Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) Page 2

  The blacksmith briefly paused from his work and growled. “Iffin you ain’t buyin, ya ought not be touchin the merchandise!” As if to punctuate his statement, he hefted a large hammer and pounded it against glowing iron fresh from the forge.

  Ammon jumped back from the shower of flying sparks and raised his voice above the clanging. “How much?”

  The blacksmith turned and raised an eyebrow at him before shoving the iron back into the flames and scowling. “I dinna suppose it were much good anyways. Couldn’t even melt it down fer making a right usable tool. But maybe a young lad yer size might make some use of it I s’pose. Ten coppers and it’s yours.”

  Ammon shook his head and jingled the coins in his purse. “Three. I’ll give you three.”

  “Hah!” The big man crossed his hairy arms and glared. “Couldn’t let it go fer less than seven!”

  Pulling the purse from his belt, Ammon peered inside it and frowned. “Five and not a talon more.”

  The blacksmith smiled through crooked teeth and held out his hand. “Done.”

  Elated, Ammon hurried back to the Nest with the sword and scabbard wrapped in an old oilcloth and an empty coin purse in his pocket. He’d spent much more time outside than he’d planned and the sun was slowly creeping towards the horizon. The rock still held the door ajar and it fell to the ground as he pulled it open. Kicking it aside, he quickly stepped in and leaped up the long stairs, carrying the sword vertically in front of him so it wouldn’t drag against the narrow walls.

  Once inside his room, he lit a candle and set it beside the bed. Unrolling the oilcloth across the mattress, he excitedly inspected the sword once again. Surely something like this would come in handy. He would, after all, need to protect himself with all the gold he’d earn tomorrow! With a wry smile he rolled it back up and leaned it next to his sack. He’d practice with it later, for now he had to prepare for the Hatch.

  He lit all the candles in each of the small hollows carved into the stone walls and placed a tiny mirror behind each to direct the light towards the center of the Nest. With the room glowing brightly, he once more checked the eggs and stoked the remaining coals in the furnace for the last time. There was no need to heat the Nest now, the eggs would hatch at midnight and the dragons would be gone by sunrise.

  Somewhere in the city a church bell tolled, marking the evening mealtime and Ammon quickly surveyed the Nest to make sure it was clean before racing to the bottom of the staircase to pick up his meal. Sprinting back up the uneven stairs with bowl in hand he closed himself in his bedchamber. Tonight the gruel seemed even more tasteless, but he ate it quickly anyway. The excitement from his jaunt through the city had worked up his appetite and the wooden spoon hit the bottom of the bowl much sooner than he expected. No matter, tomorrow he would feast like a king!

  He heard the stairway door open and voices echoed up the dark passageway. He recognized the thick, nasally voice of the keeper and heard the heavy footsteps and clink of armor as, one by one, the knights passed by his door. As quietly as he could, Ammon leaned near the thin wooden door of his chamber, and listened. He could hear the nervousness in Keeper Calis’ voice as he assured the knights of the Hatching.

  “Oh sires, I’m quite sure this’ll be a grand Hatch! I do b’lieve all six will probably hatch! I m’self took great pains ta make sure the eggs are well cared for! Why I even check ’em myself twice a day!”

  Ammon smirked. Aside from his first week of training, he had only seen the keeper maybe a dozen times in the past eleven months and no one else was ever allowed into the Nest. The footsteps and voices grew fainter as they went further into the Nest. Ammon could still hear them, but words were too muffled to understand. He blew out his candle and very carefully pressed his face to a crack in the door. He could see six armored knights without their plumed helmets standing in a circle around the Nest. Strapped to their backs were the two handed hilts of their long swords. In the candlelight their pale faces made a stark contrast against the dark armor.

