Preparations began the very next day. Checkpoints were set up at all of the pathways into and out of the camp, each manned by two Gypsies, at least one Hidden, and a dragon when they were available. Dragon watches were tripled, with the dragons flying alternating concentric circles over three areas—the camp itself; the paddocks, fields, and streams; and the surrounding forests. Foot patrols guarded the edges of the forests. Gypsy and Hidden magic was used to set up invisible barriers, booby traps, and alarms. In less than a week, Legh was more secure than any Gypsy camp had ever been and more secure than Rona during peace time.
Before they were finished making all the changes, the first refugees began to arrive. They stumbled down the path, less than a dozen of them, one small wagon between them, filled to the brim with what little they could grab from their homes, pulled by a single worn-down, exhausted mule who looked like he was on his last legs. A quarter of them were children no older than ten. One old woman, unable to move on her own, stretched across the luggage in the wagon uncomfortably. A middle-aged man hobbled alongside with a crooked tree limb for a crutch. His right leg had been badly torn.
Upon inspection, it was discovered that nearly everyone in the party was wounded, children included. One of the children had a laceration that ran from her left shoulder blade, across her back, to her left hip. A section of the camp was cleared for the refugees and Legh's healer, an ancient Gypsy with extremely wrinkled but perfectly steady hands, took stock of the wounds and treated them as necessary.
When he saw the young girl, his face fell from its typically congenial mask. The wound was deep and small sections of white bone could be glimpsed through the separated flesh. As the healer prodded the gaping hole, he shook his head in disbelief. It was a miracle the girl was even alive, much less able to walk for days to reach the camp. With the help of his Hidden assistant, they sewed the wound shut and wrapped the girl tightly, leaving her with instructions to not move more than necessary and remain prostrate in the wagon they were given as much as possible.
The refugees' story circulated the camp quickly. They had lived in a small Gypsy village about a week's walk north of Legh, near a military installation. The camp was set upon at dawn before most of the inhabitants were even away. The young girl described waking up to the stench of burning flesh. Wagons all around were on fire. She could see torch-bearing shadows moving from wagon to wagon, setting them aflame. She burst through the flames blocking the door and stumbled down the steps. She was catching her breath when she felt something heavy hit her on the back, followed by a searing pain. Knocked to the ground, she crawled under the wagon to escape the attacker she could not see. She stayed close to the ground and found her way to the woods. Once in the safety of the dark trees, she looked back and saw the camp engulfed in flames.
Dragons flew overhead, some stoking the flames with their wings, others helping to light more fires. Screams floated to her on the light breeze. She could hear the occasional clash of swords, but the sounds of battle were few and far between. By the time the sun was full in the sky, the camp had been effectively destroyed and the attackers had retreated. She stumbled back to the camp and began searching for friends and family.
Of the more than fifty people in the camp, only a dozen survived the attack. They had found the old woman hunched in a corner of a one-room wagon that was, miraculously, mostly intact. Few of the animals had been spared, but an old horse and the frightened mule were able to be wrangled. The horse was attached to the woman's home and the mule to an open wagon that was filled with what little the survivors could collect of their belongings and food.
They decided to head south, toward Legh. Along the way, a couple of the more badly wounded Gypsies passed away. The dead were buried in the woods alongside the road in a spare ceremony. Two days from Legh, the horse stepped in a hole and shattered its leg. The Gypsies did not possess a healer and nothing could be done for the animal but to put it out of its misery. As many of the old woman's belongings as possible were transferred to the other wagon, along with the old woman herself, and the larger wagon was left behind. Thusly they arrived at Legh.
Not long after that, the influx of refugees multiplied. Within two months, refugees were arriving several times a day. They usually came in groups of less than ten. There were, however, three or four groups of about twenty-five, one group of more than fifty, and still another group of nearly two hundred. After much discussion, the camp was rearranged and a large section in the southern area was expanded to make room for the new inhabitants, as well as any others who might arrive.
