DRAGON!: Book One: Stealing the egg. Page 2

  The inn and the few houses clustered in Dun Mare were his home. He’d lived there since his earliest memories, yet he never belonged. Not really. Now, the night whispers insisted it was time to leave. They spoke louder and more often. They’d first started in the early spring and lasted all summer. He feared sleeping now. He also feared his sanity. But, he found he believed them and he had to leave Dun Mare.

  The plow blade dug deep into the damp earth. Gareth twisted it to his left, avoiding a large root, then steered right around a boulder too big to move from the field. A hard summer rain had softened the soil three days ago, so the plow barely hesitated in its quest to slice open the fallow field of weeds, grasses, and wildflowers. Gareth kept half an eye on the other two plows tilling the same land. Behind one was a farmer named Odd. He was the elder of the family that Gareth worked for, a wizened relic of indeterminable age. Whether the name signified his demeanor or something else, Gareth didn’t know for sure, and never asked. Across the wide expanse, Odd stumbled along behind his ox as he had for countless other seasons, content with his life cycle of plowing, planting, and harvesting.

  The third plow broke earth ahead of a younger, more muscular version of Odd. Most called him Jared, Odd’s son. The size of Odd’s farm required three men to do the work of plowing. Odd’s oldest son had died of a fever four cold winters ago. At the urging of the teachers, Odd had hired Gareth for the third plow, along with planting, harvesting, and other chores as needed in exchange for a space to build a small cabin near the stream, and a share of food.

  Sara, Odd’s youngest child, stood at the edge of the field in the shade of an elm, a blanket spread at her feet. More than old enough to marry, she remained a maiden, relishing in her simple life of caring for the two men in her family, and now for Gareth. She flashed a shy smile in his direction.

  Odd and Jared left their plows and hurried towards her. Gareth moved his ox to a stand of fresh grass so the animal could also enjoy some mid-day feed. Then he rushed to catch up with the others, not so much for the noon meal but because Sara always carried fresh, cold water from the brook and her pleasant demeanor cheered him.

  Sara spoke to Gareth as if asking the most important question of her young life, “Hungry?”

  “Thirsty,” he replied, as was the custom. “But I can eat if I have to.”

  Her smile warmed him as he accepted the mug of cool water. While she was, at least, ten years older, he never failed to feel attracted to her soft features and friendly ways. He could do a lot worse when the time came to select a wife. Too bad I won’t be here for much longer to face that decision.

  Jared busied himself eating, but had nodded politely in Gareth’s direction as he arrived. Odd settled cross-legged on the blanket, a fistful of brown bread clenched in his left hand, a mug of water in his right and two cold chicken legs on the plate in from of him. He cleared his throat to attract Gareth’s attention, but instead of eating or speaking, his eyes centered on the far end of the field.

  Gareth followed his gaze. Two figures stood, waiting. No telling how long they had been in sight. As always, both appeared tall, thin, and were dressed alike in the heavy, dark green robes of teachers. They covered their heads with the peaked hoods typical for their sect, and robe hems falling down to their sandaled feet. Like the trees standing behind them, their erect and motionless posture displayed timeless patience.

  Well, they’ll have to wait a little longer. Gareth turned his back and reached for the bread.

  “You’d better go,” Sara said.

  “I’m eating.”

  “You know you have to . . .” She reached for the mug, tugging it from his reluctant fingers. “I’ll save your food, and enough water for a long pull.”

  “Why do they only come for me?”

  Odd interrupted in his soft, simple voice, “Go.”

  Gareth spun and walked away, towards the teachers, head down and doing little to conceal his annoyance as he trudged across rows of lumped and freshly turned soil, and soft footing. Lately, his temper flared easily. Probably from lack of sleep because of the whispers waking him.

  As he closed the distance, he realized they were new teachers instead of the familiar ones who gave him daily lessons to master. But they had the same look about them as all others in the past. Calm, slow to move or react, and sparse of words, the teachers appeared in the village of Dun Mare at random times, always wanting to speak with Gareth. Alone. They were always asking their questions and speaking of things old and far away, and people he’d never seen or met. History, math and reading, all of little use to a farmhand.

