Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) (36 page)

Behind the desk, another set of doors led to the bedchambers. The largest canopy bed Ammon had ever seen lay centered in the middle of the room and was covered with fresh sheets. Fulgid gleefully hopped from his shoulder onto the bed and curled up on one of the pillows while Ammon wandered around the room. Fireplaces located in the walls on either side of the bed would easily warm the room, and thick rugs covered the polished marble floor. A glass-paned door lead out to a balcony over the courtyard that overlooked the southern part of the city and the mountains. The view of the snow-covered peaks as they caught the sunlight was stunning. Overwhelmed, Ammon stood on the balcony and gripped the stone railing tightly. Erik's strong, thin hand squeezed his shoulder.

“Ammon…King Ammon…Your palace, your city, truly is beautiful!”

Ammon pulled his hands from the rail and clenched his fists. “Please! Don’t call me that. I am not a king, or a knight, or…anyone! I’m just…me!” He faced Erik, his voice pleading. “I’m just an tender who accidentally linked a dragon! You know I can’t do this! I can’t lead this city…these people! I don’t know how! You are the real king, you know how to rule and make decisions! These people should be following you, not me!”

Erik was silent as he looked out over the balcony at the mountains. A slight breeze stirred a few strands of white hair on his head, and his clear blue eyes were brighter now than Ammon had ever seen. When he spoke, his voice was low, but strong.

“Ammon, you must accept what you’ve become and who you must be. The ring, your lineage, the likeness of the portrait, all these cannot be mere coincidence. There are many reasons why I have chosen to surrender the crown to you, and in time you will understand.  For now I simply ask that you trust in me. Your bloodline has provided a means for you to obtain the crown, but it is the qualities of your heart that make it right.” Erik squeezed his shoulder once more. “I would be honored to act as your advisor if you’d let me.”

Sasha puckered her lips and tilted her head thoughtfully. “A wise decision! All of you as advisors…and myself too of course! DoTaria is a large country with a diverse and complicated social structure. Ammon needs training and help to deal with the problems of rebuilding an entire nation with customs and traditions different from Gaul.” She cackled gleefully. “A challenge for the young king! A challenge worthy of a golden knight!”

Ammon felt like crawling under the bed and wondered if they’d ever find him in a room this size if he did.

***

After they’d left, Ammon sat alone in his new chambers in an overstuffed chair and watched as Fulgid curiously climbed across the bookshelves as he investigated his new surroundings. His head throbbed dully as the stresses of the day seeped into his brain and an unmistakable feeling of loss crept into his chest. Never again would he spend hours fishing in the Olog with his next meal his only concern. He twisted the gold ring on his finger and sighed. Like it or not, they were going to make him king over both DoTaria and
Gaul and somehow he was supposed to deal with it.

Fulgid jumped into the cold fireplace and clawed through the ashes. Finding nothing of interest, he hopped onto the bed and curled up on the pillow, leaving a trail of ash across the clean white sheets.

“Kyle will have a fit when he sees the mess you made.” Fulgid rolled onto his back, spreading the ash deeper into the sheets. Ammon snickered. “I wish I was as carefree as you, Fulgid, but the responsibilities keep growing! By the dragon’s teeth, I can’t even read, and they want me to run a kingdom? How am I supposed to do that?”

A sullen voice at the doorway replied, “I’m supposed to teach you.”

Startled, Ammon instinctively leapt to his feet and as he spun, his hand reached for his sword. El was standing just outside the chamber doors, her arms folded tightly across her chest and a dark expression on her face. The voice was the same, but other than that, Ammon would not have recognized her. She no longer wore her bland brown hood, shirt, and loose breeches that Ammon had always seen her wear. Before him stood an elegantly dressed woman in a flowing sky blue gown that swept the floor in waves. Embroidered down the front were vine like flowers and her ruffled lace sleeves stopped at her elbows, exposing browned, sun tanned arms. Her flowing dark hair hung down loosely in ringlets to her shoulders, but the smoldering dark eyes glaring back at him were unchanged.

Ammon stammered as he loosened his grip on his sword. “Oh, I…um…I…didn’t hear you! You…look very nice! I didn’t recognize you for a moment!” Ammon bit down on his lip to stop himself from talking.

El gave a stiff curtsey. “Forgive me, my King! I didn’t realize how poorly I usually look!”

Ammon resisted the urge to smack himself in the head with his hand. “That’s not what I meant! I uh…I meant you look beautiful!” He felt his face going red. What was it about her that made everything he said come out backwards? Clearing his throat, he tried to regain his composure. “What was it you are supposed to teach me?”

El barely hid a sneer. “I am to teach you to read and instruct you in political history, as well as the customs of this land.”

Ammon frowned. “You were told to do this? By who?”

El lowered her eyes. “Grandmother Sasha has informed me it is my duty to educate you in these areas. I am to report to you each day at a convenient time where you can begin your studies. If this displeases you, I can relay that information to someone else.”

Ammon closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. It was beginning already. Would everyone soon address him with the same feigned respect? “I don’t care. If you don’t wish to teach me I’m sure Sasha will find someone who will. I certainly won’t make you do anything you don’t want to, no matter what she told you to do. Tell her I relieved you of that duty, or make something up that sounds right. You can go now.”

