Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) (52 page)

***

Ammon paced the hallway while Boris interrogated the prisoners. So far the news had been grim. Although twenty crossbows had been destroyed or captured, the guards said if their attack failed, the next squadron to enter the tunnel would use men, women, and children from
Gaul as shields. There would be no way for the dragons to get past without killing scores of innocent people, and even then they still had to face more of the great crossbows. Inside the narrow confines of the tunnel there was no way to avoid the deadly bolts, and even if they managed to break through, they’d be shot down the moment they came out into the open.

Ammon could hear the bitter twang of crossbows and the trill of bolts loosed against their targets as Stalwart’s men tested the range of the captured machines in the courtyard below. All around him was a frenzy of activity as every knight and able bodied man in the palace prepared for battle. Steel blades were sharpened while fletchers worked tirelessly to fill every quiver available. Below them in the Hold, dragons snorted black smoke as they echoed the agitation from their links. Even Fulgid was restless and snubbed at the food Kyle waved beneath his nose. Everyone was ready to charge through the tunnel and into battle the moment the word was spoken. Almost everyone. As desperate as he was to get El back, he could not lead these men to slaughter in that passageway. Another way had to be found.

Boris emerged from the prisoner’s room and with a silent nod, Ammon followed him up the stairs to the royal chambers. Stalwart, Erik, and Theo were already waiting as he and Boris entered the sitting room. As they took their seats, Ammon crossed the room to stare out the window at the whitecapped mountains. There had to be another way to get to Gaul.

With a sudden jerk, he spun on his heel. “Do we have any maps? Maps of those mountains?”

Stalwart nodded slowly. “Aye sire, we do, but if you’re thinking of flying over them, I’m afraid it won’t work. In all the histories of DoTaria, there is no mention of anyone crossing over.” He shrugged. “The slopes are too steep to climb and the dragons can’t tolerate the cold at those altitudes for very long or they get sluggish. If they’re exposed too long, they fall into a deep sleep and eventually die.”

Ammon shook his head. “I still want to see the maps myself.”

Stalwart got up, and from one of the many shelves in the sitting room, selected a large book. He brought it back and spread it open on the table. Erik lowered his voice and gently offered to read it, but Ammon waved him off.

“I’m able to read a little now, but maps are more like pictures than words.”

Centered on the old map was Laton. Like a spider’s web, roads lead away in every direction towards long forgotten cities and regions. The river Olog emerged far to the east of the city from beneath the jagged drawings of a mountain range that extended completely across one side of the map. To the west was a mountain with a small anvil drawn on the side and smoke coming from the top. “This is where the Honor Blades are made?”

Stalwart nodded. “Aye, there are three smoking mountains in DoTaria and that is the closest.”

Ammon looked for the others. The rest formed a line, each one closer to the mountains than the last. Ammon drew a line with his finger from the first to the last. “What if the dragons warmed themselves at each one before trying to fly over the mountains?”

Stalwart turned the map and looked at it. “That would get you a bit further, but it’s hard to say what is beyond the mountains shown on this map. You might make it to the other side, or you might end up frozen on the side of a mountain for all eternity too. There is no way to know until you get there, and by then it’s too late to turn back.”

Boris rubbed briskly at his moustache. “I’d be willing to try it myself, but Ellis wouldn’t be able to do it. He’s already having a hard time with the cold at his age. I’d wager most of the older, more experienced dragons would have the same problem. Younger dragons are slightly less affected by the cold.”

Ammon looked at the men around the table. “We have to get over those mountains. They won’t be expecting an attack from behind. Once the tunnel is open the rest can come through and it’s on to
Gaul…and El.”

Boris sniffed. “I suspect I already know a few who’d volunteer, I just have to put the question to them.”

Stalwart shook his head disapprovingly. “This is an insane plan, and the chances that it will fail are too high!” He dropped a heavy fist down onto the table with a thud. “Phaw! But no more than a straight on attack through the tunnel I suppose. I know many of my knights will gladly volunteer. They’ve become quite fond of queen El and are itching to get her back. Besides, this scoundrel Tirate deserves to taste the fury of DoTarian dragons!”

Ammon looked at Fulgid sitting quietly beside him and took a deep breath. “Then let’s get started. I’m going with them.” He held up his hand before they could object. “That was not a request, it was a statement. It is my right as king.”

Boris and Stalwart glared at him in surprise and Ammon stared back coolly. He was going no matter what they said. El was on the other side, and he was going to get her back or die trying. His knuckles cracked as he clenched them in fists. If so much as a hair on her head was harmed…No, It was better not to try to think of that now, he needed to keep a clear head. He forced his hands to relax and turned to Erik.

“I’ll leave the day to day operations of the palace to you until I return. Boris and Stalwart will maintain the cities defenses in case Tirate’s men try to advance through the tunnel, or if the Kala-Azar return, which isn’t likely in this cold. I want men and dragons ready to move through the tunnel at a moment’s notice. Once we’re on the other side, I don’t know how long we can hold them until reinforcements arrive. I’ll send someone through the tunnel to notify you. How long before you can have those volunteers? I want to leave within the hour.”

