Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) (32 page)

Ammon watched nervously as the crowd made a large circle around him. He had only expected to have to demonstrate in front of Erik and perhaps Theo, but Erik thought it best to show every one of the knights the technique. Now they all stood waiting impatiently for him demonstrate while Fulgid lay lazily on his back with his legs in the air. Ammon wiped the sweat from his palms on his breeches.

“Fulgid, please! Lets get this over with!”

A loud snore from the little dragon suddenly broke the silence of the courtyard, and muffled laughter rippled through the ranks of the knights. Embarrassed, Ammon looked toward Erik and Sasha. The old woman impatiently waved for him to continue. He reached down and rolled Fulgid onto his belly and the dragon opened one eye and looked up at him sleepily.

“Please, Fulgid, just blow a few flames and we can both go off to dinner!”

Fulgid yawned and flicked his tail unappreciatively.

“Fulgid, please?”

The golden dragon slowly sat up, ignoring the crowd surrounding him and focused on something in the distance. His ears swiveled back and forth as if listening to the murmur of the Knights.

Ammon shrugged his shoulders and turned to Erik. “I don’t think he’ll…”

HISSSSSSSSSSSS…

Ammon gripped the hilt of his sword and spun towards the noise. That wasn’t a noise he’d ever forget for as long as he lived. Fulgid’s back was arched tight, and he bared his teeth as a loud growl rose from his throat. Someone in the crowd shouted and all eyes watched in disbelief as a large gray Kala-Azar appeared at the end of the court, snaking its way towards Ammon. The rippling hide of its bulbous body glistened wetly as it lurched forward. Unblinking black eyes fixated on Fulgid and clicking mandibles around a gaping maw dripped acidic saliva onto the cobblestones.

Knights scrambled for their weapons, and soon volleys of arrows streaked across the courtyard to strike harmlessly off the side of the creature. Theo’s authoritative voice commanded his men to draw their longswords and prepare to attack.

“Stop you fools!” Sasha’s unmistakable screech halted them for a moment.

“Your swords and arrows are useless! Without the fire even your dragons cannot defeat them!”

Useless or not, Ammon wouldn’t let Fulgid face the slug alone. He drew his and faced the oncoming slug with determination. Fulgid moved to the right, drawing the attention of the slug and Ammon slowly raised his blade. This time he would try impaling the beast rather than slicing at it. As soon as the slug turned, Ammon pounced, driving the tip of the sword into the back of the bulbous head.

Like a spring, the blade bent, then sprang back, sending Ammon reeling backwards. The slug swung its thick tail with surprising speed, striking him on the hip, and he crumpled in a heap several paces away. Fulgid growled loudly, and the black eyes returned its attention to the little golden dragon. Fulgid backed up slowly as the slug followed, its hissing growing louder and louder until it became a high pitched sound that sent shivers down Ammon’s backbone. He tried desperately to stand up but found he could barely move his leg. He watched helplessly as Fulgid drew the Kala-Azar further back.

Finally, the dragon stood up on his hind legs and Ammon instinctively covered his face and turned away before a deafening roar and blast of heat sent him tumbling across the stones. Moments later a set of hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him roughly across the cobblestones. Intense pain enveloped his entire body and the sound of running footsteps and shouts slowly faded from his hearing before he passed out.

***

When he opened his eyes, he was shirtless and laying face down on the bed in his room. He rolled to his side and instantly felt the burns on his back come to life. He stifled a groan and pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked around. Fulgid lay curled on his pillow, watching Ammon intently. Laying next to the fireplace were the tattered, charred remains of his shirt. Through the bedroom door Ammon could see Sasha perched on the edge of a chair in his sitting room. She had the large brass bowl between her feet and was crushing calentar with a long pestle. She was talking softly with someone, and smiled when she saw Ammon sitting on the edge of the bed.

He stood up and instantly felt the swelling in his leg and hip from where the slug had hit him. He shook his head as he limped to the wardrobe. His old leather shirt from the Nest would not have burned so easily but Kyle would never let him wear that again. He pulled one of the silk shirts out with a heavily bandaged hand, and with his back to the door, he leaned against the wardrobe to ease the weight from his bruised leg. He winced as he slid one arm through the sleeve and struggled to pull it on the rest of the way.

Bemused, Sasha sat and watched for a moment as he wrestled with it. “Go help him El, the man is burned and bruised from head to toe and won’t even ask for help getting dressed! He’s either proud, stubborn or ignorant…but most likely all three!”

Ammon felt a set of hands firmly pull his shirt where he could reach it, and he carefully slid his arm through the sleeve. “Thanks El, I appreciate…”

He turned to face the boy and froze in shock. El’s hood was down and a shock of long black hair spilled out in waves. Deep brown eyes gazed up at him through long eyelashes and a small nose and sharp defiant chin framed red lips. He gasped. El was most definitely
not
a young boy, but was a girl about his age. He blushed and pulled his shirt closed, his bandaged fingers fumbling with the buttons. El rolled her eyes and pushed his hands away as she buttoned up his shirt.

