The Dragon's Egg (Dragonfall Book 1)

by David A. Wells

  Cyril, Ben, and John came to their feet but remained silent. The jailer scanned the document, took it into his office and stamped it, then retrieved the keys from a peg on the wall and opened the cell door.

  “Looks like you’re free to go,” he said, handing Cyril the release order. “Show this to the guard at the gate.”

  Cyril nodded politely.

  “Let’s go out this way,” Frank said, heading for the side door. All three followed silently but warily.

  Once they were through the front gate and a block away from the compound, Cyril stopped. “How did you get us out?” he asked.

  “I know a guy with standing who owed me a favor,” Frank said with a shrug.

  Cyril nodded, scrutinizing his grandson for a moment.

  “Rufus is preparing the boat and gathering supplies,” Frank said. “We have to hurry if we want to catch up with Imogen.”

  Cyril bit the inside of his lip and nodded again, turning back down the hill and heading for home at a brisk pace. They walked in silence for most of the way.

  When they reached the bottom of the hill, Cyril looked at the Highwayman and asked, “Do you think they’ll stop for the night?”

  John nodded. “Just about have to. Lake of the Woods would be my guess.”

  “Can we make it there by dark?”

  “Doubt it,” John said. “More like midnight.”

  “That’ll have to do,” Cyril said, picking up the pace.

  Chapter 6

  When they arrived at the store, Zack was sitting on the bench out front petting Homer. He got to his feet so quickly that he left the ground by an inch.

  “What happened? Where did you go? How come your door is broken?”

  Cyril silenced him with a raised hand and a stern look.

  “Thank you for looking after the store, but you should really go home now.”

  Zack frowned, crestfallen. “I found swords and a bow … and blood,” he said. “What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” Ben said.

  “What did you do with the weapons?” Cyril asked.

  “I put them behind the counter.”

  “Good man.” Cyril patted him on the shoulder. “I know you’re curious, but you really need to go home now.”

  Zack looked to Ben helplessly. His frown grew even deeper when Ben nodded.

  “You don’t want any part of this,” Ben said.

  “But—”

  Frank put his arm around Zack’s shoulder and walked him toward the road. “Whatever we tell you would just get you in trouble,” he said. “But I’ll make you a deal. If you go straight home and don’t tell anyone you saw us, a few days from now I’ll tell you everything that happened.”

  When he started to protest, Frank silenced him with a disapproving look. “That’s the deal, Zack. You go home right now and I’ll tell you everything in a few days. Take it or leave it.”

  Zack nodded reluctantly, walking away slowly with his head down.

  “What did you say to him?” Ben asked as Frank returned to the store.

  “The truth. What else?”

  Ben watched him walk into the store, then followed him.

  “We have to hurry,” Cyril said, emptying the cash box into a leather purse. “Gather what you need. We won’t be coming back.”

  “Why not?” Frank said.

  “We’re going to take Imogen from those men—by force if necessary. I doubt the Dragon Guard will be terribly welcoming after that.”

  “Where will we go?” Frank said.

  “Probably north,” Cyril said, handing Ben his sword.

  Frank noticed the blade already strapped to Cyril’s waist. “Where did you get those?” he asked with a frown.

  Cyril ignored him as he leafed through a ledger. He removed a sealed letter and slipped it into his pocket. “We have to move quickly. Go get your things—only what you need.” He headed for the stairs at the back of the building.

  “Where’s my sword?” Frank called out after his grandfather. When Cyril didn’t answer, Frank followed him in a hurry.

  Ben sighed and headed for his room.

  “Why does he get a sword and I don’t?” Frank demanded once they were upstairs.

  Cyril turned and took a step toward his grandson, his jaw clenched. “Ben knows how to use a sword—you never bothered to learn. Now go get your things, we don’t have time for this.” He turned away without another word, leaving Frank fuming.

