by D K Drake
“No need to insult him,” Taliya said. She rolled her eyes and turned to Javan. “Rumble rocks are mined from the canyon that divides Keckrick from Varzack. We use them to power our boats.”
Javan scratched his head. “I don’t understand.”
“Let me show you,” the captain said, leading Javan into the crank room.
Micah didn’t follow them. He didn’t care to hear the boring details of how they used rumble rocks to construct paddle wheels, that once cranked, kept turning until the brake was applied. Taliya didn’t follow them either, and he joined her by the railing.
“Look at those clouds up ahead,” Taliya said, pulling a small bag of berries and leaves out of her pocket. She popped a handful into her mouth and offered some to Micah. “Here. Take some. If that storm starts rocking this boat, these should keep you from getting sick.”
Micah refused her offer. “I don’t need your berries. I am a mighty Dragon Hunter and have been on boats in storms before. I don’t get sick.”
“Okay, mighty Micah. Sorry I mistook you for a mere human like the rest of us.”
He smiled as she walked away. Even though she was being sarcastic, he liked hearing her acknowledge that he was on a different level than everyone else.
That feeling of superiority faded fast when they smacked into the storm shortly thereafter. The boat didn’t handle the rough waters well, and neither did his stomach. The constant queasiness made him feel sub-human, and all he wanted to do was curl up into a little ball and die.
Chapter 27
Tulkar
Javan wished he had a window to stare out from his top bunk in the sleeping quarters. It would give him something to do besides study the swaying ceiling, listen to the clock tick, and wonder what the huddled crew members were whispering about at the other end of the long, dimly lit room.
Ten pair of bunk beds lined the walls of the room, and he had been assigned the top bed near the stern and closest to the spiral staircase. Although Cyr had a private room at the bow, his crew filled the first thirteen beds starting at the wall to Cyr’s room and leading back toward Javan.
Chief Lydia and her dozen warriors took over the beds on the opposite side of Cyr’s crew, and from what Javan had observed, she was not happy about having to sleep in the same room as everyone else. She and her crew were also not happy about being stuck in the sleeping quarters during the storm.
Cyr had ordered everyone below deck except for Micah (who was too sick to walk down the stairs) and the half of his crew he needed to do whatever crew people did to keep a boat like this afloat and moving forward during a storm. Javan knew he knew nothing about navigating on water and willingly followed orders.
Both Lydia and Taliya had protested. Both lost, but apparently their mutual defeat helped them bond. She had given Taliya the bed above hers, and the two seemed to have become fast friends.
Now Javan felt like he was back in high school with the cool kids huddled together and whispering at one of the room while he got to be the lone social outcast at the other end of the room. On the plus side, the berries and leaves Taliya had given him kept him from feeling queasy, despite the constant rocking of the boat.
“Is that the one who calls himself a Dragon Collector?”
The loud question from one of Cyr’s tall, thick-necked, muscle-bound men caught Javan’s attention. It had the tone of a taunt, and Javan reached for his swords. He had been bullied enough in school to know when a beating was coming his way, but that was before Ravier had taught him how to use stalker swords.
He hoped he wouldn’t have to fight, but he was prepared to defend himself if necessary. He kept his hands on his sword handles and tuned in to the conversation.
“No,” another man said. “I think the Collector is the sick one.”
“No. The sick one is the king’s son. That one down there is the Collector.”
A third man interrupted. “You two stop arguing and just go ask him.”
“I can’t talk to him,” the first one said. “He has a dragon!”
“Yeah,” the second one said. “He won’t want to talk to us.”
Javan relaxed his grip. Did he hear that right? Were those big huge men in awe of him? Had they left him out of their circle of coolness because they feared him, not because they thought he was a weirdo or a geek or a nerd? Maybe he was the only cool one in the room, and everyone wanted to be a part of his circle of friends.
