Dragon! Book One: Stealing the egg

CHAPTER EIGHT

He lay awake in the bottom of the boat for a time, trying to sort out the meanings of the whispers and the feelings of dread and fear they spread, wishing they’d leave him alone. Whispers and nightmares. At first look, both were the same, but no. The nightmares were his. The whispers came from elsewhere, and from a mind not his own. He felt sure of it. Finally, he fell asleep again.

Urgent whispers woke him.

Not the night whispers this time, but nearby voices. Two of them. Neither was the old fisherman’s voice, yet they were close. Probably standing beside the boat on the dock, not more than a few steps away. The minimal amount of light filtering under the edges of the tarp indicated it must be after sundown, and the yellow light may be a lantern. He listened without stirring.

One young voice said, “Not me. I ain’t setting foot on that boat. Besides, I don’t see much worth stealing.”

“Go on, chicken. You can make a quick search before that old man comes back. Must be something down there on the damned boat we can take that’s worth a few coppers,” a different voice said, sounding older and more daring.

Gareth gently reached a hand near his head and made sure the egg was still safely lodged near the seat, and then placed the hand on his knife, wishing he’d taken the time to sharpen it after scraping the hull where the dragon had spit. He tensed, ready to spring from under the tarp and challenge the boys as the first of them came aboard.

Before the boys quit arguing a third voice, louder and one with the ring of authority, sounded from farther away, “You trouble-makers step one foot onto that boat, and I’ll bust your heads in before you can get back onto the dock. Best you get back to your mama before she finds out what you’re up to and takes a switch to you.”

“Ah, you dang fishermen always stick together,” the younger voice said.

“Go mind your own business,” the other boy snarled. Then footsteps moved reluctantly away, down the dock. Gareth imagined that people with boats had to look out for one another, much as Tom had mentioned about helping each other when out at sea. For seamen, there were two kinds of people in their world. Boat people, and the rest. He suspected if the situation had been reversed, Tom would have reacted the same way to intruders on another man’s boat.

He forced himself to lie still, not knowing who else might be watching from only a few steps away. Movement under the tarp would alert them to something unusual, and any curiosity in others was unwelcome. He drifted off to sleep again, unable to stay awake after the day’s events. Tom’s voice woke him. He ordered someone to stow supplies in the bow, on top of the fishing nets, and Gareth felt the boat move as someone stepped aboard. One person. He resisted the instinct to lift the corner of the tarp for a look.

A few minutes later, another delivery arrived. Again, Gareth wanted to see what and who, but again he resisted the urge. Then, completely unexpected, he felt the motion of the boat change. Not the rocking of more feet coming aboard, but the gentle glide of a boat untied from the pier and drifting on its own. The oars creaked, and the boat surged ahead. Tom whispered, “Don’t get excited and try to climb out, yet. Eyes are always watchin’.”

The regular motion of the oars and the surges with each pull acted like a rocking chair. Gareth cradled his head next to the egg and closed his eyes, again. Finally, he woke with a start and noticed the sound of the oars had stopped. He kept his voice low, “Can I come out?”

“Bout time, you did.”

Gareth poked his head from under the tarp and winced at the brightness of the sun. “I guess I fell back asleep.”

“Your black dragon mama returned earlier, right after sunup. Flew over one time and gave us a look-see. Then she went looking off to the south, probably still searchin’ for any sign of you. Haven’t seen her since.”

The little hairs on his neck twitched with Tom’s words, and Gareth hastily glanced up to ensure the sky was still clear.

“Water jugs over there.” A hand showed the way. “And thick slices of cheeses and some hardtack. Got some dried pork, too. Pants and shirt layin’ on top of the seat you were sleeping under.”

Gareth reached for the clothing and paused. “These are new.”

“Seems like your old ones saved my boat when you wiped that dragon spit from the bottom hull. So, fair enough to get you new ones. Besides, I know a woman back there in Priests Point who sews clothes, cheap. I said to make them tall enough for me, but heavier. Only took her a while to cut and make them while I provided excellent company for her.”

