Secret of the Dragon Egg (Dragon Riders of Avria Book 1)

by N. A. Davenport

  He kneeled down by his dad, acting like he was getting ready to help him to his feet. Then, as quick as he could, he snatched the bag off his dad’s shoulder and jumped away.

  The sudden motion made his head spin. He stumbled, righted himself, and felt his stomach heave. He took a few more steps before he heard his mom calling him.

  “Will!”

  He turned back at the sound of his name.

  His mom was watching him with a tortured expression as she helped his dad stumble up to the shaded area. Then she reached into her bag, pulled out her empty plastic water pouch, and tossed it to him.

  “Find water, then hurry back,” she said.

  Chapter Three

  Will trudged ahead, keeping the shoreline to his left. He could feel his head throbbing in time with his racing heart. The blazing sun stung his cheeks and forehead. He could barely focus on his surroundings as he forced himself to keep moving, stumbling on sore feet over sharp sticks, broken shells, and coarse black sand.

  He knew his parents were counting on him. They were all done for if he couldn’t find fresh water soon.

  “Rivers flow into the sea,” Will muttered to himself, over and over. “If I follow the shore, I’ll find fresh water, eventually.”

  The shoreline started curving around to the right, and Will followed it. As he trudged on, the trees thinned. He could see farther between the trunks. A little farther and there was more clear ground than trees. Then the forest gave way to hills full of long swaying grass and coarse brush that didn’t provide any shade at all.

  The sun glared against him as it sank toward the horizon, scalding his eyes and face.

  Then Will noticed that, in the distance, the shore swung back to the left and met with another thick forest. At the point where the shoreline doubled back was the most beautiful thing Will could imagine. A river flowed from the land into the bay, gushing and sparkling and sloshing out into the open water.

  Will choked out a dry laugh of relief and pushed himself faster, stumbling over tufts of grass, spooking small lizards and mouse-like rodents that scurried away into their burrows. Insects buzzed around his face, landing in the glaze of sweat on his forehead. He stumbled, rolled in the crunching grass, rose, and kept on running. His parched throat burned with thirst. He kept thinking about giant icy cups of Gatorade, frosty chocolate milkshakes, and blue raspberry slushees. It made him thirstier to think about them, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  Finally, after more striving and running and longing than he’d thought possible, he crouched at the bank of the river.

  The first thing he did was dunk his entire head into the cool, running water.

  Relief flooded through his body. His headache vanished. Will drew his head out of the river, and water streamed from his hair, running down his neck and back. He scooped up handfuls and eagerly gulped them down.

  Will knew enough about camping to know that drinking straight from a river was a dangerous risk, but in that moment, he didn’t care. All he could think about was satisfying his dry, aching thirst. He gulped more and more fresh water until his stomach cramped up and he couldn’t force down any more.

  Will let out a long, satisfied sigh, feeling the coolness seep throughout his body and banishing his aching thirst.

  His head was clear now, too. He remembered that his mom and dad were waiting for him in the forest back by the beach, so he twisted open the caps on the plastic pouches and submerged them, one by one, into the stream, letting them fill up. Once they were full, he twisted the caps back on, splashed some cool water on his face, and turned to head back.

  Then he noticed something unusual.

  Up the river where the two banks drew closer together over a little waterfall, a stone bridge stretched over the water.

  Will climbed the hill for a few steps, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. It really was a bridge, made of strong flat stones. On the nearby bank, the bridge led to an even dirt road that followed the river inland.

  A bridge and a road! Where there were bridges and roads, there had to be people, and phones, and airplanes! They could go home! They might even be able to send out a rescue team to find his uncle.

  Will laughed in relief and turned again to hurry back to his parents as quickly as his weary legs would carry him.

  When he arrived at the sheltered area where his parents were waiting, his mom looked at him like she thought he was a hallucination.

  “You made it?” she gasped.

  Had they expected him to fail? Were they just waiting there to die of thirst? Will swallowed down the queasy feeling the thought gave him.

  “Just drink, Mom. You’re going to be fine.” He held the water pouch to her mouth and tipped it back.

  “You did good, Will,” his dad said, accepting the second pouch of water.

  Even after drinking water, both his parents still seemed very weak. Will hoped they’d be able to get up and keep moving.

  “I have some good news, too,” he said. “There’s a bridge over the river where I filled the water pouches. And a road.”

  “There is?” his dad asked.

  His mom sat up straighter, took another long drink of water, and wiped a trickle of moisture from the corner of her mouth with the back of her arm.

  “Do you think you can keep walking?” Will asked. “If we hurry, we can make it there tonight, maybe even before the sun sets all the way.”

  “We’ll try, son,” his dad said. “Show us the way.”

  The water seemed to give his parents more energy, and with the sun sinking lower in the sky, the air cooling down, and an offshore breeze blowing through their hair, the way wasn’t as difficult as before.

  The western sky was on fire with oranges, yellows, and reds when they made it to the river together. They re-filled their water pouches on the bank, and Will led them uphill to show them the bridge he’d found.

  “This is a very old bridge,” his father said, eyeing the stacked flat, gray stones. “They don’t make them like that anymore. No beams, no bolts, no concrete . . .”