  Folding his arms across his chest, he allowed his voice to take on an edge. “I have fields to plow, or I won’t earn my keep on the farm, and Odd will replace me with a field hand who works all day instead of sitting and speaking with teachers. If I lose my job, I’ll starve this winter.”

  The two watched him with listless and uncaring eyes. They seemed deaf to the anger in his words, immune to his tone. The nearer one, the younger of the two, adjusted the edge of his hood slightly before speaking in a voice hardly louder than the rustle of a soft breeze on dry leaves. “You are hunting the egg of a dragon.”

  Not a question. The words and tone formal.

  Faring must have talked to someone about their trip up the mountain to the nest. No, he wouldn’t do that. Still, the word of their expedition had somehow reached the teachers. They always seemed to know more than was possible. And shared only what little they wished.

  “Are you asking me about it?” Gareth asked, using a neutral/formal voice so he didn’t betray his feelings or fears.

  “No. You are hunting the egg of a dragon. We have come to tell you that this activity must cease,” the same teacher said.

  The other spoke as if continuing the same thought, “Female dragons protect their eggs against all, and will kill you just for being in the vicinity of a nest.”

  The first took over the speech again without pause, “You are never to place yourself in mortal danger with such foolishness. This is not our wish, but a requirement. A demand, if you prefer.”

  The second quickly continued, “Do you understand this requirement?”

  Neither one of them had so much as slapped at an insect landing on them or even twitched in irritation as they flew around their heads. As usual, their hands remained hidden inside the voluminous long sleeves of their green robes. Their loose hoods covered their shaved heads, as was true of all teachers. The eyes below their shaved eyebrows rarely blinked. At least, it seemed that way. Their eyes seldom looked directly at his. They often focused somewhere past his left shoulder, as if looking directly at him was forbidden. Teachers were always beardless, a rarity in a land of bearded men. In that manner, he looked like them. Gareth noticed one stood slightly taller, but otherwise, they were nearly identical, as were all of them.

  The night whispers didn’t like the teachers. They never said so directly, but he could feel the hatred in the murmurs. Gareth said in his even toned scholarly voice, “Now there are requirements and demands that you make of me? Do you make these same of others you teach?”

  The slightly shorter one questioned him again without a change in expression or tone. “Do you understand the requirement, Master Gareth?”

  “I understand what you’re saying,” Gareth said, thinking that understanding and obeying are two far different things. Then an idea came to mind to voice his protest. “However, when Odd has a requirement of me, he pays me in some way. Will you do the same?”

  They exchanged glances, the most reaction from his questions that he’d seen from a pair of teachers in many years. Clearly, he walked on the new intellectual ground and held in a smile from erupting.

  The taller one said, “That is not a question we are prepared to respond to at this time. However, we will ask about it on your behalf.”

  Gareth looked from one to the other in a new light and took his time while thinking about the response. The teachers never revealed informa
tion, unless it was part of a well-prepared lesson. However, these two had thrown open doors. They said they would ask, which implied they were subservient to someone higher up. Therefore, it must be possible to negotiate payment, in some form or fashion. If not, they would have simply said no. His mind leaped from one idea to another, following a trail of mental stepping-stones, as if crossing a shallow creek on them. If payment could be negotiated, then the amount could be bargained for, too. He said, “You will ask if you might pay me to keep myself safe?”

  “Life is valuable,” the shorter one said, quoting a well-known verse.

  “Amen,” the other added as if one phrase brought the other automatically.

  What else will they pay me for not doing?

  The shorter one said, “In review, our task today was to explain that you are not allowed to hunt for dragon eggs. Additionally, we have agreed to ask on your behalf if you might be rewarded for your cooperation. When we receive an answer, you will be informed.”