It became readily apparent that something needed to be done. The Gypsies were being persecuted, hunted like animals, and any dragons that ran with said Gypsies were being slain on sight if they were unable to escape. Even the Hidden were not immune. Commander Locke used the few Hidden under his command to subvert and attack the Hidden who interacted with and protected the various Gypsy camps throughout the lands.
Rumors began filtering into Legh about the brutalities that were occurring across Layr, not only in Gypsy camps, but also in the dragon slave villages. Dragons who did not bow unquestioningly to the demands of the crown were tortured, abused, and often outright slaughtered. Early one morning, three massive figures appeared over the trees as the sun rose behind them. Indistinguishable at that range, they appeared to be a small core of trained military dragons, and the camp was immediately set on red alert.
The militia formed up and set up a defense perimeter and three of the defending dragons were girded out in record time. Leucile, Ator, and Klya flew out to meet the attackers head-on, hoping to divert and destroy them before they could do any damage to the camp. The frightened campers and refugees watched in astonishment as the defenders turned and formed up in a guard pattern around the three dragons, leading them back to the safety of the dragon clearing in the camp.
The three dragons were revealed to all be females who had escaped from a hatchery village a ways east of Legh. All bore wounds evident of their treatment at the hatchery and anger flowed through their every word as they described their escape. They had heard of the way dragons in Gypsy camps were treated and made their way to the west to find a safe haven for themselves and the eggs they all carried. After much interrogation and deliberation, it was decided that the dragons were to be believed and were set up in a comfortable area meant for expectant mothers.
Later that night, Chelandra sat with Ychthorn, Bolgor, and Bellithana around a smaller fire-pit near the edge of camp. They had known the time would come when they would need to leave the camp, set out on their own, and pursue the goal they had been training for over the last two years. Ychthorn, incensed at the treatment he had seen of not only the mothers, but also Ator and the other dragons who had come into the camp since his birth, was pushing for action.
"This cannot go on!" he roared, drawing alarmed stares from Gypsies within hearing. "This is not right. Mothers should not be treated in such a horrid manner. They should be honored, revered. And poor Spitter still twitches when he hears someone yelling in anger. These atrocities cannot continue. We must do something!"
The humans stared at the fire, a silent dread hanging among them. They knew the dragon was right. Since before his birth, they had been training for this purpose. They had spent more than two years preparing for the day they would have to set out on their own. It was Ychthorn's destiny to free Layr from tyranny and they had all volunteered to assist him. Lana bowed her head and rested it on her arms, which were crossed over her knees. Bellithana closed her eyes, humming quietly. Bolgor, usually quiet and reserved, content to be the muscle of the group, placed a callused hand gently on the back of Lana's neck, his thumb stroking her soft skin.
"He's right, you know," the former busboy declared. "The last two years have been great. We have had a ton of fun and I know I have learned a lot. But we cannot sit here in safety forever. The refugees will keep coming. They'll overrun us. At some point, we won't be able hold them all."
&n
bsp; He lowered his head sadly. "And the military won't ignore us forever. We have been surprisingly lucky up to this point, actually. They will come. The Gypsies may be able to repel them for awhile, but at some point, they will break through the defenses. We cannot be here when that happens."
He no longer referred to the camp as a whole. Somewhere in his speech, he had separated the small group from the rest of the camp. The women both nodded unhappily. They knew the men were right. They could not remain in the safety of Legh forever. Ychthorn was a huge target for Commander Locke. The man had made no secret of his desire to kill the descendent of Sigurd. As long as Ychthorn was at the camp, the camp would have a huge bullseye on its back. The less attention brought to Legh, the better.
Lana looked up. They were all watching her intently. She had not heard Bellithana throw in her agreement on the matter, but Lana was the only one left to give her consent. Prigol, who was sleeping in the wagon in preparation for his night watch, had been speaking for weeks about the need to get on with their mission. He and Ychthorn had been stockpiling supplies, with some minor help from the others, along with preparing the wagon and taking care of other things they needed to do before they left the camp for what could be the last time.
