Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) (38 page)

Ammon felt his heart skip a beat before he blurted out. “What do you mean I can’t tend to them? I won’t let them die! I’m a tender, this is what I do!”

Erik’s voice echoed across the room from the doorway. “Ammon, you are not a tender of eggs, you are the king. This nation needs you as it’s king. No one can stop you from visiting the Nest, but you have more important duties elsewhere. The egg you must tend now contains all of
Gaul and DoTaria. I’m sorry.”

Ammon’s shoulders slumped as the realization sank in. Heartbroken, he looked down at the eggs. “Who will take care of them then? Who else here knows how to be a tender?”

There was a long silence before the rumble of Derek’s slow voice boomed. “I could do it if you’d teach me. I don’t have anything else to do and besides, people here don’t like me.”

The big man looked down at Ammon hopefully. Since arriving in Laton, he had gradually retreated to his room in the back of the Hold, rarely coming out. His great size and fearsome looks frightened most people, but something about him made the people of DoTaria exceptionally wary, and they went to great lengths to stay as far away as possible. Ammon sighed. He could see the sadness in Derek’s face and knew this was a perfect job for him. He liked Derek, and as much as he wanted to do the job himself, the big, simple man needed a place where he felt needed.

“Yes, Derek, I think you’d be an excellent tender. Just keep those furnaces going, and I’ll be back later to show you what else needs to be done.”

Ammon turned quickly on his heel and strode from the Nest with Fulgid trotting beside him. He didn’t stop until he entered his chambers and had closed the door behind him. With a disgusted grunt, he flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Fulgid curled around the pillow near his head and lay with his nose barely touching Ammon’s forehead. A clear golden voice chimed from the bubble deep in his consciousness. “
AMMON
.”

Ammon reached up and scratched the dragon behind his ears. “Yeah, I’ll be ok. I just don’t feel I’m who they want me to be.”

Fulgid closed his eyes, enjoying the scratch. The golden voice spoke once more. “
AMMON KING
.”

Ammon rolled his eyes. “You’ve been talking to Sasha and Erik haven’t you?”

There was a soft tap at the door before it opened slightly, and El stuck her head into the room. “Ammon? May I come in? Who are you talking to?”

Ammon replied with a humorous snort. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Come on in.”

El perched on the edge of the overstuffed chair facing the bed. Dust covered the hem of her gown and there was a large smudge on her left shoulder from pushing on the dragon door. Idly she tried flicking the dust off. “Are you ok? You looked upset when you left the Nest.”

Ammon took a deep breath before answering. “Yeah, I’m ok. I’m just tired of everyone trying to make me into something more than who I am.” He sat up on the side of the bed he looked down at himself with a snicker. “Looks like I’ve lost another shirt eh?”

El giggled, and it sounded like the tinkle of bells. She held out the ruined hem of her gown to display the dust and grime ground into the cloth. “If I keep company with you, I’ll go through gowns like you go through shirts!” She stood up, walked to his wardrobe, and threw open the doors. She stood for a moment with a finger to her lips before reaching in and selecting a shirt. Holding it out for him to examine she said thoughtfully, “Here, why don’t you try this one on?”

Ammon took it from her and pulled his arms through the sleeves. The light blue silk of the shirt nearly matched her gown. He stood after he buttoned it and grinned. “Well?”

El walked slowly around him as she inspected it, nodding her head slowly in approval. “Yes, I think it’ll do nicely. I believe this may have been the nicest shirt you had in your wardrobe!”

Ammon looked down and felt his face redden. “You think so?”

El stepped closer and lifted his chin with her finger until their eyes met. “Yes, absolutely. Of course, it was the only shirt you had in your wardrobe, so that narrowed it down quite a bit. I’d suggest you ask your man Kyle to get more for you.”

Standing so close, Ammon could smell the flowery scent of her hair. Her deep brown eyes looked back at him with more than a hint of mischief. He smiled as he wiped a streak of dust off her cheek with his finger. “I’d better ask him for quite a few.”

For a long moment Ammon gazed into her eyes until Fulgid suddenly snored loudly on the pillow and they both burst out laughing.

