DRAGON!: Book One: Stealing the egg.

by LeRoy Clary

  Seth escorted them outside and led them across a pasture, leading the way down a twisting dirt path past a small flock of sheep to a lone mule munching grass. It eyed them warily as they walked past. The small path entered a stand of willows, and the ground fell away as they neared the river. Two rowboats lay bottoms up, one older but looking serviceable.

  Wordlessly, they rolled both and slid them into the edge of the water. Seth said, “Good luck to you, both. I have some fish to catch upstream and hopefully nobody steals my other boat while I’m away.”

  Grinning, Tom shook his hand and climbed into the other boat and set the oars into the locks, taking the seat in the middle. Gareth pushed off and leaped into the stern with only one foot getting wet. He settled himself and turned to wave, surprised that the current and a couple of sweeps of the oars had already moved them so far.

  Seth stood and watched from the bank. He returned a wave then pushed his boat into the water.

  Rounded rocks protruded above the surface of the shallow river near the shore and Tom easily navigated around most of them. At the center of the river, the current flowed faster in the deeper channel. With Tom’s skillful rowing, the boat surged along at a speed Gareth estimated would be about the same as a slow runner on land. If the dogs and bounty hunters were going to catch them, they had better be prepared to run for the next two days. He let out a breath of relief for the first time in what felt like days.

  Gareth took the time to examine the river and forest. One glance in Tom’s direction said that despite his change of clothing, haircut, and lack of beard, he was worn out. “Want me to row? I know you’re tired.”

  Tom snorted, almost a laugh. “The current’s doing all the work. I just keep the boat centered, but later on, you can take the oars for a spell.”

  “Irene and Seth won’t be in trouble for helping us, will they?”

  “Not if they stick to their story, which they will. It’s perfectly reasonable for him to be out fishing. You and me stole his old boat. The bounty hunters already know we’re heading for Drakesport, so it’s something they would expect of us. The dogs following us will sniff around the farm and find we were at the house, but not why. Just natural for us to scout around before we stole the boat.”

  “Tom, they were so nice to us. We should have made them take that silver coin.”

  “They wanted to help. Can’t make a person do something they don’t want to. It’d be insulting to try.”

  “Still, I’d feel better.”

  “That’s because you have the right instincts, but don’t know how to put them to use, yet. You’ll learn. But, if’n it makes you feel any better I left two silvers on the seat of my chair while Irene cut my hair. She’ll find them soon enough.”

  That was the right thing to do. Maybe I’m learning, after all. “Tom, I have something to confess.”

  Tom had the boat in the middle of the river, with about fifty feet of water on either side. He sat in his seat so he faced the bow and rowed by pushing the oars forward, a position favored by many seamen, he told Gareth. Sitting that way, he could see ahead without craning his neck and he allowed the current to carry them. He watched Gareth with eyes as cold as the chill in the air. “Out with it.”

  “I felt the egg move. The first time it did I thought it was a mistake, but it moved again when we were eating.”

  Tom stroked the oars a few more times. “Then we have to hurry. The army buys eggs. Not empty shells.”

  “I’m not sure what to do, or if there’s anything I should do.”

  “Keep it warm as you can, and we go from there. What else is there?”

  The mid-day sun felt comfortable and his belly full. As tired as Gareth had been earlier, he suddenly felt more so. “Can I sleep for a while before I row?”

  “I used to have a young crewman just like you. Every time I got him out on the water, he went to sleep. My fishing boat was like a cradle, and he was a babe.”

  “We were up all night!”

  Tom broke a smile. “You’re the laziest boy I’ve met in a long while. Tell you what, slip over the side and wash yourself good with this soap.” He pulled the rough-cut bar from his pocket. “Irene was right. Maybe make it harder for the dogs to follow and we can use all the help we can find, such as it is. The sun’ll warm you while you dry. I’ll go next. You can get a bit of sleep and then you can take over rowing for me. Now be quiet. Got some thinking to do.”

  Later, smelling of strong soap, Gareth smiled as he curled his damp body onto the seat and let the motion of the rowboat lull him to sleep. Things were going to work out. Tom would figure out what to do.

