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."