  Ammon leaned back a bit where he could sit more comfortably and watched. He knew the Hatch wouldn’t occur until about midnight, and if he was lucky he might get to see the young dragons as they crawled out of the Nest. No one was permitted to attend a Hatch except the knights and the keeper. If he were caught watching, the penalty from Calis would likely be severe, but the temptation was too much. As the hours passed, the only thing that changed was the increasing nervous chatter of Calis. Ammon yawned. The lack of sleep from the night before was catching up to him and his eyelids were growing heavy. The Keeper’s voice droned on like a buzzing in the background.

  “AMMON?”

  Ammon sat bolt upright with his heart pounding and his eyes wide open in the darkness. It was the same clear voice he’d heard the night before, but this time it seemed louder and closer. He shook his head. It must have been another dream, but it sounded so real! He pressed his face to the crack in the door. A thin stream of light came into his chambers from the small gap. Perhaps they had called for him? No. None of those men could possibly have had a voice like that, it was too clear…too perfect. It was almost musical. No, it had to be a dream.

  Keeper Calis was in the far corner, wringing his hands nervously while the knights stood on the very edge of the Nest, intently watching something. From where he was, Ammon couldn’t see the eggs, but he guessed the hatching must have begun. A few minutes later a noise like the tearing of cloth echoed through the chambers, followed by several quieter ripping sounds. Something large, black, and damply glistening suddenly leapt up onto the edge of the Nest in front of one of the knights. It was about the size of a large dog, with a tail as long as its body. Small leathery wings unfolded and folded rhythmically against its thin body. In awe, Ammon watched as the knight and dragon silently stared at each other for a full minute. Then the knight reached down and tied a loose cord around the long neck before moving away from the Nest towards the wall. The dragon followed obediently, taking his place beside the knight.

  More tearing sounds and again the scene was repeated for the next knight. A long silent stare, and then they also retreated to the wall. The third and fourth dragons were gray in color and the fifth was black, but each time the sequence didn’t change. The dragons climbed from the Nest, selected a knight and joined their fellow knights against the wall. Finally, the last remaining knight stood impatiently staring into the Nest. He shifted from one foot to another, his agitation beginning to show.

  Calis timidly approached from his corner. “Lord Tirate…I’m sorry, but it’s now well past the midnight hour, and if it hasn’t hatched….”

  Tirate spun on his heel and shook his fist at the keeper. “I’m WELL aware of it, keeper! This is the ninth Hatch I’ve attended!”

  The keeper backed up a step and the pitch of his voice raised so high he sounded like a pig squealing. “I’m sorry sire! Truly I am! But if an egg doesn’t hatch within the first hour of midnight, it’s dead.”

  Tirate trembled visibly with rage and for a moment Ammon thought he might draw his sword and attack the keeper. He couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if the other knights hadn’t been there.

  Barely restraining himself, the knight turned back towards the Nest. “I will remain here until it hatches or the sun rises! And so shall you Keeper Calis! I must have…I WILL have my dragon!”

  One by one, the other knights led their newly hatched beasts away from the Nest and towards the stairs. Ammon softly backed away from his door and climbed onto his cot. Ammon could hear the low mumbling of voices and a few chuckles as the knights passed by his door followed by the clicking of dragon claws on the stone stairs. Suddenly he felt giddy. Five Dragons, that meant five gold talons! He’d never seen that much money in his life, and knowing that the purse was soon to be his filled him with excitement. He closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep. Tomorrow was the beginning of a new life. Five talons! That little farm he fantasized about was so close he could feel the dirt
beneath his feet. Hours passed before he finally dozed into a dreamless sleep.

  When the morning church bells tolled, Ammon groggily rolled out of the bed. Today was his last day! Standing up, he slipped on his thick leather shirt, breeches, and boots. With a yawn, he rolled up the blankets and stuffed them into his sack with the rest of his belongings. Then he tied the sword and scabbard wrapped in the oilcloth tightly to the side of the sack with a long piece of rawhide rope. Dropping the bundle beside the door, he stepped out of his chambers and tried rubbing the sleep from his eyes. After he cleaned the eggshells from the Nest he could collect his pay and would be free to join the festivities in the streets.

