The Last Dragon: Book One

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The rain ended sometime during the second night, after a pleasant afternoon of laying around, eating, teasing, and laughing. The farmer told a string of funny stories, and while not a natural talker, shared them with us. He also shared his daily life, of what bothered him, and how his life could be better. We all asked questions. None but Tater had any idea of the life of a farmer in our kingdom, despite all of us eating the food they grew.

Elizabeth asked several penetrating questions, such as, what one thing could make your life better?

Instead of saying buyers could pay more for his vegetables, he took us all by surprise. “To sell at the market in town, a farmer has to get up early and spend time traveling there and back, and also the time selling. They lose a whole day of work or more. Our animals need care. Cows do not wait for milking. We can’t go sell if we need to plant, but if we wait, our crops don’t grow. I guess we need to learn to fly to market.”

“Maybe,” Elizabeth had said. “Tell me something. What if every fifth day a wagon rolled past your farm and you could put your crops on it? The driver would deliver it to market, sell it, and take a share of the proceeds with you and the other farmers he hauls for?”

His head was bobbing long before she finished.

She leaned back in the straw and closed her eyes, then they sprang open. “Even better, what if he paid you a reduced price? And he could tell you what vegetables are selling for a profit, so you know what to plant. He could have five routes, one per day, and make a good living.”

“Wagons large enough and oxen to pull them are expensive.”

She smiled. “Maybe they might be provided by my father. Who knows what a king might do for his subjects?”

“You do,” I prompted.

She said, “All you know Damon, is that my father will listen to my suggestion and he understands that what is good for his peasants is also good for him.”

The day dawned clear and bright. We rode out early, after saying our goodbyes to the farmer. The ground was muddy, but we wanted to get going, and a little mud that only came up to our ankles wouldn’t stop us.

Springer ran ahead, veering from side to side with anything that caught his interest. His leg was healed, his coat covered in mud, and his good ear stood straight up. Tater rode ahead, and I took up the rear, along with the duty of leading the packhorse. I wore my sword, had one of the two surviving crossbows slung from my saddle, and the new knife I’d picked up at the store nestled in my pocket.

In mid-morning, the footing was more solid as the road dried in the sun, and we climbed the first long hill. At the crest, a pair of wyvern flew loops and turns, chasing tails and mock-fighting. We watched until they spun as one, facing us.

Kendra hissed, “Oh, no.”

She was correct. They had spotted her in some manner as if she glowed in the dark. While flying high, they raced to both descend and get closer to her. My mind knew fear, and it ordered me to run and take shelter. My body refused.

The pair ignored me and when one opened its tooth-filled maw to shriek, so did the other. The sounds pierced the air. They drew closer and passed over us so close it seemed one of them could have reached down and grabbed any of the four of us in its talons.

After they flew past, Tater said, “Scared the spit out of me.”

That broke the stunned silence, and we laughed, long and hard. When we urged our horses to continue, the daydream returned, the one where Kendra entered the gates of Mercia, and all the wyvern flocked as one to see her.

In each variation of that dream or daymare, the wyvern had never attacked her. Oddly, I accepted what was in the dreams as truth. They screeched enough to hurt my ears, flew right at her, but at no time did I believe my sister was in danger.

Is there anything more stupid than believing what happens in dreams is real? Who would do that? And yet, I’d stood beside my sister on the crest of that hill with utter confidence the wyverns would not harm any of us.

“There will be more of them,” I said.

Tater turned my way.

“Wyverns. There are more ahead, you know. My guess is that many of them will take a look at us.”

“They didn’t any of the other times,” Tater said, clearly puzzled. “They fly over Mercia but tend to mostly stay up in the peaks of the Lost Mountains where their nests are. They often took a sheep from a flock or calf from a herd, but the local royals always paid well for those.”

Elizabeth caught my eye and gave the slightest of nods. Tater needed to know more than he did. Not the entire truth, but he’d be out of luck if he wanted that from me. We only knew a portion of the story.

I said, “Tater, there is something I—we—need to tell you. Wyverns are attracted to my sister. We don’t know why. They have shown no intention of hurting her or those with her.”

“It’s why you’re heading for Mercia, right?” he asked.

“There are other reasons, too. But, yes.”

He rode on a while, then said, “If those things were attracted to me, I’d do the same. Either head the other way or go see what it’s all about, but it’s not like her to run.”

Elizabeth added, “It’s not something we want to be spread around. We trust you will keep it to yourself.”

“No threats?” he asked.

“Friends do not threaten friends,” she said.

She’d done it again. With a few simple words, she’d ironbound his trust as firmly as if a cooper had placed bands around his chest. Tater wouldn’t talk.

There was no telling how much he had overheard in the hayloft, but that too was now behind sealed lips. He was not one of us, but close. The rolling hills gradually climbed from the valley floor to small mountains and the road continued upward. Twice more a wyvern flew to investigate Kendra. However, none returned. The last two were not the first pair, and my mind searched for how it could be so certain of it.

They looked the same. Short bodies with two legs dragging behind as they flew. Where their arm or front legs should be, were immense wings so thin, the sun shone behind like holding a paper up on a bright day. Veins were clearly defined. They were all the same smoky color of dark gray, almost black. Yet, for some reason, my that none of the four were the same.