Gareth smiled as he pulled on tan trousers made of a soft, heavy material, not unlike the sails, and buttoned them. The length of the legs was perfect. The shirt was pale green, with a trim of red ribbon around the neck. It felt a little loose, but it was nicer than any he’d ever worn. He imagined he looked good enough to court a girl, even Sara, Odd’s daughter. He scrambled to the bow and the water jars and drank more than half a bottle in a single swig. The cheese and hardtack lay to one side and a rag wrapped around dark strips of dried pork. He glanced at the old fisherman.

“Growing boys need food. Eat what you want.”

Gareth grabbed some hardtack, a slice of cheese, and two strips of pork. He settled on the seat that he’d slept under and faced Tom. The sail was up. He glanced at it to see if the holes the dragon spit had spread and found none. He did see several cleaner patches with new, white stitching on the edges.

The old man noticed the inspection. “Didn’t take long. Used a lantern to see by, but I wanted to leave Priest’s Point in something of a hurry last night and had to sew it in the dark. Seems the Brotherhood livin’ near there are searchin’ for a beardless man about your size and age. Got a sizable reward posted.”

“Brotherhood?”

“Men of the cloth. They watch and observe most everything. Sometimes they teach at a school or such.”

The word ‘teach’ alerted Gareth. He swallowed hard and tried to conceal his fear. “They wear long green robes with hoods?”

The fisherman took a wide look around, ensuring everything on the boat, in the sky, and on the sea, was as it should be before speaking. “They do. Shave their hair and eyebrows too. Seems like you’ve heard of them. Now I have a question or two for you to ponder. I want you to think on these questions along with me because they form a puzzle that I can’t seem solve in this old mind. I observed with my own eyes, the dragon that carried you from your village over on the other side of those mountains near Dunsmuir. I saw it dunk you in the ocean and attack you. So, I’m thinking there’s only one missing young man the Brotherhood is lookin’ for, and that’d be you.”

Gareth chewed on a piece of hardtack and washed it down with another drink without meeting Tom’s intent gaze. “Sounds about right. But I can’t tell you why they want me. I don’t know. I swear.”

“Okay, okay, but just follow my thinkin’ for a while, here, because I’m not concerned about the why, yet. See where I’m heading, first. That nasty old dragon snatched you up near your home across the mountains around first light yesterday, and flew you all the way to the Dunsmuir Sea, clear over the mountain tops.”

“That’s really what happened. The truth.”

“No roads pass through those mountains, so a man would have to go clear around them, way to the south, at least several days. Now figure this, for me. Your dragon drops you into the sea about mid-mornin.’ Near sundown, the very same day, the Brotherhood is searching for you at least five days travel away in Priests Point, and who knows where else. Does that sound more’n a little strange to you?”

“I already told you I don’t know why they’re looking for me,” Gareth said, again.

The old fisherman cast him a penetrating glance and shook his head once before continuing as if talking to a child. “Sounds strange to me because it’s true dragons can fly that far in one morning; I seen it myself. Stands to reason because they fly right over mountain tops. The question I have is, how do the Brotherhood in Priest’s Point already know you’re missing? How’d they find out so fast? Take a man a week to walk across them mountains, or more. But they know about you the same day.”

Gareth glanced warily up at the sky again just to make sure it was clear, then nodded as he began to understand. “Now I see what you’re worried about. You’re not asking why they’re looking for me. You wonder how do they already know to look for me.”

“Both would be interesting questions to answer, but you’re right. Flying dragons, I can understand. But the Brotherhood knowing about things happening so far away almost as fast as dragons can fly is a puzzle.”

“I call the Brotherhood ‘teachers’ and they’ve watched over me since I went to Dun Mare as a young boy. But I have no idea of how word of me leaving there traveled so fast. It doesn’t seem possible unless one of them also flew on the back of a dragon.”

Tom spit at the ocean, letting his eyes roam the sky, water, and boat one more time. He pulled the rope that tightened the sails and watched the result for a few heartbeats. “I’m thinking the Brotherhood knows more than one thing we normal people don’t. I’m also thinking you also know more’n you’re saying’.”

Gareth glanced around at the open sea to avoid responding. Tom had a right to know everything. He’d risked his boat and life for Gareth. “How can you tell where we’re sailing?”

