Alured had underestimated his sister's passion for money and fine things, however, and she quickly became a thorn in his side. She demanded to see treasury accounts almost daily, with each of the new programs broken down into their various allocations. Luckily for Alured, the treasurer was quick on his feet, always keen to dot his Is and cross his Ts, and the books always added up as well as could be expected in any circumstance, sometimes better than they had before the reallocation.
Slyvania was far from satisfied, but she could not very well accuse them of misappropriating funds if no proof were to be had, despite being convinced of their misdeeds. She bent Commander Locke's ear to her cause and he began questioning the new programs and their effectiveness. Alured and the rest of the council managed to mostly ignore the complaints, however, as the programs were largely effective and the people, especially those in Rona, were currently much happier and better off than they previously had been. Polls from the contentment committee showed that approval of the council was up nearly forty percent since the programs were put in place, despite the increased attacks by the Gypsies. Reports also showed that the attacks were typically only aimed at military installations, which the common folk detested anyway, and this only increased their happiness, as the military was focused on preventing and retaliating against the attacks, rather than abusing the citizens of Layr.
Alured was quite happy with the progress the programs were making, but he could not deny his increased fear of his sister. She was very persistent when she wanted to be, and she clearly knew something else was going on. She could not accuse him outright, but she had a subtle power all her own, and he feared her retaliation. Still, he could not make a preemptive move against her and was forced to wait for her to show her hand.
Chapter 13
Nearly two years had passed since they had arrived at Legh. The lot of them had grown accustomed to the ways of the southern Gypsies and had settled in quite happily.
Ychthorn, having grown tremendously, lounged on top of "The Beast," snout draped lazily over the side, drool dripping frequently onto unsuspecting passers-by.
Bolgor, tanned deeply from hours of practice in the sun, dueled men in the sand pits, mace in hand.
Bellithana, who spent her time honing her abilities in apprenticeship to some of the best magicians in Layr, prepared a scrumptious dinner from the choicest selections available at the year-round market.
Prigol, having sat the nightly watch, slept soundly in his private chambers at the back of the wagon.
Lana, no longer a child of sixteen, hefted the elaborate bow Graol had given her for her eighteenth birthday, took careful aim, drew one deep breath, and loosed the arrow. The missile flew true, as she knew it would, piercing the creature straight through the heart as its limbs flopped helplessly. Malxon cheered and clapped Lana on the back as his daughter ripped the shaft from the beast's chest. Straw spilled to the ground as the cloth ripped.
"Nice shot, little one!" Malxon exclaimed. "You have come a long way since you arrived. Bolgor better watch out. You will usurp his place as guardian in your little group."
The big man winked a dark eye in Lana's direction and she glowed, basking in the praise. After a couple more shots, they packed up and headed to their respective homes for dinner. Lana stopped by the paddock first to make sure Lila, Lola, Lily, and Lolli were well fed and to give them each a large apple she had scored from a vendor in the market.
Picking her way through the crowds, she made her way back to the wagon she called home. It was located in the northern section of the camp, situated in the first of six concentric circles surrounding a fire pit that was about eight feet wide. At the moment, the wagon had taken on the appearance of a lush grassy hill covered in richly colored wildflowers of every sort and the door appeared to be a big stone with a glittery diamond handle. Lana let out a short laugh. Belli's work was getting better; a little over the top sometimes, but better.
Lana reached for the fist-sized diamond and opened the stone. A wall of stench and decay hit her full in the face and she quickly plugged her nose as she walked through the invisible dirt wall. Once inside, she dropped her hand and took a deep breath. Death was replaced by the warm smell of fresh baked bread and apple tarts. The sun shone brightly and a breeze wafted through the open windows. Bolgor came tripping in behind her, gagging.
"Geez, Belli. We still have to get in here, you know," he gasped out.
Belli waltzed out of the small kitchen, jingling all the way. She placed a platter full of small loaves of bread in the middle of the low table and pranced back through the door. They could hear the belled bracelets around her ankles tinkling toward them before they saw her returning with a bowl of hearty beef stew. They gathered around the table, settling themselves on the plush pillows.
As they devoured the savory stew and sopped up the juices with the fluffy bread, they chatted incessantly. The close interaction over the last two years had not, as is often the case, caused friction between the group. Rather, it had pulled them all closer together. With their future trials drawing steadily nearer, each member of the group was reminded of how important the others were soon going to be to them, and it helped strengthen their bonds. Even Prigol, the Hidden who could only be physically seen by Belli and Thorn, had found ways to communicate with the other two, drawing them all into an inseparable community.
After dinner, Lana went to the roof of the wagon and poked Ychthorn until he opened a lazy eye in her direction.
"What?" the sleepy dragon mumbled. "Why must you disturb my beauty sleep?"
"Beauty?!" Lana exclaimed. "Now who's been filling your head with such lies?"
A golden eye narrowed to a slit and Lana found herself soaked in dragon spit after a highly successful attempt at a raspberry. She swatted her friend and asked him if he was hungry.
"Eh, I guess I could be. I didn't eat breakfast after coming off the night watch." The friends all took their fair turn at night watch and never skimped on their own duties around camp. "Will you come with me? I saw some nice deer in the forest on my rounds. There is a big fat buck I'd like to taste test."