He turned his back to her and flopped back into the overstuffed chair. If he was going to be king then he’d make sure of at least one thing. Nobody would be forced to serve him against his or her will. He looked down at his hands and ripped the bandages off. Slowly he flexed his fingers, feeling the skin stretch where the blisters had been. He should be able to start practicing with the sword again soon. Maybe then he could work out some of his frustrations. In the meantime he had to find another outlet.

He looked at Fulgid stretched out on the pillow. “What do you think about escaping from this snooty palace for awhile and going for a walk? Maybe we can get out without anyone noticing and have some peace and quiet. Somewhere without all this confounded royal treatment.”

“I’d love to.”

Ammon jumped in surprise and turned in the chair to see El still standing there. “I thought you left?”

El shook her head. “I didn’t. I think that walk sounds nice. If anyone asks I’ll tell them it’s part of your education. After all, you should know the city if you’re going to be king.”

Ammon stared at the pretty girl in front of him and wondered how he had ever mistaken her for a boy. “Only if you want to. I will not force you, or anyone to do anything for me.”

El smiled a genuine smile. “Lets go.”

As they walked down the long aisle of the throne room, Ammon noticed El walking uncomfortably. “Are you ok?”

El winced as she took another step and rolled her eyes. “These slippers aren’t exactly made for walking, but it’s how I’m supposed to dress now while inside the palace.”

Ammon thought for a moment. “So you can dress any way you want when outside the palace?” El stumbled before nodding her head. “Aren’t we going outside of the palace?”

El stopped and looked at Ammon for a moment before a smile crept across her face. “I certainly can’t give you a tour dressed like this can I? Would you mind if I make a quick stop at my quarters before we leave?”

Ammon smiled back. “I’d be happy to wait.” She really was quite pretty when she smiled. Idly he wondered why she had to wear those clothes inside the palace when everyone else was dressed normal. It certainly seemed absurd, but he shrugged it off.

He waited outside the chamber door with Fulgid while she changed back into her familiar shirt, breeches, and boots. This time she left the hood down, letting her hair hang loosely down her back. Before long they were outside the palace and wandering the still abandoned areas of the city. Green flags hung on the sides of buildings to indicate they had been purged of Kala-Azar and safe to enter. Fulgid ran ahead as they strolled through the alleys and peered into the ruins. Occasionally El found the remnants of a sign on the side of a building and pointed out individual letters, making Ammon repeat them afterwards.

As they walked from one building to another, El suddenly became serious. “Did you really mean what you said? That you would never force me, or anyone else to do something we don’t wish to do?”

Ammon shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked over the street before them. “I’m being forced to become something…someone I’m not. I don’t have a choice. If I have to be king, then I will surround with people who wish to be there, not those who have to be.”

El walked on silently for a little while. “That isn’t the behavior I expected from a king, Ammon.”

He shrugged. “I hope that’s a good thing?”

She laughed a little. “Yes, I think that’s a good thing.”

Ammon breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I hope this means you don’t hate me anymore?”

El held her thumb and forefinger up spaced slightly apart and grinned mischievously. “Maybe just a little.”

Ammon groaned and plucked a piece of long grass from between the cobblestones and threw it at her. “You’re impossible!”

They spent the afternoon exploring and searching for more signs and by the time they returned to the palace he was able to recognize several of the letters on his own. Fulgid loped ahead down the hall and suddenly he skidded to a stop in front of Sasha. She stood in the doorway of her chambers silently casting a disapproving eye at El’s clothing.

Ammon stepped in front of El. “Good afternoon Sasha. I hope you don’t mind that I asked El to change and help acquaint me to the city. It was quite a learning experience!”

Expressionless, Sasha looked at them both. “Indeed? I’m happy to hear this! Perhaps after she’s changed into more appropriate attire, she can further that learning experience in your chambers with pen and ink!”

El’s face dropped, and without a word, she slipped past Sasha and closed the door. Sasha leaned forward and dusted some imaginary dirt off Ammon’s shoulder. “I don’t know how old you think I may be, but I assure you I wasn’t born within the last fortnight.” With that, she turned and entered her chambers, closing the door behind her.

Flabbergasted, Ammon looked down at Fulgid. “What was that supposed to mean?”

***

Sasha closed the door behind her and smiled. The boy was quick. Just like Halos was. She eased her aching bones into a chair and sighed. She was tired now. At eighty-four years of age, she hoped she still had enough strength left to see her work through to the end. The events had already been set into motion and the prophecy was being fulfilled, although nothing like she’d imagined. It was only a few short weeks ago that she had been shocked to see a living gold dragon on the boy’s shoulder. For centuries scholars had assumed the prophecy of the gold dragon was a metaphor for the House of Les. When Halos died with no heirs to the throne she had given up on the prophecies as mere fanciful stories.

Now this marvelous gilded creature roamed the palace hallways and a direct descendant of the royal bloodline was his link. Although young, the boy had already shown his leadership abilities when he took charge during the attack of the Kala-Azar. Unfortunately he was painfully shy and lacked the self-assurance needed to be an effective king. That would come in time of course, but time was something she had little of at her age.