The old fisherman smiled. “Change of subject to distract me, huh? After a lifetime on the water you just know which way to go. I see the sun, waves, and winds like you see the ground, paths, and roads. Besides, if you look to the horizon to our port side,” he pointed to their left, “and look careful, you’ll see a smudge of land.”

“Why not sail closer to shore so you can see it all the time and not get lost? And if the boat sinks you’d be close enough to swim to safety.”

“You ask some good questions for your first time in a boat. Okay, I’ll tell you, boy. First, I don’t want the Brotherhood knowing where I’m at. Don’t trust them. Never did. I don’t want them standing on the shore and watching where I go and telling others. Now that I know they’re after you, I want their attention even less. The second thing is that I don’t know these waters around here like I do those at home. People on land think sailing a boat close to the coast is a good idea, but it’s not.”

Gareth liked the idea that Tom didn’t like the Brotherhood any more than he did. After the night whispers last night Gareth had been careful with anything said to Tom, but now he decided the mental link to danger was probably somehow because of the Brotherhood, and it made him feel better for the first time. “That the only reason?”

“Close to shore there're more rocks and reefs. Shallower water, so more danger of them sticking up. Tide comes in and covers them with a fathom or two, and a boat sails over the top and rips her hull open. Safer to be in deeper water unless you know the places to avoid.”

Gareth saw the wisdom in his answer, and his estimation of the old man went up another notch. He watched the waves and ripples the wind created, and the deep green color of the water. Seabirds skimmed the surface and snatched tiny fish in their beaks. “Why are you helping me?”

Tom glanced away, avoiding eye contact as he performed several meaningless tasks, none of which needed to be done at that moment, in Gareth’s mind. He too, was using the water as a distraction. Little veils of warnings made themselves known. Gareth wondered if he had made the right choice in choosing Tom to take him to the army to sell the egg.

When Tom finally answered, his voice carried an air of indecision. “Don’t really know, if you want the pure truth. Pulling you from the water was something I’d do for any man. The rest could be for money.”

“No, you were already helping me before I offered anything. I think you’re a good man. I’m also worried my friend, Faring. He must think the dragon ate me.”

“Faring must be your friend. When the Brotherhood catches up with you—and they will—you might want to ask them to deliver a message to him. Seems like they can get one to him by tomorrow.”

He does not miss anything.

Tom swung the tiller and hauled in the sails tighter. The boat changed course and headed closer to the shore, despite what he’d said about danger, earlier. His posture became more erect, and his eyes shifted and darted to examine the boat and sails in detail. His attention to the boat stilled his tongue, which drew Gareth’s attention. “Something’s wrong?”

“Behind us.”

Gareth spun to find an empty expanse of the sky when expecting to see the dragon, but there was none. He searched the water until he saw a small triangle of white at the horizon. The sail of another boat. “Coming this way?”

“Yup.”

“Must be lots of boats fishing out here.”

Old Tom didn’t respond for several breaths, and when he did, the voice was softer and angry. “You’re right, but that sail is taller than any fishing boat. It heeled over when I did.”

“Which means?”

“After I changed course it did the same. Right away.”

Gareth didn’t need any more explanation. They were being followed. He tried to swallow and failed. “Will it catch up with us?”

“I expect so. Only one boat in these waters with a sail that tall. It’s that white pirate boat we saw tied up at Priest’s Point, the pirate boat. Anybody see you with the egg?”

“Just Faring knows I have it, but he’s back in Dun Mare. And the teachers know I’ve been to the nest. By now Faring has probably told them the whole story.”

“I’m not talking about people at that village. Did anybody see you while I was getting supplies at Priest’s Point? I mean, anybody at all?”

Gareth raised his voice. “No. I suppose somebody might have seen the tarp move if I rolled over in my sleep, or if I snored they could have heard me, but otherwise, I stayed still and I never even looked out once.”

“Calm down, son. I believe you. Those damn monks must have put the word out that you have an egg. Your friend at home probably told them all about it, and they sent that information along with your description. I’ve never had a boat chase my fishing boat before and maybe this isn’t a chase, either. Could be a coincidence. We’ll know in a while.”

Gareth looked back at the white boat and tried to decide if the sail was any larger or clearer. It looked the same. “How will we know?”

