Dragon Clan #3: Fleet's Story

CHAPTER SIX

The screech of the attacking dragon was heard just before the sound of massive wings flew over them. The screech was a sound so loud and so fierce that every living thing in the forest was awakened and afraid. As it flew over the wagons, a hollow pock of a sound came from the dragon. Then another, as the dragon spit the flammable substance. An orange flare soon illuminated the entire nearby forest and flames began consuming the three wagons and all around them. The dragon flew past them and then returned, spitting again. And again.

The dragon attack ended with the single long screech as it flew higher and away. And then it was over. The roar of the fire prevented them from hearing the leather wings as it departed.

Camilla leaned heavily on Fleet as she watched, and she said in an awed voice, “You called down a dragon?”

“I guess so. I was so angry at what they did to you I was filled with rage. The dragon must have understood.”

She slipped and almost fell. Then, sagging with an effort to walk, she looked into his eyes in the reflection of the growing forest fire. She said, “How did it feel?”

“We have to move. The fire is growing and coming this way.”

She turned and tried to walk faster with a shambling gait, but said loud enough for him to hear, “You will tell me everything. Tomorrow.”

Feeling the warmth of the fire on his back, Fleet used the light from the burning forest to provide the light needed to see the paths and trails and move as fast as possible. Long after the fire was far behind, they continued walking. Before stopping, they needed to know that the gypsies were not going to accidentally stumble upon them as they also fled.

Fleet steered the way. He considered carrying her, but even if he left the staffs behind he couldn’t carry her far. However, she faltered, slipped, and always stumbled on. She never gave any indication she wanted to halt, or even rest. The fire was so far behind when he looked that only a small spot of orange told him where it was.

In the dim light, Fleet almost fell off the steep bank to a stream. He hadn’t seen it in the dark. Pulling to a stop, he took inventory. The banks were almost as tall as a man. Below flowed a stream where it took a wide bend. At one side of the stream was a flat area scoured out when the stream filled in the spring. Now it was soft, dry sand six or eight steps wide.

He helped Camilla down the bank, clinging to roots for support. Once on the flat area, he spread his blanket and helped her lie down. She no longer had her backpack or blanket. He moved her to one side of the blanket and covered her up with the other.

Wood had tangled near the edge of the area as it flowed down the stream and was deposited by shrinking water flow. Fleet gathered enough to get started. He scooped out a shallow depression and using his flint built a small fire. As it burned, he used the firelight to gather more, larger wood.

He soon had a large fire throwing off enough heat to keep him warm. If the gypsies located him because of the fire, it would be their problem. He’d heard of the things they did for profit, and selling a young girl was not the least. He gathered more wood and allowed the fire to burn hot and high, knowing the banks of the stream protected it from being seen. Still, the size of the fire was almost in defiance of safety.

There were others living in forests; usually, those who had good reasons for not living in villages or towns. Many of them were outcasts for one reason or another. Some simply didn’t like people. Some were thieves or worse.

Fleet warmed his hands and feet while listening for any threat in the dark. Finally, he tossed more wood on the fire and rested his head on his backpack, both staffs in reach of his fingers. The fire warmed him and physical, as well as mental exhaustion lulled him to sleep.

An owl flew past, and he sat up in fear, thinking a dragon was attacking. He fueled the fire and went back to sleep again. He heard a branch snap under a boot. Instantly alert, Fleet rolled to his left, collecting his staff in his hand and leaped to his feet, knees bent, staff held in the defensive position, ready to defend or attack.

“It’s only me,” Camilla said.

Fleet blinked at the intense brightness of the sun. Normally an early riser, the height of the sun indicated it was late morning. The fire was burning cheerfully, with new wood. “How long have you been awake?”

“Not all that long. I built up the fire, thinking you might want the warmth.”

Her face was wet. Not tears. She had washed it in the stream, something he should have done for her last night. She held a dripping strip of cloth to her cheek.

He said, “I have some traveling food in my pack.”

She nodded. Her eyes looked defeated instead of the usual brightness. Blood caked her left arm. She limped when she moved. The bruises on her face were worse in the daylight than he’d imagined. “How are you?”

“Sore. When I resisted, they beat me.”

“I should go back and kill those men.”

She patted the wet cloth to her eye and cheek. She said, “I won’t stop you. But it was the old woman who beat me the most. One of the younger ones asked her to stop. She didn’t.”

“Why?”