  He woke with a start. A sharp movement came from inside the shell of the egg. The bag was next to his stomach. Waiting for a second to collect his thoughts, another sharp jolt drew his attention. Gareth looked around in apprehension nearing fear. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, but there was still a lot of daylight left. He turned and glanced at Tom. He appeared even more haggard than earlier, and his head hung so low his chin nearly touched his chest. Gareth asked, “You awake?”

  Tom’s head came up looking startled, and he looked somewhat dazed but nodded.

  “The egg just moved again. You’re tired, so change places with me. I’ll row for a while.”

  “Know how to row?”

  Gareth kept low as he moved to the other seat, forcing Tom to move to the wide seat in the stern. “I’ve been watching you. It looks easy enough.”

  “But you’ve never held an oar, have you?”

  “Come on. The boat is moving itself. You climb back there and rest.”

  Tom settled himself and used one of the rolls of blanket for a pillow propped against the side of the boat. His feet hung over the other side, threatening to dip into the water at any time. “Wake me if you see anything unusual.”

  The old man’s snores immediately set a steady rhythm for rowing. Gareth’s first strokes were far too deep, but he soon realized the mistake. His hands burned from the handles of the oars after only a few strokes. He took fewer strokes and let his grip loosen. The river actually seemed to be doing all the work, so he only had to keep the boat centered and away from rocks and overhanging trees. A pull on an oar now and then kept it floating in the right direction and in the middle of the river.

  He watched the egg which was now lying on the floorboards near his feet, wondering what to do. It moved a few more times, one end expanding while the other contracted, but he left it alone. It scared him. Beneath the leather shell lived a tiny, fierce creature that existed in the nightmares of brave men. His mind played tricks on him. The creature inside the egg continued to move as if testing the limits of the strength in the shell.

  The afternoon turned to early evening, and he considered unrolling the other blanket and wrapping himself in it for warmth against the night chill. He also needed food. The problem was that the food was rolled in the blanket Tom rested on. Movement would wake Tom, and he needed rest more than Gareth needed food or blanket. He pulled the left oar to center the boat again and decided he should have pulled the other oar because the boat almost spun. He corrected his mistake and watched closer to ensure the boat stayed centered.

  A muffled chirp of a screech sounded near his feet. It drew his total attention. Then another sounded. Louder, more piercing and even frightening. His eyes focused on the leather bag on the floor of the boat. He saw furious movement inside the bag and shell. Much more movement than ever before.

  Gareth tentatively pulled the flap back and peered inside.

  A tiny, serpentine head with wide red eyes peered back.

  A dragon.

  It emitted another screech and then reached down and tore away a portion of shell clinging to its hide. It climbed partially out of the jagged hole and became stuck. It shook and twisted forcing its small body out of the broken shell, whining the whole time. Smaller than a young chicken, it already looked too large to fit back inside the eggshell.

  The tiny dragon face appe
ared fierce, the tongue flicked out, tasting the world for the first time. It was a miniature version of the dragon mother that had carried him over the mountains. Its large red eyes glinted, and a sickening odor made Gareth pull away in hopes of finding fresh air.

  Gareth reached down and flicked the flap back over the dragon.

  It scampered partly out from the bag, its attention focused only on Gareth. It looked at him and turned the tiny head from side to side, eyes fixed as the tongue darted in and out. It pulled lips back to display an impressive row of tiny jagged teeth. Then it cooed a soft gurgling noise and scrambled the rest of the way out of the bag. Gareth grabbed the bag and tossed it back over the ugly dragon, then shoved the bag, including the dragon, further away with his foot. No, you can’t push it where Tom’s sleeping. It might bite him. He grabbed the strap and pulled it closer again just as the tiny black beast crawled from the bag to the bottom of the boat and stretched as leisurely as if it had done it a hundred times, never looking away from Gareth.

  The leathery skin looked dank and wet. The red eyes stayed focused on his. Sniffing continually the nose wrinkled, and leaned closer to smell Gareth’s ankle. It spread tiny black bat wings and shivered. It cooed again, sounding lonely and scared, never looking away from him.

