Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) (17 page)

Hesitantly, he called out. “Fulgid? Is that you?”

The old man across the corridor rasped. “Who you talking to boy? Nobody here but you and me…”

Ignoring Shane, Ammon again closed his eyes and listened.

“Ammon? Ammon!
AMMON
!”

He gasped. There was no doubt this time that he had actually heard it! Forming words in his mind, he reached out to Fulgid.

“Fulgid run! Escape!”

He waited, listening.

A sudden searing pain drove deep into his chest and knocked the breath out of him. Clutching his shirt, he rolled over on the floor groaning in intense pain. It felt as if his very skin was being stripped from his body layer by layer. It spread across his arms and legs and across every part of his body until he howled in agony. Then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. He lay on the cold stone sobbing and gasping for breath.

Dimly he was aware of Shane shouting to him from his cell but he couldn’t answer. Every ounce of strength he had left he used just to breathe. Tears streamed down his face, and his stomach roiled as he slowly pushed himself to a sitting position and leaned against the wall.

Shane’s voice was near frantic now, and Ammon summoned enough strength to answer.

“I…I’m here. I’m okay…I think.”

Impatiently the old man yelled back. “By my dragons teeth, what is going on over there?”

Ammon shook his head. His brain seemed foggy and a deep ache throbbed in his temples. He took a deep breath and slowly explained what he’d tried to do and what he’d felt. When he was finished the old man snorted.

“Foolish boy, I told you that you can’t force a link! It either is, or it isn’t. As for what just happened, I’d rather not try to guess.”

Ammon rubbed his forehead with his fingers. Whatever happened, it wasn’t something he wanted to try again. “I heard him call my name.”

There was a long pause before Shane spoke.

“Ammon, dragons can’t call you by name. They can share feelings and emotions through the link, and sometimes they may do what you want or sense what you need, but they cannot talk.”

Irritated, Ammon looked around the tiny confines of his cell. He didn’t care what Shane said, he knew he had heard that voice! Arguing was pointless; how could you prove what happened inside your head? Anyway, it was about time he looked for a way out of there somehow. In the faint light he could see the windowless walls were made of heavy stone, and the door was constructed of thick timbers strapped with iron. He got to his feet and started to pace, his agitation growing. He needed…something! Something that was outside his cell. It was close, he could feel it. He paced the length of the cell as the feeling turned to desperation. He had to get to it, he had to!

An earsplitting crash and a bloodcurdling scream echoed down the corridor, and still he paced. Need! In mid-stride he suddenly stopped and turned toward the cell door. That desperate need and desire, what he had to have was there! The door blew into splinters sending shards of wood and twisted iron into the cell. In the middle of the maelstrom was Fulgid.

Even in the dim light the brilliant gold scales glittered like the noonday sun, and his glowing eyes flashed white like molten steel. Razor sharp fangs glistened from his open mouth as he stalked into the room like a lion hunting its prey. Ammon had never seen Fulgid look so horribly terrifying before, and yet he was unafraid. It was Fulgid, and he was alive! He rushed forward to him and was immediately thrown to the floor. Snarling, Fulgid stood on his chest, pinning back his shoulders with sharp claws.

Stunned Ammon stammered. “Fulgid…It’s me! Ammon!”

His heart beat against his chest and he scarcely dared to breathe as Fulgid lowered his head until his nose touched Ammon’s cheek. With a faint snort, the dragon lay down on top of Ammon and pushed his head close to Ammon’s face and…sighed. The fierce white glow in his eyes faded to amber.

Ammon threw his arms around Fulgid and hugged him. Loose scales moved beneath his hands and rattled when he touched them. Shane shouted from his cell across the hall.

“Ammon? Are you all right? What is going on over there?”

Ammon smiled down at the dragon clinging to the front of his leather shirt and got to his feet. Carefully he stepped over the broken door and crossed the corridor. A thick iron lock hung from Shane’s door and he pulled on it uselessly.

“I’ll have you out in a moment Shane!”

He hurried up the hall and cautiously peered around the corner and saw a pair of boots lying beside the guards’ station. Swallowing hard, he walked towards them to see the man they were attached too. Unmoving, the guard lay face down as a dark crimson pool gathering beneath him.

He looked away. He didn’t want to know if the man were alive or dead; the very thought sickened his stomach. He reached over the desk and pulled a large set of keys from the hook and rushed back to Shane’s cell. Fumbling, he tried each key in the lock until it popped open. He dropped it to the floor and pulled the heavy door open.

