Dragon Call (The Throne of the Dragon Queen Book 2)

by Clare Smith

  When it had dropped dark everyone left the market, but the stall holders took everything away with them and didn’t even leave their rubbish behind for him to rummage through. To make things worse, the city guards had then swept through the market place searching for those who had tried to hide there, and roughly took them away to somewhere he guessed wouldn’t be very pleasant. Fortunately he was small and fast and managed to evade them, but didn’t think he would be so lucky next time.

  That left him with one more thing to try. When he’d been a ship’s boy, his captain had anchored at a small port in Kallisan which was being extended. The men who laboured to build a new sea wall all lived together in long sheds and one night, drawn by their singing and laughter, he’d slipped off the ship and had gone to see what they were doing. They were a rough bunch with strong arms and backs and who were quick to anger and fight, but they had taken to him.

  The men had fed him from their stew pot and had shared their grog, and then in the morning, when he felt as sick as a dog and couldn’t walk straight, they had carried him back to the ship and had made things all right with the Captain. On his journey from the ship to the Dragon Tower he’d seen such men working down by the river. They were using picks and shovels and had the same sort of sheds behind them as the other labourers had.

  He was certain that if he went there just as it was dropping dark and they were cooking their food, they would feed him and let him stay for a night or two. With that plan in mind he’d spent the day at the edge of the market square trying to look inconspicuous, whilst keeping a sharp eye out for anything edible which might come his way. He was out of luck though. The stall holders kept a careful eye on their goods, and every time someone approached who looked as though they were going to beg for a handout, the guards stepped forwards and moved them on.

  As the sun began to drop he gave it up as a bad job, and set off towards the river and the labourer’s camp. He felt weak with hunger and had to stop every so often whilst his stomach cramped and waves of sickness passed through him. It was slow going and he began to wish that he’d started out earlier, as moving at a snail’s pace and having to stop frequently because he felt dizzy made the journey take a lot longer than he’d anticipated.

  By the time he arrived at the shallow valley with the river running sluggishly through it, darkness had fallen and everything was still and quiet except for the insects which buzzed irritatingly around his head. The sailors had told him about the biting insects and how they lived where the land was bad and carried a sickness which sent you mad before it killed you. He guessed these were the same sort of insects, so he brushed them away as best as he could and hoped that he could find shelter from them before they drove him insane.

  As he trudged on he wondered why anyone would want to build something where the ground was marshy and full of horrible things which tried to eat you. He thought it would be better to build on higher ground away from the river where the insects wouldn’t go, but when he climbed the slight rise above the river the insects were still there buzzing around his face and crawling in his hair. Now the sun had completely set and darkness was setting in, but he could see the line of sheds up ahead.

  He was disappointed that there were no fires burning outside the sheds and no sign of the men who should have been sitting around them eating their evening meal. There was the smell of food in the air which was a good sign, although it smelled like wet oats rather than stew, but even that was better than nothing. After slapping another biting insect from his neck he came to the conclusion that the men must have taken their food inside to eat in order to escape the insects, and if he wanted to eat he would just have to follow them.

  That would make things difficult for him. Wandering around an open camp until someone took pity on him was one thing, but knocking on someone’s front door and begging for help was a different matter. He could well end up asking for food and shelter at one of the long sheds where the men were all tired and grumpy and had no time for a small, hungry boy. It couldn’t be helped though; he needed food and shelter from the bugs which were eating him alive.

  He chose the hut at the end of the first line and hurried forward, but then dropped to the ground and froze like a frightened rabbit as the door opened and two men stepped out. It had been an instinctive action to hide, but a foolish one too. He’d come here hoping that these men would help him, and as soon as he’d caught sight of them, he’d dropped to the ground so they wouldn’t see him.

  That wasn’t going to get him anywhere at all, so he called himself a fool and went to stand, but then another man came out carrying a sword, so he stayed where he was. In the lamplight which was coming from inside the hut, he could see there was definitely something not right about this place. The men who had stepped outside looked more like guards than workmen, and he knew that people like that wouldn’t give him the crumbs from their table.

  It would be best if he sneaked away and found some other source of food, but despite that he stayed where he was. He’d always been a curious boy, and whilst his curiosity sometimes resulted in him being in trouble, most of the time he’d learnt interesting things and, for a short while, his life would become better. It was how he’d become the Pyromaster’s apprentice, although that improvement in his life hadn’t lasted very long. Nevertheless he was curious now, and wanted to know what was in those long huts that needed a whole shed full of guards to protect it.

  Ignoring his complaining stomach and the insects, he waited until the guards disappeared back inside, and then ran lightly across the open ground and in between the buildings. He stopped when he reached what he guessed was the centre shed in the middle row. Experience had taught him that people kept their most valuable things away from the edges where they could be easily stolen, so this had to be a good place to look into. Unfortunately it was also an unpleasant place with the stink of human waste hanging in the air.

