DRAGON!: Book One: Stealing the egg. Page 9

  “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 mi
nd 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 th
inking 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.”