LeRoy Clary
Dragon! Book One: Stealing The Egg
CHAPTER ONE
Gareth watched the wings momentarily obscure the massive head of the dragon. Never taking his eyes off the soaring creature, he crept closer to the nest for a better view. Today was not the day, but soon. Today was about gathering knowledge. Stinging insects rose in swarms and buzzed around his head. Tangled, twisting vines laced with thorns scratched his arms and legs. He ignored the pain, his mind centered on his objective.
His gaze lowered to the barren rocks beneath the dragon’s nest. Oily black spit coated them. Wisps of dirty gray smoke seeped into the air. Bubbles large as his thumb formed where the viscous scum pooled. They erupted with soft plops and a foul stench worse than the outhouse behind the inn.
Gareth stole a glance at Faring, a chubby, soft sort of boy of no more than fourteen or fifteen, although he often acted younger, and occasionally older. The round appearance of body and face belied his daily hard work at his father’s tannery. Still, a few more pounds and he’d be fat. Eyes back on the dragon again, Gareth said, “What’re you going to do with your half of the gold?”
“You don’t need to risk it all for gold. Better that you stay in Dun Mare without any money at all than dying wealthy in the belly of the dragon.”
“I have to escape,” Gareth said.
They watched the dragon circling a far off mountain peak. When it swooped in a wide circle near the ground, it veered and closed the distance to the nest until it flew directly at them as if it knew they were waiting.
“Be still,” Gareth hissed, forcing his voice to be soft when he felt like screaming in terror. He held himself tight against the cliff and froze. His sandy colored hair and fair skin blended in with the gray granite cliff. Faring was right to be hiding under the nearby brambles where his darker hair and brown complexion blended with shadows.
Gareth whispered, “She won’t spot us unless we move.”
“She might catch a scent of us.”
“Or hear us, if you keep up that whining.”
Faring paled, but shut up and held still.
As the dragon neared, the wrinkled skin under its wings displayed lighter areas of dark gray, while the sharp ridges of the spine appeared as black as soot. The thin neck extended forward balancing the spiked tail whipping behind. A wide mouth revealed hundreds of sharp curved teeth, giving the creature an evil-appearing smile as it drew its thin lips back. Blood stained her teeth and mouth. The fore-claws clutched the remains of a deer.
The dragon swept across the sky heading directly for the nest built against the steep face of the granite-faced cliff. She glided past the top of the nearest mountain again, perhaps inspecting the surrounding forest, maybe searching for boys unwary or stupid enough to intrude near her nest.
Many times Gareth had overheard old men of the village discussing selling dragon eggs while drinking their mugs of ale at the inn. They said one dragon egg could set a man up for a lifetime. They often talked about it, but none had mastered their fears enough to attempt stealing one themselves. A glance up at the dragon when she flew over Dun Mare sent them scurrying back for more liquid courage in their mugs of ale, and sometimes stronger drink.
Thaddeus, the toothless old man who cleaned floors and washed mugs at the inn, had always been quite proud to offer his seeming expertise through his remaining gnarled, yellow teeth as if he had intimate knowledge. He’d said, “Dragons spot movement on the ground when they’re way up high, then they dive close to the ground, spitting black balls that dissolve anything. Liquid fire, they say. Up close, their eyesight’s good for nothing. A man standing still right in front wouldn’t be noticed, lest he moves.”
A wag had lifted his mug and added with the bark of a laugh to those around him said, “Well, he wouldn’t live to tell the tale if the dragon did spot him, now would he?”
All the men laughed, but Thaddeus had spoken with a conviction that had impressed Gareth.
The dragon he watched flapped powerful wings faster in the thin mountain air and headed for her nest. Branches were interwoven into a circular mass of tangled wood over a framework of larger evergreen trunks, and even a few oaks. The nest perched high on the side of the rugged cliff, so far up the mountainside that snow and ice covered shaded areas year around.
After landing in her nest, she dropped the deer carcass and settled herself until comfortable. She tossed her head back and emitting a loud shriek. The hairs on the back of Gareth’s neck stood at attention. He could smell her stink, the smell of rotten meat and feces. He spared a warning glance at his friend.
Tears streaked Faring’s face, yet he remained as still as if he was a tree or boulder. Faring had also heard the stories about a dragon’s keen eyesight from afar, and poor eyesight up close. In spite of that, he looked ready to flee. When the dragon turned its head to look the other way Gareth reached down and gripped his friend’s shoulder, his fingers turning into claws that drew a pained look. He hissed, “Calm yourself.”
The words managed to penetrate. Faring nodded quickly, but said nothing, his eyes remained centered on the nest and the dragon barely seen above the rim above them.
The nauseating sounds of deer bones crunching and tearing flesh drifted from the rocky perch where the nest clung. The dragon feasted on her meal of venison. As she ate, the dragon’s head twitched and turned in uneven intervals, the red eyes searching for intruders or prey, as she finished her meal.
When the dragon’s head turned away again, Gareth shifted positions, edging another step or two closer to the nest, yet keeping under the cover of the tangle of brambles. He ignored the insects and scratches. She was so close he could hit her with a rock if she peeked over the rim. He feared to look up at the nest because he might see the dragon peering down at him, but he moved on. A few paces ahead lay the beginning of the wide expanse of the black dragon spit that coated the rocks and everything else below the base of her nest. Not a sprig of green showed in the stinking, bubbling mass. Just a barren, black covering of all, often layered over older, thicker, dried slime. Some areas appeared deeper, and all emitted the outhouse stench, along with faint wisps of oily smoke in newly popped bubbles.
Gareth glanced up and saw the dragon head twitch in a quick movement again, the red eyes shifting in his direction and coming to rest near him. He froze.
Thankfully the eyes looking in his direction were not looking directly at him or Faring but at a spot off to one side. Then the eyes searched the area nearby as if trying to find the boys. The dragon raised her snout and tested the air. After a few more breaths, her head darted aside again, and her eyes looked elsewhere. She cleared her throat with an awful sound like boulders rolling down a cliff. She spat a wad of black the size of his head. It splashed on a barren patch of boulders below her nest and sizzled.
Gareth stepped ahead one more step, to the edge of the nearest patch of black slime. A glance at Faring showed his friend with wide eyes, and shaking his head. Gareth finally positioned himself behind the broad stump of a dead pine tree trunk larger in diameter than his chest. Hidden from the dragon by the stump, he reached for a green tuft of grass near his foot. Touching grass to the nearest blob of dragon spit, he watched it sizzle, wither, and blacken. The stories had been right.
The dragon shifted positions again and briefly stood on her hind legs and spread her wings before leaping from the nest. Wings flapping, they pushed down the air, and her powerful downstrokes propelled her ahead. The dragon spun and twisted in midair, then flew down the mountainside, wings beating a steady rhythm. Gareth had almost panicked when it had leaped from the nest. Now his rapid breathing wouldn’t slow, his heart continued pounding, and he fought to suppress the image of the dragon feasting on him as it had the deer. She turned again before reaching the valley floor and again gained altitude. She slowly shrank as she flew farther away down the valley.