Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) (43 page)

Ammon flinched as El suddenly stood up and screeched. “Arrrgh! You really don’t understand do you? We’re married to each other now! Husband and wife! King and queen! It doesn’t matter how you feel, or who you love! We have no choice! The Hall decided our fate and we have to live with it!”

Suddenly her behavior was beginning to make sense to Ammon. El was in love with someone and now, because of the arranged marriage, her dreams were dashed. The thought made him feel strangely sad and empty inside, as if someone was sitting on his chest. Still, she deserved to be happy. There had to be a way she could be released to love whomever she chose.

“El, I…I know a king and queen are married for life, but if I go to Gaul, then you are free to stay here and love whoever you please. I promise I would never interfere or make you do anything you don’t wish to do!”

El stared at him for a long moment, then with a deep sigh, leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Ammon.”

Ammon watched her as she quickly walked out the door. Now he felt more miserable than before.

***

El made it all the way down the hall and into her chambers before she started to cry. Her heart felt like it would burst inside her chest, and the air in the room felt stale, so she stepped out on the balcony that overlooked the southern mountains.

For such a smart, observant man, how could he be so incredibly stupid? She had watched in awe as he commanded the knights during the slug attacks and was amazed as he took over the offices of the kingdom despite his inability to read. Less than an hour ago, he walked into a room filled with over fifteen hundred of the most powerful men in the world and without blinking an eye, calmly informed them that he intended to start a war and intentionally place himself directly in harms way. By refusing help from DoTaria, he deftly manipulated them into volunteering by the hundreds. Despite all that, he had no inkling of what she desired of him! Was it so difficult to understand that she wanted to live her life under her own terms? In this marriage they should choose to be together, not because the Hall forced them to.

She felt her stomach drop into a hollow pit as it suddenly occurred to her that maybe he wasn’t so ignorant. Perhaps he really did know how she felt and he didn’t feel the same? Was there was someone in Gaul and that was the reason he was trying to leave? Her eyes welled up once more.

She stayed locked in her chambers the rest of the day and tried unsuccessfully to force all thoughts of him from her mind. As the evening approached she perched on the balcony rail with her back against the wall and watched the fading sunlight cast long shadows across the city. Workers had cleared much of the brush and trees from the roads and many of the buildings boasted newly thatched roofs. She had lived here all her life and never really thought about how beautiful it was until now.

In the last few rays of sunlight, a brief flash on the streets below caught her eye, and she leaned forward to see what it was. A dark figure quickly moved from the shadows of one building to another, obviously trying to avoid being seen. Following closely behind was a small gold dragon.

She frowned as she watched Ammon’s movements in the fading light. He was obviously heading towards the southern gate, which could only mean he was heading towards the tunnel. His insane plan to slip through some hidden crack to distract an entire army while the dragons and knights cleared the tunnel entrance truly frightened her. It would be too easy for him to be killed, and she seemed to be the only one who recognized the danger. Even so, work on the tunnel wasn’t supposed to begin until tomorrow, and she knew from their descriptions that it took more than an hour to pass through to the other side.

She watched as he slipped around the corner of a building and out of sight. “What are you up to, Ammon?” She bit her lip in disapproval. If he was going to do what she suspected, he was likely going to get himself killed.

***

Ammon waited until after the evening meal before he strolled out of the palace, as if going for a leisurely walk. He knew it was unlikely anyone would question him about the bundle he carried under his arm containing the dark cloak. After all, as king, he could walk the city anytime he chose. He knew what he was about to do was risky, but he had realized after he thought Boris was dead that he couldn’t stand the thought of losing anyone else. The information he would gather tonight would be invaluable despite the danger. Erik was right, war had a price, and he wanted to make sure the cost was as minimal as possible.

His plan was really quite simple. He would slip out the crevice after nightfall and stay hidden in the shadows. Although there were a few dark clouds building up over the mountains, tonight’s full moon should offer enough light to see the layout of Tirate’s defenses. It would take about an hour to estimate the number of men and the locations of the crossbows, then he would return back through the passage. He smiled smugly. With any luck, he’d be back before midnight.

Once outside the palace walls, he camouflaged Fulgid’s gleaming scales with an old sackcloth, then slipped into the growing shadows of the buildings and hurried towards the gate. Fulgid trotted behind him, and as they crossed the sunlit square, he looked back just in time to see Fulgid’s sack slip off. He paused for a moment and tied it securely back into place. He had thought one sack would be enough to cover the little dragon, but it left parts of him exposed. From a distance the brown cloth made Fulgid look like some sort of strange dog except for the golden feet poking out.

Once they passed through the gate, they sprinted into the cover of the trees and began the trek up the hill. It wouldn’t take long to reach the entrance to the tunnel. A path had been cleared through the woods as the mined calentar was brought down to the palace, and the open trail made traveling easy. He slowed to a walk to conserve energy. He didn’t want to be too exhausted to defend himself should something go wrong.