  Still, he’d come this far and wasn’t going to be put off by the smell or the darkness, or that nagging sense of caution which was making the hair on the back of his neck rise. Instead he darted from the side of the building where he’d been sheltering, crossed the half dozen paces to the shed he’d selected and flattened himself up against the door. His initial idea had been to knock on the door in case there was someone inside, but as everything was so quiet and the slightest sound would carry a long way he decided to use a more stealthy approach.

  In the darkness he felt around the edge of the door until he found the latch, lifted it free and pushed, but nothing happened, except the door rattled slightly. Puzzled by the door’s obstinacy he tried again, pushing harder, but still the door wouldn’t move. It occurred to him then that the door must be bolted which, as far as he was concerned, was certain proof that something of value was stored inside.

  For a moment he wondered if it wouldn’t be best just to leave, but the thought of there being grain or vegetables or even dried meat stored inside overcame his caution and he started searching for the bolts. There were two of them, one at the bottom which opened easily enough, and one at the top which was almost out of reach, so that he had to keep jumping up and nudging it back a fraction each time with his finger tips. Each movement of the bolt made a clatter which he thought could be heard for miles around, but by the time he had it free, no guards had appeared, so he carefully eased the door open and slipped inside.

  It was even darker inside, if that was possible, and the smell of human waste, sweat and fear almost made him gag. For all of that he couldn’t sense any movement around him which made him feel better. He was certain that if there had been anyone inside they would have surely heard him enter and would have been onto him by now.

  Feeling a little more confident he carefully felt his way around and discovered he was in some sort of corridor. The outside wall was made of rough brick but the other side was made of wood, and as he ran his fingers across it, a section moved slightly as if it was a doorway. He felt around for the latch, but there wasn’t on
e. Instead there were two heavy, wooden bars resting in metal brackets which wobbled when he touched them.

  Now he was really curious about what was behind the door, so he reached up and lifted the top bar from its brackets. The thing was heavier than he thought it was going to be, and before he could stop it, the bar slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor with a loud thump. He froze, waiting to see what the noise would bring down on him, but no one shouted in alarm and everything remained still. Letting out a long breath, he moved the fallen bar out of the way and then lifted the second one out of its brackets, quietly placing it on the floor next to the first.

  Slowly, to prevent the door from squeaking, he pushed it open and stepped through. There was a loud grunt of effort somewhere in front of him and a whoosh of air above as if something had passed over his head, and then rough hands dragged him inside and dropped him to the floor. Someone kicked him in the side and he cried out with the shock and curled up into a ball to protect his stomach, but then someone kicked him in the back and he screamed with the pain.

  Somewhere close by a man cursed and snapped out a command, and then he was hauled to his feet whilst a calloused hand wrapped around the back of his neck and held him there. For a moment he stood there panting, too frightened to even whimper, and then there was a flash of light which dazzled his eyes. In fear he pushed back into the man who held him, retreating from the wavering flame in front of him. The light only lasted for a few seconds, but it was long enough for him to see the pale faces and red eyes of those who surrounded him.

  “It’s a bloody boy!” The man who had held the dazzling light hissed. “What in hell are you doing here?”

  “I was ‘ungry an’ came for some ‘elp.”

  The man gave a cynical chuckle. “Well you won’t get either of those in this place, boy.” There was a rustling noise and another flash of light and the man who had spoken to him held up a small bundle of straw which was rapidly being consumed by the flames. “How did you get in here?”

  It seemed like a daft question to him, there was only one way in. “I got in by the door.”

  “What about the guards, how did you get past them?” The man asked as the straw burnt to the end and the light went out plunging them into darkness once more.

  “I saw’um but they didna see me ‘cause of the dark an’ I’m too quick for’um.”

  “You mean it’s night outside?”

  “Yeh, dontcha know owt?”

  “No, we’ve been held in here for a long time waiting for our chance to escape.”

  By the smell he guessed they had been there a very long time but didn’t think he ought to mention it. “Well yer can go now ‘cause the door’s open butcha better be quiet ‘cause there’s guards abowt.”

  “How many are there?”

  “Dunno, I saw free come owt of the ‘ut but I fink there were lots more inside.”

  Taking down three armed guards would be difficult but not impossible. However, if there were many more than that they would be in trouble. The other possibility, of course, was to organise an ambush. “Look, lad, I don’t have any food here, but there is plenty where I come from. If you help us get out of here I will make sure you get to eat your fill.”

  Plink hesitated as a worrying thought occurred to him. “Whatcha doin’ ‘ere anyway? Yer not murderers are yer?”

  The man gave a small laugh. “No, we’re not murderers. These men are Assimusians, and the Passonians don’t like Assimusians.”

  He knew that was true because the sailors on board his ship had told him the same, and he’d already met a few Passonians so he knew what they were like.

  “Well, will you help us?”

  Plink thought about it for a moment, not that it took much thinking about; it was the best offer he was likely to get. “Whatcha want me ter do?”

  “I want you to go back the way you came, bang on the door of the guard’s hut and when they open the door run like hell.”

  “Yer must be jokin’!” Plink said in astonishment.