  “Which way should we go?” his mom asked, gazing first into the dark forest on the opposite shore, then up along the road following the river. “There aren’t any signposts.”

  With the sun below the horizon now, the darkening sky shifted from fiery yellow to burning gold, dimming to a deep purple. Every moment, the light faded a few degrees more.

  “It’s getting dark,” Will said. “I don’t want to go into those woods not knowing what wild animals are in there.”

  “We might run into wild animals out in the open, too,” his dad reminded him. “Or did you forget that lions and hyenas live on the savannah?”

  Will gulped. He remembered the strange deer-like creature he’d seen in the forest. Any predator that would hunt one of those could easily take down a human.

  “Will has a point, though,” his mom said. “If we’re going to face anything dangerous, it would be better to see it coming. And if any people come around, we want to see them and make it easier for them to see us, too. I vote for following the river. That will also mean staying near fresh water, and we don’t want to run out of that again.”

  “But the arrow I made on the beach only pointed along the shore,” Will said. “What if people come looking for us?”

  “If there’s a bridge and a road, there have to be people here somewhere,” his dad said. “If we find a town, we can find our way home.”

  “And we need to find a search and rescue team to look for John,” his mom said with a tight frown. “I think you’re right, and our best bet is to stay along the river and find the nearest town.”

  The way she looked when she said this, Will could tell that she had little hope of a search and rescue team finding his uncle. It seemed she was already mourning her brother’s death.

  He stared at her for a moment, horrified, before his dad cleared his throat.

  “Well, we won’t get much traveling done tonight,” his dad said
gruffly. “Not with it getting dark so soon. Let’s find a place to rest until morning.” He put a hand on Will’s shoulder. “When the sun comes back up, we can get a look at the land from the top of one of those hills. Maybe we’ll see the nearest town from there. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get home.”

  They followed the river inland together until they found a grassy hollow off the side of the road, sheltered from the seaside breeze. When they climbed in, it felt warm and snug.

  His parents fell asleep instantly in the thick, soft grass. Despite his exhaustion, Will couldn’t relax enough to drift off.

  Was Uncle John really dead? Would search and rescue teams be going out to look for his body?

  If Will and his parents had washed ashore on this unexpected and strange land, why couldn’t Uncle John have washed ashore, too? What if he’d ended up farther along the beach than they had? What if he’d found a safe place right away and was sending out search parties for Will and his parents?

  Maybe his mom and dad were right, and Will should accept that his uncle hadn’t made it. He just didn’t like the thought that he might never see him again.

  Will’s uncle was wild and fun, the sort of adult who would take risks and live life on the edge. He was the one who’d bought Will his first mountain bike and was always willing to take him out on gnarly trails. Once, after Will had crashed his mountain bike and broken his wrist, it was his uncle who’d encouraged him to get back on and start riding again after he’d healed up. He’d made Will feel like he could do anything if he tried hard enough.

  He was the sort of man who seemed to be invincible . . . but maybe he hadn’t been so invincible after all.

  Will woke to the sound of wooden wheels clattering over stone. The air was sharp with early morning chill; the sun hadn’t yet made it over the horizon, but the sky glowed with a hazy pale light.

  He jumped up at the strange sound and instantly regretted it. His body ached all over from the forced march the previous day. The skin of his face and neck was tight and seared with sunburn. His legs wobbled under him.

  Trying to ignore his aching muscles, Will scrambled out of the grassy hollow and stumbled to the side of the road to investigate the noise. When he saw what was approaching, he was sure he must still be dreaming. Maybe he’d been out in the sun too long, because he couldn’t actually be watching a giant, colorful bird pulling a wooden cart up the road.

  The bird stood taller than an ostrich and was much more powerfully built. It had green eyes and a long, bright-orange beak that curved downward. The feathers along its neck were glossy black and shone iridescent in the morning light.

  The rest of its body was even more colorful. Yellow feathers sprouted across its breast, blue in its stubby wings, tipped with white. Bands of red, black, and white flashed in its tail. Its muscular legs were as dark as the feathers in its neck. Its feet were bright orange.

  Almost more shocking than the sight of the enormous rainbow-colored bird was the fact that it wore a harness and was pulling a cart.

  Riding in a raised seat in the cart's front, holding the reins, was a bulky gray-bearded man, who stared at Will with almost as much bewilderment in his eyes as Will felt.

  “Um . . . Mom? Dad?” he called, hearing them stir behind him.

  He kept his eyes on the approaching bird-drawn cart as his parents joined him on the rise overlooking the road.

  “What on earth is that?” his mom whispered.

  “I don’t have the foggiest idea,” his dad said with a gasp. Then his biology-professor brain seemed to kick in. “I mean, it appears to be a kind of bird in the order of Struthioniformes, with ostriches and cassowaries, but it’s more massive than either, and those colors, and that beak . . . the taxonomy here is baffling to me.”

  The giant bird continued walking forward blithely. When the cart pulled up alongside Will’s family, the driver tugged the reins, and the bird stopped.

  The driver eyed them in curious silence.

  Will’s parents seemed dumbfounded.