Lana happily agreed. While she did not enjoy the finishing feast, she thoroughly loved being a part of the high-speed hunts through the trees. Ychthorn was very agile and only knocked her off once in the two years they had been flying together, resulting in a badly broken leg that never fully healed and left her with a permanent but very slight limp.
Retrieving the rope harness from inside the wagon, Lana secured it tightly around Thorn's neck and waist, then hoisted herself up using his elbow as step. Once she was settled in and had tested the knots, he lifted himself onto his hind quarters, stretched his wings, and began beating them steadily. They rose quickly and turned south toward the forest. The wagons flashed beneath them and soon they had left even the vast pastures behind.
Ychthorn slowed as they entered the forest, lowering himself until they were nearly brushing the tree canopy. Both rider and flier searched the ground below. Lana had brought a contraption one of the Gypsies had created and now she fitted it over her eyes. The dual tubes allowed her to see further and with greater detail. As usual, Thorn scouted the path on the left while Lana watched the right. A flicker of color between the trees pulled her attention and she focused in with the eye pieces. At her request, Thorn circled around and brought her back to the area where she had seen the splash of bright green.
Behind a large tree, in a small clearing not quite large enough for Ychthorn to land comfortably, lay another dragon, wholly unfamiliar to the two friends. It was currently a shade of bright green, clearly intended to blend in with the surrounding foliage. Splotches of orange were showing through the poor paint job and the small creature was being berated by a man who was apparently his handler. The poor beast bowed its head low and did not shy away from the whip, which savaged him fiercely and peeled off yet more green paint.
Two more men stood close by, arguing quietly. Ychthorn made another silent pass
and listened in closely, his anger at the treatment of the dragon barely kept in check. Lana placed her hand on his neck as he repeated the conversation for her.
"...need to get closer. Commander Locke demands results."
"How are we supposed to get closer? They have the place surrounded by Gypsies and Hidden. This was a bad plan. A very bad plan. We'll never get a shot at that beast."
"Then what do you suggest? We give up, go back, and tell Locke that the job was too hard? That the mission was impossible? The red dragon shall live forever and conquer us all?"
The whipping stopped and the dragon handler joined the other two. The little dragon lay silently weeping on the edge of the clearing, inching as far away from the men as he dare. Thick orange welts were appearing through the green paint and he caressed one tenderly before laying his head down and covering his eyes in shame.
"Locke be damned," the handler declared. "If we fail this, Slyvania herself will have our heads."
The other men nodded agreement and one ventured, "Well, what should we do? How do we get to the beast?"
Ychthorn had had enough. The tearful sounds coming from the edge of the clearing were enough to push him past the point of caution, despite Lana's desperate attempts to calm him. Descending through the trees, he settled himself into the leaf-covered area, trees and shrubbery cracking behind him as he enlarged the area. It was a tight fit, as he had effectively nestled his upper body and head between the little dragon and the three men.
"I have a solution to your problem," the dark red dragon offered, smiling congenially at the men. "How about the 'beast' comes to you?"
After a few moments of gaping confusion, the third man drew his sword and charged Ychthorn. He was promptly crushed by a thickly clawed hand. The second man reacted almost as quickly and nearly made his target before being brought down by a swift arrow through the neck. He grasped the shaft and held on tightly as he lay bleeding.
A hiss brought Ychthorn's attention to his left and he reared up, nearly throwing Lana off as the orange dragon took aim. But Thorn was not his target. The handler had crept around to Ychthorn's flank during the attack and had a heavy sword posed to strike. A cry from his own dragon turned the man's attention for a brief moment and he received a thick glob of acid full in the face. His screams died quickly as the acid ate through to his brain and the sword fell harmlessly to the forest floor.
The little dragon, who Ychthorn now saw was only half his size, bowed low to the ground and began weeping anew.
"P-p-please don't k-k-kill me." His voice failed him and he broke down completely, clinging to Thorn's front leg and sobbing ferociously. In his flustered state, drops of acid dripped from his mouth onto the ground and sizzled. Noticing the imminent danger, Ychthorn pulled away slightly and tried to calm the little creature.
"We're not going to hurt you. Calm, now, calm." He stroked the beast's head as Lana jumped to the ground. She approached the strange dragon tentatively and placed a hand gently on his flank. He gasped and jumped at her touch, turning his gaze, full of hurt and anguish, in her direction.
"I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I did not mean to hurt you. I only wanted to inspect the wound. You are bleeding, you know."
Affecting a pout as well as he could, he lowered his head to the ground and covered his snout with a paw. "I'm always hurt or bleeding in some way. Dubler gets mad a lot. He always whips me when he's mad, even if it's not my fault." He let out a sad sigh.
Lana glanced sidelong at the dead body next to them. The acid had eaten through the entire face and more than half of the skull. She could see lumps of pink fleshy goo plopping on the ground, still sizzling. Several seconds passed before the little dragon jumped up, mumbling "Oh no. No no no. Oh no" over and over until Ychthorn gently restrained him with a foreleg around the shoulder.
