by LeRoy Clary
The dragon pulled away and hissed at him.
“Don’t give me any of that, you’re getting cleaned up.”
It hung its head, looking dejected and sad like a small boy told to pick up his toys.
“You’re reading my mind again, I think. Well, cheer up, a bath’s not that bad, and I’m not mad at you.”
“Snort?”
“That’s right, we’re still friends.”
Instead of snuggling closer, the dragon stood on hind legs and snorted louder, eyes raised to the sky, tiny wings vibrating in irritation.
This time, the gray flew a lot closer, again on a parallel course to the first two times it had flown over. Gareth ignored the spiteful antics of the smaller dragon while watching the other dragon disappear over the far ridge. Odd to see the same dragon flying back and forth three times, each closer to him. It’ll fly right over me soon if this continues.
The idea sent shivers crawling down his back. “It’s searching for me!”
Gareth felt no doubt. Untying the goat, he led it to a new patch of grass under a spreading tree that had plenty of undergrowth all around it. The lower limbs hung close to the ground and from the air, the goat was well hidden. He turned to the black dragon still sitting near the fallen tree, watching the empty sky. Wordlessly he said, “Come over here and stay out of sight.”
The animal spun around and without hesitation, darted in his direction.
A short time later the gray dragon flew over again. Gareth calmed his black with a few words and more stroking.
The next pass took the gray directly overhead. The tiny dragon hissed and snorted softly, but remained reasonably still and hidden. The Gray continued its regular search pattern. Gareth watched it fly three more passes before feeling comfortable in moving into the open again. He decided to find Tom as fast as possible and tell him everything. Already guilt at not sharing information with Tom had caused a rift in their relationship, and he didn’t want it happening again. Withholding secrets could lose him the only friend and supporter in this new land. The old fisherman might know what to do.
“Come on.” He silently ordered the dragon with his mind, as he grabbed the rope and tugged the goat along. The road lay somewhere off to his right, and he trotted down the hillside until he came to a small path that veered in that direction. The goat quickly tired and refused to hurry, more interested in a gathering mouthfuls of knee-high green grass.
The dragon took to leading the trio. While racing ahead, it sniffed and searched for food, snapping at, and catching several grasshoppers and a butterfly. Two field mice also disappeared into the eager mouth. Then it pulled to a stop near the trunk of a large tree, stood on two legs and hissed.
Gareth pulled the goat off the path and under the branches of a huge pine tree, standing next to the trunk while watching the sky. He saw no dragons flying past. He heard nothing of their wings beating the air. The little dragon leaped from the leather bag, spun so fast his feet raised dust, and it disappeared into the underbrush as if being chased.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
An arrow spat into the tree trunk a handbreadth from his head. As Gareth’s eyes registered it, another arrow made the same sound on the other side of his head.
“Don’t you dare move,” a pleasant female voice ordered. “I can put the next one in either of your eyes if I want. But right now I just want you to stand very still and be quiet.”
Gareth had no doubt the archer could “place the next one in either of his eyes,” as threatened. He stood very still.
The goat took the opportunity to munch on some fresh tufts of grass, unconcerned as it watched the two people as if all of them were old friends. The dragon, however, reappeared from some blackberry brambles at the edge of the clearing, stood on its hind legs, wings spread, tail extended fully and teeth bared, ready to spit at the intruder. It inhaled and emitted a low hiss of anger. Then the red eyes shifted to the sky before it spit. It became even more agitated, the eyes moving between the archer and the sky as if it didn’t know which to spit at.
The goat backed a step away, its eyes centered on the small angry dragon as if it remembered the earlier attack.
“I’m not moving,” Gareth said what he hoped sounded like a clear voice.
“Neither am I. Those flying dragons up there see movement first, so we stay very still.”
The sound of leather-like wings beating the air drew his attention and as he listened it became louder. Gareth, who had been concentrating on the archer, glanced up in time to see a flash of dull green as a dragon flew past, low and fast. It was the first green dragon he’d seen.