  They started walking away slowly, and as if they flowed over the ground instead of walked. Their actions appeared smooth, partially because their sandaled feet were hidden by the hems of the long robes, and their bodies remained motionless and upright as they walked with small steps, with no sway to either side, like feeling their way with their toes. They walked away from the village towards Broken Bow, a small village down the valley, but not the path Gareth would take if that was his destination.

  Perhaps he should follow them to see where they went, and who they spoke to.

  But, as always, he decided to let them go without interference. These days he had another objective that was more important. Once he escaped from Dun Mare he had to pay for sleeping at inns and for the food he would eat. He might need a mule to ride. Or clothing. All requiring silver and copper. Once on his own, he might need to supply for himself with necessities for a year or more. The future was unclear, and what he knew was murky at best.

  The revelations of the short conversation raised his spirits and gave him fodder to think about for hours. Were these two teachers more careless than others he’d met over the years or was he becoming smarter, more devious, and able to ferret additional information from their few clues? The subject required intense and uninterrupted thought, most easily achieved while performing mindless work, such as walking behind an ox and plow. His mind would be busy after eating his mid-day meal.

  He looked to the fields as he strode back through the rows of freshly turned dirt. Odd and Jared were already hard at it again. Sara sat on the blanket watching and waiting for him. He gave her a cheerful wave, and she raised a hand in response. It held the mug, presumably filled with cold spring water.

  Suddenly he felt thirsty, again. Thirsty and more determined than ever to steal the egg of a dragon.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Fields plowed and other chores completed, Gareth had left Odd’s farm waited for Faring under the shade of a sour apple tree in the late afternoon. The tree grew within sight of the village tannery, a spot where his friend was sure to appear sooner or later because it was on the path to Faring’s home. He sprawled on the late summer grass and nibbled an apple, tongue tingling with numbness from the sour juice. He ate several more, knowing too many would make his stomach ache, but also knowing the last fruit of the season was hanging on the tree. Hands clasped behind his head, he laid back and kept watch on the tannery fat the bottom of the hill for Faring, ignoring the putrid smells emanating from the place.

  The warm afternoon and soft breezes worked their magic, and he drifted off to sleep, not waking until he heard harsh voices a dozen paces away. His eyes opened to find three of the workers from the tannery approaching, along with Faring’s Da, who wore an irritated expression.

  Leading the way strode Bindle, a mean, cantankerous old man who feinted a kick in Gareth’s direction, before flashing a yellow-toothed grin devoid of humor. The second man, called Jessel, was Bindle’s best friend. The two seldom went anywhere alone. Jessel had beaten Gareth a dozen times in years past, usually for the pure pleasure of doing so, and to the taunts of Bindle. Two summers earlier Gareth had finally grown large enough to repay Jessel with a beating neither of them would forget. Therefore, his dislike of Gareth remained obvious.

  Jessel snarled, “How’s it we work all day and you lay around and sleep the afternoon away, but you look as well-fed as us?”

  Gareth continued to lay in the grass as he feigned a smile, determined to appear friendly and agreeable. “You’re right. I am both fatter, and better looking than you.”

  “I say you’re just a lazy ass, sleeping away the day when you should be working like honest men.”

  “Jessel, a man has got to have his beauty sleep if he expects to have all the pretties chasin’ him,” Gareth smiled, watching the man ball fists from the corner of his eye. Gareth didn’t react, other than to close his eyes again. He’s too scared to fight me these days, but he still lets his mouth take control.

  Seth, the third man, the one who hadn’t spoken yet, chuckled at Gareth’s answer. “Two or three coppers in your pocket and nothing to spend them on will help you with the pretties, too.” His voice held none of the venom of the others, and he always treated Gareth fairly, even acted friendly at times.

  Faring’s Da had said nothing during the verbal exchanges, but the dislike in the glare he cast in Gareth’s direction said it all. He didn’t like strangers, and he didn’t like Gareth showing up in the village at age five looking different and acting different. He had never approved of Gareth or offered friendship.

