Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) (23 page)

“Oh!” The bald head jerked up, as if suddenly remembering. “They are looking for you.”

Ammon sighed. He knew people would start looking for him eventually, but it was nice to get away for awhile. Reluctantly, he leaned the pole against a tree and handed the string of fish over to Derek’s big hands.

“Would you bring these fish to the cooks? I’d better go to my tent and find out what I’m supposed to do.”

Derek looked down at the fish and nodded. “Okay.”

Ammon found Boris, Theo, and Kyle waiting impatiently by his tent. Boris’ voice boomed across the yard at him.

“C’mon, boy! Where’ve you been?”

Ammon simply shrugged his shoulders. “Fishing.”

Boris shook his head. “Probably the most important day of his life and he goes fishing! Unbelievable!” He motioned Ammon to the tent entrance where Kyle waited with a new set of breeches and a silk shirt. “You’ll need to change into those. There is a set of boots in there too. We’ll wait here for you.”

He reluctantly took the clothes and ducked into the tent. After wearing thick leather for so long, the new clothes felt thin and uncomfortable, and he felt foolish as he stepped outside.

“Well, look at that!” Boris let out a low whistle. “He almost looks presentable!” He fingered Ammon’s long hair and frowned. “Now if we could just get rid of most of this…but we don’t have time for that now.” He bent over and picked up the old clothes and handed them to Kyle. “Please take these out to the edge of camp…and burn them! Oh, and make sure we’re not downwind!”

“Burn my clothes?” Ammon protested, but after one look from Boris his mouth snapped shut.

Theo laughed and placed a sympathetic arm over his shoulder. “You’d best get used to changes Ammon, there will be plenty more ahead for you!”

Ammon twisted his mouth silently. Once he started his own farm he could wear whatever he wanted. Perhaps he’d raise cows. There was always a demand for milk in the city.

“Come!” Boris turned and started walking towards the landing field. “It’s time to go.” Fulgid trotted beside Ammon as they walked towards the center of the camp, and as they got closer, Ammon could see what appeared to be a large gathering around King Erik. Every knight, cook, and smithy was standing there and Ammon felt his stomach tighten.

“What is going on?” He whispered to Boris.

Boris turned and looked at him in surprise.

“Don’t you know? I thought Erik explained this to you? This is a recognition ceremony of The House of Les being raised anew. The king has decided that you’d receive his official blessing for acceptance into knighthood at the same time.”

Ammon felt his nerves quiver as he looked out at the sea of faces. “What do I have to do?”

“Sinply do what he tells you to do.” Boris patted him on the back reassuringly. “Don’t worry, it’ll be short. Erik hates long winded speeches.”

Ammon followed Boris through the crowd until they stopped in front of Erik. Every eye seemed to stare down at him and his hands felt cold and sweaty. Fulgid nudged his leg gently and he realized Boris had knelt down in front of the king. Quickly, he dropped beside him and waited. The murmur of two hundred knights and countless other loyal subjects that had been brought into the camp suddenly ceased.

Erik’s clear voice echoed over the field. “My people! Today we gather to recognize a lost member of the House of Les from the Royal Court of Gaul! For many years the House of Les has laid empty and silent until this moment, when its lone son and rightful heir retuned to resurrect it from the grave!”

Ammon kept perfectly still, his heart beat wildly in his chest.

“Ammon, son of Hale and Eleanor, rise!”

He stood and faced Erik. His knees felt weak and he was nauseous.

“To you I present your first armor and bestow upon you the honor and duty of the Dragon Knights of Gaul!”

Erik held up a glittering vest covered in the gold scales Ammon had saved from Fulgid, and he heard the crowd behind him gasp. Each scale was sewed on carefully and polished until it shined so bright it almost hurt to look at it. He slid the vest on and ran his hand down the front in awe. It was stunningly beautiful!

Erik picked Ammon’s sword up from a table beside him. With the dull gray blade exposed, he raised it over his head. Slowly he brought it down and kissed the blade before deftly putting it into a scabbard covered completely in the dazzling golden scales. His voice rose again. “Knight Ammon of the House of Les, the Throne of Gaul recognizes you and welcomes you home!”

Erik handed the sword to Ammon and smiled as he fumbled to tie it to his belt. The crowd behind him roared in applause, and over the whistles and shouts, Erik spoke just loud enough for Ammon to hear.

“Welcome home son, welcome home!”

Fulgid suddenly leapt up on Ammon’s shoulder and rose up on his hind legs to look down over the crowd. Ammon’s thoughts turned to chicken farming. No, maybe not that. He hated chickens.

