Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) (27 page)

Leaning behind a large boulder, he slowly peeked over the top and frowned. It wasn’t a boar that came down the pathway, it was two men dragging a wheeled skid with a large canvas bundle tied to it. As they got closer he could hear them curse at each other as they strained to pull the wagon over the rocky terrain.

He cupped his ear and listened to them as they talked. It was difficult to hear the entire conversation, but what he did hear was enough to make his eyes widen.

“…stuck out here in the middle of nowhere! Left here to be sucked dry by bloodthirsty mosquitoes I tell ya! We’ll not be seein the inside of a pub until winter!”

“Oh shuddup, will ya? I’m no happier about it than you are, but Tirate wants these dragon killers set up and in place for the attack. Now unless you’d like to be on the front line with the rest of the squadron…”

“NO!…I mean, no, this is fine!…It’s just that they took all the good food and left us with dried rations! Not even a drop of ale! We can’t live on that! A man’s gotta have sumthin else!”

The words slowly sunk into Derek’s brain. A squadron armed with dragon killers? He leaned back against the rock and tried hard to think. It was always so much easier when someone simply told him what needed to be done. He’d always needed help to figure out things that seemed to come naturally to everyone else, but now he was alone. He knew what he’d just heard must be important. Anything named dragon killer had to be bad. He ran his massive fingers through his thick white beard and wished Boris or Theo were with him.

With a deep sigh, he decided the best thing he could do is bring all the information he could back to the camp. He drew back his bow, peered around the rock, and aimed at one of the men. With a soft thunk the arrow sank deep into the man’s boot and he fell to the ground with a scream. A second later the other man lay beside him with a matching arrow in his foot and the two howled in pain.

Soon Derek was striding through the woods dragging the skid behind him with both men gagged and tightly strapped atop the canvas. If he hurried, he could make it back to camp by the end of the day. Boris would know what to do with them. At least he wouldn’t have to kill any boars today. He puckered his lips and began to whistle the repeating three notes of the only tune he knew. It helped to pass the time and after a few hours of walking he wondered if the two men tied to the skid liked the sound. Every time he started the song over, they grunted and groaned past their gags.

Chapter 10

Crystals
 

It was obvious to Ammon as they passed through the gates of the city that it had been many years since it had been abandoned. Trees nearly as big as his waist had forced themselves through the cobblestone streets and collapsed buildings had blocked off entire roads with their moss-covered stones. Fulgid strolled leisurely ahead as if nothing were unusual. A few squirrels chattered noisily at them, and once they startled a deer grazing on a patch of clover, but otherwise the city appeared lifeless.

They crossed a large square to a dusty fountain standing in the center. The once-polished marble basin was overflowing with dead leaves and dirt. Grass grew up so high it nearly hid the small dragon statue in its center. Theo’s voice echoed down the empty alleys as he hurried to join them. “This place is huge! It has to be at least twice the size of
Gaul!”

Boris nodded in agreement. “At least twice as big or bigger, and this is just the southern side, we’ve yet to even reach the center where the palace is.” He shaded his eyes from the sun as he looked up at the unusual architecture of the tall buildings. “My question is, what happened to the people?”

Ammon felt his heart skip a beat. He’d been so fascinated by the ruins, it never occurred to him to wonder what happened to the people who built it. How many people had lived here? He peered at the rows of blocky buildings that stretched as far as he could see. There was easily room for thousands, and this was only part of the city!

Boris pointed inside one of the broken doorways that had rotted off its hinges. “Look, you can see there is, or was…rotting furniture still inside. We passed a blacksmith shop a few rows back. Did you notice the rusted tools still hanging on the walls? Have you ever known a blacksmith to leave his tools behind when he moved?”

Ammon pointed up one of the long streets. “There aren’t any remains of any wagons in any of the roads…”

Boris stroked his moustache thoughtfully. “Which means they left in a hurry and didn’t have time to take much with them.”

Cen leaned forward and cleared his throat. The tall, thin knight was perhaps in his thirties, but his face carried the lines of a man much older. His narrow jaw sported a rather unfortunate beard, and he nervously fingered a tiny cross medallion that hung around his neck. “What would cause an entire city to flee so suddenly?”

Boris shrugged his wide shoulders. “The gates were rotted, but not broken, so I doubt it was an invading army. Whatever happened, it was a long time ago, judging from the size of the trees growing in the street.” He paused. “I doubt whoever or whatever caused it is still here. There is nothing left of any value but crumbling buildings and rotting wood. Still, I’d like to see the palace; there may be something of use there.”

They walked in silence towards the center of the city. Every street they passed looked the same as the last; dilapidated buildings and roads filled with brush and trees growing from any place the roots could work between the stones. When they reached the palace, the thick wooden doors of the main entrance still stood haphazardly against each other.

Boris smoothed his moustache with his thumb and chuckled. “Should we knock or just go in?”  He kicked at the latch and jumped back as the doors disintegrated into a pile of dusty fragments, leaving only the rusty iron hinges hanging in midair. Boris grinned as he stepped over the splintered door. “Maybe I shouldn’t have knocked after all!”