  Gareth listened to the footsteps of the men crunch on the dry ground while they walked away, as he’d known they would. It was all predictable. He didn’t even smile at his small victory.

  When they were out of hearing, Gareth opened his eyes and stretched, then climbed to his feet in time to see Faring trudging up the hill in his direction. Faring’s face lit up when he saw Gareth, his toothy grin appearing as it always did. “Waiting for me, are you?”

  Gareth nodded, “That, and sharing a few pleasant words with your Da and the other good men he works with.”

  “You be careful of Bindle. His mean streak is showing more each day. Workin’ at the tannery sometimes does that to a man. Cow dumps are better smelling than the stinking hides we suffer with all day, and a leaky roof at night is my reward. Is Odd looking for another hand on his farm? I’m ready to move on where I don’t have to work so hard.”

  “Things not going well?” Gareth asked, sensing concern in Faring’s tone.

  “These days the price of leather hardly covers the cost of buying the skins and working them. Da says we can’t keep on like this.”

  “But the tannery’s the biggest business in the village.”

  “No more, if things don’t change.”

  Gareth took a few moments to consider Faring’s words. Most people in the village earned money from the tannery in one fashion or another. All benefited. The implications scared him. “Does your roof really leak?”

  “No. A little water seeps down one wall when it rains, is all.” He punched Gareth on the shoulder, “Come on, I wasn’t trying to make you sorry for me with my hard luck story.”

  “If it makes you feel better, the roof on my hut leaks in a dozen places. I forget to fix it when the sun is out.”

  “Sounds like you.” Faring plucked an apple from a low hanging branch, examined it, and tossed it aside as if he found a worm hole. He selected one hanging on a lower branch and took a bite that consumed almost half the apple. Between chewing he turned to Gareth, he said, “Did you come here to complain about a little water now and then?”

  “No.” Gareth paused, then decided to plunge in and ask his questions. “Some new teachers came to speak with me today. They talked about us hunting the dragon egg. Who did you tell about us going up there to the mountain?”

  “Tell? Me? I said nothing to anyone. My Da would put a strap on my butt if he knew.”

  “Yet, they knew ab
out it.”

  Faring reached for another apple, his third. He sat in the soft grass and looked up at Gareth. “They know everything. At least, they like to act like it.”

  Gareth sat down, facing him. “Three sour apples will make you sick. And teachers do not know everything. Today they ordered me to stop hunting for an egg. I asked them to pay me for not hunting dragon eggs.”

  “You mean they’ll pay you for hunting an egg?”

  “No, I asked them to pay me for not hunting or gathering dragon eggs. They said it was too dangerous, so I asked them for payment if I stay away from the nest.”

  “Pay you for doing nothing? That’s crazy talk. I didn’t want to hunt any of those eggs anyhow, so they should pay me too,” Faring said, anger clear in his voice. “But, for you, they pull you away from your farm work and spend whole days teaching your dull mind subjects you don’t need to know. They make a special trip to talk to you up here in the upper end of the valley where nobody lives, and where the dragon lives. Then, they decide to pay you for not going egg hunting.”

  “I wasn’t trying to upset you, Faring. Besides, they haven’t decided to pay me, or not.”

  “If they do pay you for not goin’ after eggs, you should share half of it with me.”

  Gareth looked off into the distance, allowing his thoughts to simmer. Finally, he continued, “Why do they only talk to me? Only teach me? Have you ever heard about them talking or teaching anyone else?”

  “No. They always watch you, too.”

  “Really?” Gareth paused. This was a subject neither had discussed. For his part, Gareth saw the teachers much as he saw the workers at the tannery, the local farmers, and those who worked at the inn. Dun Mare was a small village, and he saw everyone, sooner or later--usually sooner. The teachers were like the people he’d see daily in his life, and he accepted them as he had the trees, hills, and mountains beyond. They were ever-present, and he’d grown accustomed to them. Faring suggested a path he’d never wandered. “They watch me? How? Different from everyone else?”