The cave was dark and cool. A roughly dug dragon-made pool lay inside, just out of reach of the sun. It had been filled to the brim with fresh, cool water and the horses were tethered to poles nearby. The horses drank very tentatively at first, until another dragon, versed in animal care, sprinkled something from a sack tied around her leg into the pool. After tasting the brown specks, the horses began to drink heartily. The dragon took a separate bucket and poured more water over the horses, helping to cool them further. Seeing the animals in good hands, the group followed Sajan at his command.
They followed the leader to a large chamber deep inside the cave, beyond the point of natural light. Torches were lit and placed in sconces along the walls that were rarely used. Dusty chairs were brought from some hidden place near the back and the tired group sank thankfully into the offered seats. Ychthorn settled on a cushion that had been provided in front of the leader's large, comfortable settee.
Heavy stone mugs of a cool flavorful liquid were brought for the three humans, a bowl of the stuff was placed in front of Ychthorn, and the Hidden was provided with a more suitable beverage for his kind. They drank heartily and their mugs were refilled. After they had been emptied a second time and again refilled, the group settled in to sip the delicious elixir languorously. Having heard of the brutal savagery of the clans of the Flametongue Deadlands, they were thrown for a loop by this unexpected hospitality after such a violent initial attack.
After they had drank their fill and eaten a light meal, Sajan dismissed his servants and was left alone with the travelers. He folded his forelegs in front of him and surveyed the group.
"Before we begin, I would like to apologize for the attack. It was not my intention to hurt any of you." He nodded to Ychthorn. "My deepest apologies to you, son of Sigurd. Some of my denizens are a little, shall we say, overzealous? I was hesitant to share the knowledge of your arrival with most of them, including the two who attacked you prematurely. I only meant to encourage your quiet surrender and escort you back here."
The large dragon bowed his head to the group once more, asking their forgiveness.
"How did you know?" the red dragon queried.
"We received a visitor more than a month ago. He had been to the nearby Gypsy camp and the leader suggested he warn us of your mission, so we would not hinder your passage. He was an interesting little fellow, no bigger than my one year old son, and a very bright orange. I believe he went by the name Spitter."
The mention of their friend brought a smile to the members of the group and Lana had to cover her face to hide her tears of relief. They had received no news for the past four months of those they had grown so close to and she did not realize how much it was weighing on her heart. Bolgor put a strong hand on her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. She slid her hand onto his and held it tight.
After much discussion, the group discovered that the Flametongue Wanderers were not the savages they were made out to be. They were a group of dragons who simply refused to bow to a false king and would not under any circumstances subject themselves or their children to the horrors of slavery. They had fought bravely in the war on the side of Sigurd and the Coalition.
After the defeat at the Battle of the Black River, they escaped back to their homelands and set up defenses. The area was very suitable to guerrilla warfare and they successfully repelled the initial waves of attacks. As the military was beaten back repeatedly, it eventually gave up hope of conquering the tribes of the Flametongue Deadlands and settled for ruling a small section along the southern borders, where the kingdom set up a training camp for captured and bred fire spitters. The Wanderers, completely opposed to the enslavement of their fellow dragons, often formed raiding parties and had successfully attacked the camps and freed a dragon or two on several occasions. Those dragons were then given the choice of joining the Flametongues themselves or integrating into the local Gypsy camp.
The clans had no compunction whatsoever about attacking the military wagon trains that often traveled between the training camp and the capital city. They had actually come to rely on those trains for some much needed supplies after the Coalition was defeated and trade with villages outside the Deadlands became impossible. They worked closely with the local Gypsies, both in planning some attacks and in trade. When news of Ychthorn's quest arrived, the dragons and Gypsies began holding weekly discussions, planning the largest attack either of them had ever attempted. Sajan himself spent much time in the Gypsy camp, and the Gypsy leaders had visited the Flamen clan on multiple occasions. Ator and Lilson remained at the Gypsy camp, along with several other dragons who had flown to the area from all over Layr in anticipation of the first major attack in what was already being called the War for Freedom.
The visitors and their congenial host chatted for quite awhile about their journey and some minor aspects of the upcoming war. As the torches burned low, Chelandra began to yawn and Bolgor's eyes grew droopy. The clan leader stood up and showed his guests to a separate chamber, one that had been laid with four human-sized feather mattresses and one large dragon-sized mattress. The weary travelers stretched out onto the fluffy beds after promises that they would soon see their friends at the Gypsy camp. Within minutes, they were all asleep. Safe deep inside the caves of the Flametongue clan, they all slept soundly, without interruption, for the first time in months.
Chapter 18
The sun was sinking low in the sky when the tired group of travelers awoke the next afternoon. Under the protection of the Flametongue Wanderers, they slept more peacefully than they had over the last four months. The torches, replaced in the middle of the night by an unseen attendant, were low again when they opened their sleepy eyes. Bolgor and Prigol had been placed on one side of the room, separated from the women by a low rock wall. Ychthorn slept on their side of the rock wall, as close to each of his friends as he could get, facing the door. He slept sounder than any of the others, though, unconsciously secure in the reliability of their new acquaintances.
