Dragon Dodgers (Wounds in the Sky Prequels Book 1) (5 page)

“
Because I’m away!” Targon yelled. “I’m a Surface Runner. I
haven’t seen her in years, of course she’s with another man.” He
exhaled loudly and regained his composure. “I have to repay them
for what I did. A man can’t just walk away from his wife and son.
With this money…” He hesitated. “The least I can do now is make
sure they never need for anything again.”

“
Good for
them.” She
said. Then slammed her door shut.

Targon stood for
a
moment, pushing back a curse, then turned away clenching his teeth.
He climbed the rock-carved staircase and punched the walls. He used
to make his own knuckles bleed with those same punches, in Awam,
years ago, in the months after marrying Shalim. It was as if he had
been trying to fight the city itself, the confinement, the rotten
taste of humidity, the never going anywhere. He had Ran the Surface
with his previous company, The Burning Striders, since he was a
little kid. And while leaving them for Shalim had been easy, soon
all he could think about was the Surface. The sprawling, bright,
wind shaken surface. No amount of Dragons could have changed his
mind. He had packed his things and left. The first years were
glorious, he had even founded his own Company, but then, as the
years passed, sunlight burned his skin and guilt burned his soul.
Surface Runs became longer, the wind became colder and daylight
became darker. On every city he visited, every wailing woman
sounded like Shalim, and every boy of every age ran and laughed and
cried like the son he had never even met.

What choice do I
have?

The
thought was
interrupted by something around his neck. At first, he didn’t even
realize what was happening. When his mind finally caught up with
his senses, it was already too late. Two men were pinning him
against a wall, while a third one held a knife to his
throat.

“
Out for a walk, Captain?”
Said the man holding the knife.

It was
Serak’s voice. As soon as Targon’s eyes adjusted, he recognized him
and the other two – Daviel and Thaeus.

“
Just stretching my legs,
boys. How about you?” He asked.

“
Oh, just wondering if we really need you as our Captain.
You know, the usual.”

Targon
glanced sideways at Thaeus. The boy was trying to look
fierce.

“
Do you remember when we met? You were begging on the
tunnels of Aparanta. You ate your first piece of meat after I
recruited you.”

“
And now you’re trying to get me killed.” Thaeus
said.

“
We’ve been thinking about
those ten thousand Spades, you know.” Serak said. “It’s worth a lot
more than your talk. And killing a royal butler sounds a lot easier
than slaying a Dragon.”

“
I’m not the only one who thinks that is a stupid idea,
Serak.”

“
Why? The king knows who you are, but I can take care of
that.” He said, pressing his blade against Targon’s throat. “Then,
I can just change our name. We can be the Dragon
Ditchers."

The other two laughed.

“
That’s a good point.”
Targon conceded.

“
This is what we’ll do.” Serak said. “You’re going to tell
me everything about that plan of yours and then I’ll decide if I
like my plan better. Because let’s face it, Captain, there is no
poison. Is there?”

“
Fair enough,” Targon said. “But I need to reach into my
pocket.”

“
Let him go, Daviel.”

Targon
’s hand
disappeared into his jacket and returned shortly after with a
folded piece of parchment. Serak snatched it from his fingers,
unfolded it and then inspected it from every possible
angle.

“
What is this?”

Targon laughed.

“
Right, I forgot. You
can’t read…”

Serak’s knife found its way back to
Targon’s neck.

“
What a great Captain you
would make.” Targon said.

“
I wouldn’t send my men to their deaths.” He yelled.
“Besides, others can read for me.” Serak passed the letter to
Daviel. “What does it say?”

The Runner released Targon and took
the letter. His pierced lips moved silently as he read the piece of
parchment.

“
What is this?” Daviel asked Targon.

“
A year ago,” He replied. “We were headed to Niveh with a
load of spices and silk. Do you remember? When we found those
bodies on the foothills of Silusa?”

Daviel
nodded.

“
Some idiots who got
careless and were robbed.” Serak said.

“
Robbed?!” Targon smiled. “They still had bags full of
Silphium. They weren’t robbed.” He turned to Thaeus. “You remember,
kid. They were carrying a bag of mail, you found it.”

Thaeus
glanced at Serak, confused, then back at Targon.

“
Yeah… But, it was burnt
to a crisp.”

“
Exactly.” Targon said. “They had left a valuable cargo of
Silphium behind, but burned the mail? It got me curious, so I did…
a more thorough search of the bodies.”

“
And you found this.” Daviel said. “But where?”

Targon gave him a smile.

“
Let’s just say the parchment stank for
months.
”

All three of them
grimaced.

“
So what is it? What does
it say?” Serak demanded.

Daviel
shrugged.

“
It’s a letter from a man named Kanuur, from Sandahar, but
it doesn’t say to whom it is addressed to.”

“
The only person who knew that was probably the Runner who
had the letter.” Targon said.

“
It seems like… Alchemist small talk.” Daviel continued.
“Stuff about herbs and substances, but I never even heard most of
these names.”

“
Yeah.” Targon
said.
“Took me a while to figure that out too. But try holding it up and
aiming the letter towards a torch.”

The three
men surrounding him exchanged a couple of glances, but Daviel
obeyed and as soon as the letter stood in front of the flames, they
all gasped.

“
Impressive, right?”
Targon said. “It was written with seeds placed between the layers
of parchment.”

“
What does it say?” Serak
demanded.

Daviel
took a while
to answer, then finally:

“
Dragon killed. It works.”