Ammon braced himself for an argument as Erik stood up, but he only bowed with his fist to his chest. “It will be as you say, King Ammon.” After a pause, Erik smiled. “I do believe you wear the crown well. I would prefer you sent others over the mountains, but under these circumstances, I fully understand your desire to accompany them. I only ask that you take as little chance with your life as possible. I believe you have the potential to be one of the greatest kings that ever lived, but you have to live long enough to do so.”

Boris cleared his throat, obviously unhappy with Ammon’s intentions. “Theo can have riders ready within the hour, although I…oh we’ll just have them ready.” He nodded to Theo, and the thin man hurried out to assemble the
Gaul knights.

Stalwart grinned at Boris for a moment, then turned to Ammon. “I’ll have my men ready as well. Please excuse me.”

Boris cleared his throat and leaned towards Erik. “Would you mind if I have a private word with the king for a moment?” Erik just smiled and nodded, then patted Boris on the shoulder as he left.

When they were alone, Ammon turned back to look out the window and felt Boris’ intent stare on his back. “You don’t approve of me going.”

Boris sighed and Ammon could hear the chair creak as he leaned back. “No, Ammon, I don’t. You don’t know if this will work. You could very well just lead yourself and the others to an icy grave, and that won’t help get El back. If you die up there we won’t know until you don’t come back, and then what? Besides, twice now in the midst of a battle your eyes have changed color and no one has yet been able to tell me why, although Stalwart has a theory. He tells me there is a condition called Rage when the eyes of a linked knight will change, but it’s always been a permanent condition and always leads to madness. The last thing we need is for you to go mad.”

Ammon stared at the snow-capped mountains in the distance. “
I have not gone mad, and whatever happened to my eyes had resolved before we got back to the palace. Besides, we both know that El is the best person to treat something like that, and she’s in Gaul. Now, let me ask you something, Boris? If the king did nothing but sit on a throne directing others to do his bidding, would you, or any knight, truly serve with all your heart or just because it is your duty? I refuse to send anyone to do something I wouldn’t do myself. Isn’t that what leadership is? Besides, El has been gone for two days, and we haven’t come up with anything better than charging through the tunnel to certain death. I don’t want this fight, but I can’t turn away.” He turned to face his friend. “Tirate wants this war and will stop at nothing until we give it to him, including enslaving every last person in Gaul.”

Boris looked down at his outspread hands. “Aye, many prefer to follow a king who leads rather than pushes, but leadership also requires sending others into dangerous situations for the good of the whole. You are my king and I will follow you. That doesn’t mean I have to like this plan of yours. As far as Tirate, well, I doubt slavery is the worst he’s done in
Gaul. For now, let’s just hope he doesn’t have El yet.”

***

Ammon strode purposely down the hall with Fulgid by his side and mumbled quietly to himself. El was alive. He knew it with every bone in his body. She was alive, and he was going to bring her back and out of harms way. Once she was safely back, he was going to find a way to make her listen to him. There would be no more of this queen’s right nonsense, he would lock her in the palace if he had to.

He pushed the door open that led out to the courtyard and stopped, his mouth agape. The early afternoon sun beamed down from a cloudless sky over a crowded courtyard of knights and dragons. Theo appeared beside him with a broad grin spread across his face. Puzzled, he nodded his head at the gathering. “What’s going on? Is this a send-off?”

Theo chuckled. “No, sire. You asked for a few volunteers to accompany you over the mountains, and this…” He gestured with his hand in a broad sweep. “This is less than half of the ones who demanded to be allowed to go!”

He felt himself gasp. There were dozens of them! “Half?”

Theo laughed. “Oh yes, and there would have been a whole lot more, but we put a limit on how many could go. We thought fifty ought be more than enough.”

He rubbed his forehead in disbelief. He expected no more than six at the most. How was he going to lead fifty dragons over an unexplored mountain range and expect to sneak up on the encampment surrounding the tunnel exit? “I thought only the younger dragons could go because of the temperatures?”

Theo nodded. “These are the younger ones. I wish we could send some of the more experienced riders, but the temperature affects dragons more once they reach about the age of twenty, so that was one of our requirements. Believe me, there was quite a lot of argument over who should go. It seems no one wants to be left out of giving Tirate’s army a taste of dragon’s fire.” Theo put a hand on Ammon’s shoulder. “Besides, we all want El back as badly as you do.”

A slender knight in dragon armor approached them, and it wasn’t until the feminine voice spoke before Ammon realized it was Tashira. Nodding respectfully to them both she turned to Ammon. “Argent will bring you and your dragon for the first part of our journey, sire.”

Confused, Ammon looked around. “Argent?”

Tashira nodded. “Argent is my dragon.”

Ammon’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You mean she’s coming?”

Theo’s grin slowly melted. “Ah, well…yes, of course! Tashira is the most experienced knight in the group.”

Ammon raised his hands. “What will happen once we reach the other side and engage in battle?”

Theo cleared his throat. “When you go into battle, you be very, very glad that she is on your side.”

Tashira’s voice strained through clenched teeth. “We should reach the last of the fire-mountains and make camp by sundown. We’ll make our first attempt at a flyover in the morning.”