In a few words, Mary had supplied information he’d need to think about and consider for a long time before understanding. There was much more to know, but he now had a place to begin. A start. Somewhere in her words was the reason for his being and the reason why the whole world seemed to be chasing him. There might even be a pathway to his future if he could keep his mind on track.
Blackie is not a good name for my dragon. I’ll have to think of a better one. . . Later.
She poured more of the bitter potion into his mouth. He didn’t object.
The afternoon sun felt warm on his face. He drifted off, thinking of Odd’s farm and the peaceful existence he’d enjoyed at Dun Mare again. Faring’s quick wit and wide smile filled his dreams, as did his time learning from the teachers. Some days, especially during the winter when there was little work to do on the farm, a succession of teachers sat with him. One subject followed another until his mind rejected more. They were good times. No stress and only today to worry about. The warmth of those days filled him.
Someone shook his shoulder.
He ignored it. It shook again, harder.
“Try to wake up boy,” Tom said. “You have to stand up. We have a long way to go, and we need to move fast.”
Tom’s back. He needs to know so much. Gareth forced his eyes open and met the concerned expression on Tom’s face. Gareth’s mind reeled with all the information he needed to share. He concentrated on singling out an item to begin, but his tongue felt too thick for his mouth. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Tom. Blackie is a bad name for my dragon, you know that? I need a better one.”
A woman’s voice, “What’s he talking about?”
“His dragon. Help me get him to his feet.”
Hands helped him stand. He wobbled but managed to remain upright with help.
The woman spoke again, her voice sharp. “The Brotherhood and the king’s army are closing in fast. If we so much as step out into the open, we’ll be seen by their lookouts or dragons, if we’re lucky. Probably they’ll just kill you and me and take him prisoner. It would be better for the two of us if we slit his throat, and made our separate ways from this place.”
Tom answered, “You’re right, Karen. We both know it. But I have to wonder what this boy can accomplish if we help him escape. What a tragedy if he should die before making his mark.”
Gareth wondered briefly, why Tom called her Karen and remembered that was the name of the first woman. The one with the bow. Where was Mary?
“For a seller of corn, you speak more like a prophet,” she said. “Do you have a plan, Tom? Because all I know to do is kill him and run from this place as fast as I can.”
“I say we wait until first dark. Then move. Stop at daybreak tomorrow and hide.”
“If any of the dragons spot that little black from the air they’ll attack us as if they’re crazed,” Karen said. “All dragons hate blacks. They’ll cover the ground with spit a foot deep, with us buried in it.”
“I know. They say they hate male blacks because they’re so big intelligent and powerful, but we need to protect it,” Tom said, walking Gareth in a circle to revive him. His left arm held the young man steady on his feet. “I suspect they’re a bonded pair, now. That’s the first male black I’ve ever seen or heard of in modern days. A female black dropped him into the ocean near my boat.”
Gareth heard and understood much of their discussion, and while they spoke as if he couldn’t hear them, he found a rising sense of distrust. Karen mentioned slitting his throat. Tom had not offered to protect him from her, only to discuss mutual escape. He decided to listen and pretend the medicine still worked to dampen his thoughts. He inhaled and calmed his thinking. Smooth thoughts.
Karen said, “Has it crossed your mind that we may have the most powerful dragon and the most powerful man in the world with us? If not now, someday. Have you thought about what they might do together as a bonded pair?”
Tom paused and shifted his position to better support Gareth, then turned to the sleeping dragon curled up in the bag, stretching the seams to bursting. “I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”
Karen moved her hand away from the hilt of her knife, then gripped it again as if unsure of her next action. “We have a whole world to worry about. You’re sure we shouldn’t kill him here?”
Gareth glanced at Tom with one eye half open. It seemed Tom refused eye contact with her, but he couldn’t be sure.
Tom glanced at Gareth and slowly shook his head. “No, he stays alive.”
Gareth didn’t see conviction in the action or hear it in the voice. Tom’s not my friend.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Gareth tried to keep his mind relaxed while listening to them plan his future. He didn’t want Karen pouring more of the drugged medicine into him because he allowed his thoughts to escape, again. He would shuffle along the path, listening, and remaining calm in his thinking. If possible.
The long shadows of first-dark merged with darkness as Tom slipped the strap of Gareth’s leather bag over his shoulder. The dragon stuffed inside stretched the seams to bursting. Tom pushed the dragon’s head inside, but the dragon hissed and snarled, head emerged again. Finally, the dragon allowed Tom to carry the bag. However, it insisted on keeping its head exposed, and the eyes watched everything around, especially Gareth, who stumbled along with Karen’s arm, wrapped around his shoulder, supporting him.
“Just protecting its mother,” Tom muttered to nobody in particular but smiling as he did.
They paused only long enough to turn the goat loose in a field of grass where other goats grazed in the starlight. Traveling with the goat slowed them down too much, but it had accomplished its task of making Gareth appear a local farmhand. The goat stood apart from the herd and watched them walk away as if it wanted to continue the journey with them. Maybe it was glad to be free of them, and it watched to ensure they didn’t return. Gareth flashed it a smile in the moonlight, but the goat turned away and may not have seen it.
Karen and Tom took turns walking Gareth, an arm always linked around his shoulder as if he was a drunk stumbling home after a long night at the local inn. He shuffled and tripped, often over nothing more than his feet, many of the falls intentional as he tried keeping up the charade of the medicine dulling his actions. Despite his struggles with walking, the three steadily moved east as fast as Gareth could manage. Thanks to the many warnings from the small dragon, they saw several other dragons flying over the forests, their huge bodies blotting out the stars. Each time, the small black snarled and provided enough warning for them to get under cover. Tom suggested the dragons were only flying at night to flush them out into the open, or perhaps to keep them holed up instead of traveling so they could be located the following day. Either action benefitted their pursuers.
There were others indications of approaching dragons, too. Insects and night birds stopped singing and without their songs, the forest sounded empty as the travelers huddled under trees waiting for the next dragon to fly past.
The three crossed several dirt roads during the early part of the night, after carefully waiting and watching to ensure each was free of watchers. Then they moved across them as fast as possible, leaving few footprints for the Brotherhood or army to find. Twice they paused to allow brothers in green robes to stroll past on the roads while the three concealed themselves in underbrush. Gareth sensed his stupor quickly fading, and he walked on without requiring as much assistance to travel faster. They made better time until Karen pulled to a halt and fumbled at her waist for another flask of the bitter medicine. “He’s beginning to wake.”