“I am simply helping a boy who fell into the ocean near my boat.”
“A boy carrying the egg of a black dragon!” she hissed. She turned on Tom. Gareth saw the sly look mothers give small boys who lie by admission. “So you say that you never saw the black mother dragon searching for her egg?”
Gareth listened carefully. He now suspected the woman was intentionally talking so he’d overhear, but he kept his eyes closed and listened. He sought out his dragon huddling in the bag and suggested that it look at Tom’s face. Gareth attempted to peer through its eyes.
The mental shift and change in vision came easier. Finally, he saw Tom from a nearby location.
Tom looked livid.
She continued, “So let’s be clear. You will use the boy and dragon to suit your King’s wishes. Is that so different from me using him to protect others like me? Or the Brotherhood? Now it simply becomes a question of which of us manages to have our way. If two of us work together, the odds of success are greater. Two against one. Think about that.”
She waited. Karen’s proposal had to be answered. Gareth waited too, using the eyes of the dragon to watch Tom’s every twitch and movement.
Tom stood and pointed at Gareth, “I only want to help him.”
“Lie! You lie, but I can see it in your face. You pretend you are better than we are but in truth, we are open and sharing in our intentions, while you deceive this man you say is a friend that you are helping. Gareth and dragon are better off dead than in your hands.”
In a flash, Tom pulled his knife from his waist and in a single step held the blade to her throat. “You won’t take him from me.”
Blackie, run! Gareth no longer saw through the eyes of the dragon, but he heard it scramble free of the bag and dart into the undergrowth.
Her forearm reached up and blocked the hand holding the knife. She shoved the knife to the side as easily as moving a branch aside as she walked the forest. Then she whirled and walked away on the path, her back straight, her head held high and unafraid.
Tom waited a few breaths, replaced his knife in the scabbard and slipped an arm under Gareth’s shoulder, lifting him to his feet. Gareth opened his eyes. Tom steadied him and said, “We have to get you out of here. How much of that did you hear, boy? And did you understand any more of it than me?”
Gareth felt Tom’s betrayal stall his words. Tom was not the friend he had believed him to be. Not trusting his anger, he mouthed, “Blackie.”
“Your damned dragon, again?” then Tom turned and called softly, “Come here you black beast.”
The creature emerged from the edge of the underbrush chewing on the remains of a small bird. Feathers and dripping blood coated its mouth and neck, and dribbles of red ran down the chest. It darted for the bag and squeezed inside.
Tom lifted the bag and placed an arm around Gareth’s shoulders as he followed the woman down the path. He said softly, “Can you understand me Gareth? Blink two times if you can.”
Gareth grunted, then blinked twice, as if it was far more effort than it was.
“Okay son, this is how I see it. These women are up to something, and my guess is that they want to use you, just like everyone else. I don’t trust them,” he glanced around to ensure they walked alone. The woman was far ahead on the path, well out of earshot, but still he spoke quietly. “Next time she gives you medicine, spit it out when she isn’t looking. You and me are getting out of here.”
Gareth felt like telling Tom he was two steps ahead in that plan but shuffled along. His plan involved getting out of there, but he would be alone. He saw the dragon slowly poke his head out of the bag. It snarled and drew back as if it was going to snort slime. Tom placed his hand in front of the dragon’s mouth to protect himself from any acid. “What’s wrong with it, now?”
The wings shivered in irritation, shaking the leather bag.
“No,” Gareth hissed to the dragon. “Don’t spit.”
Tom pulled his hand away and raised his eyes to the path ahead. “He’s not mad at me, Gareth. Look.”
Gareth turned.
A tall stranger stood in the middle of the road. A scarlet slash of ribbon decorated his blue uniformed chest. Legs spread, arms on hips, he tugged at the red cap with the gold insignia winking in the torchlight as if in mock salute. “Good evening. You must be the infamous Captain Tom.”
Another pair of men, each carrying a torch, rushed to stand at attention nearby. The torchbearers also wore blue uniforms.
“That I am,” Tom answered in a cold voice. “Who might you be?”
“Field Lieutenant Jameson of the His Majesties Army, sir. Sent by the king himself to rescue you and escort you and your friends to safety.”
Tom advanced a few steps and spat in the dirt near the officer’s feet. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we were trying to get away from you. We need no rescue.”
The soldier smiled, but his eyes didn’t. His voice carried on as smooth as oil. “The woman who was traveling with you has agreed to accompany four of my men to our camp where she will tell her tale. I’m sure they will come to a painful understanding, sooner or later.”
“You might find she isn’t willing to talk. And we may not wish to go with you.”
The officer barked a laugh. “Sir, I understand that you outranked me in the service of our King at one time. However, there are several thousand troops, five dragons, and a few hundred monks of the Brotherhood searching for you in the nearby forests. There are others out there who mean you harm. My orders are to take you into protective custody.”
“Protective custody,” Tom said flatly.
“Of course, sir. We are on your side, and we will protect you both at any cost. The boy and dragon are of utmost importance to our king.” He motioned with an arm and several soldiers stepped from the concealment of the underbrush and took up positions in front and behind them. Many held bows, arrows ready to fly. Others had swords drawn. “Captain, if you will be so kind as to accompany us? I’ll lead the way.”
Tom said, “The boy is ill. He needs rest.”
The Field Lieutenant snapped, “My orders are to escort you both to the king, along with that dragon you carry, with utmost haste. I will obey those orders to the best of my abilities.”
Tom fixed him with a scowl. “If the boy dies or is injured because of you overextending your orders, I will have the pleasure of separating your head from your body.”
“Captain, what would you suggest?” The officer’s voice was neutral and possibly agreeable to some extent.
Tom eased a step closer and softened his tone. “Sir, if it were me in your shoes, I’d send a messenger to spread the word of our capture. Perhaps change ‘capture’ to ‘custody’. However, I’d make it clear in the message who managed to succeed in our ‘rescue’. Take all the credit for yourself possible. I’d say the boy is ill. That I am such a responsible officer and understand how important the mission is that I am allowing Gareth to rest, and take his medication. I will deliver the young man and dragon in good condition. If you do it right, you may find yourself a knight, or even a general.”
The officer nodded as he considered the idea. “Tantalize my superiors with success, plus others will not have the chance to grab the glory from me . . . right?”
“You’d only be doing what’s best for all concerned,” Tom muttered, spreading his hands and speaking only loud enough for those closest to hear.
“I will put six men in a circle to guard the two of you, and the dragon. I’ll send a series of messengers, each armed with additional information of your capture and care. I may send one directly to the king.”
“Bypassing your superiors is risky, but sometimes worth the reward, if you see what I mean,” Tom said, ignoring the comment about six guards.