***

Tirate painfully hobbled across his chambers and slowly eased into the chair behind his desk. Never in his life had he ever been so miserable, but at least now he could walk without the assistance of a crutch. That infernal beast had sliced him up like a cabbage from head to toe leaving scarcely an inch of skin unscathed. Every movement was an excruciating reminder of how his carefully laid plans almost came crashing down. There was no way to hide his wounds from the Court, so he conveniently blamed it on a failed assassination attempt by his personal guards and had all four men executed. They had, after all, allowed both the dragon and the boy to escape.

For several days he refused audience with anyone and claimed his dragon had died, and he was in mourning. That gave him precious time to heal and reconsider his plans. At least he had the dragon long enough for all the members of the Court to see it. He was certain some of them may have had doubts, but none would dare question him now. Everything was in place and it was just a matter of days before he could officially claim the throne.

Erik’s funeral was held after he’d located a suitably sized body to fit the coffin. It was a lucky coincidence that one of the executed guards had been about the right size. Traditionally when a king died his casket was left open for public viewing for at least a day, but he had no time for such nonsense and had it buried quickly in the courtyard beside the tombstone of the dragon Laud. Had anyone managed to look into the casket, the result would have been disastrous.

He shuffled through the papers stacked neatly in the middle of his desk. It had been difficult to stop the flow of rumors of Erik and the knights gathering in the north. Replacing all the palace pages with his own men eliminated most of the talk and allowed him to monitor and alter communications between the Houses. As an ever-growing number of palace staff abandoned the palace to join Erik, it had been easy to slip a spy in among them. Messenger pigeons arrived at regular intervals revealing exactly where they were camped, and how many were there.

Two hundred dragons had followed Erik into that wasteland, a formidable army under normal circumstances. But Tirate’s craftsmen were working night and day to make a slew of the more portable versions of the large crossbows. It wouldn’t be much longer before he had these moveable units hidden throughout the woodland surrounding the city and up and down a good portion of the riverbanks too. Several barges were being constructed with crossbows mounted on the decks. All would be stationed upstream and could be floated down with the current at a moment’s notice.

Heavy recruiting of mercenaries and ruffians had increased the ranks of his army considerably. The majority of them were rough and uneducated, but he was preparing for a war and didn’t have time to be choosy. As long as they could fight, he didn’t care. As far as the public was concerned, it was a simple matter of spreading a few rumors about the western barbarian tribes stirring up trouble to explain the sudden disappearance of the dragons and the buildup of the army.

A soft knock at the door disturbed his thoughts.

“Yes, what is it?”

A guard reluctantly opened the door and entered. “I’m sorry to disturb you my lord, but a new message has arrived by pigeon.”

“Give it to me and return to your post.”

He waited until after the guard had left before he broke open the seal on the tiny letter. His eyebrows raised and he barked a laugh. So Erik has raised the boy up to lead the deceased House of Les? Surely the man had lost his mind! Of what use would that be out in the wilderness? That House was dead and its last remaining members disposed of fifteen years ago when he first began his plans to take the throne. As a young boy Tirate learned quickly that the best way to deal with opposition was elimination. He knew the House of Les would be a major obstacle to his ascension, so he’d paid a small fortune to have Hale and his wife killed. Closing his eyes, he could remember the last day he saw the man alive. Before leaving for the countryside, Hale was discussing his properties with King Erik and…

Tirate’s eyes popped open. It couldn’t be! The vision of Hale standing next to Erik floated in his mind. A small, muscular man with short blond hair and daunting blue eyes. That boy from the Nest bore a striking resemblance!

He leaned back in the chair and considered the implications. The House of Les would have a strong claim to the throne if there was proof the boy was somehow related. The Court considered Tirate the rightful heir, but if Erik or that horrid little dragon were seen inside the city, that claim could be challenged and the Court could opt to pass it to the boy. Erik was a threat that he already planned to eliminate. The dragon however, had proved more difficult to kill than he’d imagined, so this time he’d take a different approach. Kill the boy and the dragon dies, and any challenge from the House of Les dies with him.

He picked up a quill and dipped it into the ink pot. Fortunately, he’d had the foresight to make sure the spy he’d sent was also a well-trained assassin.

***

Boris found Ammon idly sitting in his tent while Fulgid lay at his feet, chewing on a clear rock. Kyle had just left a tray with a single steaming mug that filled the tent with its powerful aroma.

Boris inhaled deeply as he stepped inside. “Ready for some sword work son?”

Ammon barely nodded.

Boris sat in a chair opposite of Ammon and eyed the cup wistfully.

“So, what’s wrong? You’ve been moping around like a neglected dragon since the recognition of your House and induction into knighthood two days ago.”

Ammon’s eyes barely lifted as he snorted softly. “You’ll probably think I’m crazy.”

Boris reached over and took the mug from the table. There was no sense letting it go to waste if he wasn’t going to drink it. “I've seen crazy before. I'm not sure you qualify for that.”