  Finally, Will tore his eyes away from the bobbing head and sharp beak of the bird to look at the driver. He wore a rust-colored vest over a creamy white shirt that shimmered like it was made of silk. Along with his thick wool trousers and leather boots, he seemed dressed for a completely different century. Had they stumbled upon some sort of medieval re-enactment? But what was with the bird?

  “Excuse me, sir,” Will’s dad called, snapping out of his shock. “Do you speak English?”

  The old man in the cart raised an eyebrow.

  Will’s dad seemed to take that as an affirmative. “Is there a town nearby? Our boat sank in the storm and we need to get to a phone.”

  Will noticed that his dad didn’t bother asking if this guy had a cell phone on him. He didn’t look like someone who would have the latest iPhone in his pocket. Even if he did, they had not seen any cell towers so far. It was doubtful there’d be any signal here, anyway.

  The stranger leaned back in his seat. “Off-landers, are ye?”

  Will exchanged glances with his mom and dad. Everyone seemed confused by this comment.

  “Sir, our boat sank,” Will tried explaining. “We need to get home, and my uncle is lost at sea, so we really need to find a phone. Can you help us?”

  “Hmm.” The stranger nodded thoughtfully. “Haven’t had off-landers in these parts for nearly a hundred years. Interesting . . . very interesting.” He eyed them with probing curiosity, then gazed out at the road as though lost in thought.

  Will gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists. Was this guy trying to be unhelpful? Or was he just completely dense? Will wanted to yell at him that this was important and to just answer the stupid question already, but his mom rested her hand on his arm in a silent gesture to remain calm.

  Finally, the stranger cleared his throat and looked at them again. “There is a city about a week’s travel upriver. If you come with me, I can find work for you in exchange for food, clothing, and shelter . . . until you no longer require my aid.” He added the last part after noticing the look of shocked horror on Will and his parents.

  “A week’s travel? It’ll take a week to find other people?” Will’s mom gasped.

  “Well, now, there’s the occasional farm here and there. Younger families who don’t hold to the old superstitions of staying near the forts, you know.”

  “Farms?” Will wasn’t sure he had any idea what this guy was talking about.

  “But what you folks want is the city. That’s where the best opportunities are. Stick with me and I’ll make sure you get settled with food, proper clothing, and somewhere to sleep at night as long as you’re hard workers.”

  “But, you misunderstand us, sir!” Will’s dad held up his hands, trying to explain. “We don’t need jobs; we need to get to a phone, or a computer with internet.”

  The man chuckled. “Well, whatever it is you need, you won’t find it here, will you? So I suggest you follow me to Aldlake. You don’t have to work for me if you don’t want to, of course. But it is a long way to the city by foot. If you want to share my meals and ride in my cart, it won’t be free. A day’s work is worth a day’s needs met, I say.”

  Will exchanged glances with his parents. Nobody seemed sure what to do at this point.

  The stranger shrugged. “Have it your way then.” He flicked his reins. The giant bird started walking forward again, pulling the cart up the road.

  They all looked at each other with panic-stricken faces.

  “Wait, we’ll come with you!” Will’s dad called, waving his hand and stumbling down the hill to the road.

  The man pulled his bird back to a stop and chuckled again. “I thought you might,” he said. Then he turned to look over his shoulder. “Well, climb into the cart, then. We have a long way to go before making camp.”

  With one more nervous glance at one another, Will and his parents scrambled up to the cart and climbed in the back.

  Before they st
arted rolling forward again, Will heard his mom mutter under her breath, “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  Chapter Four

  The old man flicked the reins and they started bumping over the rocky dirt road.

  The first thing Will noticed was that there was hardly any space in the back of the cart for his family to fit. It was loaded with barrels, parcels, blankets, packages, tools, jugs, and so many other lumpy and cumbersome objects that it was a challenge for the three of them to find space to sit where they wouldn’t fall off the back.

  Will tried to shove aside a thick bundle and discovered that it contained some sort of soft fabric.

  “You’d do better to leave that alone, boy,” the old man muttered when Will ran his hands over the smooth fabric. “That silk is worth more than you are, I’d wager.”

  Will’s dad cleared his throat. “I feel we ought to introduce ourselves,” he said, struggling to scoot himself farther into the cart. “My name is Mike. Mike Goodwin. This is my wife, Kim, and our son, Will. We were on a cruise across the Atlantic, heading toward Portugal, when the storm hit us. And we’re all very grateful for your help.”

  “I am Elder Madoc of Aldlake,” the man answered. “I’m returning to my manor after trading for goods in Silverlake, including those rare dyed silks your boy keeps knocking around.” He shot a look back at them, and Will whipped his hand guiltily away from the bundle of soft fabric.

  “Sorry,” Will muttered.

  “So, I have to ask,” his dad said. “What is this fantastic bird you have drawing your cart? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Never seen a cormant? Hmm . . . what do you have drawing carts in the off-lands you come from?”

  “Well, horses, usually.”

  “Horses? We don’t have those here. Would those be anything like shufflos?”

  Will’s dad exchanged glances with him and his mom, as though sure he’d misheard and was looking for them to explain.