Did being a Dragon Collector give him the power to be popular? That was harder to believe than his ability to be invisible! It was also a bigger responsibility. If people paid attention to him and followed him, he better be someone worth following.
“Stay humble, Javan,” he murmured to himself. He wanted to be the good kind of popular, not the cocky, obnoxious kind. He rolled off the bed, landed on his feet and faced Cyr’s oversized men. “Yes, I am the Dragon Collector, and I do have an awesome dragon named Varjiek. But I’m also just a regular guy who could use some friends.”
He walked down the aisle and held out his hand to the group of six guys. “My name is Javan. Can I join you?”
“We would be honored.” One of the men stood and shook Javan’s hand. “I’m Kai. This is Mazen, Jaxson, Brigan, Phenix, and Orlan. We are all patrolmen on Captain Cyr’s crew. Mind if we ask you some questions about your dragon?”
“Hold on,” Taliya said, walking over to Javan. “Chief Lydia and her warriors want to hear about your dragon, too.”
Javan looked over to find a dozen more men and women staring at him with rapt attention. Maybe he wasn’t ready to be in the spotlight. Maybe he should have stayed in his lonely bunk. But it was too late to retreat now.
“Sure,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “What do you want to know?”
After a few seconds of silence, the small crowd began peppering him with questions.
“How did you collect your dragon?”
“Do all of his scales really turn the color of gold when he gets hungry?”
“Are you going to enter the Battle of the Throne?”
“Has your dragon ever tried to eat you?”
“What is it like to ride a dragon?”
“Hold on.” Javan threw his hands up and quieted the crowd. “Why don’t I just tell you my story? Then if you still have questions, I’ll answer them one at a time.”
Everyone nodded, relaxed, and settled back on their cots to listen to his story. He would share the abbreviated version and leave out minor details like growing up on earth, talking to dragons and being the answer to the prophecy made thousands of years ago.
Maybe he could do this popularity thing. Maybe if he stood in the spotlight, he could impress Taliya.
◊◊◊
Micah’s queasiness stuck with him long after the storm subsided late in the afternoon. He thus didn’t eat anything all day, and even though he felt better after a decent night of rest on the semi-comfortable cot, he didn’t trust himself to keep his breakfast down the next morning.
Once he got out of bed, he bypassed the breakfast table and made his way to the top deck. With the rising sun at his back, he enjoyed the view of the clear blue water ahead and the lush green forests on either side of the river, but he needed to get off the boat. To stand on dry land. To have solid ground under his feet. And to get away from Javan.
That Collector had somehow made himself likeable to everyone on board. At least two or three people were always talking to him, and he seemed to have learned all of their names. Why would he go to that much trouble? Micah hadn’t even bothered to learn how many people were on the boat, and he certainly didn’t care what their names were.
Micah’s sole concern was getting back to Mertzer. He didn’t need to make friends with the help along the way. Still, part of him envied Javan and wondered what it would be like to have just one real friend.
Omri would beat him for thinking such things, so he shook the thought out of his mind and reminded himself that he didn’t need friends. What
he needed were slaves. When he had slaves, he had control and could force them to do whatever he wanted.
As the boat chugged along, the scenery began to change. The rolling hills flattened out, the forest gave way to acres and acres of humminglo fields, and a river flowing down from the north intersected with the east/west river they were floating on.
“You might want to brace yourself, sir.” The only other person on the deck with Micah was one of the patrolmen from Cyr’s crew. He wore a black leather vest over his beige shirt and carried a bow and arrows. Micah didn’t like that the man had bigger biceps than he did. “We’ll be making that right turn onto the Derez River, and the change of course can get a bit bumpy.”
The stronger man followed his own advice, but he didn’t sit on any of the benches attached to the deck. He sat directly on the wooden planks and wrapped his arms around one of the railing posts. Micah couldn’t allow a patrolman to tell him what to do, so he continued to lean casually against the railing.
