DRAGON!: Book One: Stealing the egg.

by LeRoy Clary

  Faring nodded and said between chewing, “Since you came to Dun Mare when you were little, they watch you all the time. I’ve never seen a teacher about unless you’re near, and nobody had ever seen one of them before you came along. At least, that’s what elders in the village say.”

  “Like they’re connected to me?”

  “Listen, all I can say is if I see one of them green robes skulking about, I know you can’t be far off. Chances are, there’s one or two near us right now.”

  Gareth glanced around but didn’t see any. But, Faring’s words held the ring of truth. He took a few heartbeats to think back. “A long time ago, when I slipped and fell into Dead Horse Pond and almost drowned, a teacher rushed out of nowhere, jumped in and rescued me.”

  “See?” Faring said. “That’s what I’m sayin’. They’re always about when you are.”

  “I remember that day clearly. I thought I was alone, and he showed up. Like magic.”

  “Remember when you hurt your leg on the path to the high orchards a few winters ago? You couldn’t walk, and the night was coming on, fast. You’d have frozen up there.”

  “Except a teacher came along and helped me limp back to Odd’s farm,” Gareth said, almost in wonderment. “I guess I’ve been so used to them being around over the years I never spent the time to think about them, instead of just the lessons.”

  Faring tossed the apple core. “You’re supposed to be so smart, but everyone else in the village knows about it.”

  “So you think they’re more than teachers? You think they’re here to protect me?”

  “Seems so.”

  Gareth considered. It made sense. There were others things, too. It had been the teachers who worked out the deal with Odd that provided work on the farm and the hut he lived in. Also, there were the “gifts” he sometimes found at his door. Meat or vegetables. Sometimes fruit, and a maybe even a new shirt if he needed one because of acid holes from dragon spit on the old one. All of these things had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember, and he had accepted them as normal, but they were not. At least, not normal for others. Just him.

  Faring waited, watching his friend think.

  Gareth finally said, “Everyone sees things I don’t. Makes me feel stupid.”

  “Fact is, sometimes you are stupid. Like right now. You’re asking yourself all the wrong questions.”

  Leaning closer, Gareth said, “What would you ask?”

  “I would ask the ‘whys.' That’s what’s really important. Why are they here? Why do they watch you? Why are you so important that teachers come all the way from down-valley to teach you, and why are there probably ten of them here in Dun Mare to watch you all the time? That’s a lot of whys.”

  Abruptly, Gareth stood. “I want to see something in the tannery.”

  “You’ve been in there a hundred times, and don’t like the smell of it.”

  Gareth held out a hand to help the younger boy stand. “Get off your lazy butt and lead the way. This is important.”

  Faring stood, but hesitated. “It’s about that dragon egg again, isn’t it? You hate the stink down there in the tannery, so what other reason is there to go?”

  They walked together, down the well-used path at the edge of the forest and to the unlocked tannery door. The stench increased with each step, but neither commented on it. Once inside the dim interior of the large stone building, Gareth said, “Show me the acid you use to eat the hair off skins, and makes them soft.”

  “In the back.” Faring led the way and pointed outside to stone-lined vats containing thick, dark liquids emitting foul smells, surrounded by hundreds of hairless hides hung to dry in the sun on wood racks and stretcher frames. Some were bare skin on both sides while others still held fur. Faring waved an arm. “The hides with hair on them soak in a mixture of water and ash, then we scrape them clean and stretch them in the sun. The bare leather has been soaked in acid to get the last of the hair off, or to soften it.”

  Gareth took it all in, recognizing horse, cow, sheep, and the skins of other small wild animals trapped in the area on the stretchers. The skins turned his stomach at the death they represented. No matter how hard Odd made him work on the farm, it was a better to grow plants and raise animals than this place of death. He pointed. “After you soak those skins, and the acid softens them, how do you stop the process? I mean, the acid would eat away the whole skin if you did nothing, right?”

  Faring pointed to other vats set in neat rows, each large enough for three or four people to bathe at the same time if they held water.

  “What’s in them?” Gareth said.

  “The first vat in each row is called blue acid. The next has a kind of soda water mixture, usually with ash. The next vat’s a milder acid to soften skins further. Then more soda and water and, of course, a few other things depending on what kind of skin. We just pour the right jars in the right vat with the skins. They clean and soften the hides so the leather doesn’t get too hard and stiff while drying.”

  “How do you know what goes into which vat? I mean there’s a system, right?”

  Faring pointed to splashes of color painted on the stone sides of each vat, then to clay jars neatly lined up on racks standing alongside the building. Each jar had a splash of color matching one on the vats. Some red, some blue, or green, and others brown. Each jar was large enough to weigh as much as a small boy.

  Gareth walked the few steps to the first vat, one with a blue slash of color, and nearly gagged from the putrid stench. “If I place my finger in there, what happens?”

  “It burns like hell while the acid eats your flesh off the bone.”

  “If I put my finger in there and then quickly move it into the next vat?”