Ammon followed him inside and gasped. The palace was in considerably better shape than any of the other buildings they’d seen so far. Large and well built, the high quality craftsmanship still held the elegant stone walls firmly in place. Towering above them was a graceful domed roof lined with massive ivory colored beams, and along the walls, sunlight streamed through the colored glass of unbroken windows. Furniture was neatly placed throughout the room, and although rodents had chewed through most of the leather cushions, the wood remained solid. A thick coating of dust blanketed everything, muting the colors to a dull gray.

Theo whistled softly in surprise. “This is bigger than the Hold in
Gaul!”

Boris nodded and smiled at Ammon’s confused look. “The Hold is where we keep the dragons during the winter to keep them warm.” He ran his fingers through the layers of dust on one of the tables. “I haven’t seen anything that appears threatening in the least. Lets look around a bit to see what we can find.”

Ammon followed Fulgid down a hallway and into a large room with a long table surrounded by chairs blanketed with cobwebs. High above them hung a crystal chandelier, unlit for decades. Tapestries covered the walls except for the far end where a large fireplace with an ornate mantle dominated the room. Above the fireplace hung a painting, and Ammon felt his jaw drop as he got closer. The others had to see this!

He ran to the door and yelled for the others then climbed onto a chair and cleared away the cobwebs he could reach until they arrived.

Boris got there first; the rest followed closely behind him. “Did you find something, Ammon?”

“Yes!” Ammon jumped off the chair and pointed at a finely painted picture above the mantle. An incredibly lifelike portrait depicted a noble looking knight astride a large, black dragon, standing on its hind legs with its wings partially spread. A stream of fire spewed from its mouth over a pile of oddly shaped gray rocks.

Boris coughed as he waved away the dust floating in front of his face. “There is an ancient myth about fire-breathing dragons that is mentioned in some of the oldest records of the palace library, but this is the first time I’ve actually seen it in a painting. Imagine what a tremendous military advantage that would be if it were possible.”

He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “There was a dragon fountain in the square, and now this. This civilization had, or was at least familiar with dragons, and if they had dragons, then there must be a landing field and some sort of Hold for wintering them! If we can find it and it’s still usable, we’ll have a place to wait out the winter while we prepare against Tirate!” He turned and walked quickly towards the door. “Check every window you can find. If there is a landing field you should be able to see it, and that will lead us to the Hold. The sooner we find it, the sooner we can get back.”

Ammon ran from room to room, scrubbing the dust from the windows before peering out. Fulgid trotted behind, occasionally chasing a surprised mouse across the floor. Ammon grumbled. “I don’t even know what a landing field looks like. How am I supposed to find it?”

Three rooms later, Ammon heard distant shouts. As he stuck his head out into the hall, Theo rushed past. “Cen found the landing yard!”

Wiping cobwebs from his face, Ammon gladly gave up his search and followed Theo down the hall to a room at the end. Boris was already there, peering out the window at it. “That’s it alright, overgrown as it is. The Hold should be close to the palace, so we could very well be standing several floors over it. Find the stairs leading down and hopefully we’ll be in the Hold!”

They roamed the halls until they found a winding stone stairway leading deep below the palace. They paused to light their lanterns and followed the steps to the bottom.

The Hold was even larger than could have imagined, and even Boris stood looking at the rows of dragon chambers with awe in his voice. “This is incredible! There must easily be over a thousand chambers here! Have that many dragons ever existed at once?” He patted Ammon on the shoulder and watched as Fulgid curiously sniffed around the chambers, sneezing in the dust. “Ammon, I think you’ve found us our winter quarters! We must get back and inform Erik. The sooner we get everyone here, the better!”

***

It was well into the night when they finally emerged from the tunnel tired and hungry. Workers had cleared the entrance to the tunnel, widening it considerably. Torches were placed at the end, and the moment they stepped out, a young page ran to notify Erik. Plates of food were brought for them and set at a table by the entrance while they waited.

Ammon eased into a chair beside Boris, and Fulgid climbed onto his lap. The little dragons ears twitched back and forth and the feeling of unease drifted through the bubble in the back of Ammon’s mind. He looked around as he picked at the food and spoke quietly. “Fulgid is nervous, something is wrong.”

Ammon carefully studied everything around them as they ate. The men waiting for them wandered aimlessly about, and the cook wrung her apron between her hands like a piece of dough. A nearby blacksmith reached for wood for his fire and jumped when a cricket leapt from the grass.

Boris’ eyes squinted. “Something is definitely askew. Erik is on his way, we’ll find out soon enough.”

They were nearly finished eating before Erik came into view of the firelight followed by the hulking giant Derek, who dragged something large and covered in canvas behind him. They started to rise but Erik waved them down. “Sit men. It is good you got back when you did, and I hope you have better news than I do. Derek found two of Tirate’s men a day’s walk from here. They were pulling this along behind them.”

He nodded to Derek, who reached over and pulled back the cloth, exposing a large crossbow on a collapsible pedestal. Bundles of steel-tipped shafts as big as three fingers lay neatly stacked on either side.