“You’re going to tumble over the side as soon as we hit those competing currents,” the patrolman warned.
“I will be fine,” Micah said. That man really needed to stop talking. He hadn’t earned the right to talk to the king’s son, much less tell him what to do.
Micah began contemplating ways to teach the people of Keckrick how to behave and submit to his authority when the boat took a sharp left turn, followed by a quick correction to the right.
He lost his balance and almost sailed over the top of the rail. Fortunately, he managed to snag the nearest post with his foot and plop himself down on the deck to prevent a tumble into the water. While the boat rocked back and forth and fought to make the turn north, he hugged the post and tried to ignore the smugness emanating from the patrolman behind him.
◊◊◊
After being bounced around like a ping pong ball during the turn north, Javan was eager to climb out of the sleeping quarters and onto the top deck of the boat behind Lydia and Taliya. He nodded a hello to Kai and noticed Micah sitting by himself on one of the benches. Everyone else was preparing to dock and unload the cargo.
“We’re approaching Tulkar,” Lydia said, leading them to the front, “and I want you to see the city from this vantage point.”
Stone walls ten stories higher than the boat on both sides of the river loomed before them, blocking the view of anything on the inside.
“Finally,” Micah said, stepping between him and Taliya. “This looks like a real city. I didn’t think you people here in Keckrick knew how to build walls.”
“Excuse me?” Lydia’s short spiked hair seemed to jump to attention. “Did you just insult us?”
“Ignore him. He has no manners.” Javan put his left hand on Lydia’s shoulder to keep her calm. “I would like to apologize for his rudeness. Now please tell me about your city.”
“Well,” Lydia said, “Tulkar was the first city constructed in Lower Keckrick when our ancestors moved here from the Land of Zandador in the year 500. They came via the portal system that connected this region to every other region in the Great Rift as well as to Upper Keckrick.
“To keep the portal protected and to commemorate the founding of the city, our people made the city walls to stretch five hundred miles from east to west. The walls only span one hundred fifty miles from north to south due to the natural boundaries like Dark Zone to the north and the Pheka River to the south.”
Javan whistled. “That is one huge city!”
“It was once the largest city in the entire region and a thriving city full of life and ideas and progress. Or so I’ve been told. I wasn’t alive during those days, and this is the only Tulkar I have ever known.”
The boat began to slow its speed and floated through two open rusty iron gates with intricate designs that highlighted the trees, plants and animals of the rain forest. Although Javan expected to see roads, buildings, and people inside the walls, he instead saw an abandoned city that had been reclaimed by the rain forest.
Trees grew through cracks in the stone streets. Ivy covered crumbled and half burned buildings. Some of the buildings were nothing but ashes while others were missing roofs or windows or entire walls.
“What happened here?” Javan asked.
“I thought you said this was your capital city and the largest in the entire region,” Micah said. “Why would you let it turn to ruins?”
“It wasn’t our choice,” Lydia said. “We were commanded to not rebuild after the great fire of 3711.”
“Let me guess,” Javan said. “Omri gave that command?”
Micah slapped Javan’s arm with the back of his hand. “Why would you automatically blame my father? He had barely taken over Zandador at that point. Besides, he maintained the peaceful trading arrangements already established between all the regions of the Great Rift when he won the throne in 3700.”
“You’re partially right,” Lydia said. “For the first decade of his reign, Omri upheld the pre-established trading arrangements. On Trade Day every April first and October first, we provided medicinal plants to Zandador, Varzack, Tirza, and Gibbet. In exchange, Varzack provided stone building materials, Tirza provided wool for clothing, Gibbet provided lumber, and Zandador provided food such as wheat, vegetables, and fruit.”
“Ha,” Micah gloated, making Javan want to smack the smug look off his face. “Told you.”
“I don’t think she’s finished with her story,” Javan said. At least he hoped she wasn’t. He needed her to say something that would shatter Micah’s idyllic image of Omri.