Once the dragon flew on, a figure slowly stepped from nearby brambles bow in hand, another arrow nocked and ready to fly. “Call off your animal, Gareth.”
The dragon was creeping forward, ready to attack the intruder, neck fully extended. “Calm down, Blackie. It’s all right. Come over here beside my leg.”
The dragon hissed one last time. It darted to hide behind him, beady eyes peering at the newcomer from behind his leg with obvious distrust.
Gareth looked at the newcomer, too. The archer wore tall brown boots that rose nearly to her knees, loose pants the color of dirt, and a shirt of patterned greens. The garb blended into the background, nearly making her invisible until she moved. Long brown hair fell to her shoulders framing the sharp-featured face of a woman nearly as tall as he. A woman near middle age, or older, full of confidence in her easy manner.
She said, “Sorry about the dramatics back there, but I didn’t have much time. And I’m something of a show-off. You’re certainly not so much to look at, are you?”
“What’s that mean?” Gareth asked, trying to make his voice sound respectful, and failing as it sounded angry to his ears.
She stepped past him and reached for one of the arrows stuck in the tree. She worked it up and down until the point pulled loose. She examined it before placing it in a quiver hanging from the wide belt around her waist. Her hand went to the next arrow as she said, “I expected to find something special to be the cause all this excitement.” She laughed, “Maybe a man with two heads, or as tall as a tree, not someone barely past childhood. The whole countryside’s up in arms over you like nothing I’ve ever seen or heard of. Soldiers, the Brotherhood, bounty hunters, and even army dragons filling the skies.”
“What did you expect?”
“Sorry, I expected to find more than a beardless young man, a skinny goat, and a hatchling dragon, even if it is a black male unless I’m mistaken.”
“Are you hunting for me so you can earn the reward?”
“No. Friends sent me to find you. There’s a whole platoon of soldiers, and four monks of the Brotherhood waiting for you just over the crest of the next hill. They’re in a stand of oak trees beside the path, and they suspect you’re somewhere nearby. Keep your voice down or they’ll hear us talking and come running. Sorry about showing off with the arrows again, but I couldn’t have you shouting or running away right into their trap when that green dragon was so close. There are too many eyes and ears around here, especially above.”
Gareth didn’t move or say anything. The woman was an expert archer, perhaps a little taller than him, and she wore a knife at her hip the size of a small sword. Her clothing blended into the background of the forest. Everything about her suggested she lived in the forests and made her way without help. She was not afraid to fight. Her confidence showed in her posture and manner. However, her attitude implied she might help him, if only reluctantly.
She stepped closer and placed her palms on his cheeks, holding his head immobile while peering into his eyes. “Yes, you are right, I am here to help and no, it was not my idea. Now, stop thinking all of your thoughts so loud. It’s like you’re shouting. You’re blasting your thoughts everywhere, blocking out those of others, and drawing attention to yourself like never before. I can’t help and block any of them for you if you don’t cooperate.”
Gareth looked into her eyes
, wondering what she was talking about. Had he been captured by a witch or demented woman?
She lowered her hands, stepped back a full step and waited. “Don’t you dare call me a witch.”
Gareth retreated a step, too.
“Can’t you stop doing it? Now any listeners will know I’m with you, and that puts my life in danger. Stop or you might as well just march over the next hill and give yourself up.”
Gareth waited, breath coming in gasps, trying to catch a breath while trying to understand what the woman was talking about. Witch. The word did not pass my lips, but she heard it.
“Did you hear me?”
He shrugged. “I hear your words, but don’t understand anything you said. Your words don’t make sense. Can I put my dragon in his bag, and do you mind if we leave here before those others find us?”
“Yes, put him away. Isn’t that what I told you a while ago?”
