Dragon Clan #2: Raymer's Story

by LeRoy Clary

  “It’s obvious that a third group of the clan helped you. Someone unknown.” Myron said, softly. “In this area, there are only two families. There are others further away, but they would come to your family or mine for support if they came to help you.”

  The man who was the oldest and could barely walk cleared his throat. All attention turned to him. “I would offer a possibility. Like Camilla, who survived alone for most of her life, suppose there is another. Or a mother and children, with no clan affiliates. They may not even know we exist.”

  His statement stunned them all. Camilla had been an exception, but she was the survivor of an attack by the king’s army and her family slain. She had escaped by accident. But the families had long ago dispersed for safety and remained in contact with the young people moving from one family to another.

  Myron said, “This worries me more than anything else you have said. Unaffiliated members of our clan might bring far more troubles to us. It might be unintentional, but they might more harm.”

  A boy no older than four ran into the group eager to confront the newcomers with his thousand questions. He pulled to a stop in front of Quint, looking up with amazement. When Quint smiled, the boy blurted, “Do you want to see my back?”

  Quint knelt and nodded. The boy spun and pulled his shirt up.

  “Now that is about the best-looking dragon I’ve ever seen.”

  “I’ve never seen it because I can’t see my back,” the boy giggled.

  “Is there a mirror in the village?”

  “I don’t know what that is. Do you want to see my puppy?”

  The warrior who had attended the council was returning, leading two horses while another led the third. Quint told the boy he’d return and play with the puppy, but had to leave. Raymer was struck again at how large Quint was. Next to the boy he was a tree to a shrub, but the difference in size did not scare the boy.

  It would scare any opponent. Raymer looked at the horses, suspicious about the quality of the animals the warrior would select. All were prime animals, two bays, and a chestnut. All mares, with sleek coats and they, almost danced in anticipation of riders. They wore saddles and bridles, and the woman called Robin returned with a sack. She held it out to Quint.

  “Food. Traveling food,” She said.

  A boy just growing a beard, the one they called Brix was carrying a load of clothing in his arms. He paused in front of Raymer. “Clothes. I think they’ll fit. They have to be better than what you have on. We have a few larger men in our village.”

  Raymer tossed his head at Quint. “As big as him?”

  Brix nodded. “Almost.”

  They changed where they stood. To the surprise of all three, the clothing did fit. Ander was easy, of course. He was a normal size. Raymer found his were slightly large, still better than he’d worn in a year. But Quint’s were almost a perfect fit. Raymer glanced around, not seeing anyone to fit the large clothing. I wouldn’t have wanted to have the owner of those snooping around my camp in the middle of the night.

  Stiff, heavy woven green cloth and soft leather made the clothes almost look like uniforms. All were well worn and patched, and all would blend into the background of the high mountains.

  Raymer felt tears of thanks and relief threatening, so to divert the flood, said, “What can you tell us about the way?”

  The warrior pointed east. “You will follow a trail up that valley.”

  “To where?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll catch up with you soon after we get a couple more horses from the high pasture.”

  Raymer said, “I should have figured that out before now.”

  The man turned on his heel and walked away, his temper held in check. Myron said, “He’ll make sure you take the best route, and if need be he’ll protect you.”

  Raymer mounted and said, “I have been headed to this village for a full year. I’ll be back.”

  “Good luck on your mission,” Myron said, and others of the group smiled or nodded. A few other villagers had arrived at the council ring to gawk at the visitors, but most watched from afar, sensing the importance of the meeting.

  Raymer took in the village, again. The homes were sturdy with steep roofs for the heavy winter snows. Stacks of firewood reached the rooflines, and sheep, goats, cows and pigs were in fenced off areas or pens. However, the entire village gave a sense of temporary occupation, a lack of permanence. The homes were little more than huts, and while the area was clean and orderly, there seemed an air about it that said everyone could disappear overnight.

  Ander stood beside the young man Brix, another outsider. Brix looked like he was telling Ander how he’d come to live with the Dragon Clan, but spoke quickly because Quint was mounted and ready to ride. Raymer turned his horse and kicked his heels. The bay responded as if they were old friends, as it leaped ahead and galloped across a meadow and found the trail with little help.

  The valley looked much the same as the other side of the mountain, with the exception the general slope was downward, although there were still many hills. Raymer heard the hooves of the two horses behind and didn’t bother to turn his head. He pushed the horse to maintain a ground-eating pace.

  A good part of the day lay ahead and already his bottom felt sore. Raymer shifted positions and half-stood in the stirrups.

  The man he thought of as a warrior would probably catch up with them soon, and he’d make a comment about how slow they traveled. He urged his horse faster. The animal was fresh and light on its feet. It sprinted ahead.

  Later, rounding a bend in the trail, he found two men waiting. The warrior and a younger man who looked no older than Raymer. As one, they spun their horses and took up positions at the lead.

  Must have taken a shorter trail. The warrior had rolled his eyes when they came into view, letting them know how long he had supposedly been waiting. Well, let him be the first to wish to rest. Raymer shifted his butt in the saddle again. He would not beg to stop.

