Dragon (A Histories of Purga Novel)
Chapter Nineteen

It was a long time before all the horses finally reached Vitari. Asher calculated that with the trip to and from the Herdlands, including the time spent at Beltar and Prissa’s house, he had about thirty minutes left to make sure everything was ready. He used the sun’s position in the sky to determine what time it was. He hoped that Fowler had done his job and done it well, because there was no room for error.

The horses broke through the outer boundaries of Vitari and headed down the main road toward the center of the city. He saw people moving quickly to get out of the way as the horses neared. When they got closer to the heart of the city, Asher directed Beltar and the others down a side road toward an area where the horses could graze in relative peace and their leavings wouldn’t make the other villagers angry.

They reached the clearing about five minutes later. It was large, one of the bigger ones in the area, but due to the overwhelming number of horses, it still wasn’t big enough. The cramped animals quickly grew restless and agitated. Some of them even nipped at the others.

Asher dismounted the battle-charger and stood on level ground. His legs were a bit unsteady and he nearly toppled. After a brief couple of seconds, he regained control of his body and was able to stand confidently. The charger shimmered and Beltar stood in front of him.

“Go about your business, Ash,” he said. “I’ll calm them.”

Asher nodded and left, hurrying back to the city. Beltar turned to the horses and went to each one, offering soothing words and soft touches to ease their minds. It took a long time to get peace back in the herd, but he managed it.

“There,” he said. “In a few moments, you’ll get to stretch your legs again. Then, after that, you’ll get to taste the blood of some Rooks. How does that sound?”

Asher disappeared into the forest, following the wide dirt road back into the heart of Vitari. When he got there, he found everyone bustling about. The place was packed with warriors and villagers. Every single one of them seemed on a personal mission and followed it without letting anything distract them.

He looked around, trying to spot Fowler. The massive crowds, however, made it impossible. He waded into the groups of people and sought him out. It took longer than he wanted but eventually he found his friend arguing with Oylan, one of the thirteen breadmakers Vitari had. Asher came up to the pair.

“I don’t care on who’s authority you’re here under, it cannot be done!” Oylan shouted, his face nearly purple. His long, auburn hair shifted with the wind and his eyes were narrowed to slits. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to make bread?”

“Do you have any idea how badly our warriors will lose if they do not have enough food to feed them?” Fowler countered.

Asher couldn’t help but be amused by the sight. His friend was scrawny, even for a twelve-year-old, and watching him take on a full grown adult without backing down appeared absurdly comical.

“Peace,” Asher said, laying a hand on Fowler’s shoulder.

“Asher,” Oylan said, pointing an accusatory finger at the boy next to him. “Do you know what this idiot demands? Ten thousands loaves. Ten thousand! It’s impossible. I could be baking for a month, non-stop, and still not meet that quota.”

“Asher, they’ll need food,” Fowler insisted.

“How much food were you able to get?” Asher asked him.

“A couple thousand bushels of dried fruits and vegetables. A couple more thousand barrels of water. We have Nev and Everit making loaves as well. They didn’t complain at the amount,” Fowler sneered, looking at Oylan.

The big man reached out a hand to throttle Fowler, but the boy jumped out of his reach.

“They have help, you sniveling twit,” Oylan raged. “I’m between ’prentices and I haven’t got the help to make what you’re requesting.”

“Make what you can, then, Oylan. It will be appreciated and will help with the war,” Asher instructed. He grabbed Fowler by the collar of his light blue tunic and started dragging him away.

“What are you doing?” Fowler shouted.

“Stop it. You can’t go picking fights with the people that are supplying us. That’s not good diplomacy,” Asher commented. When they were well away from Oylan, he faced his friend. “What have you accomplished?”

“My father is making weapons. They’ll take some time though. Luckily, he already had quite a hefty stockpile that he forked over. The breadmakers are all working non-stop, except that lazy dung-heap Oylan. Everyone has given what they could. I’m not sure if it will be enough.”

“No. It won’t. Our army will starve before they even reach Roanoke’s front gates,” Asher replied, thinking furiously. He ran the numbers through his head. The army of warriors were going to require massive amounts of food and water to sustain themselves. Then there were the horses to consider, who would also require massive amounts of food and water. All told, the supplies would end up in the hundreds of thousands. And that was just to feed and water the warriors and horses. There had to be a faster way, to get the army to Roanoke. Worried, Asher turned to Fowler. “Keep them all working. Tell them we’ll need a continuous supply.”

He went to speak with his dad. He found him in a section of woods where the warriors were sparring with each other, getting some practice in before they went on the move. Tarvo was directing each one, making sure that their form was perfect.

“No, Vom!” Asher heard him shout. “Get that arm up and keep your eyes on your opponent. Watch his body and the way he moves when he is getting ready to strike. Study it! It might save your life.”

Asher came to stand next to his dad, waiting for him to notice that he was there.

Tarvo shouted at a different pair of warriors and then looked over at him.

“Son. Where are the horses?” he asked.

“In the Sylvan Clearing, grazing. It was the only place big enough for them.”

“Good. That was a wise decision.”

“Thank you.”

Tarvo looked intently at Asher and saw the worry on his son’s face.

“What is your mind grinding over this time?” he asked.

“The supplies. Six hours is not enough time to gather the necessary food, water, armor or weapons. Our warriors will starve before they even reach the gates of Roanoke,” Asher explained. “And if their weapons shatter or their armor is damaged, we will not have replacements for them all.”

“Is that so?” Tarvo asked, a slight smile on his face. He has always been impressed with his son’s intelligence.

“Yes, sir,” Asher responded.

“Thank you for the concerns, Ash, but the problem will be handled.”

Asher was confused for a moment, and then the answer to the supplies situation came to him.

“You plan to use the Callers.”

“Aye,” Tarvo said, his face wrinkled slightly in disgust. “It’s a necessary evil. They can make sure that food grows when it is needed and water is plentiful. They will also be able to strengthen our weapons and armor so that they will be unlikely to break or be pierced.”

“But they are unpredictable. Some say they’re all mad,” Asher protested.

“They will fight with us. Heari has assured me,” Tarvo responded.

Heari, a Caller herself, was about the most normal of the bunch that Asher had met, and even she was still a little on the weird side.

“Don’t trouble yourself with these matters anymore. You have done what I’ve asked and more. You have made me proud,” Tarvo told him.

Asher gave a slight nod, clearly pleased.

“Go to your mother and keep her company. She’ll need you to lean on in the days to come,” Tarvo ordered.

“I wish to go with you. Keiara’s abduction was my fault. I would like the chance to correct it.”

“We don’t need boys to fight this war,” Tarvo retorted. “And you are my only son. I will not lose you to this violence. Keep your mother safe.”

Asher looked disgruntled, but another argument came to mind.

“Messengers,” he argued. “You’ll need messengers to carry orders to your Warlords.”

“And I have plenty. Now do as I say,” Tarvo demanded, losing patience.

Asher wilted from the anger in his dad’s eyes. He backed away and said his good-byes. He did not, however, go home. Instead, he snuck into the dark forest and disappeared. His dad was too preoccupied to notice.

The only one that did was Fowler, who had been coming to Asher to give him an update on their progress.

He looked around for a minute, and silently followed after his friend.