Dragon! Book One: Stealing the egg

CHAPTER SIX

Two massive dragon eggs lay near his outstretched fingertips in the bottom of the nest. Side-by-side, dull gray in color with darker speckles, they reminded him of immense sparrow eggs.

They didn’t look life-changing, but he knew different. The two orbs were his future. He smiled only to have it whisked away in a moment of truth. This is just the beginning, so don’t get too pleased with yourself. Today you leave Dun Mare, forever. Gareth exhaled in a huff, wanting to say or do something profound, but not knowing what. He wanted to look up to the peak at the top of the cliff and shout his exuberance at Faring. A victory dance. I’ve done it. I’ve actually, done it.

The reward for his efforts lay at his feet as if tempting him to pick one up. This was something others sang about or told tales over campfires. People might one day sing his praises, too. He pulled himself back to the task.

The eggs would be large, he’d known that, but nothing had prepared him for the actual size. The eggs were almost as large as his head. One glance at the leather bag and the realization formed that it might not be large enough to hold an egg. One egg appeared larger than the other. He reached for the smaller.

“No,” the whispers that had previously only come at night said.

Gareth paused, hand on the smaller egg. “No?”

“Take the big one.”

He’d never heard the night whispers while awake, and certainly not in a voice in his head as clear as if talking to Faring. Gareth glanced around. Nobody was nearby, so where did the whispers come from?

“Hurry.”

Gareth ignored his confusion about the voices and looked at the smaller egg again, but reached for the larger one. A feeling of correctness warmed him as if the sun had come out on a cloudy winter’s day. The large egg was his target. Later, he promised himself, when he hid in the tannery he’d think about why he took it instead of the smaller one.

He slipped the strap over his head and spread the bag beside the egg. Opening it, he tried to force the egg inside.

Too large, but it didn’t feel solid like the eggshell of a bird. Instead, it felt mushy, almost like hardened leather. Lifting it with both hands, cradling it carefully, he found he couldn’t hold the egg and fit it into the bag at the same time. He reversed his actions and sat the eggs down on the bottom of the nest and slipped the bag over it. Pushing the larger side of the egg with his palm slightly allowed it to slip in as snugly as if made for it. He smiled at the thought. It was made for it. Then the strap went over his head, and he adjusted the awkward weight so he could climb back up the cliff with it hanging from his shoulder.

He reached one leg over the side of the nest and lowered himself to the rocks. Gareth gave a short tug to alert Faring he was climbing down the side of the nest and needed extra line. He felt a return tug and then more line was fed to him. He stepped on the next interwoven branch and used the rope to steady himself.

“Gareth!”

He looked up, startled that his friend would call out to him in such a dangerous manner.

Faring’s arm pointed at the sky.

Gareth twisted and looked to where Faring indicated.

The dragon was returning. Still far off, dark black wings beat a regular slow rhythm, the enormous swipes of movement that kept the beast in the air with minimal effort. As he spotted her, she spotted him and shrieked.

“Faring, hide!” Gareth shouted, but didn’t take the time to look to see if his friend obeyed. His last glimpse of the dragon showed her wings beating faster, her serpentine neck extended as if she could somehow reach him faster with that mouthful of jagged and sharp teeth. Her speed increased with each flap of powerful wings.

He scrambled down the side of the nest like a startled rat in a pantry. He leaped under the nest and onto the jagged rocks of the small ledge on the cliff. He hoped the dragon couldn’t reach him down there. A vague plan took shape. If he stayed under the nest, maybe she couldn’t find him. Maybe he would manage to live until dark, and then somehow escape down the face of the cliff on his rope. Maybe the dragon wouldn’t spit acid at him if she knew he had her egg with him. Or maybe, he gave the creature too much credit for intelligence, and it wouldn’t care about any of that, as it attacked and ripped him apart. He quit thinking about all the maybes and watched with terrified eyes.

The beat of the leather-like wings sounded close and then she folded them against her sides and dived to the nest. She landed like a house falling from the sky. Twigs and branches clattered down the cliff. A screech came from the nest above, so loud he wanted to cover his ears and run.

Then . . ., he saw the nest above jostle and shake.

The dragon was out of his sight as she searched the nest above. He heard her huff and sniff and felt her moving as she searched for the missing egg. Gareth frantically looked for a way out, up or down. He wished he could just climb back up there and hand the egg to her, and beg forgiveness like a boy returning a stolen cookie to his mother. No hard feelings. Please take your egg and let me go. I promise not to steal another.