  While he packed his bag, Ben heard Frank trying to argue with their grandfather. The conversation was pretty one-sided since Cyril didn’t bother to engage. Ben emerged from his room with his pack a moment before Cyril returned to the main room with his gear and a bag for Imogen.

  Frank stood in the doorway of Cyril’s room watching his grandfather walk away.

  “Come on, Frank,” Ben said. “We don’t have much time.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not fair. If you get a sword, I should get one too.”

  “I suspect you’ll get your wish before this is over,” Ben said, turning for the stairs before Frank could protest. He reached the dock just as Hound was taking Cyril’s bag onboard.

  “Surprised they didn’t take this,” John said, looking at his finely crafted recurve bow.

  “I expected our blades to be gone as well,” Cyril said.

  “They don’t like ’em, but they aren’t outlawed … yet anyway,” Hound said. “Just tech weapons, like this.” He pulled back his long coat to reveal an old-fashioned revolver strapped to his hip.

  “Not sure that qualifies as a tech weapon,” John said with a grin.

  “Low-tech is the new high-tech,” Hound said. “I can make bullets for this. Try reloading a plasma rifle these days.”

  John nodded, conceding the point.

  “Besides, I also have Bertha,” Hound said with his crooked smile.

  “Who’s Bertha?” Ben asked.

  “She’s my shotgun, complete with a variety of rounds, not the least of which is a couple of grenades.” He started to reach into his bag, but stopped when Cyril put a hand on his arm.

  “Maybe it would be best if Bertha remained out of sight for now.”

  Hound nodded, scanning the lakeshore marketplace. There were plenty of dock workers within view.

  “Probably wise,” he said. “I’ll show you later, kid.”

  Homer padded up to the boat and whined. “You know I don’t like the water,” he said.

  “Yeah, but this is the only way to catch up with Imogen.”

  Homer grumbled before jumping into the boat and finding a spot out of the way to curl up. “If I fall in, I’m going to shake off all over you,” he said, closing his eyes.

  “We ready?” Hound asked.

  “Waiting on Frank,” Cyril said, looking toward the store.

  Frank emerged a minute later, walking toward the boat without any hint of urgency.

  Ben shook his head and sat down.

  “You better move like you got a purpose,” Hound yelled. “We’re on a timeline here.”

  Frank didn’t put much effort into it but he did pick up the pace. Hound helped him aboard and then shoved off a moment later.

  “Whoa, can’t you let me get settled first?”

  “Apparently not,” Hound said, pointing to the driver’s seat. “Why don’t you take us out … Captain?”

  Frank hesitated for a moment before taking his place at the controls. “Is the coal hopper full?”

  “She’s ready to go,” Hound said.

  “Let’s make best speed for Rocky Point,” Cyril said.

  Frank glared at him, but nodded, opening the air intakes wide. The old steam-powered engine started to belch smoke into the air as the boat slowly gained speed. Within a few minutes, they were powering up the shoreline of the lake that K Falls took its name from.

  Ben managed to hold his tongue until they were in open water. Finally he said, “So what’s the plan?”

  Cyril shrugged. “Our course wi
ll be dictated more by events and circumstances than any plan we might make.”

  Ben sighed.

  “We’ll get horses at Rocky Point and head for Rogue City,” Cyril said. “Once we catch up with them, we’ll take Imogen back and flee north.”

  “But how?”

  “That’s where the events and circumstances come in,” Cyril said.

  Ben frowned, taking a moment to scratch Homer’s ears.

  “What about Enzo?”

  “What about him?”

  Ben looked up at his grandfather and set his jaw. “We should kill him.”

  Cyril nodded, seeming to consider Ben’s words.

  “And would you be the one to end his life? Will you let him mark your soul? Is he really worth that?”

  “He deserves it,” Ben said.

  “Perhaps he does,” Cyril said. “But that has little bearing on the guilt you would suffer for having killed him.”

  Frank snorted derisively, but said nothing.

  “So we just let him get away with what he’s done?”

  Cyril shrugged.

