Dragon In The Needles

by Bruce Leslie

  “Not your girl? Maybe she can be ours then!” The barkers continued shouting up at Flynn. “How much for her? Can she juggle?”

  Flynn snapped his heels against Tracer, urging the horse forward.

  The barkers grabbed Tracer’s bridal to hold the animal back.

  Tracer reared up on his hind legs, kicked his front hooves in the air and whinnied loudly.

  Meena was thrown off the back of the horse and disappeared as the barkers surrounded her.

  The Lump pulled Tilley around in the road, concerned that the situation had quickly gone from an annoyance to peril. He urged the big mule forward as fast as she could trot. Tilley did not move swiftly, but she made quite the clamor. Her large, iron shod hooves slammed into the packed dirt. She brayed in deafening bursts that rattled the Lump’s ears.

  The barkers grasping Tracer fled at the threat of an angry, large man on an angrier, larger mule. The group encircling Meena remained. The Lump heard the distinctive sound of steel being unleashed.

  Flynn let go of Tracer’s reins and pulled his sword from its scabbard. He held the blade angled over his shoulder, unsteady on his anxious mount. “Any hand that touches that girl will never touch anything else!” He pulled his boot out of the stirrup and delivered a powerful kick to the back of the head of the nearest barker.

  The barker fell to the ground. So did Flynn. The fall from his saddle made a loud thump, but the man bounced up immediately.

  The Lump slowed Tilley so he could reach out and grab Tracer’s loose reins. He held on to the spooked horse, and kept it from galloping off never to be seen again. He watched Flynn charge into the remaining barkers, holding his sword upright and close to his body. I think the boy listened to me.

  Flynn’s charge was more than the barkers were prepared for, and the crowd surrounding Meena fled. Flynn spun around to make certain no one was behind him.

  Standing in the road with her feet firmly planted in the dirt was Meena. She had anger in her eyes, not fear. In her hand she held the dagger that was normally concealed beneath her cloak. “Those barkers are most fortunate that you saved them.” She had fire in her mismatched eyes.

  The Lump led Tracer back to Flynn. “I should have taken the rear, not lead.” His heart was returning to its normal pace. “I’m not so smart sometimes. Are either of you harmed?”

  “The fall took my breath for a moment, but I feel well now.” Flynn placed his sword back in its scabbard. “We should give chase, apprehend those crooked-nosed knaves.”

  “Once they scatter in the market they’ll look just like all the other wretches, we won’t find them.” The Lump handed Tracer’s reins down to Flynn. “And you, Meena?”

  “I am fine, but I was preparing to give a lesson in courtesy.” Meena tucked her dagger back in her belt and pulled her cloak around her shoulders. “The rudeness of Aards continues to puzzle me.”

  Flynn gasped as he inspected his horse. “My purse! My silver!” His face grew red. “Those hedge-born scoundrels have stolen my silver!”

  8: Catamounts

  The Lump watched the hindquarters of the horse in front of him sway side to side as he traveled along the herder’s path. The path was a narrow, brown strip of dirt that meandered through the forest. The south side of the path was dense with trees. The north side was a bit more sparse, with occasional gaps in the growth that provided a view of the river. He liked that it was a quiet path with no other traffic. Occasional paths would branch from the main one and lead to small settlements along the river, but he hadn’t seen any other travelers since he and his companions left Molgadon. The Lump had allowed the horse bearing Flynn and Meena to go ahead of his mule when they pulled onto the path from the Market Road. The path wasn’t wide enough to ride abreast, and he felt more secure in the rear where he could keep watch over everyone.

  The Lump looked through an opening in the trees to his right and saw a clear view to the river. The brown water seemed to stretch on forever. He pointed at the gap in the woods and called out, “Meena, look over there! Look how wide the river is.” He looked at Meena to judge her reaction.

  Meena turned her head and raised up a little from her perch atop Tracer. “I can’t believe it.” She looked back at the Lump. “It has to be a mile wide. Much wider than where I crossed in the East.”

  The Lump looked back to the river and watched it disappear as the trees north of the path grew thick again. “So now you know why we don’t have more bridges.” With his view of the river gone, the Lump returned his eyes to the path. “We’re lucky it has a narrow neck in the west, or we might not have any bridges at all.”