Springer had seen all four and growled and barked at them, guarding us. He hadn’t quit until they were long past, and Tater might have to restrain the dog when more were in the air.

Kendra suddenly said, “We’ve met nobody on the road.”

Her observation was right. We should be close to Mercia by dark and enter in the morning. It was a large city with a seaport beyond. The road we followed had no grass growing in the twin ruts, indicating a lot of wheeled and foot traffic.

Elizabeth muttered loud enough for all of us to hear, “Strange.”

Tater climbed down and knelt on the road, searching. He stood. “Nothing since the rain.”

“At least one mystery has been solved,” Elizabeth said.

Which one?” Kendra and I asked at the same time and chuckled awkwardly.

“Remember Wythe, the old man who my father sent in search of your history? I always wondered why he didn’t investigate by talking to people at Crestfallen, yet he went here. Well, not here, but to the port of Mercia.”

“I don’t understand,” Kendra said.

“Kondor. He knew there were people at the port who looked like you two. That was the best place to look.” Elizabeth said and was right.

Sooner or later one of us would have figured out the same thing, but she was always the quickest. Knowing what we now did, it was the logical place for him to ask questions.

Tater had been quiet, until now. “Never heard of Kondor ’til we met those men on the mountain. Any idea why they were there?”

“Stata had to be part of that,” Kendra said.

“Never did find my wyvern armor at that store. Got a good mind to pay it a visit on the way back.”

“Probably not a good idea,” Elizabeth said. “Tell me what you hoped to sell it for and I’ll make it good.”

“Not the point. Besides, they hurt Springer.” He sounded angry and determined.

“You’re just one person,” Kendra told him.

He was riding beside her and twisted to see her as he said, “How many does it take to pour oil on the outside walls of that store and spark a flame? Just one, I’m thinking.”

Elizabeth said, “If you can just hold on for a while longer, my father will settle that account for all of us.”

“Not with the same satisfaction.” He spurred his horse and took the lead again.

His actions reminded me of another of those life-lessons that come in handy. There are soft-spoken men in the world that you never want to anger. Maybe someone smarter than me should make a list of all those little rules about only eating in places where the cook is fat or keep on the good sides of the maids and servants.

Elizabeth hadn’t argued with him, either. She had offered him alternatives, but no criticism. Hell, if he asked for her help, she might even help him burn the place down.

Kendra pulled her horse beside Alexis. “When this is over, can we spend some time at the port talking to people who travel?”

“That would be a good place to start.” That was a good question. She assumed we were going to survive. I bit off a dozen stinging remarks. While my humor is considered by a few to be among the best, there are many who fail to understand or appreciate it. Timing is also an issue. This didn’t seem the right one. Or the right place.

All of us rode with clenched jaws, fists gripping our reins, and eyes that roamed ceaselessly. A single bark from Springer drew weapons to our hands. My bow was ready as we rode. My sword had been adjusted for a quick pull, and the blade unseated from the scabbard for the ease of drawing it so many times my fingers were raw.

For all that, there were no people to fight. None in sight. The few wyverns flew too high to reach, even if we were stupid enough to anger one with our little arrows. By the time we rested the horses beside a small stream at mid-day, we had not encountered a single person on the road built for heavy traffic. The larger streams and small river we crossed had stone bridges. Beside the road were discarded items, places to spend the night, and campfire pits. Yet there were no people.

A wyvern flew over, but we were getting so used to it that we barely looked up. A glance at Kendra found her eyes bright and focused, however, her body was stiff, her fingers curled, the veins in her neck standing out. Neither of the others noticed.

Elizabeth reclined on a blanket and asked, “Tater, you’ve been here. We are searching for the manservant to the Heir Apparent, and also a princess from Mercia and Lord Kent of Crestfallen. Where would you advise us to look?”

“Ain’t a palace nothing like Crestfallen in Mercia, but there are stone houses where the important ones live. Probably five or six, in all, built on the side of a rocky hill. Around each is smaller, but still nice, houses for important servants and the like, and then the huts for the cleaners and such beyond those.”

“Is there a town center?” Elizabeth asked.

“Market? Of course. It’s on the flat. The valley floor.”

“No, I meant more of . . . never mind. Is it going to be uphill all the way?”

“It is. And before you ask, my travels brought me here maybe ten or twelve times in the last twenty years. There were always people going in both directions along this road. A lot of them.”

“Why do you think that has changed?” Kendra asked.

I’d watched the two of them question others in the same manner for years, what we called double-teaming. Not triple-teaming, which would have included me, but we never did that, anyhow. When the women went into their questioning mode, my job was to remain quiet and listen.

That might sound as if they are slighting me, but we didn’t see it that way. We all have our individual skills, but as they say, too many cooks ruin the stew. Or soup. Whatever. Three people questioning makes a person feel picked on. Two clever women are inoffensive, and besides, they are better at it.

I make a better listener. My mind is practical and does not get emotionally involved. And there is the idea that three sets of eyes see more than two.

Tater finally responded to the question of change. As usual, he held nothing back and cut no corners. “Can’t say where the people are. What I suspect is that they are not here because of Kendra coming.”