Still in shock, Ammon grasped for something to say. “Um, thank you, I uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were, I mean I thought…”

El roughly buttoned the last button of his collar and looked up at Ammon with a smirk. “You thought wrong.” Curtly she turned and walked back to the sitting room. As she walked away, Ammon noticed the bandages covering the palms of both her hands.

“What did you do to your hands?”

She only sniffed loudly and sat down in one of the chairs without saying a word.

Sasha looked up from her bowl of powder. “She dragged you away from the hot stones that dragon of yours cooked the slug on, then beat the flames out of your shirt with her hands.” She shook her head and returned to inspecting the powder. “Mild burns, but bad enough to warrant bandaging. Quite painful too I’d wager.” She grinned crookedly. “The way she acts towards you, she’ll likely let you roast next time.”

Ammon stepped into the sitting room and looked at El. She sat leaning back in the chair with her legs crossed, staring at her boots as if he wasn’t there. He still wasn’t over the shock that she was a girl. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, El. You didn’t have to do that. I know you don’t particularly like me for some reason, and for that I’m sorry. I just want you to know I appreciate what you did.”

El sat for a moment, furiously wiggling her toes back and forth before looking up from the floor. “Yes, well I hate the smell of burning toad.”

Ammon’s eyes narrowed as he forced a smile at her. “Well maybe you should keep your hands out of the fire then.”

Shock spread over her face as her jaw dropped, and Ammon turned his back and walked back into the bedroom to find his boots. So much for his peace offering! Sasha roared with laughter.

Ammon stamped his boots on and then inspected his armored vest. It was covered in ash but otherwise was unharmed and he slipped it on. The burns he had on his back would likely have been considerably worse if he hadn’t been wearing it. If these slugs were going to start appearing regularly, he was going to wear it to bed at night. Fulgid followed him out to the sitting room just as Erik opened the door and came in.

“Ammon! I was just coming to ask Sasha to notify me when you awoke! How do you feel son?”

Ammon held up his bandaged hands and shook his head. “Rather helpless at the moment! I can’t even button my own shirt!” He felt his face turning red again.

Erik gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “No, not helpless by any means. From what Sasha has told me, that thing would have killed quite a few of us if not for you and that dragon of yours.” He frowned for a moment. “A creature that preys on dragons is something we’ve never encountered before, and this ability to breathe fire? I could only have dreamed! This truly is a different world on this side of the mountains. I only wish Boris were here to see it.”

Sadness tilted the corners of his eyes as he watched Sasha grind more of the crystals into powder. “Ammon, I hate to ask this of you, but I have no other choice. Until the dragons have had enough calentar to produce fire, Fulgid is our only protection. If just one of those slugs gets into the Hold it would be disastrous. I need you and Fulgid to guard the Hold. Sasha thinks the slugs will come for the dragons first, so we have to protect them. I don’t know how else to do it. You and Fulgid will have to be our guard for a week.”

Ammon sighed and nodded. He’d had a feeling this was going to happen. He knew the moment Sasha had told them it took at least a week to produce fire, and he’d started working on ideas then. He motioned Erik to sit at the table and he eased into a seat, then he laid out his plans.

Chapter 11

Guard Duty

All ten of the massive doors leading into the Hold were shut, and every dragon except for Fulgid had been moved deep inside against the thick stone walls. A small cot, table, and several chairs were centered just inside the entrance so Ammon and Fulgid could quickly reach any of the doors should the slugs break through. Piles of firewood soaked in lantern oil surrounded the entrance of each door as well. If multiple attacks came, the guards could simply throw a torch on the pile and create a wall of fire that would last until the wood burned away. An occasional attack would be easily turned back, but a constant invasion would be difficult to hold for long. Until the calentar took effect on the other dragons, all they could do was hope for the best.

The first day started out uneventful. Theo brought him several books from what was left of the palace library and a large mug of that foul black liquid. Ammon thanked him, but after Theo left, he sat idly turning the pages with bandaged fingers. He’d never learned to read, and he stared blankly at the strange markings on the pages as he flipped past looking for pictures.

A voice from behind startled him with a mocking tone. “It figures you’d be the type to be interested in politics.”

Turning his head, he looked up to see El standing beside him. Embarrassed for being taken off guard so easily on his first day of guarding the Hold, he fumbled for something to say. “I…I’m not. I hate politics.” He said truthfully. It was true. Every time Erik discussed politics his thoughts drifted to the plantations Boris had told him about. Someday he needed to learn what kind of fruit coffee was.

El dropped a bag down on the table and pointed a finger at the book he’d been looking at. “Then why read that?”

Ammon shrugged. “Theo brought it to me.”

She sat on the edge of the table, picked up his mug and sniffed it. “How can you drink this stuff without cream and honey?”

Ammon shrugged his shoulders. “Never had it that way.” He watched her suspiciously. This was the most talkative and the most friendly she’d been towards him. She was up to something.

El turned the bag upside down, and several jars and bundles of bandages spilled out onto the table and she muttered sarcastically. “I would have thought a rich boy like you would have been raised on cream and honey from the day you were born.”