  “That doesn’t seem right.”

  “What Enzo has done is wrong,” Cyril said. “Should we compound his crime with one of our own?”

  “How is justice a crime?”

  “Justice isn’t—killing often is. Don’t be so hasty to take what you can never return.”

  “But—”

  Cyril stopped him with a raised hand. “I’m not trying to defend Enzo. His actions are indefensible. I’m trying to protect you.”

  “From what?”

  Cyril smiled gently, marshalling his thoughts. “Throughout history, soldiers have been commanded to kill innocent people. Most of these men were just ordinary people—until they took innocent lives. Once they’d killed the defenseless, they likely felt crushing guilt and remorse for the crime they had committed, only to be commanded by their leaders to repeat their crime again and again. Each time they stepped over the line of their conscience, the line moved, until one day it simply vanished altogether. I don’t want to see you start down that path.”

  “What if Enzo tries to kill one of us?”

  “Killing in defense is different than murder,” Cyril said. “It may be that we will kill Enzo … but that’s not our purpose.”

  “Once we have Imogen, won’t he just come after her?”

  “Probably, but I doubt he’ll be willing to pursue us past the markers.”

  Ben looked startled, blinking a few times before the reality of their situation settled on him.

  “What about the stalkers?” Frank asked before Ben could.

  “We’ll deal with them as they come,” Cyril said.

  “Those things aren’t even alive,” Frank said. “How do you kill something that’s already dead?”

  “I’ve done it,” Hound said.

  “You never told me that,” Frank said.

  “I’ve never told you a lot of things.”

  “So how did you kill it?”

  “Bertha,” Hound said with an offhanded shrug.

  “A lot of good that does me,” Frank said. “I don’t even have a sword.”

  “I doubt a sword would do you any good,” Hound said. “I watched a man impale a stalker on his blade only to have it land on top of him and rip his throat out. Then the damn thing turned on me with the blade still sticking right through it.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I shot it with Bertha,” Hound said like he was talking to an idiot child. “Force-fed the thing a shotgun grenade. Lucky shot, too. Hit it right in the mouth. It didn’t get back up after that.”

  “What kind of stalker was it?” Ben asked.

  “Mountain lion.”

  Homer whined.

  “What about Imogen’s baby?” Ben asked, absentmindedly patting Homer on the head.

  “We’ll come back for him,” Cyril said.

  “Wait … Imogen has a baby?” Frank said.

  Cyril nodded. “Enzo sold her son to the priest.”

  “Whoa … I wouldn’t want to be Enzo right about now,” Frank said. “Imogen will probably kill him before we get there.”

  Cyril closed his eyes and bowed his head. “That is a distinct possibility.”

  “If the baby is in Rogue City, then why are we planning to go north outside the markers?” Frank asked. “Wouldn’t it be better to stay on the road?”

  “And face who-knows-how-many Dragon Guard?” Cyril asked. “No, we have a better chance in the wild.”

  “I’m not sure I buy that,” Frank said. “At least the Dragon Guard are alive.”

  “True, but they’re organized and they’re well armed,” Cyril said. “Stalkers are few and far between. I’d rather avoid a fight if we can.”

  Frank shook his head, turning his attention back to piloting the boat as they approached Rocky Point. The place was bustling with shipments from Rogue City being loaded onto boats for the final leg to K Falls. Frank eased the boat up to the dock attached to Cyril’s warehouse. Rufus and John secured the lines while Frank closed the air intake, smothering the fire in the belly of the steam engine.

  The building wasn’t large but it was well built with stone walls and stout steel doors. Cyril scanned the docks, looking at the various carts and wagons being loaded and unloaded, before ushering everyone inside and closing the door behind them.

  The faint odor of sulfur filled the air as he struck a match and lit a lamp. Shelves lined the walls, while pallets of dry goods stored in neat rows occupied the center of the building’s cement floor.