  Faring drew a deep breath, obviously understanding where the questions were going. “If your finger’s already hurting from the acid, it’ll still hurt. Soda in the next vat won’t heal nothin’. But, if you get acid on you and splash on some water mixed with soda fast enough, nothing happens. Probably.”

  “Probably?” Gareth reached for a stoneware ladle and carefully scooped some acid, then he peered closely at it. The mixture moved like thick cream. He glanced at his friend and gave him a reassuring smile. Gareth knelt and poured a measure on the flat surface of a dry pave stone. He watched. There was no visible reaction. No hiss or smoke. He looked at the second vat.

  “Don’t do it,” advised Faring.

  Gareth emptied the remainder of the ladle back into the vat containing acid, then moved to the second vat, the one that stilled the action of the acid according to Faring. He ladled another measure and poured the soda mix onto the same pave stone, covering the acid and stirred the two. There was a hint of steam and a slight hiss. A few small bubbles formed, then nothing. He placed his finger near the acid and looked at Faring.

  “It shouldn’t hurt you, Gareth. But who knows?”

  Gareth dipped his index finger and moved to the vat of soda water in one motion. He held his finger above the surface, waiting for the first hint of pain, or, at least, the heated tingling he’d felt at the base of the dragon’s nest when he’d touched the dragon spit.

  Nothing happened.

  “Fool,” whispered Faring.

  Both waited.

  Gareth examined his finger. No redness. No pain.

  “That’s just part of the problem solved,” Faring said. “There’s still a mother dragon who’s goin’ to eat you. No amount of gold’s worth that.”

  “I wonder what your Da will say about that if you hand him enough silver and gold to keep his tannery open.”

  Faring touched the wetness on the pave stone with his index finger to test it himself, and shrugged.

  Gareth said, “We still need to know more about the teachers. When and why they follow me, but I don’t think they’re going to tell me if I ask I’ve been thinking about what you said. The teachers seem to follow me everywhere. Let’s change things up. How about you follow them? See where they go a
nd what they do.”

  “Why follow them? I might as well just follow you, and make it easier on all of us.”

  “Listen to me, Faring. I doubt if they’ll watch to see if they’re followed because they’re too keen doing the following, themselves. I want you to find how many of them are around me at different times of the day. Are they always there? Are there times when I can sneak off without them? If they followed us all the way to the nest, we need to change our plans, or they might try to prevent me from going, again.”

  “You think they allowed you go to the nest the first time. Why did we get away with it?” Faring said.

  “We took them by surprise. By the time they figured out where we were going, we were already there, and the dragon flying overhead must have kept them standing still to avoid being seen by it while we went higher to the nest. They’ll make sure it doesn't happen again.”

  “If too many of the teachers are following you, you’ll have to quit this crazy egg stealing idea, I’m thinking. So, I’ll do it.”

  “Deal,” Gareth grinned and spit in his palm to shake on it.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Two days later, Gareth headed for the tannery, again. He timed his arrival for well after the regular workers had departed. Fairing, as the youngest worker in the tannery, performed the cleaning chores and usually left much later. Gareth would meet with him at their normal meeting place under the sour apple tree. However, when Faring didn’t emerge at his regular time, Gareth stood and walked down the hillside. Holding his breath, he entered the barn-like stone structure of the main building.

  The dim light inside revealed Faring sweeping the age-darkened wood floors with a straw broom. Faring glanced at him and turned his head back down to continue working. Gareth said, “You’re working later than normal.”

  “Da needs me to do extra these days. He let Mr. John go.”

  “Mr. John’s always been a good worker, hasn’t he?”

  “We don’t have the money to pay him.”

  Gareth shook his head and said, “It must really be getting tough to make ends meet. Your Da’s always paid fair wages for a day’s work.”

  “That he has, but you can’t pay what you don’t have.”

  Faring’s tone sounded sour. A change of subject seemed called for. “Listen, when you followed the teachers, what did they do after I went into my hut at night?”

  “That again?” Faring’s voice now sounding flat and unemotional as he pushed the broom in a listless manner, eyes averted. Finally, as if deciding to speak on the subject, he paused. “Sometimes they went to the village and stayed in rooms at the inn. Other times they slept in barns or in spare rooms on farms. Never at Odd’s farm because he don’t like them.”

  “None stayed near my hut and watched me all night?”

  “No. Why would they?”

  Gareth smiled. “So I couldn’t sneak out and take the supplies we need up the mountain to the dragon nest.”

  Faring ignored the smile and shook his head. “You don’t need me to go back up there with you.”

  “I can carry all my supplies there by myself if I have to, but it’ll take extra trips,” Gareth said, looking away from Faring’s pleading face. In a softer tone, he said, “I can really use your help.”

  “I don’t want any part of your craziness.”

  “Half the profits are yours.” Gareth moved closer, flashing a wide smile of encouragement.

  Faring pushed his broom faster as if trying to escape. “More like, I’m half the meal for that dragon. No. You go ahead and take what you want from the tannery. I won’t tell on you, but I won’t help you more than that. Get one of the older boys in the village, someone strong and stupid who’ll risk his life for a few coins.”