“She said if she beat me enough I wouldn’t attempt escaping. She was scared of that.”

“Because you are Dragon Clan?”

“No, she didn’t see my back. I don’t know what she would have done if she had. There’s a man she has sold girls to before. It was all about the gold she would get for me.”

Fleet dug out a cloth sack of mixed grains and nuts. He took a handful before passing it to Camilla. “Anything I can do to help?”

She poured nuts, raisins, and roasted grain coated with honey into her hand. “Yes. I need a day to rest. Some meat would be nice, but give me time to heal.”

“Of course.”

“And later you will tell me how you called that dragon.”

Standing, he nodded. “You rest. I’m going to scout around.”

As he left her sitting on the edge of the blanket in the warm sun, he carried his staff to the edge of the water, drank his fill, and looked downstream. He didn’t think it was the same stream from last night, but climbed the bank and made a small circle completely around their campsite.

His eyes were on the ground. He searched for signs of anything, especially people. Twice he found deer prints. A raccoon left clear prints, too. He accepted that nobody or nothing dangerous had been within a hundred steps of the campsite. Then he moved further off, again making a complete circle.

A rabbit darted down a hole. Fleet carefully moved closer and placed his staff on the ground, the end laying at the edge of the hole. He lay down in the sun and waited, never moving, hardly breathing. The slight breeze touched his face so any scent would be carried away from the hole.

The tips of two ears came up from inside the hole, listening. They twitched and turned. He breathed shallow, knowing the slightest sound would put the rabbit back down the hole, probably for much longer. Fleet knew the game well.

The rabbit poked his head up for a quick look before it ducked back down, again. From his position almost two full body lengths away, Fleet drove the end of the staff sharply ahead, striking the rabbit with a solid blow.

He leaped forward. The blow wouldn’t kill, but stun. He slid to his knees and reached into the hole, touching the head of the rabbit. He grasped ears and pulled. The animal came out and struggled, but Fleet already reached for his knife.

Back at the camp, he cleaned and skinned the animal and placed strips of meat over the fire. He turned to Camilla, waiting for her comment about the food.

As usual, she surprised him. “You were going to tell me about calling down that dragon.”

He hesitated. How do I tell her something I don’t know?

“All of it,” she said, her voice stern.

“Okay, all of it. Ever since watching Raymer bond with that dragon I’ve been visiting their nesting place on Bear Mountain, where the ground is warm from the volcano.”

“Everyone knows that.”

“Am I telling this or you?”

She pursed her lips. “You.”

“At first, they wouldn’t let me come closer than where I could see them from the edge of the trees. They looked at me and sometimes snorted, often baring their teeth. One spit in my direction, but it landed well short of me.”

“How many were there? I’ve never been up the mountain.”

“Three females, this year. One with a chick I left alone. One sitting on two eggs, so I didn’t go near her either. But the third was a black. She looks older than the others. She eventually let me get close.”

“How close?”

“I could throw a rock and hit her most of the time.”

“But never closer?”

“No. She would sit and watch me. I watched her. It was winter so she stayed close to the volcano most of the time. I hunted for deer and took her all the parts we didn’t want.”

Camilla said, “That’s it? You just sat and watched each other, day after day?”

“Pretty much. I tried to reach out to touch her with my mind, but I don’t know how. Or she refused the contact, I don’t know which.”

Camilla rotated the rabbit. She was quiet for a while and then said, “Was that her last night? The old one?”

“I don’t know. What I do think is that after spending so much time up there I’m more sensitive to dragons. I can feel them tickle my back much further away than anyone I know. I can even tell their direction. At least, I think I can.”

She pretended to concentrate on cooking the rabbit and kept her eyes averted. When he didn’t speak again, she finally said, “What about calling down that dragon? Tell me about it.”

“I need to speak to my father and the council about that. See what they know because I never called it. I don’t even know how.”

Turning to him, she said, “Maybe they will need to ask you to tell them.”

“Listen, it just happened. I was upset when the gypsies took you. Even a little mad. But when I saw what they did to you, I was mad enough to kill them all. I remember screaming at them and wanting to chase after them. I needed to help you, so there was confusion. And pain. And then it came.”

“You shouted that you are Dragon Clan. People are not supposed to know who we are. And you told them before the dragon came that you would burn their wagons and all they own. How did you know the dragon would do that if you didn’t know about it?”

