by LeRoy Clary
Faring edged a step closer to the teacher, too. “Yes, a strange set of happenings, if you ask me. Almost as if someone, or some group of people, wants me to leave Dun Mare.”
Do not allow this teacher to evade your questions. Gareth said, “Teacher, have you ever lied to me?”
“I am not permitted to lie.”
“Then answer this. Are you trying to separate Faring and me? Is that what this is all about?” Faring asked, his voice cold and sounding far older than his years. “Are you responsible for the tannery failing?”
“Which of your questions do you wish me to answer?” The teacher asked, his voice gentle and soft as the meow of a kitten as he tried to slip away from the real question.
Gareth knew well the many loopholes the teacher could squirm through if asked the wrong questions. Faring was not used to the manner of speaking that obtained answers from teachers. He said, “Teacher, why did the price of tanned leather go down?”
“It is a simple business process, easy to understand. The trading company down-valley offered less for tanned leather than it paid in years past. It was the single buyer for the skins processed at the tannery, and in turn, it sold the skins in large cities.”
“Does this trading company down-valley have new owners, by chance?” Gareth slowly asked. “Say in the last season or two?”
“I believe it does.”
Faring edged closer again, and Gareth held out his arm blocking him from advancing on the teacher. Faring said, “Who would these new owners be?”
“I do not know specific names.”
“Are they teachers? Or do they have any direct connection to teachers?” Gareth asked, his voice low and controlled.
The teacher’s eyes focused on a vacant space behind them instead of making direct contact. His voice was soft as a warm summer breeze. “I believe that may be a correct assumption. They may be related in a fashion.”
Faring’s face reddened even more.
Gareth also looked away. The realization that in some ways he was the reason for the tannery closing and for his friend being sold into servitude stilled his tongue. People had lost their livelihood, and people would go hungry if they did not find work elsewhere. It’s my fault.
The teacher then looked to each of them in turn, his face still and solemn. Almost sad. Wordlessly, he turned and walked away.
CHAPTER FIVE
The sound of footsteps outside his hut alerted Gareth someone was there, but only because he was listening intently for the sound. The crescent moon had already risen, so he doubted it was one of the teachers. They would be snug in their beds, believing him to be also. A soft whistle was the signal he’d been waiting for from Faring, notifying him all was clear after he circled the hut. It finally sounded. Gareth threw back the door and stepped into the crisp night air.
This is it.
Gareth glanced into the hut for the last time. A few worthless trinkets sat on the shelf near the window. An armful of split oak and strips of cedar kindling stood in the wood bin, and a clean bowl with a small chip on the rim held a wooden spoon. He blew out the single candle and eased the door closed.
Faring stood outside carrying another clay jar containing dry soda, smaller than the first Gareth had carried to the hoard hidden on the mountain above the nest.
“You sure about this?” Gareth asked quietly, picking his way up the path and trying to think of all the possible options and problems in stealing the egg and then in getting away. How do you sell a dragon egg and how much do you ask for it? The ideas swirled in his mind at the same time, until everything jumbled. “You don’t have to help me. I know you’re scared.”
Faring didn’t answer for several long seconds, which seemed like hours. When he did, his voice carried anger of a sort Gareth seldom heard. “Your damn teachers bought the trading company that buys our leather. They gave us less and less money for each shipment and charged more for supplies until Da couldn’t continue. They intentionally put us out of business just so they could split you and me up, no matter how many others it hurt.”
“Why’s it so important for them to keep us apart?”
Faring shrugged. As if dismissing the idea, or the desire to talk, he pushed ahead faster, forcing Gareth to do the same to keep up. The narrow path rose through the foothills to a steep rise as they trudged along. Few came this way since the black dragon had built her nest on the cliff as the winter snows melted.
“You’ll be too tired to do anything when we get up there if you don’t slow down,” Gareth said.