The nest shook and shivered under her weight as she continued her frantic search. She tossed small branches over the side, and more than a few tree trunks followed them, as she searched everywhere, frantic as any mother missing a chick or baby. She roared in anger. Her bared teeth and red eyes suddenly appeared over the edge of the nest. Looking rapidly around at everything, her head turned and twisted. She spotted him. She froze, her eyes locked on him. Then she snorted.

A wad of black the size of his fist flew past his left shoulder.

She worked her mouth back and forth, obviously filling it with more dragon spit, probably a larger amount, as she maneuvered into position to get at him, or to have a clear line of sight for her next spit. Obviously, the egg he carried was not going to slow her. Her red eyes narrowed and darted. A deep rumble sounded from inside her chest.

Gareth looked for something to hide behind or under, and saw nothing. Backing a few steps, the rope that was still tied around his waist snaked along the rocks, getting hung up on something. He yanked it free, thinking his only hope was that he could perhaps lower himself faster than she could chase him down the rocks. He still wore the heavy leather gloves, so he could slide down the rope without getting a burn on his hands.

When he pulled on the rope again to free it, her attention shifted from him. She snatched it in her mouth, like a robin catching a worm.

Gareth pulled back, hoping to free it from her jaws.

She didn’t let go. Sensing he wanted the rope, she refused to give it. Then she yanked, harder. The rope came free from the cliff above, snapping part way up. She now held the other end of the rope tied around his waist. She jerked again, harder.

The rope pulled Gareth out from under the nest. He slipped over the edge of the cliff and came to an abrupt stop. Dangling at the end of the rope, twisting and turning, he looked up at her. She snarled but held the rope in her teeth as she watched him swing like a pendulum. The dragon leaned farther out and examined him as if trying to think of how to get at him.

When she lowered her head, he sunk lower. She pulled her head back up, and he rose. The dragon growled deep in her chest, her eyes locked on Gareth and still she refused to let go of the rope. Gareth dangled and looked up at her, too scared to move.

Frustrated that she couldn’t reach him, she shook her head. Gareth shook and swung from side to side, turning and spinning wildly. She lifted her head quickly, and when he rose nearly to her chest height, she swiped a claw at him. She missed but kept the rope securely in her mouth. He fell again, his breath catching at the sudden jar when he reached the end of the rope.

Gareth screamed out in pain, then shouted at her, hoping to startle the dragon into releasing him. He spun around and saw the bottom of the cliff far below and realized if she did let go of the rope, he’d fall to his death onto the rocky depths that were so far down the trees looked as small as sprigs of grass. He didn’t want her to let go and felt relieved his shouting hadn’t startled her into opening her mouth.

The dragon snorted and turned her head sideways to peer at him with one red eye. She snapped her head forward, baring her lips and exposing more jagged teeth.

Gareth looked up, past her, and saw Faring standing at the top of the cliff watching him, as if in a trance, mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

Then the dragon swung her head to and fro several times, and he was swinging in a wide arc, striking the rock face painfully at the end of each cycle. He shielded his head with his arms and fought for breath against the tightening rope around his middle. He lost sight of Faring. But his attention was centered on the dragon.

The beast edged forward, perching on the edge of her nest. She lifted her head as high as possible. Gareth lifted higher, too, but remained just out of her reach.

She paused as if considering options. She locked her eyes on him and leaped from the nest with the rope still locked in her jaws. Gareth was pulled into the air along with her, feeling the pulsating power of her wings as she flew, gaining altitude with each stroke. The rope tightened more around him with each beat, threatening to cut him in half. The ground pulled away. Gareth held on, knowing his fate was to die this day. He knew all but the details.

But she didn’t drop him. She flew higher and higher. She twisted her head to one side and then the other to see him, and she almost lost her grip on the rope when attempting to bite him when he swung too close.

The rope around his waist cut deeper into his stomach, so tight he couldn’t breathe. Gareth considered using his knife to cut the loop, allowing him to gasp for breaths once or twice while falling to the ground. The bag with the egg hung heavy from his neck, weighing him down even more. The idea of cutting the heavy bag free occurred, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The fall would certainly kill the chick in the egg, making his own death more senseless.

