by D K Drake
Then he struck a pose. He cocked his head down and to the left, bent his right leg so that his claw was just under his long snout and stuck his tail straight out so that it was parallel to his back.
Gorgeous, Opny, the dragon said, just gorgeous. Your scales are looking especially bright and shiny today.
Had Javan not been able to read the dragon’s mind, he probably would have been able to overcome his amusement. But when Javan heard the fierce-looking dragon praise himself with such shallow vanity, a burst of laughter escaped from Javan’s lips.
Ravier’s hand immediately covered Javan’s mouth.
Too late.
In less than a second, the dragon disappeared and reappeared right in front of the bushes where Javan and Ravier were hiding. He stepped on the bush in front of Javan and looked straight into Javan’s eyes. Humans, he said. You must die!
With Ravier’s hand clamped over his mouth, Javan couldn’t respond. Fortunately he didn’t need to employ any negotiation tactics. Ravier rolled them to the side behind taller and thicker bushes just as Opny opened his mouth and sent a stream of putrid acid over the area Javan had just vacated.
A few stray droplets burned a strip through Javan’s pant leg just below his right knee, singeing the hair off his leg and branding his skin. Javan yelped, curled himself into a ball and readied for an all-out acid attack while Ravier let out a shrieking whistle inches from Javan’s ear.
Fools! You can’t escape me. Opny beat back the bushes protecting Javan and Ravier. I don’t usually enjoy eating humans, but I’ll make an exception today.
Opny’s claw was about to clamp down on Javan’s head when the pair of okties swooped in, distracting the dragon. Oohhh, tasty, Opny said, watching the okties circle his head.
He swatted at them every time one buzzed by his head until they broke their flight pattern and flew back over the lake. They hovered over the water, taunting the wingless dragon.
Opny stared at them from the water’s edge. He stood motionless and took a series of deep, heaving breaths.
Javan could sense Opny’s darkening mood even though more and more of his scales were turning bright and vibrant colors of red and purple and orange and pink. Javan knew something dreadful was about to happen, but he still wasn’t prepared for what he saw.
The dragon inhaled one final time. When he exhaled, he spewed a streak of acid that sailed through the air and drenched the okties. They let out an ear-piercing screech and dropped to the water. Before they splashed , the dragon popped to the middle of the lake, caught the falling okties in his mouth and immediately popped to the other side of the lake.
As he crunched his breakfast, half his scales reverted back to white. He looked in Javan’s direction, shrugged as though the humans no longer mattered and vanished.
Chapter 10
Torix
“W
hat just happened?” Javan asked. “How can he leap from one place to another so fast?”
“He doesn’t leap; he teleports. All Dawn Stalkers have that ability.” Ravier stood, jerking Javan up with him. “And what just happened is that my two best okties sacrificed their lives for us because you had to chuckle at a dragon.”
“Sorry.” Javan inspected the acid burn on his leg. It was only about the size of his pinky finger, but it sure stung. “I wasn’t expecting to hear him talk so highly of himself to himself.”
“Hear him? You can hear his thoughts?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmmm. Interesting. So are your eyes. The left one is still brown, but the right one is green.”
“Great. I must have lost a contact in all the commotion. It’s gotta be here in these bushes somewhere. Can you help me find it?”
“No time.” Ravier nodded toward Javan’s leg. “That will leave a scar, but it’s only a surface wound. You’ll be fine. Soak it in the water for a few minutes. Then we’ll get going.”
“Going? Where? How? Our rides are gone.”
“The nearest village is Torix. It’s a good thirty miles from here. Hopefully we can arrange alternative transportation there. Until then, we walk.”
“Can’t we call somebody to come pick us up?”
“Call? I just told you Torix is thirty miles away. Nobody is close enough to hear us call.”
“Don’t you have cell phones?”
“Cell what?”
