dismissed him with a hand wave.
“That’s because your people are so uptight. Like Carn, for instance. What a bigheaded idiot! Are all Akhamis like that or just the ones from Saggad?”
Enrig shrugged.
“I wouldn’t know. Never been to any city besides Saggad. But all Akhami Runners I’ve met are pretty similar to Saggadis.”
“Then I’m glad we skipped Sandahar.”
“Would have been nice to resupply, though.” Anweh said. “Cause if we don’t find any water soon, we’ll be in trouble.”
“Don’t worry.” Targon told her. “This isn’t a real desert, just a dry plain. As we get close to those mountains, the terrain will become friendlier.”
The sky, on the other hand…
* * *
A luscious forest greeted them on the sixth day, so they had their bellies full by the time they arrived at the Shamissai, two days later. The problem was, anywhere there was life on the ground, there was death on the sky, and if the forest had provided them with decent cover down below, now that they had begun to climb, they were extremely exposed.
“This reminds me why we’re Surface Runners…” Serak gasped as he raised himself onto a rock ledge. “…and not Surface Climbers.”
“Your man is right, Captain.” Carn said.
“You mean the one that had a knife to your throat over a week ago?” Targon asked.
“That bears no relevance to the point.”
“Which is?” Targon jumped over a small crevice.
“We are critically unprepared for climbing a mountain of this size.”
“Well, on a mountain, you either climb or you fall.” Targon said. “Feel free to choose.”
“So what do you intend to do if a Dragon sees us?” Carn demanded to know.
“Sacrifice Serak as bait and run the other way.”
Carn was right, of course. Targon knew the only reason a Dragon hadn’t attacked them yet was luck. Their cloaks mixed in well with the mountain rock, but he had already spotted five Dragons that day, and the morning wasn’t even over. It was only a matter of time until one of the monsters noticed them.
They kept on pushing up, doing their best to make themselves small, hiding behind every available rock, ledge or crevice, but the number of Dragons just seemed to be growing with every foot they climbed. The beasts flew over the mountain tops like flies circling a forgotten plate of food.
“Captain!”
Targon heard Balcazar approaching, brushing past the entire Company with his silly smile.
“Are we on the wrong track?” Targon asked.
“No, but I think we should go that way instead.” His arm indicated a ridge to their right.
Targon’s eyebrow slid up.
“Why?”
“Because it seems much closer.”
“Are you sure? Earlier you said we should go over that peak.”
“Well, what we’re looking for isn’t a precise location.”
Targon frowned.
“How do I say this?” Balcazar wondered. “What we’re looking for can be found in a… wide area.” He smiled.
“Alright, everyone.” Targon yelled at the Company. “We’re going that way. The good news is, we might be closer than we think. Bad news is, I’m no longer sure Mr. Balcazar knows where he’s going.”
Balcazar laughed, amused.
Targon was actually glad he didn’t have to climb any further. His arms were aching and the palms of his hands were burning, not to mention his feet felt like they had been beaten to a pulp.
Then, someone whistled. An urgent, spine chilling whistle repeated four times. He looked back and saw Liora pointing towards the sky. Targon followed her stretched arm and saw the shape of a Dragon diving towards them. As if on cue, the monster roared, turning Targon’s stomach into water.
“Find cover!” He yelled, then sprung forward, running towards the ridge.
He almost slipped and fell, but Balcazar grabbed his arm.
“Go Captain, go!” He said. “That ridge is our best shot.”
Targon saw six or seven of his people following him, but the others had ran backwards, looking for any hole where they could hide.
“Get to the ridge.” He told the ones following him, then ran the other way.
He saw the Dragon shoot a jet of fire that spread over the mountain’s face like a waterfall. Two of his men almost got caught by the blaze, but ducked behind a boulder just in time. He too
k a blind bomb from his backpack and twirled it over his head on his slingshot. The bomb exploded right on the Dragon’s nose, making it shriek in agony.
“This way!” He screamed. “Everybody run this way! We have to get over that ridge, quickly.”
The Runners obeyed. Targon watched them racing towards and past him, making sure everyone was accounted for. The Dragon had already circled back, shaking its head, trying to get rid of the painful powder. Then Targon heard a faint whimper.
“Help! Help me!”
“Oh, Dragon’s hairy ballsack.” Targon said.
It was Carn’s voice. The man was panicking, frozen behind a rock.
“Come on, Counsellor.” Targon screamed at him. “We have to get out of here.” He knelt besides Carn. “We have to go, now!”
He was shaking. Crying out of his mind.
“We should stay here.” He sobbed. “Wait until it’s gone.”
“No, we have to go now.” Targon tried to push him, but he refused to move. “You’re gonna get us both killed!”
“Oh please, goddess, no!” Tears and snot dripped all over his face.
“Right.” Targon sighed. “Let’s do this.” He grabbed the Counsellor by his collar and waist, then hurled him away from the rock.
The man screamed out of his lungs and tried getting back, but Targon clenched his arms around him and dragged him forward.
“Whether you like it or not, Carn, we’re going that way. Might as well not fight it.”
The rest of his men were already safe behind the ridge, so when the Dragon flew back around, Targon and Carn were the only available targets.
A screech told them it was approaching, getting ready for another attack. Targon looked sideways and cursed. The Dragon was coming in too fast, he wouldn’t have time to reach the nearest cover. He considered turning back, but was sure hesitating now would get them killed for sure. What else could he do? He ran faster, as fast as he possibly could, ignoring the slippery and sloping ground. Then, the inevitable happened. Carn tripped. He tried holding on to something, but grasped only air, his own weight betrayed him and the Counsellor slipped off the ledge, falling over it. Targon squeezed his arm as tight as he could and pushed backwards, falling hard on his back, but holding on to Carn.
Dragon Dodgers (Wounds in the Sky Prequels Book 1) Page 5