  He was so preoccupied thinking of meat pies and his plans for the day he didn’t notice the candles were still burning. A slight movement caught his eye and startled, he looked up and froze. The knight was still standing beside the Nest and a miserable looking Calis was cowering in the corner. Confused, Ammon looked from Calis to the knight and back again before remembering the knight had vowed to stay until morning.

  Calis seemed to suddenly realize this was a potential chance for him to escape. He puffed himself up and strode towards Ammon. Grabbing him by the ear, he dragged him to the side and pointed at the Nest. “It’s about time, ya sloth!” Turning towards the knight he lowered his tone. “Sire, this is the whelp whose charge it was ta tend those eggs. Any loss is his responsibility and I’ll happily punish him severely for ya!”

  Stunned, Ammon turned his eyes toward Tirate, but the knight didn’t move. For several long moments they held that pose. Ammon’s head was held back by the keepers grip while Tirate stood unmoving, glaring silently into the Nest. Finally, the he turned away and walked towards the back and stared at the great wooden dragon doors. Calis breathed a sigh of relief, realizing the knight had finally accepted there were no more dragons to be hatched.

  Looking at Ammon, he sneered under his breath. “Git in there and clean that mess, and don’t break that rotten egg! I don’t want no stench filling my Nest!” With a cruel push, he shoved Ammon over the side of the Nest.

  Without the rope ladder, Ammon had nothing to slow his decent and he half tumbled, half slid on his stomach down the polished sides of the Nest until he skidded to a halt, his face inches away from the small egg that remained. Looking up at the egg, he slowly exhaled. Had he hit the rotten egg with his head it would certainly have burst, and the smell never would have come out of his hair and clothes. Pushing himself up onto his knees, Ammon made the decision not to come back as a tender again. He would start looking for that small farm as soon as the festival was over.

  He wrapped his arms carefully around the egg and lifted it very slowly. It felt swollen and ready to burst and he tried not to think about how bad it would smell if it broke. Turning carefully, he started towards the rope ladder and realized it still lay coiled at the top out of reach. From inside the Nest, he was unable to see either Tirate or Calis. Reluctantly, he was about to call out for help when the sound of ripping froze the words on his tongue. In horror he looked down as the top of the eggshell began to split apart. He held his breath. Legend said that nothing was more putrid than a rotted dragon egg, and he resisted the urge to drop it. Instead, he slipped one hand underneath to support the bottom and fervently hoped he could carry it like a bucket without spilling the contents. Again, he started to call out for help when the sound of ripping started again. This time he felt something move inside the leathery shell. The tear opened wide and a small golden claw half the size of his hand pushed out and ripped off the top half of the shell.

  Ammon froze in shock. Inside was a tiny, glistening golden dragon curled up in a ball. Its long tail was wrapped tightly around itself and he could clearly see the razor sharp claws on each of its four feet. It wasn’t nearly as big as the other hatchlings he had seen the night before, but other than its small size, it was absolutely perfect. The little head moved and its tiny mouth opened silently, taking in the fresh air for the first time. Slowly and deliberately, it turned its face to look Ammon in the eyes. Ammon was about to shout to the men above. It seemed that the knight would get his dragon after all!

  Something made him stop. He wanted to call out, but he couldn’t…those eyes…he gasped. It was like looking into two pools of liquid sunlight. For a long minute neither blinked as they gazed at each other. There was something familiar that seemed to draw Ammon in. His eyes burned and he blinked but still he couldn’t look away, he didn’t want to look away. For the first time in his life he felt a kinship, a belonging. The look in those eyes staring back at him pulled on his very soul. Silently they gazed at each other until his head began to ache. How could this be possible?

  Drawn by the tearing sounds, both Calis and Tirate returned to the edge of the Nest to investigate. A deep moan escaped from the knight’s lips as he stared down in disbelief while Calis’ head swiveled back and forth from Tirate to the dragon and back again. Dazed, Ammon looked up and somewhat distantly noticed the very red face of the knight.

