by LeRoy Clary
Gareth sat and waited as if resting, feeding his goat a handful of green wheat stalks, and keeping the leather bag containing the dragon hidden by his body. A boy from a farm would allow his goat to feed, even if it was eating another farmer’s wheat. It was normal to pause to feed farm animals when traveling, and a convenient way to avoid contact with the teachers. He half-turned his back to them.
Sitting on a stump munching on his raw ear of corn, he watched the wagon pass from the corner of his eye as if he belonged to this place, maybe even to this farm. He pulled the straw hat lower over his eyes, but not so much that the teachers might notice he was avoiding them. Tom never looked his way again.
The teachers in their slinking manner managed to move faster than the wagon and Tom pulled to one side and slowed to allow them by. He tipped his hat and smiled, but got no response. Hiding in plain sight.
Gareth waited until the wagon moved well ahead. Then he led the goat back out onto the road and started walking, faster than before. Later, when he passed the wagon, there were no teachers in sight on the road. They either had turned off or were far ahead.
Tom whispered without turning his head, “Good lad. Fast thinking back there. Act like any farmer boy. Those won’t be the only teachers on this road, I’m thinking.”
Gareth didn’t answer. He tugged the rope and pulled the reluctant goat faster.
Late in the afternoon, the remains of an old shack stood at the edge of a clearing. Gareth tied the goat to the branch of a small oak and approached the shack carefully. No path led to the door. The grass had not been trampled or flattened. The stone fireplace had fallen into a pile of rubble. Someone long ago had made a fire pit with of some of the stones. While fire-blackened, it obviously hadn’t been used in a long time. The fallen-down walls of the cabin were firewood he wouldn’t have to search for. A perfect place to spend the night.
Tom would appreciate a warm fire. Tom made a fire back at the beach near where the boats sank, so he had iron and flint on him, although Gareth had not seen it. He went back to the goat and moved it closer to the cabin, where it could rest and graze while he gathered wood and stacked it beside the pit. Using part of a still-standing wall, he leaned other boards against it and formed a small lean-to for sleeping.
As the rumble and squeak of the wagon approached, he paused and waited for Tom to pull over and compliment him. Tom ignored him, his eyes on the road ahead.
The wagon continued as if they had never met. Tom must have his reasons, and Gareth didn’t need to know what they were, but it troubled him to be ignored. A simple nod of greeting would not have hurt. So would a smile of encouragement. Gareth reluctantly admitted that he needed to act his part and allow Tom to manage the situation.
However, Gareth felt lost.
The little dragon stirred in the bag and poked his head out for the first time in a day. Looking around, it sniffed the air with eagerness. Gareth sat alone in grass as tall as his waist and waited, watching the dragon with a combination of interest and disdain. The dragon wriggled free of the bag and stretched, expanding wings beginning to look much like those of a bat, but far too small for flying, yet. It shivered, folded the wings and turned to Gareth.
“Hungry?” He unrolled the blanket and picked up a small strip of dried meat from their supplies. Gareth let the animal catch scent of it. The nose twitched.
The dragon raced up his leg, climbed his chest, and snatched the meat from his fingers.
The tiny claws scratched and dug into his clothing and skin, drawing a wince of pain. Two small tears in the shirt told of where the sharp claws penetrated. The animal needed to learn self-control. When it grew twice as big, which might be very soon the way it ate everything in sight, it would leave a track of bleeding holes in Gareth’s skin. He placed the dragon back on the ground and reached for another tidbit. The dragon stood on two hind feet and spread palm-sized wings, and shook them in either anticipation or irritation. It darted forward, mouth extended to grab the food. Gareth held up his other hand, fingers splayed wide, preventing the dragon from advancing. The tiny creature hissed, eyed the hand preventing it from eating, and waited. Gareth gently moved the strip of meat closer.
The dragon darted around his hand and grabbed it.
Better, but room for improvement.
“Okay, boy. Time you learned to be gentle.”