“You don’t have phones in this place? Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you don’t have televisions or computers or the Internet, either.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, boy.” Javan took his shoes off, rolled his pants up above his knees and stepped into the lake. The cool water instantly brought him some relief from the stinging burn, but he didn’t know how he was going to recover from the no phones, no television, no Internet news.
◊◊◊
“Can we please take a break?” Javan wiped another round of sweat off his forehead. They had left the comfortable shade of the woods hours ago and were forging onward through endless meadows in the early afternoon sun.
Javan was sure he would faint from fatigue, exhaustion and just plain irritability if he had to take another step. He was grateful, however, that he didn’t have the extra weight of a sword hanging across his back.
“No,” Ravier said and kept walking.
Javan scowled at Ravier’s back. Although Ravier had let them pause to snack on wild and oddly filling berries as well as to take quick sips of water at random stream crossings when in the forest, the man had been merciless in his quest to get to the village. They’d been walking for more than seven hours without any sit-down-and-rest-your-legs breaks. Maybe it was time to take a stand by sitting down.
“You go ahead then,” Javan said, plopping down on the knee-high grass. “I’ll catch up when I’m rested.”
“The village is just over that next hill,” Ravier called back, quickening his pace. “Meet you there. But good luck getting in without the entrance tax or travel permit.”
Javan rolled his eyes. “Stupid unfamiliar territory,” he mumbled, getting to his feet. As long as he didn’t know the lay of the land or how this world worked, his rebellious teenage attitude had no power.
At least Ravier wasn’t underplaying the distance to the village. It was indeed located over the next hill. A wooden fence three times as tall as Javan formed the perimeter of the village, and they had to walk around the wide perimeter to get to the front gate.
Ravier pounded on the gate. A head-high slot opened, revealing the brown eyes of a man on the other side. “What’s your business in Torix?”
“Seeds for my farm.”
“Show me your permit.”
Ravier pulled a postcard size piece of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to brown eyes through the slot. “How did you get this permit? Planting season for energy balls isn’t for another month.”
“Too many of the king’s soldiers have vanished in time traps. He’s demanding an increase in the production of energy balls to equip his army with. My farm has been commissioned to find a way to grow them sooner and faster.”
“Time traps have been a growing problem. Lost a buddy in one.” The man returned the paper. “Five ring scales.”
This time, Ravier unhooked a necklace Javan hadn’t even noticed he was wearing. It was a black string filled with ring-sized scales on it like the ones used for the lighting system at the house. Ravier slid five off, handed them to the guard and rehooked the string around his neck.
“You have one hour,” the guard said. The slot closed, and the gate opened.
“Keep mouth shut and your head down,” Ravier mumbled as they walked through the gate. “Don’t let anyone see your eyes.”
Javan wanted to ask about energy balls and time traps, but he was too self-conscious about guarding his exposed eye to risk looking up at Ravier to ask him anything. Instead, he observed what he could about the town while keeping his head tilted toward the ground.
/> Two and three story stone buildings lined the wide dirt street that led straight through the center of the village. An impressive five-story stone mansion dominated the end of the street while narrow side streets led to rows of tiny wood huts.
Soldiers dressed in black uniforms patrolled the streets with silent scowls. The few villagers that were out and about walked with their heads down and were dressed in the same brown shirt and shorts Ravier had made Javan wear.
Although the soldiers stared at Javan and Ravier, no one greeted them or even looked up to acknowledge their existence. As Javan glanced in the windows of the buildings he passed, all he could see were the gloomy faces of brown-clothed folks diligently working as seamstresses, tailors, blacksmiths, carpenters, butchers or scribes.
No one spoke. No one smiled. No one laughed. This was not a happy place.
The clerks working in the store Ravier guided Javan into were just as depressed as everyone else. Javan could see why. It was a gloomy store, despite the sunlight streaming in through the windows.