“Maybe so, but I want you to know I won’t climb down the damn cliff where the nest is. I won’t get burned black by dragon spit like that grass. And if that ugly dragon eats me I’ll hold it against you forever.”
Gareth chuckled, and the tension between them seemed to float away on the still night air. Their pace slowed to a brisk walk that Gareth would have enjoyed if his breath didn’t come in gasps and his chest didn’t hurt. The higher they climbed, the more scared he became. This is it, he repeated to himself over and over.
Faring had traveled in silence as they climbed the foothills. When they started up the last, and steepest incline of the mountain itself, he abruptly said, “I think they want us apart because with me gone they’ll be the only ones around to put information or ideas into your empty head. They don’t want you to have a mind of your own, listening to me and my ideas. Maybe they blame me for taking you to the dragon’s nest. It doesn't matter. They just keep coming here to Dun Mare year after year and teaching you only what they want you to know. Like they own you.”
The night whispers had hinted at much the same idea. He felt guilty not talking to Faring about them more than the little he’d once shared, but held his tongue anyway. It was always disconcerting to listen to Faring spout his ideas and observations—often they were far in advance of his age. “I don’t understand, either. I’m just a farmer boy.”
“So, you say. But, I’ve been thinking on that, too. My Da says there’s nobody who does things for free in this world. Somebody’s always paying for everything. Who’s paying the teachers for your learning? That brings up another ‘why.’ Why would someone pay for you to learn in the first place? Eight or ten teachers to watch you, every day, at least, four hovering around you at a time. Can’t be cheap. Besides, buying that fur trading company down valley must have cost them a few silvers, too.”
Faring’s right. Somebody’s always paying, and they pay a lot. Who and why? “Do you have any ideas about why?”
“Nope. Doesn’t make a damn lick of sense.”
“You said, damn, again. Your Da frowns on cursing.”
“Things are changing fast around our place. He drinks too much to hear how I talk.”
The path carried them higher into the mountains, up above the maples and oak of the valley to where more pine and fir grew. The smell of the air seemed scented. The heavy underbrush thinned. Their route climbed steep areas where the footing became rocky and unsure. They watched their feet and looked for obstacles on the path instead of talking. Near sunrise, Faring said, “Well, we’re getting close to the top. I guess your stash of supplies is hidden around here?”
Ignoring the question, Gareth found a bare spot of ground covered in pine needles. He fell heavily to the ground and sucked in the air that didn’t seem to be enough to satisfy his demands. “We’re here. Let’s take a rest and talk before it gets light.”
Faring sat and panted. “Talk? I need air to talk.”
“Later this morning the teachers will check on me when I don’t leave my hut. Then they’ll probably rush up here as fast as they can because they won’t find me in my usual places. So, we need to have everything in order and be ready to go at first light.”
Faring leaned closer and said, “Okay, tell me about your stupid plan so I can tell you why it won’t work, and then we can both go home.”
Gareth suppressed his smile. “We watch the dragon fly off for her morning hunt like she’s did every t
ime we saw her. All the tales say dragons do that. The rope will be in place at the top of the peak and tied off to a sturdy tree or boulder. You’ll coat me in soda and water and I’ll wear the apron and gloves. The rope is already coated with soda. I did that a few days ago.”
Faring settled himself, rolling his eyes but listening. He waited, and when Gareth didn’t continue he said, “Oh come on. There must be more.”
“Well, I’ll wrap my feet in rags soaked with soda and water. I brought plenty of rags, and water in jars, and stored them over there,” he jabbed a thumb at a stand of small pines. “Then you lower me down a cliff on the rope. I’ll go fast. I’ll run across the rocks covered with dragon slime wearing the rags soaked in soda protect my feet. Climb in and grab an egg. Run back to the rope and you’ll pull me back up. Down and up before the dragon even eats her breakfast.”
“I take back what I said about your plan,” said Faring. “There is no plan. It’s just stupid ideas one after the other.”
