Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton)

To Tracey, Nicole and Ashley, without their encouragement this story never would have been written or told.

To Zalso, Keith, Eri, Elizabeth and Richard whose input was greatly appreciated and needed!

And most of all, my thanks to God who makes all things possible!

Hatch

The old woman peered towards the heavens as a streak of light flashed past the crescent moon and continued south across the night sky. Such an event a few days before a dragon hatch was a powerful omen to those who believed in such things. There was a time when she herself would have announced it to the kingdom as a sign of things to come. But now, she had all but forsaken those beliefs and lost her trust in the stars and her faith in the prophecies. Too much had changed and too many had died to allow hope to remain in her ancient heart.

She slowly walked back inside her dilapidated house and removed the teakettle from its place above the fire. Her withered hands trembled slightly as she poured the steaming liquid into an earthen mug. The sweet aroma of herbs and spice reminded her of her youth and days surrounded by gleaming palace walls in the royal court. The most powerful kingdom in the world had shattered as easily as the fluted glasses that had held their wine

She gasped as the tea leaves floating in her cup formed the perfect shape of a dragon. What purpose were these omens after everything had been destroyed? She closed her eyes and let the image of light replay in her mind. Something extraordinary was about to happen. Or something terrible. Only time would tell.

***

Chapter 1
The Nest

Sweat beaded heavily across Ammon’s brow. The heat from the furnaces was nearly stifling and cleaning out the ash from the bins meant being uncomfortably close the roaring inferno behind the iron door. The thick hinges glowed dull red and shimmered in his vision as he drew the long metal rake out of the small hole beneath the door that allowed for removal of the ash. With a sigh he scooped the ashes into two tin lined wooden pails, then leaned the rake against the wall. Stepping back, Ammon kicked the latch on the side of the furnace and the heavy door swung open to reveal a bed of white-hot coals. Squinting against the blistering heat, he quickly shoveled in fresh coal past the showers of sparks and smoke. Satisfied that the firebox was full he used the handle of the shovel to slam the door shut and a resounding clang echoed through the chamber. He once again wiped the sweat from his face and leaned against the wall to catch his breath.

It was a routine he had done a dozen times a day and soon it would be over. He’d kept the four furnaces in the Nest going for nearly a year and now the late summer’s new moon marked the end of Incubation, which meant his job was almost finished. He hadn’t decided where he’d go next, but he wasn’t worried. Not yet anyway. With a grunt, he grabbed the handles of the heavy ash pails and carried them to where an ash chute was carved into the stone near the stairs. The chute was simply a steep, narrow tunnel leading down to the street where a wooden oxcart waited to catch the ash. Standing on his toes, he hefted each pail up and dumped it down the chute, listening to the skittering sounds as the unburned coals tumbled down.

At seventeen Ammon was short for his age, but his muscles were strong and hard from the strenuous work in the Nest. As an orphan, he knew how lucky he was to work for a wage; anything was better than starving. When Keeper Calis came to the marketplace looking for cheap laborers, Ammon practically begged for the job as a tender working the furnaces in the Nest. Certainly the work was difficult and the conditions less than pleasant, but food was provided, and in the dead of winter, the furnaces kept the entire Nest warm.

The inside of the Nest was a marvel few people had ever seen. Cleverly carved inside of a small mountain was a large room with a towering ceiling twenty feet high and more than double that in length and width. One wall was dominated by a set of thick wooden doors mounted on massive hinges that opened out to a sheer cliff overlooking the city of
Gaul below. Once a year those doors were open for the dragons to come and lay their eggs, then they were sealed shut for the Incubation. Four iron and stone furnaces placed in each corner of the large room provided a constant, steady heat throughout the Nest. Ammon’s job as the tender was to keep those fires going.

Now that the furnaces were done, Ammon filled a small pail with water from the rain barrel and turned to his next task. In the center of the Nest floor was a bowl shaped depression nearly four yards wide. It was as deep as a man was tall and its steeply sloped sides were polished smooth as glass. A year ago, a large black dragon had laid six eggs there. Five of them were nearly half the size of Ammon, but the sixth was no bigger than his head. At the edge Ammon used his foot to push a coiled rope ladder over the side and, with the handle of the water pail in the crook of his arm, he climbed down to where the eggs lay. Carefully, he inspected the bone white leathery shells for any sign of weakening or discoloration that might indicate it had gone bad.