Ammon pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged on the bed. “Ever since I can remember I’ve been an orphan. I have a few faint memories of my mother’s face, but little else. In the past few weeks my life has drastically changed, and I’m having a hard time believing any of it is real! Does anyone really expect that a simple tender could suddenly change to a knight and the head of a House? If what Erik tells me is true, then eventually I’ll be king too! Just two days ago I learned that the people who were my family are all dead and I’ll never get to know who they really were. I had always hoped that maybe I might have a relative alive somewhere. Even if I never found them, at least I had some hope.”

Boris nodded sympathetically and swallowed the last of the contents in the mug.

“That’s true Ammon, but you could also have lived the rest of your life and never have learned anything. Erik truly believes you are the last of a good family who just happened to be a powerful House in the Royal Court. So now you own lands and businesses that will provide income for you for the rest of your life. Maybe you should think of what you will do with your life because of that family. By accepting that, you carry on who and what they were, and then as long as you survive they aren’t completely gone.”

Ammon watched as Fulgid bit down on the rock and crushed it into tiny pieces with a loud crunch. “Yes, I know. I’m grateful, I really am! I just can’t help but wonder how much simpler my life would be if I were the son of a merchant or a farmer or something. I know absolutely nothing about politics and even less about being king!”

Boris chuckled. “Well, in a way you are. Your house owns several farms in the southern country. Rather large ones too if I’m not mistaken, not to mention three or four very profitable warehouses in Gaul. As far as being a king, I have always thought the best politicians were the ones who weren’t really politicians.”

Ammon looked up hopefully. “I own farms? What kind of farms?”

Boris placed the empty mug back on the table. “Well, they’re more like plantations really. Some of the best coffee plantations in all of Gaul.”

Ammon smiled for the first time in days.

Boris laid a hand on his shoulder and winked. “Why don’t you take a break from practice today? A man can’t focus if his mind is elsewhere, and you my friend,” Boris stood and stretched “are definitely elsewhere!”

Ammon nodded. “Thank you Boris.”

“Thank me tomorrow when your training is twice as long!”

***

Ammon watched Boris leave and let the words sink in. He owned a plantation, which sounded just as good as a farm even though he didn't know what kind of vegetable coffee was. Still, if he could make a simple living with it, he’d be happy, and he could just tell Erik he didn’t want the rest. He just had to figure out how to say it without sounding ungrateful.

He stared at the ceiling for awhile but couldn’t concentrate. His mind kept wandering back to the plantation. He shook his head and sighed. “Come on Fulgid, lets go for a walk.”

He lifted the tent flap and stepped out and Fulgid followed, still crunching on bits of rock. Nearby, Kyle was in a heated argument with the Maise, the head cook, over the preparation of food. Behind the cook stood her three assistants, including the pretty young woman that had smiled at Ammon during his escape from the palace.

She turned and curtseyed to him as he walked past, and Ammon couldn't help but notice her fair skin was as light as the white apron around her narrow waist. A sharp contrast to the black hair tied neatly in a loose bun. He blushed as he bowed clumsily then stumbled as he hurried away. Fulgid’s ears twitched irritably and a tiny grumble rose from his throat. Ammon looked down in surprise at the little dragon bounding beside him. In his lessons Theo had told him most knights never married because of an intense jealousy felt by their dragons.

Halfway across the camp Fulgid was still growling and Ammon was glad they were out of earshot.

“Fulgid, hush!”

Softly, the little dragon growled again. “I said hush!”

A moment later came another almost inaudible, growl. Ammon rolled his eyes and shook his finger at the dragon. “Stop trying to get the last word!”

As they walked, Ammon became too distracted to notice Fulgid’s last faint growl. Everyone he passed immediately stopped whatever they were doing and bowed until he went by. The first few times it was simply embarrassing, but it quickly became annoying instead. If this how he was going to be treated, he'd rather be alone!

With a sudden mischievous grin, he turned around and headed back towards The Wall. When he came to the crevice, he quickly looked around to make sure no one was watching, then picked up and lit one of the candles that Theo left on the ground after he’d retrieved the second saddle. He dropped to his knees and followed Fulgid into the hole. He was looking forward to exploring the cavern filled with crystals. He hadn’t had time to look at them very closely before, and besides, it was much cooler in there than in the hot morning sun. Over an hour later he finally he emerged in the cavern covered in dust and dirt and he smiled in excitement.

Light was streaming from the small hole in the ceiling and reflected off the crystals, splashing a multitude of colors in every direction. He marveled at the hues of red, blue, and green as he made his way along the wall, careful not to step on any of the smaller formations.

The various sized and shaped crystals seemed to burst forth from the stones like flowers in a field. Most were yellow, but a few had blue, red, and green tints to them. Some were as big as pillars, but most were small enough to easily carry. In one spot he found a rock covered with filaments as thin as a spider’s web and he was careful not to disturb their fragile existence.

