Free Terry W. Ervin by Flank Hawk Page B

courage as he took my spear and leaned it against a rack holding strips of leather and harness repair tools.
    “Approach them from the front. Meet them eye to eye. When you walk around, keep your hand on their body. If you keep in contact they’ll know where you are and you won’t accidentally get stepped on, wing buffeted or whipped by a tail.”
    A handler who smelled of sweat and grime ambled up to us. “You’re the new guards?” He wiped his hands on his greasy apron.
    “We are,” said Road Toad.
    “Know anything ’bout serpents?”
    “They call me Road Toad. And I am familiar with them and their habits. Krish, here, is not. But he soon will.”
    The handler looked at Road Toad skeptically and frowned at me. “If you say so.”
    A second handler walked up behind us. He was larger and smelled of leather and oil. “Major Parks said there were two new night guards. Didn’t say anything about them approaching the bevy.”
    Road Toad turned on the larger handler. “Do you have orders directing you to keep us away from the serpents?”
    The handler stared back long and hard. Where I might have flinched, Road Toad didn’t.
    The big handler grinned, showing clean but uneven teeth. “You get hurt or raise a ruckus with the serpents, you’ll answer for it.” He elbowed his partner and went back about their business tending the dragons.
    Road Toad walked up to a black, one I guessed was Night Shard. He reached out and upward with his hand. The tethered dragon sniffed and then lowered its massive head. Its eyes with ivory irises weren’t set on the side of the head like a horse, but in the front like a wolf. Its snout was blunt and shorter than a red’s.
    Road Toad rubbed the black dragon’s snout then tapped hard on the right side of its jaw. In response the beast stretched open its maw. Its breath was sour with a hint of carrion.
    “See,” said Road Toad. “Unlike the reds who have dagger-like teeth, the blacks have jaws like a snapping turtle’s.” He ran his hand lightly along the bony ridge. After tossing a chunk of his slimy cheese on the dragon’s flat, red tongue, Road Toad tapped the underside of its jaw. The dragon closed its mouth, then snorted.
    Road Toad began walking along the dragon’s left side, dragging his left hand across the scales. He motioned for me to do the same and explained, “Inside the mouth is an orifice that expels the juice.”
    The prince had said juice. I thought dragons breathed fire. But I also thought they were only red. “Juice?”
    Road Toad laughed. “A stream of caustic fluid. A direct hit would dissolve the better part of you on the spot. Most can expel it at least three, sometimes four times its body length, snout to tail. Depending on size and age of the serpent, maybe four times in quick succession. No more than ten sprays an hour. No more than twenty-five in a day.”
    After reaching three quarters of the way down the tail, Road Toad stepped over. I followed. Night Shard turned its head and watched us as Road Toad pointed to the red dragons. “They breathe fire. Liquid comes out and ignites, something to do with contact with the air.” Road Toad patted Night Shard on the rear leg and stepped away. He watched as I did too.
    Slowly swinging its long serpentine neck, Night Shard tracked our movement away from the bevy.
    “Dragon fire is usually limited to twice the serpent’s length, but in most situations a lot more devastating. All things equal, your average red would tear up a black, if they could catch it.”
    We’d stopped next to the rack holding my spear. “Blacks are faster?” I asked.
    “In the air, they can fly higher, faster, and farther.” He paused. “And don’t get the idea that they’re tame either, Krish. Approach them correctly, they probably won’t bite, or tailwhip you.” He’d lost all traces of a smile. “But with a word from the serpent’s cavalryman, his aft-guard, or maybe a handler, one of them would snap you up in its