Chelandra was the first to wake. After straightening her clothes and washing up in the small basin that had been provided, she set out to explore the caves and check on the horses. On her way to the front of the cave, she passed a chamber off to the left. Hearing a small cry from inside, she peeked in. Greeting her were three newborn dragons, all just a few months old. They were arranged comfortably on three overstuffed mattresses and surrounded by straw. Each was the burnt orange color of most of the dragons in Sajan's clan. They were being tended by a small, female dragon who bowed her head toward Lana when she entered the room. Lana returned the bow and offered a weak smile. She had not realized how much she missed the hatchery and the joy of watching new hatchlings learn the ways of the world.
The nursemaid nodded toward the hatchlings and Lana approached cautiously. Two of the creatures were sleeping contentedly, but one was awake. It craned its head and looked curiously at the approaching human. She reached a hand out and the little creature sniffed it tentatively before shoving its head under her fingers, demanding to be scratched. Lana laughed and stepped closer, scratching the newborn behind one of his budding horns. The hatchling, Rolin, was Sajan's fifth son with his mate Adaja. Rolin was just learning to speak and Lana had a very brief conversation with him before bidding farewell and setting out to find her friends, her heart lighter than it had been in months.
By the time she made her way back to the sleeping chamber, her friends were awake and getting ready. She joined them and they all made their way to the front of the cave. Shadows grew long as they approached the watering pool. The horses were still tethered nearby. They had been fed several times and one of the caretakers had brushed them thoroughly, so they all held a nice black sheen, rather than the dusty, sweaty, slightly tangled state they arrived in.
The group had not eaten since the previous day and a dragon led them to a large, flat rock, where they were brought a light, but delicious meal Adaja had prepared in their honor. Adaja, Sajan, and two of Sajan's
sons joined them and they conversed lightly as they ate. Adaja had a wonderful sense of humor and kept the group in stitches for much of the meal. The demeanor of both the mother and sons turned the group's initial impression of the severity and savageness of the Flametongue Wanderers completely on its head. Despite the brutality of the attack, the treatment the group had received since completely set their minds at ease and they realized they had found very important allies in a very unlikely place.
After they finished their dinner, Sajan ordered the horses lowered to the ground and hitched to the wagon. He would escort the travelers to the Gypsy camp himself, accompanied by a small contingent of his best soldiers. The dozen dragons who accompanied them included Adaja, who they discovered was renowned for her perfect accuracy and crazy, but nearly always effective, battle strategies. Sajan and Adaja's two oldest sons also accompanied the group, both praised for their speed and effectiveness in carrying out hit-and-run attacks on the training camps and hatcheries in the area. The oldest son proudly wore a thick scar that started at his jawline and ended below his breastplate. It had been inflicted by the spike on a dragon rider's lance in a short but fierce battle three years ago. The enemy rider received much worse and his dragon was captured and turned over to the Gypsies for breaking. She now served as one of the best sources of information for the attackers, though she refused to go toe-to-toe with her former slavers.
The trip to the Gypsy camp was half a day's wagon ride to the west and they encountered no resistance along the way, aside from a rogue jackal who set his sights on one of the trailing horses. The horse was spooked, but the rear guard dealt with the intrusion before any damage could be done. As they neared the Flametongue Settlement, a group of three dragons, each carrying a rider wielding a heavy shield and a longsword, came out to meet them. After the lead dragon had a brief consultation with Sajan, they took up positions around the visitors and escorted them into the camp.
The first thing Lana noticed was how the settlement was arranged in comparison to Legh. While Legh was almost haphazard in the positioning of wagons as groups of Gypsies joined the initial band in the area, Flametongue was set up in a strictly defensible pattern, the wagons moved as necessary to accommodate new arrivals. It was situated inside a valley, surrounded on all sides by high cliffs with only a narrow canyon passing through the west side to allow wagons and foot traffic into the camp. Looking up, Lana saw several miniscule buildings sitting upon the cliffs, overlooking the camp. She was riding on the top of the wagon and the dragon alongside, one of Sajan's sons, explained that the buildings were essentially miniature, fortified castles. Each had its own defenses with turrets, catapults, and more. Sleeping facilities for six men and two dragons were in each building and they were always fully staffed. The turrets and catapults pointed outward, toward the opposite cliff faces, away from the village. When the settlement was first discovered by scouts from the training camp, it had been attacked and nearly a quarter of the inhabitants had been killed. This was before the Gypsies had made a pact with the Flametongue Wanderers. Since then, the installations had been built and the defenses were increased until the little area was nearly impenetrable.
A natural spring created a small lake on the far side of the valley and crops flourished in the moist soil. Animals of all sorts roamed in wide pastures built on the lush grass straddling a beautifully cool stream running from the spring in the side of the mountain to the lake. With the crops, the animals, and the skills of the Gypsies, the village was almost perfectly self-sufficient and was completely defensible in the event of a siege. The Flametongue Settlement would be quite comfortable for up to a year should the military installation at the training camp decide to isolate the Gypsies.