Lana sighed. She had known this moment would come, even before she left Jaje. But she still was not fully prepared for it. She had lost her mother and father. Now she was about to lose those who she had come to know as her new family. Her heart weighed heavy in her chest and a tear slipped down her cheek. A rough hand cupped her chin and a finger wiped the salty drop away. Meeting Bolgor's caring eyes, Lana steeled herself and nodded once more. Her words came out in a bare whisper, echoing those Graol had spoken years before.
"It's time."
Chapter 15
The next two weeks were spent preparing for every possible situation they might encounter. Every available space had been filled with weapons, medical supplies, and preserved food. Chelandra spent much of her free time with Bellithana, learning the basics of first aid. Ychthorn sat with Leucile, his surrogate mother for all intents and purposes, learning the finer details of guarding a small party of humans and Hidden. Bolgor got some last minute reminders of his duties to the group. And Prigol outfitted the wagon with a special system that would allow him to communicate with those that could not see him. It was his invention and he had spent the last year perfecting it. He called it the Cross-dimensional Interactive Translation System (CITS). He was currently working on a smaller version that could be carried by a single person.
By the time all plans had been finalized, the little group was as prepared as they could possibly be, considering they were about to embark into the unknown, pursuing a goal that was vague and potentially impossible. They knew eventually they would have to go to Rona, but that would not be right away. Attacking the palace head-on with a group of five would be tantamount to suicide.
Instead, they had decided to take out strategic camps throughout the lands, freeing and recruiting all dragons that would accept the help. They would contact the local Gypsy camps in the areas they intended to attack, enlisting their aid in both the attack and in incorporating the freed and captured dragons and humans into the Secret Coalition. Their first target, it was determined, would be an outpost on the outskirts of Layr, far to the southwest of Rona. It would take them approximately three months to reach their destination, assuming they did not run into any trouble along the way.
This outpost was the main training camp for fire spitters. Fire spitters had some of the most brutal attacks available to dragons. Balls of mucus-like fire formed in special ducts inside the dragon's nose, which was then evacuated by the dragon. The balls of fire, while small, burned at extremely hot temperatures and typically melted or set alight anything they touched. The fire was known to eat through human flesh in a matter of seconds and entire towns had been destroyed by a single fire spitter contingent. Trained dragons could form the mucus on demand and they were highly prized in the king's military.
The dragons, however, were very hard to breed and the hatchlings did not manage well in colder temperatures. Therefore, hatcheries and training camps were located in the southern most parts of Layr, where the younger dragons could receive battle training against the tribes that attacked from outside the borders until they were mature enough to survive in the colder climates to the north.
After much discussion about the route to take it was decided that Lilson, the gray dragon who had escorted them from Jaje, would be sent on ahead with one rider to begin preparations with the Gypsies stationed closest to the intended target. He was the fastest flier in the area, but it would still take him nearly a month to make the trip.
A week after Lilson had set out, the small group of friends was finally ready to leave. After their overly long goodbyes were said and done, they climbed aboard their traveling home. The women went inside along with Ychthorn, Bolgor climbed up onto the driver's bench at the front, and Prigol stationed himself along the rooftop terrace, taking the first watch. The first days were expected to go smoothly, but they could never be too careful. Bolgor clicked his tongue and shook the reins and the wagon was off, the four solid mares pulling steadily and easily, despite the added weight of Ychthorn and all the supplies, including half a dozen chickens and three goats, who were all unhappily wedged in a corner of Ychthorn's bedroom.
As expected, the first week passed without incident. The group took turns driving the wagon, being on guard duty, and sleeping or eating. The mares, being of a special Gypsy breed, did not tire and were able to travel as long as daylight permitted, with few breaks along the way.