No, it was not. She’d ordered him to call it off from attacking her, not put the dragon away, but he didn’t argue. Placing the dragon inside, he held the bag open and noticed that now it squeezed to fit. Delaying, he fumbled with the bag while thinking. If he silently ordered the dragon to attack her, especially if he told the thing she was food, he might overpower her and take her bow. Then what?
“Exactly,” she said, hands on hips in a defiant stance. “Then what? Your little dragon eats me while you do what? Turn yourself into the king’s army and whatever they have planned for you?”
Gareth looked at her in shock and fear. Almost my exact words.
She moved a step closer and said much softer, “Hey, you really don’t know how to shut off your mind, do you?”
“Shut it off?” He felt a flash of fear. It seemed as if it came from her.
“Stop repeating everything.” She looked around, checked the sky to ensure no flying dragons were in sight, and then pointed. “We’ll go that way. Get your goat and hurry up before any more dragons fly overhead. There must be five or six nearby.”
“What about shutting down my mind?”
“We’ll quiet it down shortly. I’ve sent for an herbal mixture that will help.” She spun and walked quickly away, deeper into the forest, in the direction of the road.
Gareth grabbed the halter for the goat and hurried after her, pulling and tugging as he wondered why he’d rush to follow someone who had shot two arrows at him only minutes earlier. If she intended to do him harm she could have already, he reasoned, but there was more to it. She seemed to know things about him that he didn’t, and she acted like she might share more of that information. He needed to know certain things. How could he think something in his mind and she know what it was? What was she so concerned about when she told him to “shut it off”? He could no longer see her and tugged harder for the goat to move faster. The goat balked at the speed.
“Wait up,” he called softly, as he managed to catch sight of her, again.
At a bend in the path, she turned and saw the problem with the goat. She slowed until she could speak without shouting. “Just a little further. We must hurry before they become impatient and come to you, and maybe do something drastic. I’ll do my best to get you to safety.”
The surrounding trees seemed too thin with her words. Unseen eyes peered at him from everywhere. His imagination ran wild. Still, the truth was that watchers could be nearby, and he’d never see them. The forest was mostly oak and other hardwoods, the underbrush not too thick to move through, yet more than enough to conceal an army of watchers. He looked up and realized that every time he could see the open sky, something up there could see him. The ground was undulating, one small hill after another. Often small creeks or streams separated the downhill portion of one from the uphill of the next.
He had not seen a cabin, barn, fence, or other sign of humans for a full day. Then he thought of Tom with mixed feelings. The night whispers could be his imagination, but they warned him of danger and had mentioned Tom, and so far had been accurate. Tom had done him no harm, in fact, without Tom he would certainly be the captive of those chasing him. “I have a friend on the road over there,” he pointed off to his right. “Is he in danger?”
“I traveled that road to get to you. The only person is an old farmer riding in a corn wagon to market.”
“That’s him. Tom. He’s the only reason I’ve managed to get this far.”
She scowled, paused and came to a decision. She turned and took him by his shoulders while looking directly into his eyes, again. “Okay, now you listen to me carefully. Continue walking down this trail until you reach some big rocks the size of your friend’s wagon. At the base of a steep hill on your right, there’s a rock-slide. Go into the rocks at that point, hide and wait. No loud noises, no mental-shouting, and no fires. No angry or excited thinking! Hear me? All you do is sit quietly and wait for me to return. Sleep if you can. I’ll try to send help.”
“You’re going after Tom?”
“Yes, I’ll try. You take a nap. Just think about calm things, Gareth. Picture pretty lakes or flowers. You must stay calm, or you’ll lead your enemies right to you.”
“Tom might not believe you’re here to help him. Tell him a black dragon dropped me into the Dunsmuir Sea. He’ll know what that means and proves I talked to you.”
“I just wish I’d have known who it was on that wagon when I saw him this morning. There’s a full militia checkpoint not far ahead on the road, right in the direction that old mule’s taking him. The army’s holding everyone traveling on the road at there. Gathering them up into a fenced pasture, like a herder with his sheep. No telling how long they’ll keep Tom once they have him. Or what they’ll do if they figure out you were with him.”