El grabbed him by the hand and led him into the sitting room. “You have got to learn how to read, so let’s get started.”

Chapter 12

The Gathering

Ammon struggled to reproduce El’s elegant writing with his ink stained fingers. It was hard to concentrate when there was so much activity just outside the balcony window. Each day more DoTarian dragons arrived, and he longed to be outside watching the great beasts as they landed in the courtyard. He would have gladly given up long ago but for the pleasant company of El.

She pushed away the paper and gave him a fresh sheet. “Try again. Remember not to press so hard on the quill this time!”

He nodded obediently. Although she said she could see improvement in his work, to Ammon it seemed all he produced were blackened sheets of paper. He dipped the quill in the ink and started once again.

The tip had barely touched the paper when suddenly the chamber doors flew open and Sasha burst in unannounced. Almost instantly, he felt El’s demeanor chill several degrees like a winter wind. Her gentle instruction suddenly became harsh, and she moved her chair further away from his side. She was normally quite friendly and pleasant, but whenever the old woman was near, El’s attitude changed to a cold, unrelenting teacher.

Sasha eased herself into one of the overstuffed chairs and sat staring at the two of them. Idly, Ammon wondered why she insisted so vehemently that El should be dressed as if for a royal ball, when she herself appeared like an unsuccessful street beggar.

Distracted, Ammon’s quill smeared a large spot onto the paper, and El gave him a sharp rebuke. “Pay attention!”

Sasha’s voice creaked as she spoke up. “Enough, El. He is done for now.”

El lowered her head and softly said, “Yes, grandmother.”

Sasha folded her hands across her lap and stared hard at Ammon. “The knights of DoTaria have answered the call for a full Gathering and will meet in the Hall today.”

El had taught him enough to know a Gathering was a meeting between the knights of the Houses and the King. There had been a partial Gathering fifty years ago with Halos to discuss abandoning the city, but there hadn’t been a full Gathering in centuries. The last one to occur involved a land dispute between the leaders of the two most powerful Houses. As the minor Houses sided with one or the other, they eventually refused to attend a Gathering out of disdain for each other. The rift continued even after the city fell and the people scattered across the countryside. Now the Knights were returning to reclaim their Houses, and the feud was being revived.

Ammon wiped his ink-stained hands on a cloth. He had to present himself before these knights with his claim to the throne. Ironically, he might have to argue to win the throne that he didn’t want. “When do I meet with them?”

Sasha plucked at the rags of her dress as if wearing the finest gown. “Today. In about an hour.”

Ammon’s eyes widened. “You don’t give much warning, do you?”

Sasha stood up and shuffled towards the door. “You’ve had a week to prepare. They’re already filling the Hall. I’d suggest you wear something…appropriate.” She walked out without a backward glance.

Ammon looked down at the papers in front of him where he’d been attempting to write his name. Sasha had decided it was the first thing he should learn to write and had instructed El to help him. It looked like Fulgid had played in the ink and walked across the paper. He picked up the quill and began to carefully trace the letters. If he concentrated, then he wouldn’t think about the few hundred DoTarian knights he was about to meet. El sat quietly beside him, watching him write.

The hour passed quickly, and soon there was a knock on the door as Theo entered. He sighed and put the quill down. “Is it time already?”

Theo nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You will do well, Ammon. The page will announce you to the Hall before you enter and then will show you to your seat.” He started walking out the door and paused for a moment. “I will be nearby if you need me.”

Ammon waited a few minutes after Theo had left before donning the gold vest and sword. He checked himself in the bedroom mirror before walking out to the sitting room. Fulgid slid off the bed and casually strolled behind Ammon as if looking for a more comfortable place to nap.

El was waiting for him and took his hand between hers. Softly she spoke, “I should go now.”

He squeezed her hand gently. “Don’t go…I mean…would you come with me? I mean, I might need your help...in case I have to write something?”

She tilted her head and looked up at him with a faint smile. “I will if you like.”

Ammon nodded with relief. The thought of standing in front of a few hundred people made his stomach hurt and he didn’t want to face that alone. They walked together to the Hall doors where the page was waiting, and as Ammon approached the boy, ducked out the door. A moment later the doors opened and El slipped her arm through his. They walked through together with Fulgid close behind.

