Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) (9 page)

Spreading his hands, he broke the silence.

“Well, aren’t you going to invite me in for dinner?”

A long silence filled the cave before the boy nodded. Easing himself to the ground, Boris leaned over and inspected the contents of the boiling pot.

“I’m not sure what you’re making there, but I think it’s starting to burn.”

Wordlessly, Ammon removed the pot from the fire and pushed the wooden spoon into it furiously. As he did Boris noticed the bandages around his leg.

“Now what happened here, lad?”

Ammon pulled his leg away, eyeing him suspiciously. Boris smoothed his moustache with a large callused hand and frowned.

“I’m not gonna hurt you son. Now here, let me take a look at that leg.”

This time Ammon held still, but his blue eyes watched intently.

Boris carefully untied the splints and slowly unwrapped the ankle before letting out a long, low whistle. He’d seen enough injuries to know it was badly sprained, and possibly fractured. It was no wonder the boy had stopped running; it was a miracle he’d made it into the cave. He gently moved the foot back and forth and the boy soundlessly gritted his teeth. He at least had to give the boy some credit, an injury like this would have most men screaming.

He leaned back against the stones and rubbed his forehead in thought. There was no way for the young man to hike out to where Ellis waited, and he was too big to be carried across the rough terrain. There was no easy way to get him out, and even if he could, there was still the problem of the missing hatchling.

“Well, you aren’t going anywhere until that ankle heals a bit. I’ve got a few things back in my saddlebag that’ll help some with the pain and swelling. It’s horrid tasting, but it works.”

The boy stared at him silently as he stood up and dusted himself off.

“I’ll be back before sunset with what we need so don’t try to go anywhere. Not that I think you could anyway.” He crawled out the opening and pushed his way into the brush. Perhaps the hatchling would be there when he got back. It puzzled him that it was not in the cave with the boy. Dragons didn’t like being separated from their link, especially young ones. This didn’t bode well.

***

It was almost dark before he returned with a large pack slung over his shoulder. He dropped it on the cave floor then eased himself down next to it and wiped the sweat from his brow. The boy was still sitting in the same place as when he’d left and there was still no sign of the dragon. Could this tender really have linked somehow? It certainly seemed unlikely. He couldn’t ignore the possibility that this was just another one of Tirate’s schemes to draw him away from the palace, and the boy was paid to run off with some wild story of taking a dragon.

Boris removed a small teapot and two small tin containers from his sack, then filled the pot with his water skin. From one container he carefully measured out a few spoonfuls of black powder into the teapot and placed it over the fire to boil. He opened the other tin and with two fingers removed a glob of dark green paste, which he smeared liberally over Ammon’s ankle. He rewrapped it loosely and placed it gently on the ground. When the tea was ready he poured it into a cup and handed it to Ammon.

“Here, drink this.”

Reluctantly, Ammon took the cup as a strong putrid smell filled the cave. Wrinkling his nose, he looked doubtfully at Boris.

The older man grinned. “Yeah, it doesn’t taste any better than it smells, but it’ll help with the pain.”

Ammon held his breath, took a big mouthful and gagged.

Boris roared with laughter. “Small sips! Small sips!”

Still chuckling, Boris pulled a piece of meat from the side of the cooked pheasant and leaned back.

“Suppose you tell me a story, boy.” Testing a bite of meat he nodded approvingly as he chewed. “Tell me what happened at the Nest.”

Finally, Ammon spoke. “My name isn’t boy, it’s Ammon.”

A dangerous glint shone in Boris’ eyes as he looked up from the meat in his hand.

“Alright, Ammon. I am Captain Boris Dejias, knight of the King’s Royal Guard and quite possibly the only friend you have in the world right now. So, now that we have our introductions aside, shall we continue? What happened at the Nest?”

Ammon watched as Boris tore off another piece of meat. As a child living on the streets he’d learned to distrust strangers. On the other hand, this man could have killed him easily several times and no one would have ever known. Why did he want to know what happened at the Nest? If it was Fulgid he was after there was no way Ammon could stop him. He sighed. He had nothing to lose, except the meal the man was devouring.

With a deep breath, he described the events starting with the night of the hatch and how he’d watched through the crack in the door. When he told how Tirate and Calis were still there in the morning and that the egg had hatched in his hands, the expression on Boris’ face was disbelief. But when he described how Fulgid had attacked Tirate he suddenly burst out laughing.

Slapping his knee Boris grinned. “So that’s what happened to his hand!” Shaking his head, he chuckled. “The fool should’ve known better than to try to interfere with a link!” Boris looked up to see the confusion in Ammon’s face. “You don’t know much about dragons do you?”

Ammon shook his head.

“Well, you’ve got a lot to learn, that I can see.”

Boris reached over and refilled Ammon’s cup with more of the foul tea, then poured himself a cup of water from the water skin. He gestured towards Ammon’s foot.