"Calm down, little one. What's wrong?" the bigger dragon asked soothingly.
"Oh no..." Deep green eyes looked pleadingly into the larger golden ones as he spoke in a barely audible whisper. "I've killed him. I killed him! Oh no. They're going to be so mad. They're going to hurt me, worse than he ever did." The orange dragon trembled visibly and Ychthorn had to hold him to keep him from sinking to the ground.
"Who is going to hurt you?" Thorn asked, a slowly rising anger putting an edge in his voice.
"The keepers, of course. They sent us here, to kill the big red dragon that they say is the heir of Sigurd. They say he is evil, and he is going to cause a rebellion. They say he..." Realization dawned on the little dragon's face and he dropped to the ground, covering his head with his claws. "Oh no, oh no, oh no. Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me. I didn't want to do it. Please don't kill me."
Ychthorn shared a wicked grin with Lana before straightening himself to his full height. "Stand up!" he boomed in the sternest voice he could affect. The orange beast jumped to his feet, fear dripping heavily from him.
"What is your name?" demanded the red dragon, the edges of his mouth twitching noticeably.
"A-a-ator, sir," stammered the smaller creature.
"Ator. I see. Well, Ator. We will make you a deal. If you agree to this deal, we will not kill you. Does that sound fair?"
"Oh, yes! Yes! I'll do anything! Anything at all! Just please don't kill me!"
"Very well. Here is what you must do. You must come with us, back to the Gypsy camp. You must allow your wounds to be treated, and you will eat until you can eat no more. You will allow yourself to be bathed in the stream and you will not, I repeat, you will not hurt any of the humans or dragons. You must show them respect. In return, they will allow you to live free. You will no longer be a slave. If you would like, you can join our fight to free the rest of the dragons in Layr. Or you can choose to stay with one of the Gypsy camps, helping them out as you can. It will be your choice. Can you agree to that?"
Ychthorn grew a bit uncomfortable under the stare of the other dragon. Finally, Ator managed to speak. "You mean, I won't have to fight and hurt other dragons if I don't want to?"
Thorn smiled. "That is correct. As free dragons, we do not have to do anything we do not want to do. If we do not feel comfortable fighting, we do not have to. There are other things we can do to help." The red dragon frowned momentarily. "But do not think being free means you do not have to do anything. You have to help out in some way if you want to be fed and sheltered by the Gypsies. That's kind of the deal. They'll take care of you, keep you healthy, feed you, even give you nice places to sleep, but only if you help them too. It's not fair to not give them something back."
The little orange dragon bounced up and down excitedly as Ychthorn spoke, accidentally treading on the body next to him. He pulled a bloodied nail from the corpse with a look of disgust and tried to shake it clean. "Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew. Get it off! Ew!" It took Ychthorn and Lana several minutes to calm Ator down, but they were eventually successful. After Lana found a large leaf and wiped the talon clean, she invited the little dragon back to camp. He agreed exuberantly and flew circles around Ychthorn all the way back.
Chapter 14
Ator quickly became a camp favorite. He was more than willing to help out wherever needed and jumped to reciprocate even the smallest act of kindness. The little orange dragon bonded himself to Ychthorn, who, though occasionally irritated with the constant attention, took Ator under his wing to show him the ways of the free world. This friendship became even more beneficial for the camp, as Ator, growing comfortable and chatty with Thorn, soon began spilling all the information he had on the inner workings of the military.
According to the newcomer, who Malxon affectionately nicknamed Spitter, Commander Locke, under instructions from Slyvania, the king's sister, had begun building up the military in a push to take out the Gypsies. Gypsy activity had increased ten-fold across the kingdom after an unexplained and substantial increase in both funds and information.
In direct opposition to the demands of the king, Commander Locke had formed a special operations corps of dragon f
ighters, training them to seek out and destroy any and all known Gypsy camps. Spitter had been recruited for his acidic abilities and paired with Dubler and the other two soldiers. They had been sent to the camp with orders to track Ychthorn's movements and slay him when he was alone. Ator, terrified of encountering either dragon or Gypsy, had landed in the small clearing without permission, where Ychthorn found and freed him. From this information, the leaders of Legh were able to deduce several things. First, Locke knew where Ychthorn was. Second, he knew where one of the largest, most stable Gypsy camps was built.
As the leaders gathered in the dark around Graol's fire pit under the protection of silence offered by several Hidden, questions abounded. Many wanted to know why the camp had not been attacked yet. Others insisted the camp needed to be packed up and moved immediately. Still others declared the desire to stay where they were and protect the camp to the last.
The meeting went on through the night, with verbal arguments and the occasional physical encounter raging heavily until the sun poked its sleepy head over the forested hills. When all was said and done, the decision had been made. The camp would remain where it was. Watches, guards, and other measures of protection would be tripled. Messengers would be sent out to all corners of Layr. This camp, once the happy home of Gypsies, dragons, humans, and Hidden, was to become a secure place for displaced and hunted refugees of all races. Volunteers would be trained and a militia would be formed. Should the camp be attacked, they would put up a fight that Commander Locke would not soon forget.
Blood of the Dragon: An NA Epic Fantasy Page 7