Every item on every shelf was packaged in the same dull beige bag with boring black block lettering to identify the contents. Granted, the bags were different sizes, but that wasn’t enough of a difference to make any product stand out. These people obviously didn’t waste much money on slick marketing tactics.
Then again, they didn’t seem to use money at all. If the tax paid at the gate was any indication, scales were the currency of choice. Javan made a mental note to ask Ravier about their “money” system later.
Ravier meandered through several aisles. Javan assumed he was searching for energy ball seeds. Javan, however, was more interested in finding food. His stomach was rumbling, and he needed something to eat.
“Here we go,” Ravier said. He picked up a fifty pound bag of seeds and indicated for Javan to do the same.
“Seriously?” Javan whispered. “You want to buy one hundred pounds of seeds? You’re not even an actual farmer.”
“It’s the reason we were allowed entrance into Torix.” Ravier glared at Javan. “Remember?”
“Ah, right.” Javan decided it was best to just play along. Still, Ravier needed to learn how to communicate better; he could have used their seven-plus hour walk to explain to Javan what was going on. But no. He chose to sulk and say nothing the whole way here.
The bored, bearded clerk at the front counter looked at their bags. “Six ring scales.”
Ravier extracted more scales from his necklace. “I’ll give you eight if you tell me where I can find some transportation out of here.”
That got the man’s attention. He jerked his head up. “Make it ten.”
Ravier counted the ten rings and put them in the man’s hand. The man nodded, looked around and leaned over the counter. “Thirteen miles north of here deep in the quagmire. Guy runs an animal shop. Ask for Reese. Tell him Marty sent you. Just beware of the swallowing sand.”
“Thanks.” Ravier patted Javan on the back. “Carry those bags.”
“Both of them?”
“Yes.”
Javan sent Ravier the meanest scowl he could muster. It didn’t change the fact he was stuck carrying a hundred pounds of seeds, but it did make him feel better.
He slung one bag over each shoulder and was about to follow Ravier when the clerk grasped his arm. “That eye,” the clerk said. “You’re a Collector. You’re the Collector.”
“Marty,” Ravier said, keeping his voice low, “let the boy go.”
“Is it true? Am I right? Will he be challenging the Dark King?”
“That’s the plan, but the timing isn’t right yet. We need absolute secrecy in order to train him properly. Can we trust you to keep quiet?”
“Of course.” Marty nodded and let Javan go. Then he bowed down to Javan. “I look forward to serving you, my future King.”
“Yeah. Umm, thanks.” Having a stranger bow to him was weird. It just wasn’t natural for one regular human being to bow down to another regular human being, especially when the one doing the bowing was so much older than him. If he did become king, he was going to make a law that banned people from bowing to him.
He rethought that bowing ban as he walked back through town following the unencumbered Ravier. Even with his new status as Ravier’s pack mule, no one noticed him. He simply blended right in with everyone else, as invisible here as he was walking the halls of high school.
If he became king, people would have to notice him. He would finally stand out and be someone other people envied. That thought brought a smile to his downcast face.
“Halt.” The guard at the gate made them stop. Javan kept his eyes averted while the guard inspected the bags resting on Javan’s shoulders.
“Is this the only purchase you made?” the guard asked.
“That’s it,” Ravier said.
The guard nodded, opened the gate and let them through.
Once they had walked far enough along the straight dirt road to be out of earshot of the guard, Javan called out to Ravier. “Can I dump these bags now? They’re heavy!”
“Deal with it. If we’re stopped for any reason, that’s our cover story. We can also use them as bargaining chips with the animal shopkeeper.”
“Can you at least carry one of them?”
“I’m not the one who got our okties eaten.”
“So this is punishment.”
“You’re quick.” Ravier looked behind them. “Okay. I think it’s safe to leave the road now. Make sure to follow my footsteps exactly. The landscape up ahead shifts from meadows to quagmires and swallowing sand. Your feet are going to get wet, but the earth won’t suck you in as long as you stay away from any tan patches of sand.”