  Can baby dragons spit acid? Gareth pulled further away.

  Gareth watched it instead of the river, and when he lifted his eyes for a quick check to make sure the boat was centered in the river, the dragon darted forward and leaped. It landed on Gareth’s knee and clung with tiny claws digging in like needles. Gareth sat as still as possible, although he wanted to dive over the side of the boat and drown the ugly beast.

  It clung to him and sniffed a few more times, the tongue darting in and out. Gareth ignored the claws and tried to keep his face away from where the dragon might spit. When the dragon shifted its head to one side, he moved his to the other. The more he turned and twisted, the more the dragon moved to remain face to face. One quick shove and it would go over the side of the boat and into the water. Can dragons swim?

  Then it reared its head back and emitted another scream, louder and more insistent. The tiny claws dug in. Gareth wasn’t sure he could dislodge it if he tried. He clung to his chest, now. At every opportunity, it climbed a little higher.

  Gareth blew in the small face to keep it away from his chin, as he dropped his hold on the oars. Only the oarlocks kept them in the boat.

  The dragon pulled away and stared at Gareth. It emitted a soft coo that eventually rose to a shrill scream.

  Gareth placed both hands on the dragon and tried to gently pull if free of his clothing, but the thing clung to him with surprising strength. Gareth tugged harder.

  The dragon threw its head back and let out a screech like a cat that had its tail caught in the door. Gareth half stood, the dragon still clinging to him and drawing in another lung full of air, probably for another shriek.

  “I think it’s trying to tell you it’s hungry,” Tom said softly. “And since you’re his mother it’s your duty to feed it.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Mother? Me?” Gareth’s eyes locked on the ugly beast of a dragon clinging to his shirt with claws as sharp as needles piercing his skin.

  Tom watched, a smile threatening to spread, as if this was something he saw and enjoyed, daily. “Reminds me of baby ducks. The first creature they see becomes their mother-for-life. They’ll follow that ‘mother’ around like it’s the true mother, and they never change their minds about who she is. I’ve heard of them following men, dogs, geese, and once a sow.”

  “I’m not this thing’s mother!” Gareth lifted the dragon gently with both hands and placed the dragon on the floorboards. The dragon’s skin felt damp and oily. A sniff confirmed the nasty smell was coming from the dragon. He wiped his hands on his pants several times.

  The dragon remained huddled on the floor until Gareth glanced up at Tom. Then it darted back up his leg and settled in his lap, again.

  “I wonder what baby dragons eat,” Tom asked in a calm voice, as he used the back of his hand to unsuccessfully hide a smile before unrolling his blanket. He found a piece of dried meat in the supplies Seth had provided for their travels. The jerky consisted of several large strips of venison. He broke it into smaller pieces and held one out, near the dragon, trying to entice it to eat. The animal screamed in terror, running further up Gareth’s leg and curling into a defensive posture at his waist, the same place where Gareth had carried the egg for days in the bag. It snorted as if trying to spit acid.

  Gareth gingerly placed one hand under the dragon and lifted it from his lap, then sat it on the floorboards of the boat again, careful to keep his hand away from the snout and teeth. Stunned, the chick stayed there for a few heartbeats, then spun and raced up his leg, again. He said, “Listen, we’re not going to do this all night, and you will not shred my thighs with those claws. Make yourself comfortable somewhere else.”

  Tom tossed the strip of dried meat to Gareth. “You’re doing fine. A good mother protects her young. You try feeding it, Mama.”

  Gareth scowled but held the meat near the tiny nose between thumb and forefinger. The dragon looked, sniffed, and sprang too fast for his eyes to follow. The meat was in its mouth. Fast!

  “Be careful with that thing or you’ll be missing fingers,” Tom handed him some more jerky. “Swap seats and let me take the oars while you feed your dragon so it doesn’t try eating me tonight. By the way, you have yourself a fine example of a male black dragon.”

  “There are others?”

  Tom gave him a questioning look before continuing. “Dragons come in reds, grays, and browns. A few whites, too. But blacks are the largest, smartest, and most feared. Even other dragons are scared of them. I’ve never heard of anyone stealing the egg of a black, in fact, I didn’t know any exist. Black males are myths.”