  Flynn had one hand on his horse’s reins and the other rested on his thigh. “The current is so swift that the ferries have to use a guide rope to get across.” He looked back over his shoulder. “I suppose the big ferries put too much strain on the ropes. That’s why you can only find the little ones nowadays.”

  The Lump groaned. “I don’t like those little boxes.” He rested his hand between Tilley’s shoulders. “They feel like coffins, just waiting to bury you in the river.” He shook his head side to side.

  “I liked it.” Meena opened her hand and held her arm out at her side. “The ferry ride, I mean. I put my hand in the river and let the water flow through my fingers. It was nice.” She leaned her head back.

  “Well, I suppose you could do that just as easy from the bank.” The Lump looked down at his own hand. “Don’t have to go into no river coffin to feel water.”

  Flynn raised his hand from his thigh. “In Silverport we spend much of the summer in the water.” He paused for a moment. “But not in the river, there is a pool fed by the sea.” Flynn looked over his shoulder at the Lump. “When I was a boy, everyone said that I was the strongest swimmer in the town.” He looked back at the path. “Did you ever swim, Lump?”

  “The streams in Windthorne aren’t deep enough to swim in.” The Lump leaned back and stretched. “But when I was a little fellow - we would chase bugs through the water and get soaked head to toe.” He paused and smiled. “Our mums didn’t like it, but we sure had fun.”

  Meena looked back over her shoulder. “What did you do with the bugs when you caught them?”

  “To tell the truth, we didn’t catch very many.” The Lump stroked his beard. “But we usually just let them go and then chased them again.” He laughed. “Sometimes we would find frogs and feed them the bugs.”

  “Well, I imagine the frogs were fond of that game.” Flynn smiled at the Lump.

  The Lump smiled back at Flynn. “Yes, I imagine they—“

  The Lump’s words were cut short by a sudden roar. The sky filled with birds taking wing from the trees around them. With a soft thud two giant cats leapt from the hedges into the center of the path in front of the lead horse. They stood shoulder to shoulder, their ears pinned back against their massive heads. Their large paws were in front of them with sharp claws jutting out like daggers. Their nostrils flared as they sniffed the scent of the travelers in the air.

  Tracer whinnied and reared up on his hind legs at the sight of the deadly animals. Flynn and Meena spilled into the hedges beside the path. Tilley brayed and jerked to turn around in the path.

  The Lump’s heart pounded in his chest and his shoulders tensed. He slid off his mule and grabbed the horse’s reins. His arms stretched wide, holding one animal’s lead in each hand. He pulled his hands together and tied Tilley’s rope around Tracer’s leather reins. “Stay put, girl. You’re going to be fine.” He rubbed the mule’s shoulder.

  Flynn held out his arm in front of Meena. “Stay behind me. Catamounts won’t deal with steel very well.” He pulled his sword from its scabbard with both hands.

  “Easy up there, Flynn.” The Lump moved slowly up the right side of the path. “The catamounts can bite your throat as quick as you can blink.” He added, “Just stand guard and wait them out.”

  Fangs framed the beasts’ open mouths like swords when they bared their teeth. A rumblin
g noise came from their chests like thunder in the distance. Their cold, yellow eyes were narrow slits fixed on the pair in the hedge. The two tails swayed back and forth in slow, deliberate sweeps. The larger cat raised its shoulders and lowered its haunches in preparation to strike. The smaller cat hunkered low.

  Flynn stepped out into the path holding his sword in front of him. He shouted back to Meena, “Stay in the hedge!” He stared at the larger cat. “I’ll keep them away.”

  The cats paced back and forth across the path, passing at the middle as they crossed. The smaller cat in the rear opened its mouth and roared. The larger continued making a low, rumbling sound.

  Flynn bent at the knees and twisted at the waist, his sword pressed firmly against his back shoulder.

  The Lump squatted low to the ground near Meena and whispered. “They’ll lose interest in us soon and pass.” He glanced back to where he had left the horse and mule. “They likely thought to eat our mounts, but they won’t tangle with a sword to get to them.” He looked back to Flynn.