He held up an index finger in front of the toothy mouth and made the dragon wait. Each time the dragon tried to advance a step, he restrained it with the finger moved in its path, and Gareth tapped it on the nose soundly. He tapped it more than once to ensure it understood it couldn’t pass. The hiss changed to angry snarls and snorts. However, the lesson seemed to be working well, until the dragon tired of the process. It settled back and hissed at Gareth, shaking its wings in anger and snapping tiny teeth on empty air. The head slowly moved to and fro, searching for a way around the offending finger. The eyes peered at the campsite, examining everything. It remained still, only the red eyes shifting.
It emitted several savage snarls, and leaped into the air, wings flapping but far too immature to suspend it for even a short time. It snorted in frustration and dug claws into the soft dirt, and it made a full turn, looking at everything, again.
The head and eyes stopped moving.
In a flash of movement as fast as Gareth could follow, the dragon spun to one side and darted past Gareth. It sprinted to the goat tied to the tree. Leaping high, it managed to cling onto the rear leg of the goat. It gripped the skin of the hip with tiny talons. Sharp teeth sank into the warm flesh, tearing a chunk of meat free.
In response, the goat leaped and flailed, kicking all four feet. It bawled, eyes open wide in terror. It pulled at the halter as it danced in fear of the dragon riding its leg, trying to break free. Then the goat leaped high into the air and spun in wild circles trying to throw off the beast that was eating it alive. The dragon held on. The dragon tore another mouthful from the same hip and swallowed. The goat ran in more circles, bleating as loud as any full-grown buck.
Gareth dived into the fray as fast as he could. He missed the dragon with his first grab and managed to get his hands on it and pull it free with the next. The dragon fought and twisted, then leaped from his hands. Once on the ground, it eyed the goat again, ready for another attack.
Gareth leaped between them, arms spread wide, preventing the dragon from reaching the goat, again. When the dragon moved left Gareth was already there, like a game. It moved right. Gareth got there first. Barely. “No!” Gareth shouted. “You don’t eat my goat!”
The dragon’s tongue flicked out and licked the last of the fresh goat blood from black lips. The red eyes remained on Gareth . . . and the goat bawling behind him.
“No!”
The dragon edged closer.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Still keeping himself positioned between the dragon and goat, Gareth waved his arms up and down and shouted, “Stay back! No! Leave the goat alone.” After a time, the dragon and goat separated. However, the dragon acted like a wrestler eager for the next round as it danced and darted, looking for an opening. It avoided every attempt Gareth made to grab it.
The goat watched them with wide, terrified eyes. It bellowed and stretched the halter rope wire-tight as it put as much space between it and the black fury determined to make a meal of it. Blood ran freely down the goat’s hind leg, two patches of fur missing from the haunch.
The dragon finally paused at Gareth’s shouted orders, looked from the goat to Gareth, and back again as if deciding how it might manage one more bite. Then it calmed, moved closer to Gareth, and emitted a small sound, almost a “purr”, as if trying to clear its throat.
“Don’t purr to me, you monster. Why’d you eat my goat?”
The dragon’s wings wilted. The head swayed slowly back and forth as if the head was suddenly too heavy for the serpentine neck. It turned to one side and made the purring sound again, before moving carefully closer to stand near Gareth’s
foot. It looked up at him but didn’t race up his leg, as usual. The dragon attentively rubbed its neck on Gareth’s leg in an affectionate manner. Gareth’s instincts wanted to lean down and console the chick with a few gentle pats, but he reconstructed the savage attack on the goat in his mind and waited.
And he watched the dragon. His vision blurred. He felt a wave of dizziness, then a shift in focus. Blinking, he reached for a nearby branch and steadied himself while shutting his eyes tightly and trying to remain upright. He no longer looked at things from his perspective. His vision flashed into a sharper image than ever, details of the bark of distant trees clearer and sharper. The individual leaves of trees across the meadow swayed with the breeze. Each vein of each leaf stood out as if inspecting them from a few inches away.