As night fell, they found suitable camping areas, preferably near a safe water source for the horses, which would also allow them to refill their water barrels. The water barrels were a necessity for the horses, of which there were now six, four to pull, while two followed behind the wagon to rest. When they made camp, Bellithana and Prigol put up protective spells, warding humans and other creatures from the area and effectively turning them invisible in the black of night.
Ychthorn, forced to sleep during the day in the seclusion of his chamber, took both night watches, usually accompanied during the second watch by either Bolgor or Chelandra. The innate dragon ability to see in nearly complete darkness aided him immensely during those late hours as he stood guard over his companions. He quite enjoyed the solitude of the first lonely watch. It was a change from his typical day, which usually involved dozens of humans and other dragons.
During the second week, Ychthorn was performing first watch duties as usual, perched upon the top of the wagon where he had the best view of the camp and its surroundings, when he heard the snap of a twig off to his left. His head swung around silently and he peered into the dark forest. Shadowed forms moved through the trees, careful to remain outside the sphere of light cast by the smoldering fire. Thorn could see half a dozen creatures circling the area where Bolgor, who would join him on second watch, lay snoring softly inside the relative safety of the light.
The red dragon remained still, watching the shadows carefully to judge their intentions. A large charcoal gray paw slipped into the light and froze. When Bolgor did not stir, the paw was followed by a thickly furred snout, topped with calculating glowing eyes. The amber slits darted rapidly, taking in the entire camp at every step. The beast, fully five feet tall at the shoulders and covered in thick, matted fur, padded his way into the light, careful not to make a sound. Around the campsite, Ychthorn saw other creatures of similar build braving the fire, some ducking their heads and squinting against the unaccustomed glare. The beasts moved slowly, but steadily toward the still sleeping human, apparently unaware of the creature who watched their every move.
The leader of the pack reached his intended target, sniffing quietly at the body, judging its worth as a late-night meal. Apparently satisfied that it would serve its purpose, he bared his teeth and prepared to attack. Ychthorn perched himself on the edge of the wagon and craned his
neck down, bringing him face to face with the giant beast. The dragon bared his teeth in response and a low growl rumbled through his body.
The wolf, having survived many decades facing desperate odds, steeled himself and emitted a growl equally as fierce. Bolgor, finally coming to, found himself in the middle of two enormous beasts about to engage in battle. His mouth dropped and his eyes grew wider than they had ever been before. He stared, first at the massive wolf standing very near to him, then at the red dragon whose head was directly over top of him and dripping saliva onto his sleeping mat.
Ychthorn, teeth clenched and bared, issued a command when Bolgor made an attempt to remove himself from the situation. "Do not move. He will lunge and kill you before I can stop him."
Bolgor gulped but complied. Thorn took one eye off the immediate threat and glanced around the camp. The other wolves had continued to move in and now Bolgor was surrounded by seven similarly gray and enormous creatures, all prepared to make a meal of him should he make the slightest move. The dragon knew he could take out one or two, but he would not be able to keep the rest from reaching their intended victim before it was too late.
A reassuring hand on his side told him Lana had woken at the sound of the growls. She silently informed him she had brought her bow and Bellithana was posed on her other side, ready to bring a fireball to bear. He saw Prigol moving unseen through the attackers, positioning himself behind the most dangerous with a special Hidden sword, capable of cutting through physical barriers and piercing flesh. Bolgor's mace lay near him, less than an arm's length away but too far for him to reach with the leader breathing in his face.
A tense stalemate played out for several seconds while both sides judged the strength and abilities of the other. The wolf saw the dragon and the human beside it, but it was completely unaware of the Gypsy readying a fireball or the Hidden slipping through his ranks. He judged the distance to the human on the ground and estimated the dragon's speed. He knew he was outmatched and that he would likely die in the attempt, but the others would be able to finish the job and a few might even escape unharmed with their prey.
Blood of the Dragon: An NA Epic Fantasy Page 8