  The afternoon wore on, the five of them dipping into valleys and pausing long enough to grab a handful of food while the horses drank. Few words were passed between them, but it became clear when they turned off the main trail that the warrior knew a shorter route.

  They camped just after sundown in a grove of cedars. Insects generally do not like cedar or the scent of it, so it was a better selection than it appeared at first glance.

  Raymer hobbled his horse and made the fire, still without speaking. Finally, when all were sitting nearby, he turned to the warrior and asked. “Your name?”

  “Dancer.”

  “You don’t like us?” Raymer asked, expecting a rude response.

  Dancer hesitated as if going to lie and deciding to tell the truth. “I don’t want to like you. Killing friends is harder than those you don’t know.”

  Quint chuckled and faced him. “Killing Ander will be hard in itself because Raymer is sworn to protect him.”

  Dancer said, “And then there is you.”

  “Well, yes, there is that, too,” Quint said, using his soft voice.

  Ander spoke for the first time all afternoon. “Why would you kill us?”

  “To protect the clan.”

  “There are two of you and three of us,” Ander said.

  “That is just to make it fair,” Dancer said, without a trace of humor.

  Raymer glanced at the group after stirring the fire, then turned to the younger guide. “And what is your story?”

  “I’m called Fleet. He’s my father.”

  Raymer turned back to Dancer, “How long to get to Northwood?”

  “Tomorrow. Late.”

  Raymer created a mental map in his mind. The armies sneaking into Northwood had an easier route and shorter distance. However, they wouldn’t travel on fast horses, nor light. They would not want to advertise their presence and lose the advantage of surprise.

  It sounded like a wash. Longer distance and longer to travel on horses against slower travel and a shorter distanc
e. The problem was that if Northwood didn’t have time to organize a defense, they still lost the battle.

  “I want to leave early in the morning. Before daylight.” Raymer said.

  “We’ll leave when I say we will,” Dancer said.

  Raymer stood and kicked dirt on the fire while turning his back to Dancer and his son. Turned away from them, he said, “Then you can try to catch up with us tomorrow and you won’t have any shortcuts to take this time.”

  He watched Quint’s eyes. They would warn him while his back was turned. If either of them made an aggressive movement, he’d leap aside, but none came. These two are supposed to help us. Raymer headed for his rolled blanket.

  Quint stiffened, and his eyes shifted. Raymer heard a footfall behind him and bent quickly at the waist. The boy, Dancer’s son, flew over his shoulder and landed in the dirt. He scrambled to his feet for another charge.

  “Stop!” Dancer was on his feet and looking at his son.

  “He insulted us.”

  “He was right to do so.”

  Raymer gathered his blanket and carried it to a place away from the fire to spend the night. He pulled the blanket up near his chin. Nobody had spoken again. The night seemed cooler than before. He closed his eyes. After riding all day, he needed to rest.

  Raymer woke at a sound of dull thunder. The horses were bucking and rearing. One screamed in terror. Another had already broken free and raced off into the dark. Then another followed it.

  His back had the familiar tingle of a dragon flying overhead, but now it stung like a hundred ants biting him at the same time. Ten paces away, in a clearing, pranced a dragon folding its wings and looking directly at him.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Raymer stumbled to his knees, ignoring the stinging pains on his back. Except for a stray thought where he wondered if being close to him made the dragon feel a stinging sensation similar to his.

  “Any idea what it’s doing?” Quint asked softly as he looked at Raymer and stood slowly, looking ready to flee.

  Dancer remained lying down and said, “It’s not from around here.”

  “The dragon?” Raymer asked.

  “I know all of them from the slopes of Bear Mountain. This one must be from your Raging Mountains.” Dancer said.

  “What do I do?” Raymer asked.

  Ander had backed to the edge of the clearing, one slow step at a time. Then the dragon leaned forward and the neck stretched out until the face of the dragon was so close Ander could have reached out and touched the snout. Instead, he froze, not even drawing breath.

  Raymer turned to Dancer, “Does your back hurt?”

  “It itches in warning.”

  “Mine hurts. Really hurts.” Raymer said. “It feels like fire.”

  In the dim light, Dancer appeared upset. He said, “You have bonded?”

  “I have no idea of what that means, but I’ve never been this close to a dragon,” Raymer said. “So the answer is no.”

  The dragon finished inspecting Ander, who stood as still as the trees behind him. It turned to the boy, Fleet. After a sniff or two, it swung its head and smelled Dancer, then Quint. Then it swung its great head to Raymer.

  One sniff and the entire body of the dragon shifted. It tensed and drew back, giving the impression of a cobra ready to strike. Raymer’s knees went weak as he anticipated the dragon spitting at him. Instead, it leaned forward and sniffed again. Then it reared back and screeched so loud all five men covered their ears.

  The pain on Raymer’s back dissipated as if it was morning fog evaporating with the sun. The dragon’s head returned to face Raymer again, this time, the tongue flicked out several times before it sniffed him again.

  Quint had eased away, too. He said, “What’s it doing?”

  “I don’t know,” Raymer said in a soft, even voice so he didn’t upset the animal.

  “Talk to it,” Dancer suggested.