Trying and failing is better than never having tried at all. The teachers often repeated that phrase. The teachers had never been in this situation, and he briefly wondered if they would repeat that mantra if they faced his bleak future. His vision blurred from lack of oxygen.

He gripped the rope with one hand enough to lift his body the barest amount, the rope relaxing enough to let him draw a sip of air into his lungs. He looked up and saw the dragon tilt her head again, peering down at him with red, hateful eyes.

She flew on, shaking him occasionally, still trying to reach him with her teeth when he swung too close. Then, she folded her wings and started a dive, while grabbing at his flailing body with her snapping mouth, as both fell from the sky.

When she failed to bite him, she spread her wings again and tried a new tactic. She flew low and skimmed the rocky mountain top, trying to smash him as he flashed past. He missed striking the rocks by a hands breadth, nearly hitting several tall trees. She tried again on the next peak. Gareth screamed and yelled so loud his voice failed as he twisted and turned.

Then she flew higher again, circling and diving down the side of the mountain, again with him barely brushing against the tops of trees. Gareth dangled below, even closer with each pass. Gareth could have touched some of the treetops on the last mountain.

As he spun on the end of the rope, he saw the sparkle of sunlight glinting on water far ahead, over the trees and at the end of the valley. The dragon dipped her head, flying faster and faster, wings beating harder, her new objective seemed to be heading for the water. Gareth held his knife in his hand, a glimmer of hope foremost in his mind. Splashing into the water sounded better than anything he’d faced.

The dragon flew over smaller mountains along the coastline and finally she swooped low over the water, snarling and angry in frustration. Her eyes found him again, and she dived and turned in the air to try reaching him. She dived again, heading directly for the surface. As his feet splashed cold water, Gareth cut the rope above his handhold. The loop around his waist suddenly expanded even as his body plowed deep into the water. His head and body went under and he tasted saltwater for the first time.

The heavy leather apron and gloves dragged him down as they soaked up water and wetly clung to him, so swimming was difficult. The apron rapidly became heavier. The knife was still in his hand. Instead of untying the apron, he cut the straps and kicked away, then swam for the surface as the apron disappeared into the murky depths. The bulky gloves came off next, and he managed to hold onto the knife.

His head finally found air, and he gasped a deep breath. Then another. The angry dragon had already circled and gained altitude while he tried to catch his breath. He saw her spot him, and she folded her wings to her sides, her legs tucked close beneath her body. She fell into attack mode again, her fore-claws extended and ready to pluck him from the water as she flashed by like an eagle grabbing a salmon from the river near Dun Mare.

He gulped a last mouthful of air and dived deep under the water barely fast enough to avoid her slashing teeth and raking talons.

She climbed into the sky again, swinging wide and keeping her attention centered on him as she circled and prepared for another attack. She screeched and turned in a circle again, always keeping him in sight. Gareth managed a few more ragged breaths before she dived again. This time, he slipped quickly under water, kicked hard, and changed direction so she wouldn’t know his location. He saw her claws splash where he had been, and when she flew off a few seconds later, he surfaced again.

She attacked several more times, before finally rising and flying off in the direction of the mountains where her nest and remaining egg was located.

She’ll be back.

Gareth watched her, still feeling more fear than he knew was possible. He fought to slow his breathing, a combination of exertion and fear. She might return at any second so he had to be watchful. But if he didn’t swim easy and reach land he might drown. And if the gods willed it, he might survive the day, but that seemed unlikely.

The water tasted too salty to drink, a new experience, but he’d heard of oceans of salt water from the teachers and ignored it after discovering it unfit to drink. Arms splayed wide to tread water and rest, he spun a full circle, seeing land far off in only one direction.

The distance seemed impossible to swim. The weight of the egg didn’t pull him down too much, so he kept it. He decided to swim on his back, slowly, and conserve as much energy as possible. Besides, while on his back, he could keep a watch on the sky for the dragon returning. There would be no rest until he reached land, or drowned.

The bright sun hurt his eyes. He found he could close them and feel the sun on his upturned face, determining his direction without looking. A glance now and then ensured the dragon hadn’t returned. He took long, slow backstrokes, barely kicking. He moved his feet and legs just enough to remain on his back. Later, much later, he became aware of other noises. Slaps and creaks. He opened his eyes in fear, expecting to see the dragon had returned, finding a decrepit sailboat slowly approaching, a stone’s throw away.