Blinking, the old man gingerly stepped into the hallway and looked at the remains of Ammon’s cell door, then at Ammon, and then at the dragon clinging to Ammon’s chest. Rubbing his eyes he bent over to look closer at Fulgid and whistled through his teeth.

“Incredible! I never would believe this if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes!”

The sound of distant shouts and a horn blowing snapped him from his stare. “Quickly, lad, we need to get out of here now if we’re to escape!”

They hurried down the hall past the guard station, and through the remains of the door to the main hallway. Wordlessly, Shane directed Ammon through the hall and down a stairway. As they rounded a corner into a wide corridor, the old man pointed towards a set of wide doors.

“
Hurry, in there!”

They burst through the doors into a large kitchen. Fireplaces lined the walls on both sides, and pots and kettles bubbled and boiled over the fires. Four women wearing wide greasy aprons looked up in surprise. One of the cooks, a short, stout woman with gray hair and a round face placed her plump hands on each hip and eyed each of them
suspiciously.

“Well, Knight Shane, I declare it’s been a number of years since I had the pleasure of throwing you out of my kitchen!”

Shoving Ammon ahead, the old man spoke quickly. “No time to chat, Maise, if you were ever loyal to King Erik you’ll let us pass!”

The cook raised an eyebrow. “You know I’m a loyal subject of the king, or was until he died! Now if you’ve caused Tirate grief and he’s set his men after you, then you’re an even better man than I thought! That scoundrel deserves the worst! Isn’t that right girls?” The other three cooks nodded enthusiastically.

“Now if you need to get out of the palace, follow me.” Spinning on her heel, the large woman moved with surprising speed.

She opened a small door in the rear of the kitchen and motioned them inside. “This is where the workmen haul the firewood for the ovens. It leads down to the street below the palace. Go to the inn
at the bottom of the hill called The Silver Dragon and ask to see Kyle the innkeeper. Tell him I sent you. He’ll help you out of the city. Now wait a minute.”

She disappeared into the kitchen and came back a minute later with two warm sacks filled with food and a large empty sackcloth. “You won’t get far with that shiny thing sticking out of your belly!” She wrapped the cloth around Ammon and Fulgid and tied it into place, then stood back to look at her handiwork. “Well, I’d say you look like a rather plump little fellow this way!”

Ammon grinned. Being plump wasn’t something he’d ever been accused of. One of the younger cooks peeked around the corner, smiled and winked at him. Ammon felt his face redden. Maise threw back her head, laughed, and pinched his cheek with a fat thumb and forefinger, then turned to Shane.

“You best take care of this one, with a face like that he’ll get himself into trouble right quick. Reminds me of someone else I knew at his age.” Grabbing Shane by his collar, she gave him a peck on the cheek. “Now off with you. Go, go!”

They fumbled down the dark stairway and pushed open the heavy door that lead into the street below. As they stepped into the sunshine, Shane mumbled under his breath. “Blasted interfering women never let you forget anything!”

Ammon followed Shane to the Silver Dragon Inn and stood hidden in the alleyway while Shane went in to talk to the innkeeper. A moment later he leaned around the corner and motioned him to go to the back of the building. Ammon nodded and hurried down the alley and waited until Shane opened the back door.

Kyle, the innkeeper stuck his head out behind Shane and looked around nervously. “Quickly! Upstairs!”

Ammon climbed the narrow stairwell as fast as his ankle would allow. Kyle unlocked a door on the top floor and led them inside. A balding middle-aged man, the innkeeper was shorter than Ammon, but with wide shoulders and a broad back.

Mopping the sweat from his face, he sat down on a stool in the corner. “Maise sent you to see me? You must be trying to escape Lord Tirate?” he whispered hoarsely.

Ammon nodded. “Yes
we are.”

Shane shot him a fierce warning look and turned to the innkeeper. “We need to get out of the city, quickly and discreetly.”

Kyle tapped his pudgy nose with a thick finger. “It can be done, but you’ll have to wait until after the change of the guard around midnight. Tonight the guard in charge of the East Gate is my nephew Derek. You might have seen him; he used work here at the tavern. Real handy to have around when the drunks get out of hand. He’s nearly the size of a house and bright as a dark cellar.” He chuckled. “He’s a right ugly boy with a face only a dragon could love, but he’s a good-hearted soul. Tirate thought he was one of the mercenaries and hired him as a guard, and Derek took the job for the extra money. Puts on a good act as a toughie but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Shane nodded
impatiently. “As long as he can get us out of the city. We don’t want to cause a commotion.”