  It was not the worst idea if there had been another to contrast with it. Raymer felt sweat break out on his body, and his hands started to tremble. Another horse freed itself and ran into the darkness. The dragon smelled like the dungeon, dank and wet, and of death.

  “How are you doing, boy?” His voice sounded raspy and scared, although he tried to speak softly and with friendliness. At the first words, the dragon moved one step closer and placed the snout so close Raymer could smell the exhaled breath of the nostrils. He could also smell more of the rank and putrid smells of rotting flesh from past meals.

  “Why’d you come to see me, boy?” On impulse, Raymer reached out and placed his hand on the nose of the dragon as if introducing himself to a horse. He stroked it. He expected to feel a hard surface, but instead the snout felt soft. Warmth flowed over him like a soft blanket filled with goose down on a cold night. The dragon shivered, its eyes never leaving him.

  “Is it safe?” Ander asked from the depths of shade fifty paces away.

  Raymer glanced around and didn’t see Quint. Dancer and Fleet stood near the camp fire, beside each other, as if fascinated instead of scared. Raymer allowed his hand to drop to his side. The dragon leaned closer and nudged him in his chest. He placed his hand back on the muzzle, or snout, again, speaking softly and rubbing.

  Dancer said, “I’ve never seen or heard of anything like this.”

  “The pain on my back is gone. Now it feels warm and almost happy, like when a puppy licks me.”

  “Mine still tingles like normal,” Dancer said, and his son nodded he felt the same.

  Raymer said, “I’m not sure, but I think I can feel its emotions. It’s both happy and fearful.”

  Dancer moved forward and placed his hand on the side of the dragon’s head and gave it a few soft pats. The dragon didn’t acknowledge him but didn’t resist.

  Quint moved closer, and the dragon’s posture stiffened. It moved to place itself between Quint and Raymer in a protective action a sheepdog might make to defend its flock.

  Quint eased back a few steps back and said nothing.

  Dancer said, “Fleet, come here.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Just a few steps. We need to see his reaction.”

  “What if his reaction is to eat me?”

  Raymer said, “You don’t have to, Fleet.”

  The boy took a guilty look at his father and then took a tentative step ahead. “If I don’t, I’ll regret it the rest of my life. This is the first dragon I’ve ever been close to.” He took another step, then another. Finally, he stood beside his father and stroked the dragon’s neck with long, careful motions.

  “Ander, you’re next,” Raymer said.

  Instead of protesting, Ander stepped confidently ahead and walked in their direction. The Dragon instantly came alert and drew his head back in preparation to attack. Ander wisely halted and then slowly retreated, holding his hands up for protection.

  Dancer said, “The dragon will allow the clan to approach, but no other.”

  Raymer had heard tales too, but nothing like what he was witnessing. They needed to discuss what it might mean. He gave the dragon one last look. Fly away.

  The dragon balked, but from his physical reaction he had heard and understood Raymer’s mental request. Raymer made it a stronger mental order. Fly away, now.

  The wings extended, and it turned to face away from them, down the side of the hill. It took a few running steps and then it flapped its wings harder and raised itself into the night sky and disappeared with a heavy rustle of leather wings.

  Raymer turned to Dancer. “You used a word I don’t understand. What does ‘bonded’ mean?”

  Dancer retreated a step before answering, awe or fear twisting his face. “There are tales of men and dragons who are one in their minds. They share ideas and thoughts.”

  “How is that different from you calling down a dragon?” Raymer snapped, uneasy at the explanation.

  “In times of danger, I might be able to call on a dragon to protect me. It might or might not obey.�
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  Raymer allowed the ideas to spin in his head before deciding on his next question, and at the last instant changing it to statements. “I have never met this dragon before today. We do not share our thoughts.”

  Dancer stood firm. He held Raymer’s gaze with one of his own before speaking. “Did you order it to fly away?”

  How would he know that? “Why do you ask?”

  Dancer said, “I’m just wondering why the dragon would land here at this time, this place. Dragons protect us, the same as we protect them and their chicks when they nest. Did it come to protect us?”

  Quint, who had been unusually quiet during the entire episode walked closer to them from the edge of the trees and said, “I’m going out there for a look-see.”

  “You believe what he’s saying?” Raymer asked, astonished that a man so grounded in basics would fall for Dancer’s words.

  Quint had already traveled a few steps out of sight in the dim light. He called softly, “Can we take a chance it was not a warning? Go back to sleep and I’ll return by daybreak.”

  Ander sat and looked from one to another as if trying to decide what to believe and what not to. “Any chance of getting the horses back?”

  Both Fleet and Dancer shook their heads and sat on their blankets in unison as if rehearsed. “By now they’re halfway back to their pasture.

  Raymer continued to stand and think. He paced the campsite several times and the others waited, letting him gather his thoughts.

  He came to Dancer and sat, facing him. “There’s a lot I do not understand, but I’m usually pretty good at taking bits of information and putting them together in the right way. This time, I’m missing something.”

  “How so?” Dancer asked, sounding interested instead of defensive.

  “My escape plan was to ask a dragon to spit on the bars of the dungeon. Quint had scrapped mortar with lime in it too, so we could cover ourselves and make it safe for us to get out with only a few burns.”