Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) (12 page)

Boris touched the king’s hand. “Sire, that is why I’ve come to speak to you. He has not linked to a dragon! He sent me off to chase after a boy tender that accidentally linked to a mutant dragon. He plans to sever that link and claim the mutant as his own until it dies so he can take the throne.”

The king’s eyes widened. “Sever a link? How? By killing the boy? And how is it possible this tender became linked?”

A loud crash signaled the entrance of the guard as he finally broke through the door. Rising, Boris turned to face the oily-haired guard as he burst into the room. A sneer spread across the guard’s face as he drew his sword.

“Lord Tirate will be pleased to have you delivered to him, dead or alive!”

Boris pulled his own sword from its scabbard on his back. The two men squared off, each waiting for the other to move.

King Erik called out from his bed. “Guard! Withdraw immediately!”

The guard spat on the rug towards the king. “Go to sleep old man, your time has come and gone. It’s Tirate’s game now.”

Boris relaxed into his fighting stance. Years of wielding a sword had taught him that it was skill, not strength that determined the outcome in a sword fight. The man was younger than Boris was and nearly as big. Confident, the guard lunged forward, his sword swinging in an arc. Boris dropped the tip of his long sword and neatly blocked the strike. As the man stepped back, Boris brought his sword across and sliced open the man’s shirt. Another lunge opened the guard’s sleeve, and yet another opened the pant leg of his breeches.

Boris calmly stepped back. “
You wish to continue? You’re running out of clothes.”

Furious, the man charged, swinging his blade wildly. Boris sidestepped and brought the hilt of his sword down on the man’s head, knocking him flat. He lay there unconscious.

Erik was desperately trying to get out of the bed but could do no more than sit weakly on the edge, his eyes dark with anger. “You should have killed him Boris.”

Boris re-sheathed his sword and ran quickly to help the king to his feet. “Perhaps, but that was like fighting an unarmed man, hardly what I’d call fair play.”

Erik shook his head and smiled. “You are too honorable for your own good.”

Boris pulled a cloak from the wardrobe and wrapped it around the frail man’s shoulders. “You can demote me later, right now I think it
would be best to leave this place while we still can. More of Tirate’s men will be arriving soon.”

Erik
leaned heavily on his shoulder and Boris half carried the man to the doorway and down the hall. As he rounded a corner he found the young page running another errand. This time the boy’s jaw dropped at the sight of the king standing in front of him.

Boris snapped at him. “Don’t just stand there
! Help me get the king to the landing yard!”

Without a word,
the boy slipped beneath the king’s arm and the three of them hurried down the stairway. When they reached the doorway leading out to the yard, Boris stopped and peered out. Ellis was lying near the middle of the yard a hundred yards away while half a dozen of Tirate’s men armed with long spears stood nearby obviously waiting for Boris.

Boris stepped back from the door and
whispered to the page. “Lad, you are loyal to your king, are you not?”

The boy nodded enthusiastically.

“Good! I have a job for you, more important than you could ever imagine. When we leave here, I want you to spread the word among the loyal servants, staff, and dragon knights that King Erik is alive. Make sure everyone knows and don’t get caught or Tirate will have your hide. Do you understand?”

Again, the boy nodded. Boris pulled from his finger a thick ring inscribed with a black dragon and handed it to him. “Show this to anyone who doubts you, and be careful whom you trust. Tirate is a ruthless criminal and
will have many spies helping him to steal the throne. We will return soon with proof of his guilt.”

Erik watched the boy run down the hallway. Turning to Boris he whispered. “Do you know what you are doing here?”

Boris just grinned and let out a sharp whistle. Ellis leapt to his feet, his sharp ears pointing towards the door. Boris whistled again and Ellis thundered across the yard. Men shouted as they scrambled out of the way. Carts and wagons overturned as Ellis crashed through, oblivious to everything in his path. He skidded to a stop in front of the door and Boris lifted Erik over his shoulder like a sack and ran towards the dragon. With his free arm he grabbed the saddle as he thrust his foot into the stirrup and heaved Erik into the seat.

“
LET’S FLY
!” He barely had time to swing his leg over the saddle before Ellis leaped into the air, knocking over more carts and sending the guards diving for cover. They circled as they gained altitude and Boris looked sadly down at the rooftop of the warehouse.

