The First Dragoneer by M.R. Mathias
Copyright 2010
Smashwords edi on
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1
“So what are you gonna do? Have you decided yet?” Brendly Tuck asked his best friend.
They had known each other all seventeen summers of their lives. Brendly hoped that since he didn’t have the op on of ge ng out of Prominence Valley as March Weston did, that his best friend would decide not to leave.
It was a small hope though, because Brendly couldn’t remember March ever talking about anything else. March was always asking him things like,
“Where should I go?” Or “What should I try to become? Should I go downriver to Camberly? What about up North to the borders? Maybe I could hire on as a guardsman, or maybe go down South to the coast and work a ship?”
Brendly loved his friend dearly, but as the finality of their last summer together grew closer, the gnawing sense of loss, and feelings that bordered on jealousy, were growing inside of him. If March kept rubbing it in, Brendly thought that he might just have to give his best friend a good ole thumping to take with him when he le .
Wondering now why he had asked the ques on, Brendly stopped on the woodsy game trail that they were traveling and waited for the answer that he didn’t really want to hear.
“I don’t know yet where I’m gonna go, or what I’m gonna do,” March replied. March could sense Brendly’s discomfort so he added, “But I sure wish you could come with me.”
“So do I.” Brendly dropped his head with the weight of the words to look at his scuffed up leather hun ng boots.
“Well, let’s make the best of it ll midsummer, when I’m to leave. We can worry about it then.” March forced a grin and started back up the trail.
Brendly waited only a moment to follow, but March had already disappeared under the thick canopy of the woods causing Brendly to have to quicken his step to catch up.
“We won’t even get a rabbit, much less a stag. Not if we keep skulking about thinking of that stuff,” March called back over his shoulder. “Come on, it’s ge ng late.”
Remembering that they were hun ng, Brendly caught up with his friend and let the worries of the future slip away.
They were hiking their way up toward Cander’s Ridge. It was a li le farther from Prominence than they usually came to hunt, but not so far as to cause concern. They were s ll easily in the kingdom’s border, at least as long as they stayed on this side of the slope. Topping the ridge would only invite trouble though.
A pack of dark skinned, pointy eared, kobles had been spo ed recently.
The feral humanoid creatures could best be described as two legged dogs.
They weren’t very dangerous alone, but if you ran into a pack of them you could be in serious trouble. They seldom ventured across the kingdom’s established border, which meant that they weren’t completely void of sense. Only the hungriest of them ever hunted in the protected lands of Prominence Valley, and though a few had killed villagers and hunters in the past, those were usually hunted down and killed. The dead then hung up in the trees, to draw carrion, for their viola on.
This side of the ridge was kingdom territory, and not even the huge dark skinned wood trolls that roamed the foothills dared to trespass. King Timothy’s border guard patrolled the boundary well and o en. The border guard was feared by even the giant Karsithian warriors, who some mes ventured too far south out of their high mountain territories.
The game trail the boys were following led them to a clearing that held a small pool. When they stopped and looked around for tracks, they both no ced the valley spreading out below them. The rich, dark shades of the green tree tops flowed down the mountainside on their way out into the lower slopes of the valley. The trees thinned into large clumps, only to disappear completely in the valley floor. There, squares and long rectangles of brown, gold and russet took over. Some of the greener fields were speckled with the black and brown dots that were livestock, but most were empty of life save for the rows and rows of crops. The silvery-blue thread of the Prominence River wound its way through the pastures and crop-fields, spli ng the valley into two misshaped halves. The river was speckled with dots, but those were the fishing boats and cargo ships that used its flow as a source of bounty. It was a view that neither of the boys had seen before. They were entranced by its overwhelming beauty.
“Let’s make camp here,” March whispered as if his voice might disturb the tranquility of the valley far below.
“Yup,” Bren replied simply, not taking his eyes away from the sight before him.
They made a circle of rocks and started a fire inside it. Then they went about se ng up a makeshi tent by draping an oiled sheet of canvas over some low hanging branches and stretching it wide at the bo om. They
fastened the corners of the canvas with wooden stakes so the breeze couldn’t flu er it away.
They had planned to be hun ng for at least five days, or un l they got a fat, late spring buck, or some other sizable game that they could carry home and parade proudly around town. Neither of them got in a hurry over anything.
They both knew that this was a goodbye hunt. In only a few short weeks March would set off to find his fortune. His father, and two older brothers, would take care of his mother and sister, and the family farm. It was the unspoken duty of a third son in a struggling family to move on and make his own way. March didn’t mind. He had been dreaming of leaving since he found out that he would someday have to.
Brendly had no brothers. He did have four sisters that he and his father would labor to care for un l they were eventually married off, but even then Bren wouldn’t be free. He was des ned to take over the family’s herd of horses, and the small farm where they raised them. It wasn’t likely that he’d ever escape the boring, yet ever growing village of Prominence.
Prominence was at the eastern most edge of the kingdom. It was originally a river stop for the copper miners that had once swarmed the other side of the valley. As me wore on and the veins in the mountain dried up, farming and ranching had slowly taken over the area. A large reservoir, up in the eastern foothills at the head of the river, was rich in krill and whisker fish. If you had a net boat, you could fetch a fair share of coin in Camberly, a city that was a two day float downstream to the west.
Prominence sat at the base of the large jagged mountain range known simply as the Teeth. Throughout the Teeth, wood and rock trolls roamed,
as did kobles, and many other unfriendly creatures. Brendly and March had both heard the myriad horror stories that their parents had used to keep them close to the home fires when they were li le. They both knew that the stories weren’t just wives tales either. Much blood had been spilled over the years to make the kingdom safe for humanity. King Timothy’s border guard was one of the main reasons for the sense of security.
As the sun disappeared and the moon washed them in a pale silver glow, they were content to sit by their small fire and listen to the symphony that the forest provided. The woods could be frightening at night, but both Brendly and March felt comfortable. They were men now. They had been on many a hunt, both with their fathers, and without. They felt safe inside the borders of the kingdom.
“When I was looking for firewood by the bigger pool upstream I saw fresh tracks,” March said quietly. “If we can get up early enough, we can find a spot near there, and maybe get a shot at something coming to water at daybreak.”
“Yup,” Brendly replied half heartedly. He was thinking about March leaving again and wondering who he would hunt with a er his best friend was gone.
“You can’t be a sad-sack ll I go, you know!” March jested.
“March, I don’t want to be stuck in the valley all my life,” Brendly responded passionately. “I don’t want to be a horse rancher. I want to go on an adventure like you.”