  “No, I need you to lead them past the second row of sheds where we’ll be waiting.”

  “What if I get caught?”

  “Then you’ll end up back here with the rest of us, but you won’t get caught, I’ll see to that.”

  Plink thought about it. He was a fast runner and agile but his hunger would slow him down. “You got any grub?”

  The man shook his head and then realised that the boy wouldn’t see it in the dark. “No, they don’t feed us much, but I bet the guards have plenty in that hut of theirs.”

  That made Plink’s mind up for him. “Okay, but yer’d better be there when I brings’um past.”

  “We will.”

  There was a rustling of straw and the man once again lit up a small brand so that Plink could find the door. It was pitch black outside in the corridor and the afterimage of the burning straw didn’t help, but fortunately there was a slight draft from the open door to show him which way to turn. After edging along the wall he found the door and slipped outside, grateful for the cooler air and the slightly fresher smell.

  For a moment he thought about just running away, which had to be safer than being chased by the guards, but he’d told the men he would help them and he wouldn’t go back on his word. Apart from that, the thought of those men being held captive in such a vile place made him angry. He didn’t know many Passonians, but the ones he had met had all been evil men who cared for no one but themselves. Even Kallawassian, who had been kind to him, was happy to kill innocent people.

  Once he’d made his mind up and his eyes had become used to the darkness again, he could make out the shapes of the other looming sheds, so he set off at a trot. He kept to the darkest areas between the buildings, and only sprinted when he needed to pass from one row to the next. When he reached the rear of the first row he worked his way along the line until he stood at the back of the hut from which the guards had emerged.

  Now he could see that this was different than the others. It was built better and was raised off the ground so that if the river did flood it would stay dry. There were also windows down both sides, and from where he stood he could see chinks of light leaking out between the badly fitting shutters. If he moved down the side and someone opened a shutter then he stood a good chance of being seen so instead he crawled beneath the hut and hoped that there were no snakes sheltering there.

  When he reached the front of the hut he stopped and rested, letting his tense muscles relax and his breathing to slow. He needed to gather as much energy as he could if he was going to keep ahead of the guards, but more importantly he had to give the prisoners time to get in place. The last thing he needed was to dash past the second row of huts and find no one there.

  It was difficult to estimate the time in the darkness but when he thought enough time had passed, he crawled out from his hiding place and, taking a couple of heavy stones in both hands, climbed the three steps up to the hut’s door. He’d heard voices as he’d crawled beneath the hut and wanted to make sure that the guards inside would not just hear his knock, but would want to chase him. Taking a deep breath he pounded on the door with both stones so it sounded like thunder and made the door rattle.

  After that he retreated to the bottom step and waited. He didn’t have to wait long as within seconds the door opened and a large man wearing just a shirt and breaches glared angrily down at him. As a ship’s boy he used to spend what little free time he had throwing ballast stones at things floating in the sea or at sea birds, and had become quite a good shot. Now, when he threw the first stone, it hit the man standing in the doorway in the chest making him cry out and stagger backwards.

  There was another man behind him who stepped into his place shaking his fist and his second stone struck him a glancing blow on the forehead. That was all that was needed to make all the guards surge down the steps towards him. At least he hoped it was all the guards as he didn’t stop to count them, but turned and ran as fast as he could.
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br />   By the sound of their pounding feet and shouting there were more than four guards and they were quick too. He’d had a dozen paces start on them but he could already hear their rasping breath as they closed the gap on him. The thought of what they would do to him if they caught him gave him extra speed, but it wasn’t enough to compensate for their longer stride.

  He reached the end of the line of buildings and lost his footing as he skidded around the corner. The guard closest to him reached out to grab him but he was up and away again before the man’s hand could close around his arm. Now his breath was coming in short, painful gasps and his legs were starting to tremble with the effort. He shot past the first row of huts with the leading guard breathing down his neck and knowing he wasn’t going to make it to the end of the next row.

  The man behind him must have realised that he was fading fast as he dived forward and managed to touch him on the back. It was only a light tap but it was enough to throw him off balance. He tried to recover but his legs folded beneath him and he hit the ground hard knocking what little breath he had from him. There was no way he was going to get up again so he rolled away and curled into a tight ball to give himself what protection he could from the guards’ retribution.

  He expected strong hands to grab him or the guards to kick him whilst he was down, but instead there was just a lot of shouting and screaming, and when he opened his eyes and looked up, all mayhem had broken loose. There were men everywhere, fighting in small groups or lying still on the ground. In the dark it was impossible to see the detail, but it was pretty obvious that the escaped prisoners had taken the guards by surprise and were now fighting for their lives.

  There were more of them than had been in the room with him, so he guessed that other prisoners had been set free which was a good thing, as the guards were armed and were not giving in easily. The fight was starting to move his way so he scuttled back and just watched. He’d never seen men kill before with their bare hands, but when he caught a glimpse of one of the guards on the floor with his eyes being gouged out he turned away and covered his head with his arms.