He had been in that same exit chamber the previous morning,
begging for a spot among the Watchers of the harvest. He had left
the chamber with his cousin by his side, and Cavill had never
returned
, not even as a
corpse – Dragons always carried away their victims.

This time, Enrig himself
wouldn’t be coming back. He wished he could have had more
time to prepare, but the Captain refused to spend another coin
accommodating the Company in Saggad. The shocking news had left his
mother silently weeping on her rotten bed, probably reliving the
day her husband had left her for the exact same reason – Roaming
the Surface. It felt wrong, but Enrig had always known this day
would come, and it seemed like it should have come much sooner
already.

At least I’m not abandoning my wife
and son…

The company had formed two single files in front of
the
gates. The Runners were
getting ready to leave. Nasur was giving Carn basic Surface Running
instructions; Marek and his brother Yarek were arguing about how to
properly tie their boots, even though it was obvious they were both
right; Thamet was packing bandages and other medical gear;
Shayllah, Nyssa and Samir were holding each other’s hands, praying
in silence; Thaeus was making a bet with Daviel to see who would
puke first; and the others were just casually chatting, like they
were on their way to the market for some bread.

“
On the surface, if you drop something, it’s lost forever.”
Anweh told Enrig. “We don’t stop and we certainly don’t go back for
it.” She finished fastening a cloak on his leather backpack with a
tight pull. “Now, you are going to stick right beside me. If I
move, you move with me. If I stop…”

“
I stop with
you.”

“
Exactly. That’s all you need to know for now.” Anweh gave
him a wink. “I’ll teach you other stuff as we go. Oh, and one more
thing.” She stuck a finger on his nose. “When you run, you watch
where you’re running. Lose your step, snap your foot and we’re
done. A Company is only as fast as its slowest Runner. Remember
that.”

Enrig nodded
and someone opened the city gates. The fresh air swept into the
chamber and rustled his hair. This was always Enrig’s favorite
part, except this time his stomach was sinking down a bottomless
pit. The idea of going back home suddenly became a lot more
appealing.

“
Ready?” Anweh asked
him.

“
I think so.” He
replied.

“
Alright!” Targon yelled
from somewhere up front. “Thirty steps and switch. My column goes
first.”

It didn’t take very long for Enrig to break sweat. In fact,
soon enough,
his breathing
became heavy, his lungs started to burn and his feet began to feel
like they were being stabbed.

The first thing he learned, was that when the Captain said
‘thirty steps and switch’ it actually meant they had to run for
sixty consecutive steps. Thirty to catch up with the leading
column, and another thirty to get ahead. The second thing he
learned, was that no one ever complained
when they were tired. Ever. He saw one Runner vomiting
from exhaustion without so much as slowing down. – It was Thaeus,
who immediately tossed Daviel a coin. – They only rested when it
was their turn to watch the sky, until Lieutenant Nasur saw
Targon’s column stop and motioned at them to keep going. They
actually spotted three Dragons throughout the day, and still kept
running.

“
There was no need to worry.”
Marek told him later that day. “They were far
enough.”

Enrig
didn’t think a
Dragon could ever be far enough.

The Company reached the base of Prophet
’s Peak in the middle of the afternoon. It had
taken Enrig twice as long to get there when he had gone alone.
Targon lead them to a dense grove and then ordered the Company to
scatter and hide. The Runners efficiently mingled with the bushes
and trees, covering themselves with gray, brown and green cloaks.
Only then did everyone reach into their backpacks for food and
water.

Enrig was
beyond exhausted. He emptied his leather canteen in one long,
uninterrupted gulp. He was still wiping the water from the corners
of his mouth when a loud shriek broke through the forest. His whole
body jumped up.

“
What was that?!” Someone screamed.

It was the Royal Servant, Carn. Earlier that day, in the
exit chamber, before leaving, he had looked tall
, dignified and arrogant. Now, he was pale and
dripping with sweat. Heavy panting writhing his panic expression
even further.

Anweh told
Enrig to
be quiet with a gesture and Targon stood up silently. The Captain
inspected the ceiling of leaves above them. Streams of light poured
through, painting the grove in hazelnut and gold. There was no wind
in there, as if they were underground, but Enrig smelled the
moisture of recent rain. A fresh, earthy and pleasant kind of
moisture, unlike the putrid dampness of Saggad.

Targon
chose three
Runners – Liora, Samir and Shayllah – and signaled them to follow
him. As they disappeared into the woods there was another deep
roar, somewhere close, and Enrig felt his heart stop and his belly
ache. He instinctively pushed back into the tree as if he was
trying to get inside. Everyone else just stood still, patiently
waiting, except Carn, so Lieutenant Nasur was forced to cover his
mouth so he wouldn’t scream. The Captain returned after a while,
followed by the other three Runners.

“
Flew up towards the mountain.” He said with a low voice.
“Shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“
The cave.” Carn pleaded.
“You said there would be a cave.”

“
I did.” The Captain replied. He walked towards Enrig and
kneeled beside him. “So, the cave. Do you still remember where it
is?”

Enrig swallowed in dry a throat. He didn’t even know where
he was. He could still picture the cave and its entrance, but he
hadn’t exactly spent much time canvassing the area when he had been
there. He had literally
just
stumbled into the cave, slept there, then left the following
morning. That was it. He hadn’t memorized the way in or out, hadn’t
drawn any map, nothing. He simply remembered how the cave looked
like.

“
I think so.” He mumbled. “I mean, kind of.” He looked
around. “You know, if I
could
get to where I came through the last time.”

Targon looked at Anweh.

“
Great.” He said. “The kid was lying.”

“
What?!” Carn
shrieked.