He saw an image of himself standing above, looking angry and perplexed.
Gareth’s sense of balance wavered. He gripped the branch harder.
The twisted vision passed with another wash of dizziness, again a switching of focus like looking at something far off and then quickly changing to something nearby. He looked down at the bloodstained dragon, tongue darting out to gather a stray drip of blood from its chest.
What just happened? Gareth sat on the ground before he fell.
The dragon acted forlorn. Gareth knew the beast only did what dragons do when it tried to eat the goat. A natural reaction. It was hungry and tried to make a meal out of the goat. His responsibility was to teach it and keep it under control. His other responsibility was to protect the goat. It brought up the question of dragons being taught and learning. Was it even possible for them to learn? He didn’t know, but if the army used them in warfare, dragons must be capable of at least some basic skills.
He pictured a dragon in the king’s army attacking the wrong side in a battle and spewing black acid over them. Dragons must have at least enough intelligence to tell one army from the other. Probably they were much smarter than that, but he had no way of telling. Nobody to ask. The dragon standing beside him gave no indication of intelligence. At least, not so far.
Gareth spoke to it in a firm voice. “You have to leave my goat alone. Listen, I’ll feed you all you need, or, at least, try to teach you what is okay to eat.” He stroked the dragon, running his hand down the sharply ridged back and across the folded wings, finding the skin on the wings pliable and loose, and slightly warmer to the touch than expected. The animal closed its eyes and leaned closer to his ankle, as if in pure ecstasy with every touch. “What am I going to do with you?”
Gareth remembered Tom telling him about the baby ducks following their mother, or whoever they thought of as their mother, for their lifetimes. He stood and took a few steps away. After a pause, the dragon skittered to settle near his feet, again. He walked a few steps into the field of wheat, the chicken-sized monstrosity waiting until he gained a few paces before hurrying to catch up.
A field mouse darted across their path.
The dragon spotted it. The tiny head spun to watch. The whole body came alert, and the anxious eyes glanced up at Gareth. When he didn’t object, it darted after the mouse. In a couple of heartbeats, the dragon returned, mouth dripping red again, and looking as if it could have formed a smile, it would have.
“Mice aren’t going to satisfy you for long, my little friend. Not if you keep eating like this.” Gareth went to the goat and found it had calmed somewhat, but kept its eyes fixed on the dragon’s every move. After examining the wound and ensuring the goat would live, he walked back to the bedroll and lean-to. The dragon led the way, and the goat followed well behind. Every time the goat caught sight of the dragon, it snorted and tugged at the rope, but the dragon ignored her. After building a small fire, Gareth spread the blanket on soft grass under the lean-to and folded it over himself. In seconds, the dragon found the edge of the blanket with its tiny nose and wriggled underneath. It found its customary resting place at Gareth’s waist.
Is it going to still try sleeping with me when it’s as big as I am? Bigger? The way it eats that might only be a week from now. What have I gotten myself into?
He lay awake thinking of all that had happened in a few days. Back in Dun Mare, he had dreamed of adventure and excitement as he followed the ox while plowing. He had pictured himself as the hero, defeating enemies with ease. Now he hid under scraps of wood and waited for an old man to arrive and direct him on how to hide to survive with his goat for another day. Gareth felt tired of running. He felt his resistance growing with each breath.
He had expected Tom to visit during the night and explain what they would do next, but near dawn, Gareth woke and realized he was still on his own. The night whispers had come again, whispering tales of mistrust and suggesting he take the dragon and run off, alone. Nothing more specific, but they seemed clearer, more distinct than ever before. Almost understandable instead of vague feelings and hints, like shifting shadows in the moonlight. They gave him no reasons as to why he needed to run away, and no mention of where. Just distinct feelings of danger and mistrust.