The friends were led to a brick house built in the north end of the camp. While the Gypsies preferred to live in wagons for the most part, they were not opposed to erecting solid buildings in areas they would be occupying for extended periods of time. This building was used for the Gypsy military that had been created and trained to attack and defend against the king's army. Several rooms were stocked with weapons, shields, and armor for both men and dragons, as well as weapons specifically for dragons, and saddles to allow the men the ability to ride hands-free for full effectiveness.
The saddles were demonstrated to Lana and Ychthorn, who took great interest in the devices. The straps were wrapped around the dragon's front legs, sitting snugly against their underarms. They were designed so they would not chafe as the dragon moved. Another strap ran around the chest to secure the saddle further, as any movement of the saddle could throw the rider's aim off and potentially kill both the rider and the dragon. The saddle itself sat high on the dragon's shoulders. The rider's legs were strapped to planks that hung to either side of the dragon's neck, holding the rider tight to the dragon while still giving them the ability to sit, stand, and turn their upper body as much as necessary. A quick release mechanism had been added in the last ten years after the lack of one led to the demise of a much loved dragon-rider team. The quick release mechanism allowed the rider to eject themselves from the seat and a cloth in a pack carried on their back would allow them to float safely to the ground. At Sajan's request, a time was scheduled for Ychthorn to be fitted for a saddle, as his harness was not suitable in full battle.
As night fell, the group was introduced to both the leader of the Flametongue Settlement and the head of military affairs. The leader of the camp was, as with all Gypsy camps, a human. She was shorter and rounder than Lana, with a jovial face and open arms. A dragon named Chara was the leader of the small Flametongue army. He was small and a deep reddish-brown. Like all dragons of the Flametongue clan, he had a sun shield between two thick horns. An open wound marred his left shoulder, fresh from a recent battle. He had been chosen as leader for his keen planning and success in battle.
They all settled around Chara's fire for a meal of stew, made from a meat Lana did not recognize. As the bowls were being passed around, a little orange dragon came bounding over and threw his forelegs around Ychthorn's neck, nearly knocking them both to the ground. Lana laughed and ran to hug Ator, followed closely by Bellithana and Bolgor. Prigol smiled and asked Ychthorn to pass on his happiness, but he did not participate in the mass hug as he was likely to be squashed by the little dragon, who could not see him. Once they had all offered their greetings, they settled down around the fire to eat their meal and share stories of their various journeys. Lilson, the group learned, had headed back to his own camp shortly after Ator arrived. Ator remained behind, eager to see his friends. He was also desperate to participate in a battle against the army that had enslaved him for the last fifty years. He had his chance a week earlier, when a small group of dragons and riders attacked a supply train headed out from the training camp to return to Rona. The train carried a freshly trained fire spitter and the Flametongues wanted to free her before she was subjected to some of the more brutal abuses of the empire.
Ator turned out to be a wonderful storyteller and he had his friends on the edge of their seats as he described the action. The small group of guerrilla fighters stationed themselves outside the training camp, far enough away where the sounds of battle would not draw reinforcements from the camp. The train was guarded by two dozen men and three dragons, plus the new dragon. The Flametongues had six trained fire spitters, all with riders, plus Ator and his extremely dangerous acid. Ator did not carry a rider. The riders carried bows, with arrow pouches strapped to their leg splints, as well as longswords slung in sheaths on their backs. Pouches on their waists carried small clay balls, each wrapped carefully in cloth and filled with an explosive powder of Gypsy creation.
The main body of the group waited behind a cluster of large boulders while one dragon, the color of desert sand, watched for the supply train. Upon his signal, three members of the group stepped around the boulders to block the path of the wagons. One flew over the top, joining the scout beside the wagons, while Ator aided the last dragon in blocking the way
back to the training camp. The soldiers immediately went into battle mode, but the guerrillas were prepared. They waited, as was Gypsy code, for the first move to be made by the soldiers on the train. They did not have to wait long, as an eager young man riding on the front wagon sent off a poison-tipped arrow, narrowly missing the leader of the attack, who happened to be Chara. The rider of the dragon responded, taking out the young man and his companion in rapid succession. The rest of the visible humans were quickly dispatched before the defending dragons could attack. Ator and his partner were met head-on by a large, angry beast who very nearly showed Ator just how vicious fire spit could be. The little dragon dodged in time, however, and only received a very small burn on his shoulder. Chara, his voice loud and commanding, offered the three defending dragons the option to surrender. One of them took the offer, having suffered excessive abuse by his keeper. The other two remained loyal to the crown and refused to give up without a battle. The dragon in the back was unfortunate and received a large volume of Ator's spit in the center of its chest. The acid ate through his flesh quickly, burning a hole in his lung. The pain was enormous and the creature thrashed uncontrollably, its long talons splintering one of the wagons to pieces before Chara's rider could put the beast down. The second dragon was subdued and chained, to be taken back to the camp and broken of her delusions if at all possible. If she would not be swayed, she would be transferred to another camp farther north, where a group of Gypsies had established a dragon internment center.
Blood of the Dragon: An NA Epic Fantasy Page 10