“Sorry Shane, looks like I won’t be meeting up with you after all.”

Ellis suddenly lurched to the left as a black streak shot past. Surprised, Boris peered down to see men atop the battlements, arming the large crossbows. Another shaft flew past as Ellis jerked to the right.

“So that’s what those are for!
To defend against the dragons!”

Ellis quickly gained speed and was soon out of range. Erik sat unsteadily in the saddle and let the wind dry the tears from his cheeks
as the city of Gaul disappeared behind them.

***

Tirate, followed by six of his best soldiers, stepped through the shattered door and into the king’s chambers. One of the guards he had posted at Erik’s door now sat dazed, in the middle of the room. A thin trickle of blood ran through matted hair and down one temple onto his torn clothes. He grabbed the man by the collar and roughly lifted him to his feet.

“Where are they? Where is the king, and where is Boris?”

Groaning, the man squeezed his eyes shut. “I…don’t know sire, he…I…don’t know!”

Tirate heaved the man backwards, causing him to collapse in a heap. Growling, he turned to his armed men.

“Find them and find them
NOW
! I don't care what you have to do! I want them back!”

As the men scattered, Tirate charged down the hallway fuming. He hadn't expected Boris to come back for provisions for at least another week and he certainly didn't anticipate an escape from the palace with Erik. Boris had to be stopped.

A grinning young pageboy running up the hallway skidded to a stop at the sight of Tirate, his smile melting.

“You!
” He bellowed. “What have you seen boy? Anything unusual?”

The color drained from the boy’s face as he shook his head. “No Sire!”

Tirate snarled. “Then be on your way before I have you whipped.”

“Yes sire!”

The boy broke into a run and flew down the hallway at an impressive pace.

Chapter 6

To The North

Ammon practiced with the sword as the last rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon. The repetitive motions were nowhere near as graceful as Boris’ fluid-like movements, but the blade felt more comfortable in his hands each time he picked it up.

He moved from one stance to the next, careful to keep the majority of his weight on his good leg, and began the slow dance again. He held the sword at arms length until a slight movement on the horizon caught his eye. Shielding his eyes from the glare, he focused on the tiny black dot rapidly approaching.

“A dragon?” He murmured.

Hastily he thrust the sword back into its scabbard and hobbled towards the cave. Boris wasn't due to return until morning and from what Boris had told him he didn’t think it could be one of Tirate’s men, but why take the chance?

“Fulgid get inside before he sees you!”

Sprawled across a rock just outside the entrance, Fulgid yawned and lifted his head at the approaching dragon and then lay back down.

“Fulgid!”

Ammon fumed. It would be impossible to hide with those bright golden scales lying out in the open! The dragon was getting closer, making a straight line for the cave.

Ammon begged. “Fulgid will you
PLEASE
come inside?”

Lazy amber eyes glared
up briefly at Ammon, and with a disgruntled sigh, Fulgid rolled to his feet and ambled inside. Exasperated, Ammon moved deeper into the cave and tried not to make any noise. Minutes passed before a shadow darkened the cave entrance and Boris' booming voice shouted his name. Confused, Ammon looked at Fulgid.

“You knew it was him didn’t you?”

He limped outside and looked up. Boris rode Ellis so low over the cave, the dragon’s belly was almost touching the boulders as they passed overhead.

“Ammon, can you hear me?”

Cupping his hands to his mouth Ammon shouted, “Yes!”

The dragon turned and passed over again. “I need your help! There is a clearing to the north about a quarter mile, can you make it there?”

Ammon frowned. Boris needed his help? He looked doubtfully at his foot. The poultice had helped considerably in just a few days and the swelling was down. As long as he had it splinted with branches, walking around the campsite wasn’t too bad. Making his way through the brush however would be a different story. He could probably do it, but it would be slow going at best. The big dragon circled as Boris waited for his answer.

“Yes, but it will take me awhile to get there!”

Boris had been kind and had treated him fairly. If Boris needed help, the least he could do was try. Besides, he suspected the man wouldn’t ask for help unless he really needed it.

Boris’ voice echoed against the rocks as they passed over again. “Meet me at the clearing as soon as you can!”