  “I don’t trust any of them. Besides, this is how you and I can get rich. It’s our deal.” Gareth used in his most convincing manner.

  He started to go on, using other arguments but paused. He had mentioned the night whispers to Faring only once and didn’t plan to again. If word of the warnings leaked it would be twice as hard to escape from the teachers, if at all possible. Lately, Faring acted too stressed to trust in that manner. He was two or three years younger than Gareth, so should feel no heavy responsibility at his age, but with the problems at the tannery he was not his old self.

  Gareth turned and examined the wall shelves neatly lined with the jars of acid, soda solution, and others powders and liquids. Heavy leather aprons and equally heavy gloves hung from large pegs on the wall. At the farm, Odd had a large coil of strong hemp rope in the barn. His plan came together in an instant.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what. I’ll pay you to help me carry supplies up the hill to the top of the cliffs above the nest. I can manage the rest on my own.”

  Faring paused and leaned on the broom handle while shaking his head. “I never told you this. After we were trapped under the dragon’s nest that day, my mind fills up with visions of angry dragons at night, every night. I see that ugly dragon flying along and carrying my headless body in her mouth like she did with that deer.”

  “Then, how do you know it’s you if there’s no head?” Gareth laughed.

  “I recognize my big feet,” Faring snapped, a smile threatening to break out, then failing.

  “I’m sorry, it’s no joke. Listen, we’ll talk again in a few days. Right now, I’ve got some serious thinking and planning to do.” Gareth hurried off, careful to follow the usual path to his hut, at his usual pace, but as he rounded the first wide bend and was shielded by the forest to any following, he stepped into the depths of deep shadow under a tree and waited. He’d made many similar moves in the last few days. Within fifty heartbeats, a pair of teachers wearing their green robes appeared, silently traveling the exact same route.

  Faring was right. They were always nearby. Following. Watching. Observing, but not interfering unless he was in danger or they were instructing him. The two noticed him standing in the shadows and floated to a stop, together as one, a few dozen paces away. Gareth locked eyes with the nearest. The other seemed not to see him, his focus far off.

  Gareth still felt uneasy, as if more eyes watched him. Before speaking he let his gaze roam around, exploring and penetrating each shadow of the dense woods, every tree trunk, and shrub. Deeper in the forest a vague outline revealed another robed man standing perfectly still, almost invisible unless someone looked directly at him. Gareth continued his examination and located a fourth teacher standing motionless near the edge of the path, partially concealed by a tall stump covered in blackberry vines.

  There could be more. But at least four of them watched him all the time, these days. Probably because they had become suspicious of his actions after the first trip to the nest. They would protect him against his own will. Had they always watched his actions this closely? He didn’t know, but his plans to steal the egg must change, and he would have to evade them. He chose the teacher standing alone on the path. He looked like every other teacher Gareth had known. Gareth walked aggressively in that direction, half expecting the teacher to flee at his swift approach, although none had ever done so. As he neared, Gareth said in a calm voice, “I want to speak with you.”

  “As you will.” The formal voice was barely more than a whisper, yet carried as if a shout. The eyes of the teacher settled on Gareth, and under the shaved eyebrows he hardly blinked. The effect unnerved most, but Gareth was used to it.

  “Do your friends in the woods need to join us?”

  “If you desire, Master Gareth. I will call to them.”

  Gareth shrugged off the offer. He realized in the past that this man had instructed him in history and mathematics, and was one of the most frequent visitors to Odd’s farm. The two who had followed behind Gareth on the path remained immobile a hundred steps away, watching and patiently waiting. The last of them still stood partially hidden and made no attempt to join them. “Teachers follow me everywhere. Why do they do that?”

  “Your safety, as well as the s
afety of others, is our concern.”

  “But, you are primarily concerned with my safety. Right?”

  “We are teachers and followers of our god’s will. We are concerned with the welfare and safety of all.”

  Doubletalk. Be specific. “Yet you only teach me. I have never heard of you teaching others.”

  Silence. They stared at each other. Gareth decided to outlast him and fought his own blinking.

  “Is that a question?”

  “Yes,” Gareth waited while taking, at least, five slow breaths and still not blinking.

  “In that case, your answer is that we teach many students, both near and far. Do you have any other questions for me this day, Master Gareth?”

  “I do. You teachers come and talk to me about things that happened in the past, and the shape of the world and happenings in kingdoms I’ve never heard of. You teach me math, reading and writing, but you don’t teach Faring, or any others living in Dun Mare. My only other question is, why only me?”

  “It is not my decision to determine which students are deemed worthy or necessary to teach. Nor is it my choice of what subjects you are to learn.”

  That’s as good as admitting someone else is in charge of those things. “Who decides them?”

  He spread his limp hands. “I do not personally know them, or their names. I simply follow my calling.”

  “What if I decide not to study with you anymore?”

  “Why would you even threaten such a childish thing, Gareth? You are intelligent, and usually, you ask more questions than we can answer because you are curious, and your mind is quick. It makes no sense for you to threaten to cease learning, and it may be impossible for you to do so. Therefore, I suspect this is a rhetorical question, and you will continue your studies.”