  “It’s about three hours on foot to Lake of the Woods,” Cyril said. “If we can get some horses, we can be there in an hour or so.”

  “Horses cost money,” Frank said.

  “Indeed they do,” Cyril said with a smile, rummaging through a tool box on one of the shelves and coming up with a hammer. He went to the far corner of the room and counted several stone blocks to the right and several more up from the floor. After checking his count, he hit the wall a few times until the block began to crack. He removed several chunks of stone, then reached inside and retrieved a small plastic tube. Its end caps were screwed on tightly and sealed in place with a bead of glue. He wedged the tube between two nearby pallets and hit it with the hammer until it split open, revealing a heavy leather bag inside.

  “You’ve had that the whole time?” Frank asked.

  Without answering, Cyril removed several gold coins and handed them to Ben.

  “You and John go see if you can buy some horses. Frank, I need you and Rufus to fill the boat’s hopper and make her ready … we might need her in a few days.”

  “Why would you keep all that money to yourself?” Frank demanded. “We could have used it.”

  “For what, exactly?” Cyril asked, stepping toward his grandson. “You have always had food, shelter, and clothing. How might you have spent my money?”

  Frank clenched his jaw and frowned but remained silent.

  “Listen well,” Cyril said. “The coming days will be difficult enough without you constantly questioning things you have no right to question.”

  Frank composed himself and shook his head sadly. “I’ve worked every day to keep your store afloat for a pittance of a wage,” he said. “I spent my last coin to get you out of jail and still you don’t trust me with important family business. I guess I just don’t understand. I mean, I know Ben is your favorite, but I’m still your grandson.”

  Ben shook his head and headed for the door, trailing John and Homer with him.

  “We don’t have time for this, Frank,” Cyril said. “Go make the boat ready while I see about finding you a weapon.”

  “What kind of—”

  Cyril stopped him with a raised hand and a stern look. “The boat.”

  “Come on, Frank,” Hound said, taking him by the arm and turning him away from Cyril. “We have work to do.”

  Frank went with Hound more because of the firm grip on his arm than anythin
g else. Once outside, he snorted in disgust. “I don’t know why he had to keep all that gold hidden from me,” he said, heading toward the boat.

  “Probably ’cuz he didn’t want you to drink it,” Hound said with a look of mischief.

  “Doesn’t seem right. All this time, my grandfather’s had money that we could have put to good use.”

  “By ‘we’ you mean ‘you,’ and by ‘good use’ you mean ‘blowing it on whores and whisky,’ right?”

  Frank couldn’t help but smile. “I would’ve shared.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s why Cyril kept it a secret,” Hound said. “Now, help me tie off these lines more securely and get that coal hopper open.”

  Frank hesitated just long enough to draw a glare from Hound before going to work. Once the boat was secured, they returned to the warehouse and started loading a cart with coal from the storage bin in the corner. Two trips later, with the hopper nearly full, the sound of a horse on the road filtered through the fir trees.

  “Looks like your brother’s friend,” Hound said when Zack came into view.

  “I’d better go find out what he wants before my grandfather sees him,” Frank said, leaving Hound to finish with the boat.

  Frank trotted up the dock, waving for Zack to stop before he reached the warehouse. The boy and his horse were both winded.

  “What are you doing here?” Frank whispered harshly, taking the reins and leading the horse back up the road and out of view.

  “The Dragon Guard are looking for you,” Zack said in a rush, a bit too loudly for Frank’s taste.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, motioning for Zack to dismount.

  “I didn’t go home like you said. I hid in the bushes and watched you load your boat and head north.”

  “And?” Frank asked, looking around warily while Zack caught his breath.

  “The Dragon Guard showed up a while later and found me. They wanted to know where you went—said that you broke out of jail.”

  “Oh shit,” Frank said, scanning the road for any hint of pursuit. “What did you tell them?”

  “Nothing … at least not very much. You wouldn’t tell me what happened so there wasn’t much I could tell.”

  “What, exactly, did you tell them?”