“Ahoy, there. Can I be of assistance, or do you prefer swimming?”

Gareth grunted his response.

An old man slipped the filthy and patched sail, letting momentum carry the boat forward while he reached over the bow and lowered his arm. “Can ya take hold, son?”

Gareth grabbed the outstretched arm so hard he almost pulled the man over the side. Soon he had both hands gripping the man’s forearm. The man used his back and shoulders to lift. Gareth eased over the side of the boat as if he’d done it a hundred times. Then he lay on the bottom, breathing hard.

The old man moved about the boat, performing several tasks seemingly without effort. He pulled a rope taut and the sail moved higher up the mast. He adjusted the tiller until the patched sail filled with air in a snap of sound. The small boat surged ahead. He looked at Gareth like he might examine an odd fish in his net that he’d never encountered. “Yer can get yourself up and take a seat on that bench behind you, boy. Figure that dragon’s coming back after you?”

Gareth understood the words, but many were pronounced with different sounds or inflections. His groping hand found a bench seat near the middle of the boat. He managed to get upright and sit on it while struggling to adjust to the motions of his first ride in a boat. “Don’t know a lot about dragons. I guess she probably will be back.”

“Never saw one acting so fear-crazed like that, before. Especially around water. Always heard they don’t like saltwater, but you think she’ll return, huh?”

Gareth took a few more deep breaths. “Seems like a lot I hear about dragons these days is bunk.”

The old man barked a laugh. “Where were you headin’ to, son?”

“Down valley.”

“Never heard of it.”

“I mean, I’m from Odd’s farm in Dun Mare, and I’m going down the valley as soon as I find my friend, Faring.”

“Never heard of any of that, either. You might as well be talkin’ a different tongue.”

Gareth clutched the bag with the egg to his middle, taking a minute to think and appraise the old man. Dark brown skin and tangled hair turned mostly gray. His face above the beard was lined with deep dark wrinkles, and his clothing basic and dirty, especially on his thighs where he’d wiped his palms countless times. But there was a life’s worth of experience about him, and hidden in the wrinkles was a kindness few old men possess.

He acted much like Odd in many mannerisms, at least to this point. The old man kept a careful watch on him while performing numerous small tasks on the boat.

The shoreline and the mountains in the distance drew Gareth’s attention, the same ones he’d been flying over while dangling under the dragon at the end of the rope. “What’s beyond those mountains?”

“Never been there, son.”

I have. Gareth looked all around and only saw the single mountain range. If he was to ever get home, he needed to determine where that was as soon as possible. Half the battle of finding your way is knowing where you are when you start. The teachers had told him that. “Know their name?”

“We just call ‘um ‘the mountains’.”

Since there were no others to get confused with, the answer made sense, as little as he liked hearing it. He glanced in the direction of the sun and back at the mountains. “They lie to the west. What’s this water called?”

This time, there was a hint of a smile on the old man’s lips as he answered, “The ocean.”

“Oceans cover a large area. Does this part of the ocean have a name?”

“Some call it the Dunsmuir Sea.”

Better. Trying to get information from the old man was as difficult as getting it from the teachers. Gareth ignored the widening grin while listening to the pop of the sails, creaks of rigging, and the hiss of water slipping past the hull. The boat stank of rotted bait and fish. No need to ask the purpose of the boat. His shirt felt almost felt dry already from the warm wind and sun. “Do you know the reason for the name?”

The old man showed a few brown teeth. “Might be because the town we’re sailing for has the same name. Dunsmuir.”

“You’ve been playing with me.”

“Nope. Not playing at all. Just trying to figure out why a dragon dropped into my sea and if’n you’re smart or stupid. Haven’t gotten around to asking you how or why you’re in this fix, yet.”

The invitation to talk was clear, but Gareth held off. The bag around his neck contained a treasure. The old man might spread the tale of a boy dropping out of the sky with the egg of a dragon, and then others would seek him out. Not all would be friendly. “I don’t think I’m too smart. Especially after this morning.”

“Son, I hate to disagree with someone I just met, but you figured out the important stuff in a skip of a hurry, if’n you was to ask me. Later on, you can find Dunsmuir on most maps, and yes, the mountains lie to the west, so you can figure pretty close where you came from. Now that you’ve managed to figure all that out, all you got to do is get yourself back over them same mountains to your home. Never heard of anyone doing that, though.”