“I intentionally left it simple so it can adjust as we go. Strict plans never work.”
“Great, unless you slip and fall, or the acid eats your skin off, or your shoes. Maybe the dragon returns early and buries you in slime knee high. And you think I can pull you up? I can go on with more bad examples if you want.”
He’s right. Gareth stood and paced, pulling himself together and steeling his nerves. The whole idea seemed doomed now that they were on top of the mountain. Sure, there were plenty of tales of people stealing eggs, but there were also tales of talking rabbits and giants ten feet tall. He had never met anyone in person who had stolen an egg. The old men drinking at the inn loved the attention of other patrons and usually exaggerated their stories or tall tales. I can’t stop now. “Faring, all I really need from you is help by pulling me up. Steady me. Me and the egg.”
“That I can do. But I won’t go down the cliff with you, and if she eats you, I’ll run for home and leave what’s left of you.”
“Just wait at the top with more soda ready to throw on me if I’m acid burned, and help pull me and my egg up. That’s all I ask.”
“You still think we can sell an egg and get gold?”
Gareth nodded, but said, “Yes, I can leave the valley and sell the egg and then get the gold to you. But, just grabbing the egg’s only half the problem. There’s still going to be a dragon that’ll kill anybody she finds around here when she discovers her egg is missing. She is going to be plenty mad. I have to get out of here fast. You just hide and let her search for me. While she’s chasing me, you get away.”
“How about buying a few magic beans from me, too? You want some of those? Because you don’t know beans about dragons.”
Gareth replied, “I don’t know all about dragons, but some of what I’ve heard is sure to be true. I do know she can fly about a hundred times as fast as I can run because I’ve seen her do it.”
“How’re you getting away? All the way down the mountain with her chasing you?”
Gareth laughed softly, “Luck. And speed.”
Faring stuttered. “W-what?”
“Just making a joke. I’ll be gone long before she returns.”
“When that old dragon lands in her nest, and sees an egg’s gone, she’ll smell your scent. Dragons can’t see too good up close, but they can smell. She’s gonna flap those big old wings and go high and start flying around in big circles, looking and sniffing for you. Then she’ll head right for you.”
Gareth drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Faring always had a way of seeing things he didn’t. It had been a mistake not to include him in the planning. The vague plan he worked out now seemed weak and full of holes. Maybe he should put it off and return later. Or never. No, you have to do this. One way or another he would leave Dun Mare today. “I run for the river as fast as possible and wash off as much smell as possible. It’s all downhill. I just need a good head start. When she gets tired of looking for me in a day or two, I take off down the valley and sell the egg.”
“You can’t get rid of that much stink in the river just by washing yourself. Besides, the river is even farther away than the tannery. That’s where you need to head.”
“Why?”
“Two good reasons, and one other reason maybe not so good. First, the place already smells like soda and tanned skins and other smelly chemicals, like you’re gonna smell with soda all over you. What you do is conceal your smell beneath the others.” He held up one finger, and then another. “Second, you can hide inside there. Solid stone walls and slate roof. If you stay under cover inside, even a dragon can’t find you or spit at you without tearing the whole building down.”
“You said there’s a third reason, too.”
“Well, the last is not so good, like I said. It’s sort of like fighting fire with fire. When you get in there, you gather a bunch of mugs and jars around you from the storeroom. Fill them with the acid we left at the bottom of the vats or in any in of the red jars, and if the dragon comes calling, you throw your acid at her before she spits hers at you.”
Gareth nodded in understanding. “Will the acid at the tannery hurt a dragon?”
“Don’t know. Different kind of acid, so I think it might. Anyhow, who’s stupid enough to get close enough to try defeating a dragon in an acid fight besides you?”
“Just me, I guess,” Gareth said, his excitement now tinged with terror. He sat on trembling hands. “I like your plan better than mine. It’s a long way back to the tannery, but it's downhill, and if I run the whole way, maybe I’ll make it.”