  Flynn shifted from side to side on his feet, keeping his sword between himself and the cats. He turned his head slowly, in time with the animals’ pacing. He held his ground and made no move in the direction of the catamounts.

  The larger cat leapt at Flynn.

  Flynn turned his shoulder to the beast. The catamount’s front paws crashed into him and knocked him to the ground.

  Flynn rolled across the dirt path and avoided a swat at his head.

  Saliva sprayed from the big cat’s mouth as it hissed at him.

  Flynn bounced back to his feet and sent a short thrust of his sword in the cat’s direction. The cat swatted the blade aside with its paw and growled.

  Flynn was now between the two cats. He swiveled his head back and forth in an attempt to watch them both. The catamounts resumed their pacing. Flynn was careful not to show his back to either of them.

  The smaller cat leapt at him.

  Flynn threw his shoulder to the ground and rolled under the cat while it was in the air. The cat barely made a sound when it landed.

  Flynn bounced back to his feet. Both cats were now between him and his companions. Flynn inched his way to the north side of the path with slow sideways steps. The cats paced to the south side with movements mirroring Flynn’s. Flynn completed his arc across the path and had again placed himself between the cats and his companions.

  “Ha!” Flynn shouted and jabbed his sword at the larger cat. The cat backed up. Flynn took a step forward and jabbed at it again. This time the cat swatted at his head. Flynn dodged the clawed swipe and raised his sword to counter.

  The air whistled as Flynn slashed his blade at the larger cat.

  The cat jumped back to avoid the weapon.

  Flynn slashed again.

  This time the smaller cat swiped at Flynn’s extended arms. Claws cut through the sleeve of his tunic and into the flesh beneath. His sword dropped to the dirt. He clutched his bleeding arm with his opposite hand and fell to one knee.

  The Lump pulled his little sword from his belt. “I’m coming!”

  “Wait!” Meena put her hand on the Lump’s arm. “Stay here with the mounts.” She stepped into the path. In a sing-song voice she said, “Pretty cats! Over here pretty cats!”

  Both cats crouched and growled.

  Flynn shuffled over to the Lump.

  Meena spoke softly in her sing-song voice. “Such pretty cats on such a pretty day…”

  The catamounts’ tails stopped swaying and they grew quiet.

  “…pretty, pretty cats, such pretty cats…” She stepped closer to them.

  The catamounts allowed their mouths to close, no longer baring their sharp, jagged teeth.

  “…very pretty cats, oh such pretty cats.” Meena had her hand on the larger cat’s head. “It’s fine now, pretty cat, you can go.”

  The cats turned and slowly walked into the trees at the south side of the path. When the smaller cat followed the larger one off the path, three little shapes popped out of the hedge after them. The three catamount cubs disappeared into the trees as quickly as they had appeared from the brush.

  “Well, won’t you look at that.” The Lump rubbed the back of his neck. “We must have got between them and their cubs.”

  Meena ran over to Flynn. “Let me see your arm.”

  The Lump knelt down beside them. “I can clean a wound, why don’t you see if you can calm down Tilley and the horse.” He removed the cork from his water-skin. “It don’t look too deep, as long as you keep it clean it should heal just fine.” He poured water over the scratches in Flynn’s arm. “I’ve got some cloth I can cut to wrap it.”

  “Thank you, Lump.” Flynn watched the water run down his arm. “I think the tunic looks better with the rip.” He forced a laugh.

  The Lump stood and walked to his mule. He asked Meena, “How did you do that? How’d you calm those cats?”

  Meena was running her hand down Tracer’s neck. “I’ve always liked animals, and they usually like me.”

  The Lump pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “So, you knew those toothy beasts wouldn’t tear you to bits?”

  “Well, I haven’t ever seen a catamount before…” She shrugged her shoulders. “…but I hoped they wouldn’t kill me.”

  Flynn rose to his feet and retrieved his sword. “Thank you for saving me, Meena.” He placed his sword in its scabbard and walked to the group. “I’m afraid I didn’t fight very well.” He dropped his head.

  “You were very brave.” Meena hugged Flynn. “Very, very brave.”

  Flynn blushed.