“I’m going to tack again after a while and see if it does the same. The first time might have just been a coincidence. Next time won’t.”

“Meaning you’re going to change direction and watch to see if that boat follows. What if it does?”

Tom rubbed his chin and flashed a weak smile. “I want no part of the men on that boat. They are killers and worse. This old tub won’t outrun it, but a big hull like that draws an extra fathom or two. We’ll head for shallow water and sail near the shore. I’m betting that boat can’t reach us before we get there, but the shore’s pretty rough, up ahead. Been up and down it a few times. Not much beach, and rocks in the water big enough to break the back of most boats.”

“Then why go there?”

“No captain in his right mind will sail close to that shore unless the reward for doing it is a fist full of solid gold. If they follow us, we know their intentions. A small boat like this may survive till we reach shore. No way that one can, not where I’m heading.”

“If they do follow, what do we do?”

“Best plan, for now, is for me to set you ashore somewhere and point you in the right direction. I’ll sail away, and when it’s dark, I make a run for it across open water. Meet up with you later. They can’t follow me at night if I don’t show lights. If they get too close, I’m thinkin’ we scuttle my boat near the beach, and both of us take off at a dead run. We don’t want that bounty hunter to get his claws into us. Trust me.”

Gareth glanced back at the sail on the horizon and then at Tom. “You scared?”

“Yes. Never had pirates chase me. I guess some might have wanted a load of my fish when there was a good day with the nets, but not many. This time, it’s different.”

“You’d sink your boat to get away from them?”

“Son, those are evil men chasin’ us and an old boat is a fair price to pay for our lives. But, you’ll be buyin’ me a new one with the proceeds of the egg, I’m thinking. It’s only fair.”

“I don’t want you to lose your boat because of me.”

“This isn’t any of your doing. If those back there want to cause us harm, you didn’t invite it. They might be pirates, or thugs, or men sent by the monks to take back that egg. The only thing I’m pretty certain of is that they’re not following us to help you or me.”

The night whispers were a subject to keep to himself, as well as explaining the feeling he had to escape Dun Mare. Gareth decided to tell a half truth. “I never meant for all this to happen, Tom. I just wanted an egg and a few coins in my pocket.”

“Treasure is more like it, instead of a few coins for your pocket. But I understand what you’re saying underneath them words and you don’t have to say more out loud. Now, if you duck, I’ll bring the boom around, and we’ll see what our pirate friends back there do.”

Tom shifted the tiller and slackened a line. The sail went soft, and as the boat momentum veered to port it fluttered and filled again, swinging the boom around to the other side of the boat with a snap sounding loud enough to break a mast. The boat leaned to the other side, picking up speed with the change of direction. The feel of the motion changed to one of more intent, the small boat surging ahead like it had new life.

“Here they come,” Tom said.

Gareth saw the sail following them suddenly lean the other way, indicating it had matched Tom’s turn. It had already increased in size since he’d first seen it, although he couldn’t yet make out the hull. “I don’t understand. The teachers have always helped me.”

“Tell me your story. Make it quick.”

He considered how to begin and then plunged in. He told of his earliest memories and how the teachers had supplied him with a roof, clothes, and food. He told of the lessons concerning history, math, science, and language. He almost ran out of story until he mentioned the dragon’s nest, and he quickly recounted all he remembered of that incident.

Tom listened without interruption as he continued to adjust the sail and direction to gain more speed. When Gareth paused, he said, “People say the Brotherhood are a greedy lot. They share information for a price and sell it for more. The question is, why would they give it to you for nothing?”

“It’s always been that way.”

“For you, maybe. But rest assured somebody is paying for your learnin’, and those Brothers don’t work cheap, I’m thinking.”

“My friend Faring said something similar. He said, someone always pays.”

“They watch out for you, or watch over you? Which is it?”

Gareth paused at the question, considering. “They keep me away from any danger. They’re always watching me. But they also teach me.”

“Since you were small, you say?”

“Yes.”

“You’re without folks of any sort?”

“Yes.”

“How many monks lived in that village?”

“Dun Mare? At least four all the time. Lately, twice that many. Ten, I think. Others came to teach me new subjects, and then they’d leave.”