  “There was only one dragon that we ever saw around Dun Mare. So, I thought all of them were black.”

  “No, black females are rare, but males are even rarer. Until you fell from the sky, I’d never even seen a black in all my travels. To be honest, I thought they all died out long ago. I assumed the chick would be one of the other colors.”

  Back at the nest, the night whisperer told Gareth, which egg to take. They insisted he take the larger one. Had they somehow known?

  Once they settled into their new seats in the rowboat, the dragon ate more chunks of dried meat from Gareth’s fingers, never once drawing blood from a fingertip despite snatching each piece so fast the movement couldn’t be tracked with the eye. Then it curled itself up in Gareth’s lap and slept, looking more like a kitten than a vicious black dragon.

  Gareth whispered to Tom, “What are we going to do with this nasty creature? We can’t sell the egg now, I guess. Will the army buy a baby dragon? Or will anybody?”

  “Don’t think you have to speak soft, Mama Gareth. The black looks really sound asleep. But, you should probably wrap the two of you up in a blanket and keep it warm tonight.”

  “I don’t want to sleep with that thing.”

  “Son, you can’t leave newborn babies of any sort out in the night cold to die. I don’t know what we’re gonna do tomorrow, but tonight you have a duty.”

  “I said that I’m not this thing’s mama.”

  Chuckling, Tom took a couple of strokes to center the boat in the river but refrained from speaking.

  Gareth made himself comfortable, turning his back on the old man to avoid more confrontation. He pulled the blanket over himself and drew his knees up, leaving the dragon on the floorboards near his feet. The dragon woke with a start, looked around and found Gareth, then eased closer to him as if stalking prey. It nosed around until it found the edge of the blanket, slipped underneath, where it moved up his leg to Gareth’s middle and curled next to him.

  Gareth felt the first nip of night air chill and allowed the animal stay. The night birds whistled and chirped, owls hooted, and the soft whisper of
the rowboat slipping through the water took the edge off his temper. Eventually, he fell asleep.

  The night whispers soon arrived, soothing and comforting for a change. They immersed him in soft and mellow feelings, almost happy, if happy was the right word, which it was not. But they managed to convey satisfaction with his actions and offered a hint of safety. As they withdrew from his mind, he slept better than in recent memory.

  Tom shook his shoulder. “Nice night and the stars are out. Looks like a few rapids up ahead. Nothing too bad, probably, but you better sit up and help guide me.”

  The gurgling sounds of water rushing over many rocks filled the night air, and as he sat up, the tiny dragon squealed in protest before resettling itself back into his lap. The edge of the blanket still covered most of it. Gareth glanced at Tom to see if he was watching. When he saw Tom focused on the river in front of them, he pulled the blanket over the dragon.

  Ahead were patches of white in the river ahead. As they drew nearer, the water ran faster. Rocks and boulders flash past. Twice Gareth directed Tom to one side of the river to avoid rocks, and once the boat scraped bottom in a shallow section, but they moved quickly and soon entered a far larger river, the water turning sluggish and darker.

  Tom said, “Must be the River John. Care to take the oars and let me catch a few winks?”

  “No problem.” They exchanged seats. Gareth scooped the dragon into the crook of his arm and carried it to the other seat as if he had done so a thousand times.

  Tom said, “Rule number one for any crewman on watch on the water. You wake me for anything that you see. Or anything you think you see. That’s all you have to remember.” He unrolled the other blanket and pulled it over his head forming a hood, and stretched out across the bench seat, feet hanging over the side of the boat threatening to dip into the water.

  The instructions Tom gave were almost like orders issued to a worker. Gareth decided to not object or comment. Tom was tired and needed his rest. Gareth peered into the darkness and found his eyes had adjusted enough to allow him to see the ragged shoreline of the river, and sometimes beyond. The shore was a darker line in the depths of blackness. Stars overhead formed brilliant points of white light. Later he saw the fluttering glint of a yellow light beyond the edge of the river. “Tom, there was a light on the shore. Up ahead.”