“I also have a man for you to meet.” Kyle continued. “You’ll want to talk to him, I’ll wager. I’m sure he’ll be willing to help. In the meantime make yourself at home; you’ll be safe here.”

After the innkeeper left, Ammon unwrapped the sackcloth from around his stomach. Fulgid still clung tightly to his shirt with his eyes closed. Shane leaned closer to have a better look.

Reaching out his hand, he looked up at Ammon. “May I?”

Ammon nodded, and Shane gently stroked the little dragon’s neck as he studied him carefully. “Ammon, how many times has he shed since Hatch?”

Ammon shrugged. “I don’t think he has, why?”

Shane pinched the loose skin on his neck and several scales clinked as they fell to the floor. “See how loose this is? It’s his old skin peeling off. This should’ve shed two or three days after he hatched, and it doesn’t usually happen again until they’re about six months of age. If this is his first shed, it’s a wonder he lived this long. His body would have continued to grow beneath these hard scales. He must have been nearly crushed by his own flesh!”

Ammon scratched Fulgid behind the ear and a few more tiny scales fell to the floor, rattling like coins. “So is that why I felt my own skin was squeezing me? Because of the link?”

Shane nodded. “If a dragon can’t shed, it dies. I’ve known knights that tried cutting the first skin off when this happened to their hatchling, but a simple knife won’t cut through dragon scales. Something must’ve started it for him, something hard!”

Ammon gently pulled Fulgid off the front of his leather shirt and cradled him in his arms belly up. Shiny new scales glistened and sparkled across his belly and a few more old ones fell to the floor. One by one he began peeling them off and placing them in a small pile.

Shane shook his head and smiled. “It’s always good to see a dragon survive its first shed.” He stood up and walked to the window and stared out into the street.

Ammon leaned back in the chair with Fulgid still laying on his lap. It suddenly struck him that his throbbing headache had dulled, and in its place was something different nestled in the back of his mind. Like a tiny transparent bubble, he could feel the fierce determination coming from the little dragon, and he wondered why he hadn’t felt it before. He closed his eyes and gently stroked behind Fulgid’s ear. The bubble rippled as a gentle golden voice whispered from within. “Ammon!”

***

Theo sat quietly in the rear of a tavern sipping water from an ale mug. Since he had arrived the previous day, he had spent most of his time trying to find a set of rooms before he finally settled at The Silver Dragon Inn. Once a favorite gathering place for the King’s Guard, it was now mostly empty but for the occasional traveler. Kyle the innkeeper was a friendly man with an impressive girth and a ready smile who kept the inn clean and neat despite the lack of patrons.

Theo drained the mug and placed it gently on the table. So far, the first part of his plan had gone well. He had already made contact with the palace page that had informed him of King Erik’s escape. The boy would be an invaluable resource and could be his key to getting inside the palace. The page knew who was loyal, and Theo had instructed him to send every one of them to the inn to meet with him. Now he just waited as they trickled in one by one.

Kyle collected the empty mug and wiped the polished table with a rag. “Would you like a tankard of ale?”

Theo shook his head. “No, thank you.”

Kyle shrugged. “I never had much use for it either, but my patrons demand it.” He jerked a fat thumb at the door. “Those louts out there that call themselves the new Guard drink it by the bucket! In my day we were never allowed to touch the stuff or our captain would have broken us down to a street sweeper!”

Theo raised his eyebrows. “You were in the Guard?”

“Aye, I was. A foot soldier in the barbarian war. Caught an arrow in my knee in the Battle of Coulee. Almost killed me and worse, ended my career.”

Theo let out a low whistle. “I’ve read about that one. Why didn’t you stay on? Certainly you could have worked elsewhere for the king?”

The big man sat down heavily beside Theo. “I wanted to be a Dragon Knight. After the injury I was only suitable to sit behind a desk.” He spread his hands and gestured around the room. “This is the closest I’ll ever get to a dragon, so I make the best of it.” A sudden sadness swept over the innkeepers face and he shook his head. “I suppose it’s time to sell this place and move on. Gaul will be no place for an honest man with Tirate as the new king.”

Theo smiled. This was exactly the kind of connections he
needed to make. A retired Guard still loyal to Erik would be a valuable ally. He pulled his knight’s ring from his pocket and slid it across the table. The man’s jaw dropped and he gaped in astonishment. “How did you come by this?”

Theo leaned forward. “How would you like to once again serve King Erik?”

Kyle sadly slid the ring back across the table. “Good King Erik is dead.”

“What if I told you he wasn’t? Would you be interested?”