“Heard of what?”

“Anybody crossing those mountains. Not saying it can’t be done, just that I never heard of it until today.”

“I’m too scared to think, right now.”

“Imagine that. You got a right to be. Most boys would spend their time puking out their guts over a dragon taking them for a ride while they dangle on a rope like a toy on a string.”

“How’d you know?”

“Saw you hanging from that rope when she was flying around like she was crazed. Never looked at my boat once. Figured you for dead, but I got curious about what sort of man a dragon would carry around like that, so I went chasin’ after her.”

“I can’t pay you for a boat ride.”

“Never asked you to, not that I remember anyhow. Out here on the water, we help those in need, ‘cause someday it’ll be us needing help. That’s just the way of things.”

Gareth felt his breathing slow to near normal, and the clean air in his lungs helped revive him. He’d lived. Faring was probably safely at his Da’s house, trying to explain what happened and getting a whipping for his actions. Odd would be looking for him too, and so would the teachers. Hopefully, nobody blamed Faring. But the simple truth was that nobody really cared, other than Faring. He had no family and few friends. Yes, he might be the topic of conversation at the inn where the old men spent their days spinning yarns, but there would be other stories to tell in days to come. He said, “My name’s Gareth. I owe you a debt.”

“Some call me Tom, or Captain. A few call me wors’n that when I’m out of earshot.” He pointed to the bag and the egg it held. “Never met anyone who stole a dragon egg and lived. Most die trying if they have the guts to try at all.”

Gareth held the egg closer to his chest, determining what to do next. “Maybe they are stupid to try. Or too smart.”

“Son, you don’t know where you are, and you got a valuable egg and a passel of other problems I’m thinking, most you don’t even know about. I’m not only talking about that black dragon returning. I figure you don’t know anybody in these parts. And I’m thinking all those things and wondering who’re you gonna sell that egg to.”

“None of your business.”

“Course it’s none of mine, but I’ve never seen a buyer for dragon eggs in Dunsmiur Town. Besides, I’m just passing the time with pleasant conversation while we head for the fish docks. That, and wondering if you understand there’s many a man who’ll kill you for what you’re holding in that bag. Ya can’t just walk into Dunsmuir Town and start asking about the docks for who wants to buy a dragon egg, can ya?”

Gareth closed his eyes and thought about it. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

Tom barked a laugh. “Listen, there’s a water jug in that box beside you, along with a loaf of hard bread and a quarter of good Dunsmuir cheese. Help yourself.”

Gareth wanted a drink, and he hadn’t eaten all day, but he still hesitated.

“No charge,” Tom said, his eyes now watching the sky, a slight smile again playing on his lips.

Gareth looked up, too. No sign of the dragon. He opened the lid of the tankard and tore off a piece of bread and took a long drink of water. “I owe you an apology. I guess some of it is your business after all. If not for you, I’d have never made it to land if you hadn’t come along.”

“No, you were right. You have your right to privacy. I just want to know enough of the tale for a good story to tell over a tankard of ale, son. To tell you the truth, I like stories with happy endings.”

Gareth watched the sky for a long while before speaking. “How would you go about selling the egg?”

“Only one honest buyer for eggs is what I know. King’s army. It buys them and trains hatchlings for fighting in the wars down around Backcomb, and Enders. Both sides fly dragons and sometimes they fight in the sky, and people watch them spin and twist in the air, biting and spitting at each other, like fireworks on a holiday. Other times dragons drop rocks on towns and smash houses, or they spit slime into the watching crowds of people. They eat farmer’s cattle and sometimes even people, they say.”

“Are any of the King’s army in Dunsmuir?”

“Nope. Nearest army post I know is down around Drakesport, about three days’ sail with a good wind, or ten days of walking if you’re on land and manage to evade the thieves and muggers on the roads, which is almost impossible.”

Gareth heard the warnings on the words. He’d also heard of highwaymen and how they earned their living. A man carrying a dragon egg would draw them like flies to fresh dung. The old man owned a boat. “Ever been there?”

“Drakesport? A few times. Lived there many years ago.” Then Tom’s attention returned to the empty sky, and he quit talking for a few moments as if making up his mind about something. After ensuring no dragons flew in the cloudless blue above, he checked the wind in the sails and glanced around at the surface of the water. “But I might consider goin’ there again under the right financial circumstances.”