The entrance of the tunnel was lined with rows of glass-covered oil lamps, and at the end was a large pot filled with oil. Further inside was a large lamp with a very small wick that was left alight for lighting the other lamps. Ammon picked up one of the full lamps and held the wick to the tiny flame. A puff of smoke rose as it sputtered to life, and he pushed the protective lens into place and looked down the dark passageway. “Are you ready, Fulgid?” The little dragon paused to swivel his ears and looked curiously back into the woods and then trotted down the tunnel.

The light cast shadows on the stone walls that moved and twisted with the surface of the rock. Only the crunch of gravel under his feet and the click of Fulgid’s claws made any sound as they walked. The oppressive weight of the mountain felt as if it were pressing down on him, and it was a relief when the tunnel opened up into the calentar cavern. Evidence of the recent mining lay about everywhere. Picks, shovels, and wooden wheelbarrows were scattered about, but the amount of crystals still seemed impressive as the lantern’s light bounced and reflected on their surfaces.

One particularly large crystal, the size of a man, lay on its side atop a four-wheeled cart waiting to be pulled out. Ammon ran his hand over the smooth surface in awe. If each dragon needed only a handful a day, once pulverized, this crystal alone would be enough for many months. It was not the largest of the crystals either. Some of the bigger ones were as wide as a large oak tree and reached twenty to thirty feet up to the ceiling. Those crystals would probably last years.

He picked his way across the cavern to the small crevice and placed his lantern on the ground. He would have to make the trip in the dark. Any light seen coming from the hole would instantly give him away, and it would be difficult to carry anyway. He removed his sword from belt and laid it beside the lantern, then followed Fulgid headfirst into the blackness.

As the walls scraped against his back and shoulders, he realized the space felt narrower than before. The months of sword training and better food had built up his muscles noticeably, and it was a little more effort to work his way through the crevice. He squirmed his way down on his belly, and eventually he poked his head out from behind the rock in the face of the wall where their camp had been. Wrapped tightly in his sackcloth, Fulgid was waiting patiently in the dark beside the opening.

The moon lay partially hidden behind thick clouds that swirled past, and a rumble in the distance signaled a coming storm. Light from a multitude of campfires dotted the field where the dragons once resided, and rows of tents glowed from the lanterns within. Ammon silently climbed out the rest of the way from the crevice and pulled his dark cloak over him, careful to stay deep in the shadows.

The nearest tent was more than two hundred feet away and Ammon kept close to the wall where the shadows were darkest. He moved quietly towards the river and the collapsed tunnel exit. As he got closer, he could hear voices drifting over the sounds of the Olog River. He dropped to his hands and knees and crept closer with Fulgid beside him.

Fifteen small campfires arranged in a semi-circle surrounded the tunnel exit. Beside each fire sat several men and at least one of the big crossbows. Beyond them was another, larger semi-circle of fires and the shadows of more crossbows in the distance. Ammon pursed his lips in thought. With that many crossbows they could maintain a steady hail of the thick, spear-sized bolts raining down on the dragons emerging from the tunnel. The diversion he needed to create would have to be huge, big enough for all of the men stationed here to think they were under a major attack from another direction.

Fulgid’s ears suddenly twitched, and he turned to look behind them. Ammon strained his eyes in the dim light but could see nothing. He turned his attention back to the fires and tallied up what he thought was a good approximation of men. Forty crossbows with two men each arranged in two semi-circles around the exit. From where he was, he couldn’t count all the individual tents or fires in the field, so he guessed there were roughly two hundred tents. That number made sense if they kept the crossbows manned round the clock in three shifts. Satisfied that he had gathered enough useful information, he slipped deeper into the shadows and followed the wall back towards the crevice.

Fulgid crept slowly in front of him. His sack covering made a soft, whisking sound as he moved. Several times he paused to listen, his ears quivered uneasily at some unseen threat, and he would wait until it passed before continuing on. They were only a few yards away from the crevice when Fulgid suddenly squeezed himself tight to the wall, and Ammon did the same. A man appeared and walked towards them holding a torch high. Ammon held his breath and instinctively reached for his sword before realizing he’d left it in the cavern. The man veered off behind a pile of large boulders and the torch faded from sight. With a sigh of relief, he again moved forward and bumped into Fulgid.

“C’mon, Fulgid! Let’s get out of here before we have any more close calls!” Fulgid looked back at Ammon, but didn’t move.

The whisper of a familiar voice rose from the darkness in front of him. “Quiet! You’ll get us both killed making that much noise!”

Ammon jumped in surprise and banged his head against the rock wall. “El? What are you doing here?” he hissed.

The voice was filled with irritation. “Trying to keep you from getting killed! Now will you please SHUT UP before someone hears you?”

Angry, Ammon moved past Fulgid towards the voice. “Dragon spit! El, I don’t have time for this right now, we have to…ugggh!”

He was interrupted by a sudden, blinding pain in his right side that took his breath away and with an involuntary moan he fell face first into the dirt. The shadows around him rushed in as he tried to move. “El?”

***

El cursed something she knew was far from ladylike. Even in the faint moonlight she could see the arrow jutting out of Ammon’s chest beneath his right arm. He lay motionless and she quickly placed her hand on his chest to see if she could feel him still breathing. The man with the torch was cautiously peering from behind a boulder some distance and was holding up his torch to see if he’d hit his prey.