It was rumored that less than half of all dragon eggs hatch, which made them highly prized by the king’s knights. Ammon suspected that rumor was true when Calis offered to pay one gold talon for each egg that hatched. Ammon grinned hopefully. Perhaps he might see four hatch! Four gold talons was a lot of money, enough to support him for quite a while. To give the eggs their best chances of hatching, each day he moistened the shells with a damp cloth and turned them gently. He held little hope for the small egg, though. While the others swelled in size, their shells stretching taut, the little one remained unchanged. Had the shell changed color, he probably would have thrown it down the ash chute as trash.

Just as Ammon had finished turning and wiping down the last egg, he heard the footsteps of the keeper coming up the stairs. Quickly, he threw the cloth into the pail and started climbing the rope ladder. His head just cleared the top of the Nest in time to see the keeper’s velvet boot swing forward. Gripping the rope tightly, he braced against the impact as the blow glanced off the side of his head. He barely managed to keep from toppling over backwards and landing on the eggs. Dazed, he looked up, unsure if he should continue climbing out or descend to the relative safety of the eggs. It was unlikely that Calis would come down after him, or even could for that matter. The man’s oversized stomach and stubby legs could never navigate the flimsy rope ladder. Ammon stepped back down into the Nest and waited.

The keeper snorted and his jowls swung as he scowled down at Ammon with a thick tongue. “Slacking, eh? I oughta come down there and drag you out by yer ears! If anything happens to them eggs, it’ll be yer hide, and you’ll wish ya’d never been born!”

The fat keeper removed a dainty lace handkerchief from his sleeve and dabbed at the sweat glistening above his close-set eyes. “Make sure this place is spotless come mornin’ or I’ll beat ya like a thug! Them knights will be here t’morrow evening for hatch and I don’t want no bad impression on ‘em!”

Ammon stared at his feet, trying to look respectful. “Yes, sir, spotless.”

Calis tucked the kerchief back in his sleeve and grunted. “And I’d best not see any sign of youse either, so be sure yer in the tender’s chambers with the door shut before evening meal or ya won’t get a single talon!”

With a sniff, he waddled off out of Ammon’s sight. The footsteps faded as they went down the stairs and at the bottom the door slammed with a loud crash that echoed through the chamber. Sighing in relief, Ammon leaned against the polished side of the Nest and slid down beside the eggs. Idly he reached over and gently stroked the side of the small one. Calis didn’t come into the Nest often, but when he did, he was increasingly abusive. Ammon knew he just had to tolerate it a few more days, and then he could collect his money and move on. Just a few more days and he’d be free.

Standing once again, he brushed a stray strand of blonde hair out of his eyes and again climbed the ladder. The rest of the afternoon he spent sweeping the already spotless floors and daydreaming about gold. Wisely spent, a few gold talons could get him through until next winter, but then what? He frowned in thought. If he stayed on another year as a tender, he might have enough to buy a small farm in the Outerlands. He had no desire to live in the city, and most of the useable land nearby would be much too expensive anyway. The outland areas were sparsely populated since the war with the barbarians, but he’d grown used to isolation since he started working as a tender. In fact, he liked the peaceful solitude he’d had in the Nest, with the exception of the occasional visit from Calis. The simple daily routine was the only consistency he’d ever had in his life besides hunger.

The creaking sound of the stair door opening marked the evening mealtime, and he heard the solid clunk and scrape of a wooden bowl being slid across the floor. He checked the furnaces once more before descending the stairs to collect his bowl and retreated to his chambers for the night. The thin, tasteless mush barely filled his belly, but at least it kept the hunger pangs away. He dropped the empty bowl on the table beside his bed and sighed. Tomorrow was the final day, the hatching. Stretching out on the tiny cot, he stared at the ceiling and watched the shadows dance from the flickering tallow candle. His mind drifted as he thought of his gold and the next week of celebration when the entire city celebrated the hatching with pies and cakes shaped like eggs. He licked his lips and wondered how many of the fruit filled pastries he could buy. Sleep crept up and settled on him slowly.