“We’re not going anywhere anytime soon, so I’ll give you a few quick lessons. Dragons form a link moments after they hatch. Mind you, they won’t link to just anyone either. They seem to like men with certain qualities.” Tapping his temple with a thick finger he looked at Ammon. “How’s your headache?”

Ammon’s jaw dropped. “How did you…?”

Boris smiled again. “It’s part of the process and no medicine in the world will help alleviate it. I remember mine like it was yesterday. Thought my head was going to explode. It goes away after awhile.” Rubbing his chin Boris frowned. “What puzzles me is that the egg hatched at all. I’ve never heard of an egg hatching any later than maybe an hour or so after midnight. I’ve read all the dragon books of
Gaul and such a thing has never been mentioned.” He was silent for a moment.

“The dragon is healthy I assume?”

Staring into the fire, Ammon nodded. “Yes. He’s smaller than the other hatchlings I saw but seems perfectly healthy. His gold scales shine so bright in the sun I’m surprised you didn’t see him from the air.” The sound of a tin cup hitting the ground made Ammon look up.

Boris was staring at him hard. “Listen boy, I was just beginning to believe you were telling me the truth! I don’t like liars, and if you want to get out of this situation I’d suggest you start being honest with me!” The force Boris put in his words nearly knocked Ammon over.

“But…I am telling the truth! Why would I lie?”

Standing up, Boris towered over Ammon. “So be it.” He growled. “But remember this, I don’t play games. I
hoped you might be better than that, but maybe I was wrong.”

Leaning over Ammon, he put his face close. “I have been around dragons for longer than you’ve been alive boy. If you think you can lie to me and get away with it, you’d better think again. Now let’s try this one more time and this time I want the…”

A golden flash streaked into the cave striking Boris in the ribs and sending him sprawling face down in the dirt. Growling, Fulgid pounced onto his back and wrapped his jaws around Boris’ neck.

“
NO
Fulgid!
NO
!” Ammon screamed.

The snarling dragon hesitated and looked at Ammon. “Let him go, Fulgid…Please, let him go.”

Reluctantly Fulgid released his grip and, keeping a wary eye on Boris, hopped onto Ammon’s lap and lay down.

Boris pushed himself up onto his knees with a grunt. “So you do have a dragon after all, eh?”

Clapping the dust off his hands he looked up and his eyes widened in shock. The light of the fire reflected off Fulgid’s glittering scales, casting a thousand tiny gold dots that sparkled and shimmered along the walls and ceiling of the cave in a dazzling display. Boris knelt there with his mouth open for several long minutes before he visibly shook himself from his daze. Finally, he jerkily moved back to where he’d been sitting before and eased himself down to the floor, staring at Fulgid.

Faintly he whispered “Gold? Is this truly possible?” He looked at Ammon questioningly. Shaking his head he absently poured himself a cup of the tea he’d given to Ammon. He took a large gulp before realizing what he’d done and started gagging and coughing before he tossed the rest on the ground near the fire.

“My apologies young man. It appears I’m woefully in the wrong, you did indeed tell the truth!”

Several minutes of silence passed before Ammon decided to ask a question.

“Why did you think I lied? About what? I don’t understand…”

Boris looked down and rubbed his palms against his pant legs.

“No, no I don’t suppose you would…it’s just that…well…”

He looked up at Fulgid again, then at Ammon and back at Fulgid. “It’s unheard of! I’ve been teaching Dragonhood for almost twenty years! I’ve read every book ever written on the subject. I know the histories since the building of the Nests over eight hundred years ago and even some of before that…but this? This is…” He trailed off without finishing and stared at Fulgid.

The little dragon stretched out on Ammon’s lap and closed his eyes as if nothing unusual had happened.

Boris leaned forward and whispered. “May I touch him?”

Surprised that he would ask, Ammon nodded and Boris crawled forward to sit beside Ammon. Very slowly he reached out and gingerly touched Fulgid’s back. Smiling, he gently ran his hand down the side of the dragon, feeling the hard smooth scales. Wonder lit up his face.

Softly, Fulgid began to snore and Ammon grinned. “I still don’t understand? What is unheard of?”

Never taking his eyes from the dragon, Boris began to explain. “I don’t understand what has happened here myself. Perhaps it has something to do with his late hatching, which is a definite oddity in itself. All I can tell you is that there are no gold dragons. Never were, either. Dragons are either black or gray and there are no variations in those colors. The blacks are stubborn, but are favored because they usually grow larger and stronger. Grays are more submissive than blacks, but are quick, like lightning. Only once in all the history records we’ve kept since the founding of Gaul was there an exception. A dragon hatched that was both black and gray, split right down the middle. It was also stunted, which is a mutation that is not so uncommon. It died very young, not long after hatching as is typical of that mutation. But that is nothing compared to this! How is his appetite? Is he eating okay?”