  “It was impressive.” The Lump placed his meaty hand on Flynn’s shoulder. “The way you ducked and dodged, that was smart.” He pointed at the spot in the road where the catamounts had been. “When you rolled under that big fellow’s jump…I imagine that’s how my father would have done it.”

  Flynn’s eyes opened wide. “You’re comparing me to Silas the Swift!” He had a wide smile on his face.

  The Lump scratched the side of his head. “Well, yes. Yes I am.” He smiled at Flynn. “Bear in mind, he was killed in a fight, so I’m not so sure it’s a good thing. Besides, he was more of a dog person.”

  9: Solson Birch

  The Lump wrinkled his nose as he watched the thick, yellow fluid ooze out of Flynn’s wounded arm. “I think that’s the last of it.” He released the pressure his thumbs applied to either side of the swollen scratches. “I have to confess, it’s not healing how I pictured.” The Lump poured most of the contents of his water-skin over the red mess, then poured the remainder on his own hands. “It’d probably help if we had some kind of salve or balm to put on it.”

  “Worry not.” Flynn unrolled the tattered sleeve of his tunic back down his arm. “I am young and fit, all will be fine.”

  Meena’s freckled face was still wrinkled up from the sight of the oozing wound. “I know a good healer in the Common Lands.” She unwrinkled her face. “When we make it there, I’ll have her attend to it immediately.”

  The Lump wiped his wet hands on his breeches. “That’s assuming the putrid thing doesn’t fall off first.”

  “What!” Flynn’s eyes opened wide.

  The Lump looked over at Flynn’s shocked face. “Oh, no, my friend, don’t worry. It’ll be fine.” He looked to Meena. “It really looks pretty bad. Maybe we should have some river folk look at it, it may be festering.”

  Flynn rose and shouted. “You just said it looked fine!”

  “Ohhh, it does. No need to worry. I was just talking to Meena about…” The Lump surveyed the site where they had made camp the previous night. “…about Tilley over there. I think she has worms.” He pointed at his mule.

  “We are not stopping to consort with any river folk.” Flynn walked over to his horse. “Time is our enemy, we need to make it to the Needles.”

  Meena straightened the cloak around her shoulders. “Thank you, Flynn, but it would only take a few hours to ride down to a village.�
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  Flynn asked, “And do what? Have some river fool smear mud on it?” He favored his left arm as he tightened the saddle around his horse. “Besides, I don’t have any silver to pay for balms, or salves, or tonic.”

  Meena walked over to the horse. “Surely if someone saw that you were hurt they would offer to help.”

  The Lump turned his head and looked at Meena. “I suppose you’ve just been showered with kindness in Aardland.” He checked Tilley’s rope bridle to make sure it was secure.

  “I do believe you have a point.” Meena turned from the Lump to Flynn. “Do you need help getting on the horse?”

  “No, thank you, I’m fine to ride.” Flynn frowned as he answered.

  They climbed their mounts and began down the herder’s path. The air had a chill in it, and a strong wind rustled the leaves as they rode. The path curved like a snake through the forest. Clear views to the river had grown scarce. The group was silent as they rode, save for the occasional humming from Meena or tune whistled by the Lump. After three days riding, the new acquaintances had run out of things to talk about.

  The Lump was leading the way with his companions close behind him. As he rounded one of the ever-present curves in the path he saw a short, plump man in a blue robe standing next to an old, broken-down horse. The man was holding a brown sack open and looking into it.

  The Lump lifted a big hand to his mouth and called out. “Hail, fellow! May we pass?”

  The robed man jerked his head up from his bag and looked at the travelers. “Oh, yes, yes!” He pulled the string around his bag to close it. “Um…well met, please pass…” He waved at them and shouted. “May I speak with you?”

  The Lump waited until he was close enough that shouting was no longer required. “Yes, sir. Given the blue robe, I presume you’re a Solson.” The Lump pulled his mule to a stop and heard the hoofbeats of the horse behind him stop as well.

  “Oh yes, that’s right. I am a son of Sol.” The plump, bearded man tied the sack he was holding to his horse’s saddle. “I’m out of the abbey in Steeplecross, just riding west.”