“I’ll go by those rocks and wait like you said. Please hurry and bring him back.”
She spun and sprinted away.
The goat paused beside the path as it pulled mouthfuls of fresh green grass, and looked at Gareth with trusting eyes. He wrapped an arm around the neck and pulled it closer and rubbing the space between the eyes. The woman said to think calming thoughts and the goat was better than any lake or flower.
The goat tore another mouth full of grass from the edge of the field. It chewed, eyes centered on Gareth. He tugged the rope, “Yes, we’re going to leave here, so grab another mouthful and don’t look at me like that.”
He adjusted the strap of the bag over his shoulder and knew by the feel that the dragon must have increased its weight by half since hatching. Grasshoppers, butterflies, fish, corn, mice, dried meat, and of course, goat-leg must be exceptional dragon food.
No angry thinking? Lost in thoughts about not thinking, and how to accomplish such a feat, he noticed the trees had thinned even more as he neared a larger hill, and off to the right stood a field of huge rocks like those the woman had described. At the rock-slide, he turned off the path at the base of a hill and wound his way in and around several boulders. He carefully wiped his footprints, and those of the goat, from the dirt path. The action wouldn’t fool an experienced woodsman for a second, but not doing so would be foolish. He continued skirting around large boulders until he was out of sight for anyone walking on the path.
Gareth tied the goat under a huge maple tree where it could reach green, lush grass, but where it was concealed from dragons in the air. He released Blackie, which promptly explored the area looking for food behind rocks, hiding in the grass, and flying in the air. A butterfly flitted too near and disappeared into the jagged tooth maw. A beetle tried escaping and failed. “Don’t go far hunting for food and stay away from my goat.”
The dragon made no promises. Gareth sat with his back against the trunk of a tree and closed his eyes. He made a strong mental image of the goat, stressing the idea of staying away from it, hoping the dragon understood. He then settled in the shade of a type of tree with large leaves with scalloped edges he didn’t recognize. The lowlands grew a lot of types of plants he didn’t recognize.
He rested, his mind calm as it could be unde
r the circumstances. Eyes closed, his thinking centered on the woman who had rescued him. She was obviously accomplished in woodcraft. Her actions were not centered in friendliness. She seemed to be doing someone else’s wishes when it came to him. She was also used to giving orders and acted as if he was expected to obey them. It could be that she had a son his age and was used to ordering him around. She might just be a bossy sort of person.
As his emotions increased with resentment in how she treated him, he realized he needed to relax, as she’d told him to do. He calmed himself, thinking warm thoughts of his time in Dun Mare and the enjoyable times working Odd’s farm. Sara would be worried about him, and he thought of her handing him mugs of cold water, and he missed the closeness of that small action.
The nameless forest woman had confirmed that there were many people searching for him, as unreasonable as that seemed, but he knew it to be true. That implied she drew knowledge from somewhere, and she was not acting on her own, too. Most puzzling, she had warned him not to get angry or excited as he was tempted to do now.
She said not to think angry thoughts. She acted as if she wanted to help him, and said she was going after Tom to return him. Fine, let her bring Tom here and then the two of them could get together and figure out what was really happening, and who the woman was. Tom was far better qualified than he was to sort through all the information and draw conclusions.
The dragon returned to stand a few steps away, a dead brown rabbit in its jaws. It let the animal fall to the ground since it was too large to eat in one bite. It tore off a hunk of the foreleg and chewed, looking up at Gareth with adoring eyes.
The idea of the dragon understanding his thoughts was still unbelievable, let alone the idea that it obeyed him. He saw an opportunity to investigate their relationship further. Earlier it had leaped onto the fallen tree when ordered, but what if it had intended to do that, anyway? He needed to confirm the wordless communication by telling the dragon to do something it didn’t want to do. That was the only way to be sure the dragon’s actions were not a coincidence. Without using words, he said, “Stop eating.”