“There is more to the story.” Taliya wiggled her way in the middle of Javan and Micah. “You two just need to be quiet and let her talk.”
“Thank you.” Lydia took a breath and continued. “In the spring of 3711, Omri changed Trade Day to Transport Day. He required the regions to transport a designated quota of supplies to Zandador without receiving food in return. We were also to cut off trade with the other regions. If any region didn’t meet the quota, he threatened to send his dragons to destroy the major cities and have his army occupy the smaller towns.”
As the boat inched along, Javan looked with fresh eyes at the sad city and remembered the destruction he had witnessed at Gri. That vision stuck in his mind as Lydia resumed her story.
“We refused to agree to King Omri’s terms, so he sent his dragons to destroy us. His Noon Stalker burned the capital cities of Upper and Lower Keckrick while the other dragons spread through the villages, killing everyone they came across.
“His soldiers followed the dragons, executed our elders, burned our books, and took control of our remaining villages. We were told our heritage as Dragon Protectors was dead and that our future involved supplying Zandador with whatever King Omri demanded. We were forbidden to come to Zandador, use the portal, or protect dragons. If we ever tried to send a representative from the Protector Bloodline to enter the Battle for the Throne, King Omri would burn down the rain forest.”
She paused her narrative, leaned her forearms against the railing, and folded her hands in front of her as though she needed to contain her anger and frustration. “To remind us of these commands and what happens when we rebel, we were not allowed to rebuild our capital cities. But King Omri promised to remove his troops from our villages if we promised to forsake our heritage, stay out of Zandador, and meet his quotas.
“We agreed and have met his quotas ever since. But if we don’t win this humminglo war, my village is going to look like this city in just a few years.”
Her somber words hung in the air as the boat halted at a dilapidated dock in the middle of the crumbling city.
Chapter 28
Unsettling Questions
Micah quietly bypassed the line leading to the cargo room after descending from the top deck with Javan, Lydia, and Taliya. Cyr had ordered everyone to assist with unloading the humminglo plants, but that sounded like tedious work. Besides, he was a guest on the ship and the one who would save Keckrick from annihilation. He de
served the kind of special treatment that allowed him to watch rather than work.
He walked to the bow of the boat to hide from the crowd, leaned against the rail, and observed his surroundings. A dozen docks on both sides of the wide river stretched about ten feet into the water from a bed of stones on the shore. The Iria had pulled up to the first dock on the western shore, and although its old decking showed signs of neglect, it was the only dock that didn’t look like it was about to crumble under the weight of a feather.
As for the city itself, everything on the eastern side looked bleak and lifeless. On the western side, however, tents set up on grass between broken buildings indicated that Tulkar wasn’t a completely abandoned city.
Other signs of life included large wagons sitting empty on the uneven streets and the thirty or so people who inhabited the tents. Most of them had joined the effort to unload the humminglo plants, while a handful of boys and girls fished from one of the docks further upstream.
None of that mattered to Micah. He didn’t want to set foot in Tulkar.
The listless atmosphere of the city depressed him. As much as he had wanted to get off the boat at the outset of the day, he now felt the overwhelming desire to stay on board and keep churning forward.
Why? He had seen ruined cities before, cities he had led the charge to destroy under orders from his father. Tiny towns, anyway. Towns like Gri.
With that destruction still fresh on his mind, he recalled the screams of the people as they ran from their homes. He felt their terror as they watched Mertzer stomp through the streets, crush buildings with his feet, and spew poison in every direction.
Part of him craved the chaos. He loved having the power to control a dragon, destroy homes, and instill fear in people all around him. That was the part of him he felt obligated to nurture because that was the part of him that made his father proud.
His father wouldn’t be proud of the part of him who let the people of Gri escape. He hadn’t let Mertzer crush a building until he knew it was empty, and he had ensured no people were within range of Mertzer’s poisonous breath before ordering him to spray the surrounding area.