“As for me, I think your chances are about the same as free ale being refused by thirsty drunks. I’m saying you’re goin’ to get ate. Give up this stupid idea while you can.”
The sky glowed a little brighter to the east. Gareth noticed and stood. “Let’s get into position. No talking from here on.”
Crawling, they covered the last few hundred paces, while keeping a careful eye on the sky in case she flew early. They tied an end of the rope to a gnarled cedar, using double the usual number of knots. Leaning over the edge, they could clearly see the nest below, and dragon sleeping in it, her head tucked near her foreleg. They returned to the cache and carried the soda, rags, gloves, apron, and leather shoulder bag to the top. As the sky pinked, the dragon woke and screeched her welcome to the day. Shortly after, she took wing.
She flew up the narrow valley where the peaks were white with snow that never melted. She circled once and then disappeared from sight. Her morning meal would probably be a deer, elk, sheep, cow, or moose. She ate three or four large animals a day, so she often had to fly great distances. Hunting near a dragon’s nest rarely yielded game of any size because she had eaten it all.
Gareth quickly wrapped rags around his feet and poured on the soda solution, soaking them thoroughly. He pulled the leather apron around his waist and tied it, then pulled on the stiff gloves. Faring soaked all as he dressed, splashing and spilling in his hurry to finish. Together they walked to the edge of the cliff and tied the rope around Gareth’s waist. He was already planning the path for his descent to reach the rocks near the nest.
Faring splashed more soda onto the gloves and liberally splashed the apron worn in front of Gareth again, as if unsure of how much would keep him safe. Gareth slipped the egg-bag over one shoulder and held a small jar of dry soda in his left hand.
“Go,” Faring whispered, giving Gareth a slap on the back.
Gareth slipped over the edge, using the rope tied around his waist and wrist to help maintain his balance, as he climbed down the jagged rocks as fast as possible. Releasing a foot or two of rope at a time let him descend in small jerks, but retain control. The heavy leather gloves protected his hands from rope burns. When he came to the first splotches of the black slime, he paused long enough to pour more soda and water onto the face of the cliff. It flowed down his planned route, splashing onto the boulders neutralizing a path of thick, black acid directly below. He tentatively placed feet wrappe
d in wet rags on rocks black with dragon spit and waited for any reaction. When none came, he slipped lower.
So far, there had been no acid burn to his feet or hands, but the nest was still distant, and the small container of soda he carried felt nearly half-empty. A glance down at the layer of acid waiting below his racing feet almost petrified him. Drawing deep breaths, his hands relaxed on the rope, and he started slipping down faster, using his feet to keep his balance. Almost a controlled fall, as he reached the level of the nest without hurting himself and scampered over rocks and boulders to a position where he stood beside the massive structure built into the cliff face.
The acid coating the rocks seemed thinner as he neared the nest. When the dragon spit, the evil substance tended to fall far from the nest, or be pushed away by the wind, but little reached directly underneath, or beside.
The nest held his attention. It was a tangle of branches forming a bowl large enough to hold eight or ten men. The nest was constructed of small tree trunks and branches, some nearly as big around as his leg. They were woven as neatly as that of any small bird he’d ever seen. It was built into a split in the face of the granite cliff, clinging there like the nests of swallows in barns around Dun Mare. The workmanship of a beast so large was impressive. Gareth wished he had time to fully admire it ash he hurried.
He slipped the loop at the end of the rope looser and let it slide down around his waist as he climbed over a stout tree at the edge of the nest. Once he had the egg, he intended to signal Faring with a few hard tugs of the rope, who would begin pulling him up. Before reaching the inside of the nest, he had to climb up the outside of it. Above, Faring took up the slack in the rope as he climbed, and the rope tied around his waist might save him if he fell. He tested the knot and tugged on the rope to make sure the acid had not weakened it. He felt a reassuring return tug from his friend.