Tom pulled the sails tighter and nodded to the boat closing from behind. “Somebody paid the monks to watch over you, son. Paid every day what a fisherman earns in a year, I’m thinkin’. They paid them at that rate for about a dozen years. That’s far more than your egg’s worth.”

“The sail back there is getting bigger, and I can see part of the white boat, now. They’re catching up.”

“We’ll make it. See that white water churning ahead of us? Rocks near the surface.”

“Are we going to veer off before we get to them?”

“Nope. You’re going to stand in the bow and direct me through them. Just arm signals for which way to go.”

“If we hit a rock?”

“We sink. I already know you can swim, so can I. Take your bag with the egg and swim to the nearest beach. I should already be there to greet you. Here, hold onto the tiller for me, and keep it steady, I got some things to do.”

Gareth took the handle while Tom moved quickly to the bow, where he raised one foot and brought it down on a plank supported by a pair of braces. Silver coins spilled from depressions carved into the wood. He scooped them up and stored them in a small pouch tied to his waist. He reached for a support next to the mast and twisted. It came free with a snap, and he pulled a small oiled bag from inside a hollow. Tom also tied that bag by drawstring to his belt, and Gareth heard the jingle of more coins as he did so.

A quick glance behind showed the white boat had gained more distance on them, but it seemed to have changed course, slightly. “Tom, look behind.”

The fisherman paused, and nodded. “Changed course again. Tryin’ to use the wind to cut in front of us. Bring her a few points to port.”

When Gareth shrugged, Tom said, “Turn her left. Not too much.” Then, satisfied for the moment, he grabbed a stout pole from a rack mounted on one side of the boat. A wicked metal hook curled from one end. Strips of dried leather held the hook in place.

He sat next to Gareth and used a small knife to slice the leather wrappings until the hook fell off. A slot had been carved in the wood behind where it had been, and Tom carefully removed four small gold coins, each glittering in the sunlight. He glanced at the bewildered expression on the boy. “Never know when a storm, pirate, or spitting dragon sinks your boat, so I keep a measure hidden away for hard times.”

“If your boat sinks, so does your money.”

“Word to the wise from a smart youngster. Never keep all your stashes in one place is another lesson. Pirate comes aboard, and I fight a little. Then give him my smallest stash. He goes off happy. I keep the rest.”

“But if the boat sinks . . . “

“Smart men don’t keep all their stashes in one place. I told you. Got a few more at my house. And others hidden along the shoreline in some rocks.”

“You must be rich.”

“Never said any of my stashes were big, did I? When times are good you put some away for the bad time sure to come.”

“That pole with the hook? I thought it was for fighting.”

“The gaff? Nope, used to pull bigger fish into the boat when I’m lucky enough to catch one.”

Gareth surrendered the tiller to Tom and watched him adjust their direction more to the left. Gareth looked ahead, trying to see where the boat was heading, and why. The shoreline loomed closer, and the breaking water on partially submerged rocks foamed white. “Those four gold coins were pretty small.”

“Gold’s a funny thing. Each of them little things is worth more than all the rest you saw put together. And then some.”

“Then why not just keep them? Hide one in each of four places and you don’t have to worry about all those others.”

“Said to myself you were smart, but I’m thinking you’re short on knowin’ some common things, which is entirely different. Regular stuff everyone knows. Four little gold coins will buy a nice boat, nets, and about everything else you see about you. The problem is, what if you’re in port and only want to buy a bowl of oatmeal for your breakfast? Most food sellers have never even held a gold coin, let alone keeping enough silver and copper to exchange.”

“I see. You just steered us more to port, again. Why?”

“Good that you ask questions, Gareth. That boat back there is still running on a course ahead to try cutting us off before we reach shore, or before we can turn down the coast. I’ve increased the distance it must travel each time we changed course. Not a lot. Maybe not so much they’ve noticed, but I’m thinkin’ that soon they’ll realize their mistake and try to make a run directly on us. That will be another mistake with all the rough water and reefs ahead. Chances are, nobody on that ship has ever sailed this part of the coast, or, at least, this close to land.”

“Am I talking too much?”

“I’ve fished a lot of years. Mostly by myself, so I got used to my own company, but now and then others fished with me. Silence is good, but sometimes talking is good, too.”