A trumpet sounded as they passed through the tall arched doors of the massive Hall. Ammon’s step faltered in surprise as he surveyed the room. Beside every chair stood a knight and more lined the walls on either side. He only expected a few hundred DoTarian’s, but there was more! Much more! There were seats in the Hall for over a thousand, and there wasn’t nearly enough chairs! He swallowed hard and forced his feet to keep moving, keeping pace with El. A collective gasp echoed through the Hall when Fulgid came into view, and a murmur arose as they gaped at the brilliantly colored scales. As if to draw more attention, Fulgid suddenly leapt onto Ammon’s shoulder and stretched his neck to look down at the crowd as they passed.

Ammon followed the page to a row of chairs on the platform in front of the throne, and the boy motioned to a single empty seat beside Erik. Ammon leaned over and whispered to the page. “El is staying with me. Please find her a place to sit.”

The boy smiled broadly and quickly brought another chair. When they were finally seated, Sasha stepped forward, and with a single motion of her hand, the knights sat down with a great rumble of heavy chairs moving into their places.

She cleared her throat and spoke. Her raspy voice rang clear across the Hall. “Knights of DoTaria! I have called this Gathering to the great Hall. The first in over five decades! A little more than a month ago, our brethren from the distant land of Gaul emerged from a tunnel beneath the impassible Southern Mountains. With them, they brought life and hope back to this dead city and back to DoTaria! With them comes knowledge of a calentar mine so rich it will provide us with an almost unlimited supply of dragon fire. A week ago, their dragons blessed our Nests with the first eggs laid in Laton in fifty years! But most of all, these honorable knights brought with them the fulfillment of the prophecy! They brought with them a direct descendant of Ethanel, son of Thaire, who was trapped in their land after the great cataclysm! As was Halos, he is of the House of Les, the last surviving member!”

She turned and pointed a crooked finger at the painting of Halos that now hung on the wall above the throne. The room erupted as men began talking and shouting. Sasha motioned for Ammon to stand. She held her hand up and waited for silence.

“Look at his face, at his eyes! He carries the crest on his ring! Can there be any doubt of his lineage? He is Ammon of the House of Les, King of Gaul! By his royal blood he is the rightful King of DoTaria!”

A short, squat man a few rows from the front stood up. He wore the same elaborate armor of the DoTarian knights, but with a velvet purple and yellow sash across his chest emblazoned with a black dragon entwined around a sword. His voice was coarse as gravel. “You expect us to believe the sudden appearance of this boy from an unknown land is somehow related to King Halos from a family line lost a thousand years ago? All I see is a boy that resembles a portrait and an oversized painted pocket dragon!”

Peals of laughter rolled across the room, and Sasha squinted at the man for a moment before speaking. “Roth! I should have known you would be the first to object. You still have the same lack of common sense you had as a boy when you stuck your finger in a hornets nest and were too afraid to pull it out!” The man’s face reddened as more laughter echoed through the Hall.

He slammed his fist on the table. “Say what you will, Sasha, but you bring no hard evidence of his heritage, and I have no reason to believe this is the prophecy!”

Sasha grasped Ammon’s hand and raised it over her head. “He bears the ring of the House of Les! A ring he had before he crossed the mountains! He carries a DoTarian Honor Sword, which he had before he crossed the mountains! He is already King of Gaul, and his dragon is a true dragon! It is neither painted nor gilded! Come forward and test his scales if you need more proof!”

With a deep scowl, Roth hesitated, then at the urging of a few others, drew a knife from his belt and came forward to stand before Sasha. Holding the dull black blade up he smiled as Sasha inspected it and nodded. He walked confidently towards Ammon and reached over his shoulder to grab Fulgid by the neck. Fulgid snarled and without thinking, Ammon grabbed his wrist and twisted, pulling the man off balance.

Sasha held her hand up. “STOP! Roth, are you really such a fool? You should know better than to touch a knight’s dragon without permission! Consider yourself fortunate he stopped you before the dragon ripped your arm off!”