  “Lord Tirate?” Calis squeaked as the knight shoved him aside.

  “That’s MY dragon, boy!” He kicked the rope ladder down and turned to climb down.

  Calis pleaded to him, “But sire Tirate…they already linked! Ya can see it in his face!”

  The knight growled a curse so fiercely that Calis squeaked and twisted the kerchief in his hand so tightly it nearly shredded. Mumbling incoherently, the keeper began to slowly walk backwards towards the door. Dazed, Ammon just stood still in the middle of the Nest and waited for the knight to take the dragon. The pain in his head was throbbing. Maybe after he finished cleaning the Nest he’d try to find some willow bark tea.

  The rope ladder creaked under the weight of the knight and his armor and he fumbled awkwardly for each rung as he descended. Two steps from the bottom, he turned to Ammon and growled. “The dragon is young, perhaps he can still link to me if the first link is severed!” He reached behind his back and drew out his long sword.

  “W…wait!” Through the foggy ache in his brain, Ammon suddenly realized Tirate wasn’t going to simply take the dragon from him. Holding the tiny dragon close to his chest, Ammon stumbled backwards. Desperately he looked around. He could never climb the polished sides of the Nest, and wasn’t tall enough to reach the lip and pull himself out. The only way out was the ladder, and the knight still stood on its last rungs.

  Cursing, Tirate heaved himself towards Ammon, slashing downward with his sword. The rope ladder that had stretched so much under his weight suddenly sprang back, entangling his foot. The big knight jerked to a stop in mid-leap and with a loud crash of armor against stone, he fell heavily on his side.

  The sudden crash frightened the baby dragon so badly that it quickly scrambled from its shell, over Ammon’s shoulder and onto his back where it clung, shivering. Dropping the empty shell, Ammon turned in a circle trying to shake the creature off, but it gripped his leather shirt tightly. The knight, now enraged, slashed madly at the rope with his sword. Finally he cut himself free and stood up. He was easily a foot taller than Ammon and he grinned wickedly as he raised his long sword again. Trapped, Ammon had no place to run. Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes and covered his head with his arms, waiting for the blow to come.

  Instead, Ammon felt the weight of the small dragon on his back disappear, and he opened his eyes just in time to see a streak of gold flash between himself and the knight. A bloodcurdling scream erupted from Tirate as he fell to his knees, shock on his face. His sword clattered and slid a pace away across the polished floor. Three neat gashes peeled back the black metal armor on his gauntlet and a trickle of blood dripped down his fingertips. The small dragon faced him with its head lowered, back arched like a cat. The golden eyes now glowed as white as burning coals and a tiny drop of crimson oozed off one of its front claws.

  Ammon looked at the rope ladder that now hung lopsided behind Tirate. Realizing this may be his only chance, he lunged past the kneeling knight and leapt
over the two broken rungs, climbing as quickly as he could. Before he cleared the last rung of the ladder, he felt something grab the back of his shirt. Expecting to be yanked back, he threw himself over the top with all his might. He tumbled forward and skidded across the floor on his hands and knees without resistance. Confused, he looked over his shoulder and saw a small dragon claw gripping his thick leather shirt.

  In a panic he reached back and tried to pull it free, but its grip was like iron. He grabbed the shirt and tried to pull it over his head, but the dragon tightened its grip and pulled the leather tight against his chest. The claws pierced through and pricked his skin underneath. Ammon let go of his shirt and the dragon eased its grip.

  Rattling armor and cursing rose from the Nest and the rope ladder creaked. Tirate had recovered his sword, and as he was climbing out he was screaming to Calis. “Dead! I want that boy DEAD! DO YOU HEAR ME, CALIS?”

  Hoping to escape unnoticed, the fat keeper had nearly made it to the bottom of the stairs and out the door. Now that Tirate was calling him, he abandoned that hope and reluctantly started back up the long staircase.