He considered the change in the tone of the whispers and tried to sort them out. He fled from Dun Mare on their advice, but now they insisted he break out on his own. Leave Tom, if he interpreted them correctly, but that couldn’t be right. Tom helped him. Tom understood how to flee from the Brotherhood and how to survive. He knew the ways of people and how to hide among them. Perhaps Gareth’s dreams and fears brought on the night whispers like other people had nightmares after eating too much. The whispers came from within his mind. It made sense.
He opened his eyes and watched the eastern sky begin glowing with the new light of the day. He didn’t get up. His mind churned with doubt and uncertainty. After considering the situation he found himself in, and of not knowing what to do, he decided to continue walking on the road until contacted by Tom. He’d walk all the way to Drakesport alone if necessary. The best thing to do was stick to their slim plan until told otherwise. If Tom had been able to safely contact him, he would have. Gareth felt alone and scared, not a new experience. Most of his life he’d been alone and scared, but this affected him in a different manner. Once you have something and lose it, you miss it. But you cannot miss what you’ve never had.
With a start of comprehension, he understood part of his problem. He sat up and glanced around the campsite. In the dim light of morning, the goat looked back at him. He looked further.
The dragon was gone. That’s what he’d missed. A dragon.
He leaped to his feet and stumbled to the goat, fearing the worst. His sudden movement startled the goat, and it pulled away in fear, but as Gareth searched the campsite the dragon was nowhere to be found. The goat looked fine, despite the dried blood on the leg. Turning a full turn and not finding the dragon, he called, “Where are you?”
The little black creature appeared out of the depths of the tall wheat, eyes alert and wild. It snorted and hopped from one foot to the other, then raced to his side and settled near his feet, eyes fixed on Gareth as if they were going to a hunting party together.
“Monster, what have you been up to?”
The dragon leaped a few inches and the small wings spread and fluttered in excitement. They seemed longer than only a day earlier, and more substantial. Fresh blood dripped down the front of the creature. The smell of older blood had turned foul. The dragon ran to the blanket and slipped underneath, immediately becoming still as it curled and tried to sleep. Gareth viewed it as a small mound of disgust. He didn’t want to share the blanket with it again, or the fresh blood smearing its chin and chest. God knows what animal the dragon had slain during the night. He went to the goat and used a gentle hand and felt the wounds on the rear hip as he examined them. His probing must have hurt, but the goat seemed to sense Gareth was trying to help and watched with large, soft eyes.
The blood on the goat’s leg had dried and crusted, but his probing fingers felt twin depressions the size of his thumb where the dragon had gouged out mouthfuls of fur and flesh. “Don
’t worry I’ll keep him away from you.”
The goat didn’t look convinced.
He threw an arm around the goat’s neck and attempted to hug it, but the animal pulled away as if he had tried to choke it.
“Time to go,” he laughed. Gareth pulled the spare blanket from the lean-to and discovered most of the food he’d stored in the bedroll was gone. The dragon must have smelled it during the night and devoured the strips of dried meat along with everything else. Gareth would go hungry for breakfast.
The dragon was fast asleep under the blanket. Gareth wanted to shout angrily at it, but without a name, the dragon couldn’t be properly addressed. He considered giving it a name, but that implied attachment. He intended to rid himself of the dragon at the first chance. Blackie. The name appeared full blown in his mind without reason, but he rejected it immediately. Too obvious and it sounded like the name a small child would use for a puppy. He pulled the blanket off the dragon and woke it before slipping it into the shoulder bag. The bag would soon be too small. The effort for him to carry the weight of the growing dragon would soon drain him, so there had to be another solution. Had the animal already grown so much larger, or was it his imagination? Is it only two days old?
How long did it take a dragon the size of a chicken to grow so large it carried a deer in its mouth while flying? It had to grow incredibly fast, doubling in size several times over, which meant it had to eat an enormous amount of food to fuel the growth. If dragons were similar to most animals Gareth knew, the bulk of their growth came at the beginning, slowing as they neared full size, but he knew little of dragons, and they might be different.