The floor was littered with the broken shards of pieces that had fallen from their places and Ammon scooped a handful into his pouch. When he returned perhaps he would place them around the lanterns in his tent, and maybe he’d give one to the pretty young cook if Fulgid would let him get near her.

He watched as Fulgid scampered about investigating all the crystals within reach of his nose. Occasionally he’d find a small one to crunch between his teeth. Ammon shook his head at the dragon.

“You realize you’re eating rocks don’t you?” Fulgid ignored him as he searched for the next one to chew.

The wall turned in slightly, and Ammon followed it as it rounded a sharp corner strewn with rubble. The cavern extended down, like a large hallway, big enough for three men to walk side by side without touching and tall enough to ride a horse through. Curious, Ammon wondered if another cavern lay nearby, and he carefully made his way down an incline almost as steep as a staircase.

As the light dimmed, he held the candle up and followed the descending tunnel for a while. There were no crystals now, just the black stone walls and endless darkness beyond the candlelight. He was about to turn back when he heard a steady rushing sound. Standing still, he held his breath and listened. Wind maybe or perhaps water, but it was definitely coming from further down. With his curiosity piqued, he and Fulgid continued down. The passage lead straight down without twisting or turning for quite a ways before suddenly splitting in two. Both passages were roughly the same size and shape; the one to the right led back up at a steep incline, and the one to the left continued down towards the rushing sound that was now even louder.

Choosing the passage on the left, he continued, the candlelight flickering steadily on the walls. The noise steadily grew until it was almost a deafening roar. It definitely wasn’t the wind, it had to be the fast moving water of the
Olog River! The passageway began to lighten as he descended, and soon he blew out the candle. Sunlight reflected in where the passageway ended out the sheer walls of a canyon with the raging Olog flowing between.

The opening ended several feet above the swift water, and Ammon could feel the spray as it passed. He sat on the edge, pulled off his boots, and dangled his feet in the cool mist. Despite the raging current, it was peaceful here, and he sighed as he watched the water go by. As he sat tossing stones into the river, a brown speck caught his eye as it floated past. It no sooner got past the entrance of the passageway than it jerked and went opposite of the current, disappearing beneath the surface.

A moment later it happened again and this time Ammon recognized it as a cork that someone was using as a fishing bob! The camp must be just on the other side of the wall of the passage! Jumping to his feet, he held tightly to the wall and leaned out over the water as far as he dared. The river rounded the corner sharply, but he could just barely see the tips of fishing poles waving back and forth. The wall to the passage couldn’t have been more than the thickness of his hand. He was in the hole!

Ammon almost giggled with delight. He could fish all he wanted with the privacy he desired, and yet was only inches away from the camp! He just needed to get through the crevice with a fishing pole and enough wood for a small fire! Rubbing his hands together, he looked down at Fulgid who lay hanging over the edge, snapping his jaws at the water splashing by.

“Come on Fulgid, we’ll gather some firewood, and tomorrow we’ll have ourselves a little picnic!”

He pulled his boots back on, lit the candle, and climbed back up the tunnel only stopping briefly at the fork in the passageway.

“We’ll have to explore that another day. If we’re gone for too long they might start looking for us.”

Several hours later, he emerged from the crevice covered in dirt and trying to look as innocent as possible while collecting sticks and shoving them into the hole. When he though he had enough to cook a good sized fish, he and Fulgid headed back to camp. It was long past the midday meal, and both of them were hungry. Perhaps he could sneak something off into his tent.

Ammon knew most of the camp fished in the morning, so there would be a few poles lying around unused, and he quickly found a suitable one. His stomach was growling and he didn’t feel like walking back to the crevice, so he went back to his tent. His tent was less than a pace-width away from the sheer rock face of The Wall, so he reached behind and leaned the pole against the stone and walked back nonchalantly.

He was about to go find the head cook and see what he could scrounge from her before supper when he saw Kyle out of the corner of his eye, striding towards him. The man would have a fit if he saw the dirt on Ammon’s clothes and would lecture him while brewing more of that vile black bean-juice for him to drink. Quickly he turned the other way to make his escape and barely walked past the entrance to his tent when the flap suddenly opened and the pretty young cook stepped out. Stunned, Ammon stopped in mid step.

A look of surprise flashed in her eyes and then she smiled brightly and curtseyed. “My Lord, I’ve been waiting for you.”

Feeling his face grow hot Ammon stammered. “Hi, uh, you’ve been waiting for me? Whatever for?”

She looked past Ammon at Kyle as he approached and smiled sweetly. “Yes, Lord, I thought maybe we could…talk?”

Ammon’s mind raced. Talk? About what? What could he possibly talk about with this girl? Fulgid growled menacingly at his feet and he looked down at the little dragon peering suspiciously at the girl.