The brave soldiers of Sentinel City were in hiding. Word had spread like weeds in a yam plot that Prince Jarib and Corporal Agana were roaming the streets in search of brave volunteers. At first, a few had signed up for what was promised to be the adventure of a lifetime. As soon as they realized that they were to venture past the Free Lands and into the Dala Swamp in search of dragons, they’d vanished. The news got around, and now every barracks in the city was empty.

  “Okay, this is ridiculous,” muttered Jarib as he spotted a barrel rocking gently outside the city library. He lifted a mahogany lid and glared at the man crouched inside. “What is your name and station, soldier?”

  “Um, Nyok, sir. Stationed in Tower Three of Sentinel City.”

  “And why are you in this barrel?”

  “Um, lost something, Sir. Er, my water flask went missing. Thought it might be in here.”

  “Did you find it?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “Good, ‘cause you won’t need it. You’re coming with me.”

  “I heard that was… voluntary.”

  “Not anymore. Oh, and have you seen Nejab?”

  “Nejab, er yes, he’s mucking the ox stall.”

  “Which one?”

  “Two blocks north and one east, by the gate.”

  “Great. Let’s go.”

  Jarib yanked Nyok from the barrel. Sunlight fell on his charred face. The ash-tipped remains of what was once a moustache stuck out in odd places like a pine branch after a morning frost.

  “What happened to you? You look like you stuck your head in a stove!” exclaimed Jarib.

  “Um, it’s nothing. Had an accident, that’s all.”

  Jarib studied the soldier for a minute and decided he had more important questions to ask. “Where will I find the rest of the soldiers?”

  “Answer him,” said Agana, “or we’ll leave you rotting in the Dala.”

  “The tunnels beneath the city. That’s where I’d start looking,” mumbled Nyok.

  “Excellent. Let’s grab Nejab and then flush out the sewers.”

  They reached the ox pen in a few minutes. Inside, Nejab was whistling a cheery tune as he sent muck flying over his shoulder.

  “What on Earth are you doing in in this stall?” asked Agana.

  Nejab turned in surprise. “Jarib! Agana! Only doing my duties, Sir.”

  “You’re supposed to be training to be a soldier! How long have you been stalling?”

  “Five months, Sir.”

  “On who’s orders?”

  “Captain Vagunwah, Sir.”

  “Did you at least get a spear?”

  “Only this lightly rusted pitchfork, Sir.”

  “I can’t believe Vagunwah would do such a thing,” said Agana to Jarib. “Narnuk will be furious.”

  “Oh come on. I might have done the same.”

  “That doesn’t make it right. We’re not leaving this city until we have fifty men, and Vagunwah’s going to be one of them. Come with us, Nejab.”

  “Where we goin’?”

  “On a nice long jaunt. I’ll explain the details once we gather the rest of our party.”

  “This isn’t that trip to the Dala the others were talking about? Because I’m not much for long distances. My knee, you know.”

  “It is, and your knee need be no concern,” said Agana. “Most of the journey will be by canoe, and we’ll have laborers to carry our supplies. Narnuk would like you to come along. We’ll find something for you to do. Can you write?”

  “Not well, but I know an author who lives nearby. He’s been teaching me a bit.”

  “We need a scribe for the trip. What’s his name?”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Bjorn Hakurney.”

  “I’ll tell you what. We’ll round up the rest of the party and explain the details. Then you can go find this Bjorn fellow and see if he’ll come along.”

  * * * * * * * *

  Someone was knocking at the door. Omri looked up from his book in surprise. The last person to knock at his door was the tax collector three moons ago; surely he wasn’t back for more! Brushing the dust off his knees, Omri waddled to the door, his hefty stomach leading the way, the rest of his body following behind.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, eyeing a nervous looking fellow, smartly dressed and accompanied by a chorus of soldiers. “Is something the matter?”

  “Omri Bigback, head of the scientists’ guild?”

  “Yes, that is me.”

  “I am Prince Jarib. I understand that you know a bit about dragons. We’d like you to come with us on the King’s expedition. I trust you’ve heard of it?”

  Omri took a step back, his legs trembling. “You… you mean the expedition into the Dala Swamp?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. We mean to capture a few dragons. I hear you’re the expert on them.”

  “Oh no, oh no,” fumbled Omri. “I don’t know anything about dragons. I’d be no help at all.”

  Jarib pushed him aside, an impressive feat considering that Omri looked like what you might get if you put three Jaribs into the same tigerskin robe. “What’s this book you have here? Ancient Dragons of the Western Cape? Sounds like you’re exactly who we’re looking for.”

  “No, no, that’s not mine. It was, er, left here by my aunt.”

  “From the looks of it I’d say you haven’t had a visitor in three moons. Tax collector, eh? Everything’s a mess except that coin purse sticking out from under your bed. And what’s this? A membership card to the Atakalan Draconology Society?”

  “Really, I’m in no shape to be hiking through swamps. I’d only slow your group down. I’m a humble scientist; I study worms and ferns. No use to you at all.”