The ship behind suddenly changed directions, the bow turning until it pointed right at the smaller boat. In response, Tom shifted the tiller to starboard and tightened the sail. They moved faster, but the old fishing boat with the round bottom was no match for the sleek white vessel. “This hull can’t sail into the wind worth a bag of beans, but she can take a wind from the beam and hold her own until we reach shore. You better get up on the bow and hold tight onto the rigging so you don’t fall in. When you see anything ahead just point the way you want me to steer.”

“What am I looking for?”

“Whitewater, or swirling water in troughs behind the waves. Darker patches that don’t move are sometimes rocks right below the surface, too. Anything that doesn’t look like the water out here is dangerous. Point the way around it. We’ll try to run up on the beach and get away on foot.”

Gareth scrambled to the leather bag with the egg. It was still braced under the seat. He slipped the strap over his shoulder and moved carefully across the rolling deck to the front of the boat. Where the bow narrowed to a point, he found a small platform large enough to stand on. His left hand grasped a rope that went from the peak of the bow to the top of the mast.

Ahead lay dull green water, churned and dirty. Seagrasses, leaves, sticks, and logs floated. He ignored them. From further ahead came the repetitive booming of waves crashing upon the rocky shore. Between the shore and boat were, at least, a dozen patches of white water, some with black rocks protruding above the surface. He glanced at their wake, and turned to project their course ahead and found they were now heading for the area with the most white water. He darted back to Tom at the tiller and pointed. “Lots of white water directly ahead.”

“I see it.”

“If we turn to the right we can avoid it.”

Tom grinned. “Right you are. But we’re not. At least not yet. That boat behind us is closing fast, but she’s comin’ from port and trying to get ahead and cut us off. We’ll move in to pass close by those rocks, but we’ll have enough water under us. She’ll try, too. The current and wind will carry us beside the rocks, I’m thinkin’. From their angle, they can’t make the turn.”

“You’re setting a trap.”

“One no real sailor would fall for.”

“Will it work?”

“We’ll see. Now you get back up there in the bow, and when I make my turn, you keep a good watch. If you feel us run up on rocks, you jump into the water feet first, hear me? Probably break your head open on a submerged rock if you dive.”

“We’re not going to hit the rocks, are we?”

“Goin to be close. Still, that’s better than being taken by those on the other boat.”

They must be bad if you’re going to sink your boat instead of being captured. “Are you jumping too?”

“I figure to hit the water before you, son. Don’t want to be near a boat breaking up in waters like these. Too much chance of takin’ a hit on the head or getting fouled in ropes and such, and being pulled down. Get off her as best you can, swim away, and meet me ashore. See that little finger of land jutting out over there?” He pointed.

“Okay, I’ll meet you there.” Gareth flashed a smile intended to show confidence, which failed, then went back to the bow and watched the turbulent water ahead, as well as keeping an eye on the boat following. The white boat was much faster and now close enough to see several men moving around the deck. A flash of sunlight glinted near a man’s hand and told of a knife or sword pulled from a scabbard. Gareth turned to watch ahead again, but his eyes were drawn to the other boat time after time.

The men aboard wore colorful clothing and called out taunts to them, but the wind whipped away their words. At least, six crowded near the bow, looking fierce and waving swords over their heads. It pulled closer and closer, but Gareth forced his eyes from them and to the water ahead. He pointed for Tom to steer around a swirling mass of white water, where rocks appeared in the troughs between waves. The fishing boat turned and headed for the green water.

The boat responded in time to pass the rocks, but so close Gareth could clearly see the small shellfish attached to them. The rocks were dark gray, almost black, with tips jutting above the water that couldn’t possibly be as sharp as they appeared.

Another glance behind found Tom intently watching the water ahead, too. Behind him, the white boat had closed the gap between them further, and now Gareth saw light glint off more than one sword, and the fearsome faces they made as they screamed insults. Other men shouted, and he could now hear individual voices. He considered pulling his knife and waving it back at them in defiance, but with the boat rolling, rocking, and twisting he needed both hands to hold on. Besides, it was probably a bad idea because if they caught up, the punishment would be worse.