Fleet stood and walked around the fire twice, thinking. He stopped when the fire was between them and peered into it. “I remember saying that. It’s what I wanted to happen so I shouted it at them. But I was going to set the fires. In fact, I did set fire to each wagon. Or I think I did.”

“You pictured it in your mind.”

“That’s right. I saw the three wagons on fire in my head, but then I set them. But, I never should have revealed that I’m Dragon Clan. Now I must kill them, or they will spread the word of this to the whole valley. Everyone will be searching for us.”

“Yes, fears have diminished since there have been no dragon attacks for a generation or two, but now? The word will spread, and fear will rise in ordinary people.”

“Do you think I should find and kill all six? After what they did to you, it will rest easy on my mind.”

“The question is should you kill them because they saw something they shouldn’t have. What happened to me is a different thing. Would you have killed them for beating me?”

“No. But I would have returned the favor.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “But if even one escapes the tale will spread. The good part of the story is that there is no evidence. Just burned wagons that may have caught fire when one of them knocked over a candle.”

“They’ll tell of the dragon attack,” Fleet said.

“They are gypsies. They spread so many lies and tell taller tales than about a single dragon attacking them at night and burning their wagons, but not a single one of them has a bruise to show for it or any other evidence. Most will believe it is just another story.”

“So it is best to let it go. Okay, but you’re right about me shouting I’m Dragon Clan. I won’t do that again. Is the rabbit done?”

She poked it, watching the fat run on the hot surface. “I think so. At least, the thinner pieces. How did you snare it?”

“I didn’t. I had more patience than the rabbit.” He tossed a piece between hot hands until it cooled enough to eat. He saw the curious expression she gave him and ignored it.

In return, he gave her several careful glances. Even as she ate, she favored the side of her face with the bruises. A finger was cut and the nail black. She still limped. “We can stay here tomorrow and let you heal. I wish the stream were larger, I’d like some fish.”

“We go on.”

“Your bruises will take days to heal. Your leg is in pain.”

“We will travel tomorrow. I’ll tell you if we need to rest. Do you have your purse?”

He patted his side, confirming its presence without speaking.

“Me too. They didn’t look for it. I guess they didn’t expect to find it, so they missed it. We have more than enough coin to replace what I lost when leaving my pack in the wagon. There is no village or town between here and the Summer Palace, not even farms until we are almost there.”

“I suggest we get there as fast as possible. Then we stay at an inn on the edge of town for a single night. While there we buy supplies and relocate to a better inn,” Fleet said, making one of his longer speeches.

“Why?”

The communication tables were turned. She said little, while he explained. Smiling, he said, “It would be noticed if a bruised, dirty young woman appeared in torn clothing one day, and wore new the next. A good inn would not give us a room the way we look today, no matter the coin we offer.”

Camilla said, “Maybe we should remain at each inn for only a single night. Each accommodates different people, and thus, we would hear different stories at each while eating our evening meal and enjoying a mug of ale.”

“I don’t drink ale and didn’t realize you did.”

She smiled, “Listening to the conversations at the tables around you at an inn is where you hear all the good news. Besides, you can drink water and wine.”

“You know this, how?”

“When young, at Nettleton, I listened at the open window of the inn many a night. I do not like ale, but will make a mug last the whole evening while my ears do the drinking.”

Fleet ate more rabbit, wishing he had brought salt and spices. He nibbled on some traveling mix from his pack, then found himself sleepy in the sun. He closed his eyes for just long enough to rest them and woke with the sun almost down.

Camilla was nowhere around. Her staff was missing, so all was well. If she ran into any gypsies, they’d pay dearly for it. He stood, stretched, and gathered enough firewood to last the entire night. It was still early in the year, but the nights were cold, especially higher in the mountains. He tossed on a few small pieces of wood, his mind planning as he thought.

If they departed tomorrow, it would take two more days of travel, at least. The search for who controlled the dragon attack that freed Quint and Raymer would begin. The entire reason for leaving home was only a few days away, and he grew excited. There were so many new things to hold his interest.

Camilla returned, the front of her shirt held out in front of her. “Cherries. Most are ripe.”

He feasted with her as they sat near the fire. People who are used to living in the forest built small fires and sit close. City people build large fires and sit further back.

Much more work to maintain and gather enough wood for a large fire. He felt at ease and comfortable. The excitement of what was to come kept him alert. The tingle of an approaching dragon went unnoticed until the tingle turned to tiny bites all along the design on his back.