Free Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) by James Stevens

and he was too big to be carried across the rough terrain. There was no easy way to get him out, and even if he could, there was still the problem of the missing hatchling.
“Well, you aren’t going anywhere until that ankle heals a bit. I’ve got a few things back in my saddlebag that’ll help some with the pain and swelling. It’s horrid tasting, but it works.”
The boy stared at him silently as he stood up and dusted himself off.
“I’ll be back before sunset with what we need so don’t try to go anywhere. Not that I think you could anyway.” He crawled out the opening and pushed his way into the brush. Perhaps the hatchling would be there when he got back. It puzzled him that it was not in the cave with the boy. Dragons didn’t like being separated from their link, especially young ones. This didn’t bode well.
 
***
 
It was almost dark before he returned with a large pack slung over his shoulder. He dropped it on the cave floor then eased himself down next to it and wiped the sweat from his brow. The boy was still sitting in the same place as when he’d left and there was still no sign of the dragon. Could this tender really have linked somehow? It certainly seemed unlikely. He couldn’t ignore the possibility that this was just another one of Tirate’s schemes to draw him away from the palace, and the boy was paid to run off with some wild story of taking a dragon.
Boris removed a small teapot and two small tin containers from his sack, then filled the pot with his water skin. From one container he carefully measured out a few spoonfuls of black powder into the teapot and placed it over the fire to boil. He opened the other tin and with two fingers removed a glob of dark green paste, which he smeared liberally over Ammon’s ankle. He rewrapped it loosely and placed it gently on the ground. When the tea was ready he poured it into a cup and handed it to Ammon.
“Here, drink this.”
Reluctantly, Ammon took the cup as a strong putrid smell filled the cave. Wrinkling his nose, he looked doubtfully at Boris.
The older man grinned. “Yeah, it doesn’t taste any better than it smells, but it’ll help with the pain.”
Ammon held his breath, took a big mouthful and gagged.
Boris roared with laughter. “Small sips! Small sips!”
Still chuckling, Boris pulled a piece of meat from the side of the cooked pheasant and leaned back.
“Suppose you tell me a story, boy.” Testing a bite of meat he nodded approvingly as he chewed. “Tell me what happened at the Nest.”
Finally, Ammon spoke. “My name isn’t boy, it’s Ammon.”
A dangerous glint shone in Boris’ eyes as he looked up from the meat in his hand.
“Alright, Ammon. I am Captain Boris Dejias, knight of the King’s Royal Guard and quite possibly the only friend you have in the world right now. So, now that we have our introductions aside, shall we continue? What happened at the Nest?”
Ammon watched as Boris tore off another piece of meat. As a child living on the streets he’d learned to distrust strangers. On the other hand, this man could have killed him easily several times and no one would have ever known. Why did he want to know what happened at the Nest? If it was Fulgid he was after there was no way Ammon could stop him. He sighed. He had nothing to lose, except the meal the man was devouring.
With a deep breath, he described the events starting with the night of the hatch and how he’d watched through the crack in the door. When he told how Tirate and Calis were still there in the morning and that the egg had hatched in his hands, the expression on Boris’ face was disbelief. But when he described how Fulgid had attacked Tirate he suddenly burst out laughing.
Slapping his knee Boris grinned. “So that’s what happened to his hand!” Shaking his head, he chuckled. “The fool should’ve known better than to try to interfere with a link!” Boris looked up to see the confusion in Ammon’s face. “You don’t know much about