  “Listen. We intend to capture a dragon, and your student Oalinar says that you’re the country’s premier dragon expert.”

  “Oh dear, you’ve got poor Oalinar involved? Please, it’s just a stupid hobby. One must have his little pleasures! No practical use, my triflings.” Sweat poured down Omri’s brow like saltwater streaming off a sea dragon breaking the ocean’s surface. Two soldiers were in his bedroom, packing things into a sack. “You needn’t go through that trouble,” he called feebly.

  “Do you believe in dragons, Omri?” asked Jarib.

  “Extinct ones. Trust me, there are no dragons in the Dala, or I’d know about it. Yet, I can tell you what is in the Dala.”

  “Yes?”

  “Far worse things than dragons.”

  “We’ll see about that. Now put on your shoes.”

  * * * * * * * *

  Foshum answered the door of his clay hut. He wasn’t smiling.

  “Prince Jarib. I thought you might drop by.”

  Jarib smiled a bit too sweetly. “Ah, Doctor Foshum. How’s the practice?”

  “Busy, terribly busy. No time for anything these days, heh, heh.”

  “I’m sure they won’t miss you if you’re gone for a quick venture for the king.”

  “I’m sorry Jarib, I really am not able. I have a case of malaria coming in tomorrow.”

  “All the better to stay out of the house.”

  “A patient, not me. I need to be here to help.”

  “We need you, Foshum. You’re the best doctor this side of the Oueme.”

  “I have a wife and two kids, Jarib.” He stared at his feet. “I don’t want to die.”

  “I intend to have two wives, sixteen kids, and absolute rule over the fourteen true tribes of Atakala. I don’t want to die either, and that means I need you. I expect to see you in Tsyanou before the next moon.”

  * * * * * * * *

  Tylar Dor-buk and Umhir sat in Umhir’s hut, facing each other on opposite sides of a meager fire, their hard, stony faces impervious to the flickering tongues of flame struggling to illuminate the scene.

  “How do you know of this trip?” asked Umhir uneasily.

  “Come, now. The whole nation knows of it. One cannot keep a secret in so tiny a country.”

  “You know far more than you should.”

  “Did not my Kiri discover the bricks? She told me everything, despite her hatred of me. To make me jealous, I am certain, for she knows the glory this will bring her cursed brother Jarib.”

  “Then what do you want of me? I am going on the expedition; I will not stay back. Nor will I allow any member to come to harm!” Uhmir rose threateningly.

  “Sit, sit!” chastised Dor-buk. “I will not interfere with your group.”

  “Yet you admit you seek the same prize! And have at your side no less than fifty warriors from the south!”

  “Umhir, my cousin, have I not always served you? I will not harm your friends. If Jarib succeeds, so be it. But if my men beat him to the prize, they will not blame you.”

  “I will report you to the kings. They will stop you before you leave Tsyanou.”

  Dor-buk smiled. “But you will not, Umhir. Is not your foolish grandfather employed in their service?”

  “Agana is no fool! He is a wise man!”

  “Wise men who cannot speak serve no purpose. What use is one who announces imminent danger of war as a ‘wager of door’?”

  “He is of the line of Jaw!”

  “The ancestry is nothing. The day will come that I marry Kiri and take all power to myself; no son of Jaw, Neb, or Zartro will challenge me. But I digress. I am the one who pays Agana’s salary. It was not only a gift to Narnuk, but to you, dear cousin. You know you cannot care for him on a soldier’s wages. Take away the staff that supports your grandfather, and I shall use that same staff to tear him so low, you will not recognize him.”

  “What then do you want of me? Why did you come?” Umhir glared at the fire, watching the glowing coals cycle from orange to red to orange, controlled but in danger of bursting, as his temper.

  “I have come to ask a boon. I am not so vain as to think my plan will go without flaw. Already I have said that my venture should not interfere with yours. Yet if by some misfortune I find myself beaten by Jarib, I am trusting in you to come to my aid. I will give the sign of Jaw, an axe, and you must do whatever I ask. If you do not do this, even though I may die, my men are sworn to carry out vengeance against your family, even dear old Agana. I trust you will not let this happen.”

  “You cannot take away from a family with nothing.”

  “Ah, but you will not be a family with nothing. Behold!” Dor-buk pulled a great red stone from a canvas sack and handed it to Umhir.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “Read it. This section.”

  Umhir greedily read the lines as quickly as he could.

  “If we succeed,” said Dor-buk, “I will share this reward with both you and Agana.”

  Uhmir could scarcely tear his eyes away from the brick. “Take me with you then! I will fight by your side! Jarib has spoken nothing of this!”

  “No, no, my cousin. You must stay with Jarib. As I said, if they beat us to this prize, I will need someone who has gained their trust. You are the most important member of my team; you will be my spy planted within their ranks, my rear flank in case my path is blocked.”

  “Go with speed then,” said Umhir. “Jarib’s men will tarry for yet a month in Tsyanou. Find this prize and deliver it in haste, so that my assistance is not needed.”

  “Thank you, my friend.” Dor-buk rose and left the hut, an army of warriors following him down the path into the darkness of night.