“Got it,” Javan said. “No tan sand.” He tried to sound nonchalant, but where he came from, sand was tan. Trying to avoid natural-colored sand seemed like a tall order, especially if one misstep meant the earth would suck him in. That did not sound like a pleasant experience.
Chapter 11
Bargaining for Boundaroos
For a good nine miles, Javan didn’t have to worry about where to walk. He just had to endure the burden of the bags of seeds. That burden seemed to multiply by a factor of ten once they entered the swamp.
Huge distorted trees with draping branches blocked most of the rays from the late afternoon sun as they walked through sticky red mud along the edge of moss-covered water. Stalks of bamboo forced them to zig and zag in and out of the water.
Unsettling creatures he couldn’t see slithered through the water, cackled from the land and taunted from the trees.
It was an altogether creepy experience, and Javan wanted out. “I think that man back at the shop wanted us dead. Nobody lives in this place.”
“Someone who wants to avoid the Dark King does. We just haven’t gone far enough in.”
“I have. I’m turning around.” Javan spun around but forgot to watch his step. Instead of landing on solid but sticky ground, his right foot sunk into a puddle of tan sand.
He lost his balance and fell forward, dropping the two bags of seeds. The earth instantly swallowed the bags whole. Had Ravier not snatched Javan’s shirt, it would have swallowed him as well.
“I told you to follow my footsteps exactly,” Ravier said, jerking Javan back onto solid ground. “Now we’ve lost our bargaining chips. Disobey me again and I’ll purposefully find a patch of sand to throw you in.”
Javan swallowed and nodded. It took several miles of trailing Ravier step for step for his heart to finally slow back down to its normal rate. This was his second brush with death in one day on the heel of two attacks from his family the day before. He hoped a devastating strike three wasn’t around the corner.
Reaching a long, wobbly, wooden bridge lifted Javan’s spirits. A man-made structure meant a man had to be around here somewhere.
The bridge led them to a circular clearing with one large square log building bordered by five smaller huts, all of which rested on stilts and were intercon
nected with a net walkway. Squeaks and squabbles and chirps and a symphony of general animal chatter emanated from the large building. But no people were anywhere to be seen.
“What is this place?” Javan asked.
“Not sure,” Ravier said. “Whatever happens, do not let anyone see your green eye.” He drew his sword and inched forward.
“You won’t be needing that.” A gruff man appeared in the doorway of the nearest hut holding a bow and arrow. The bow was loaded. The arrow was aimed at Ravier. Javan was somewhat relieved that the weapon wasn’t pointed at him.
“We’re not here to cause trouble,” Ravier said.
“Then turn around and be on your way. We don’t tolerate visitors.” Seven more gruff-looking men dressed in swamp camouflage armed with bows and arrows appeared at ground level, surrounding Javan and Ravier.
Javan held his breath and bit his lip. Was this the inevitable strike three?
“Marty sent us,” Ravier said. “Told us to ask for Reese, said he could help us acquire some transportation.”
A tiny man pushed past the warrior in the hut doorway. “I’m Reese.” The three-foot tall man looked terribly out of place. He was clean-shaven with short, dark hair and wore white slacks with a purple silk shirt. He signaled for his men to put their weapons down. They obeyed. “If Marty sent you, that makes us friends. Put your sword away and come up to the animal house.”
Reese waddled across the net walkway while Javan and Ravier climbed the ladder hanging down from the porch of the big building. They walked inside to find a warehouse filled with rows of cages. All sorts of animals from chickens to foxes to birds and snakes occupied the cages.
And those were the animals Javan recognized. Many of the creatures with their prickly hair or furless bodies or abundance of legs Javan had never seen before. Those were the ones who captivated his attention. “What’s with all the animals?” Javan asked, spellbound by the new species he was discovering. He wanted to be able to check them out with both eyes but was careful to keep his right eye closed and covered with his hand.
