The Dragons of Neverwind

by K R McClellan

  “What do you mean, it’s a Full Chamber,” I protested. Even I know that’s a better hand than anyone here had, even the three Princes.”

  “But I called Jackspade Robin, and that’s a Jackspade Robin in these parts. Now back away from the pot and let old Kruts have his money.”

  I could see Gnath coming towards the table in expectation of trouble. Gnath, though intimidating in appearance, was really a big baby. But he could fight, and no doubt would if need be.

  “Are you trying to swindle another traveler?” a voice came from behind the dealer. I looked up to see a well-armored, clean human of decent size standing there, his hand on the hilt of the sword at his side. A bright red velvet cape with gold trim hung around his shoulders, making him appear to be of royal charge.

  “Mind your own business, Kenrith. This is between us and him. Go catch some cow thieves or something.”

  “I will attend to the thieves at hand, here and now, Strygurd. You have pulled the Jackspade Robin scam for the last time in Hammelberry Commons. Now let the traveler have his money and he will be on his way.”

  “Damn you, Kenrith. One of these days I will cut you down.”

  “Whenever you are sober enough to try, I am always available.”

  “What is the Jackspade Robin?” I asked.

  “You, old man,” Kenrith said, “are stupid for joining a game without understanding the rules. A Jackspade Robin is whatever winning hand you are holding. They use it to take you for all of your money. If you had more, they probably would have gone on until you were in a hand where most or all of your money was in the pot, then suddenly you’re holding a Jackspade Robin, and you lose.”

  “I see.” I wasted no time in gathering up my winnings and sliding them off the table into my small bag of holding. It felt good and heavy for a change, and I was looking forward to getting Gnath and I a bite to eat before we would have to rush out of town. I hopped off the chair and straightened my clothes. Gnath was there beside me.

  “I suggest you find your way out of town while I keep an eye on these ruffians. Once I am not here to hold them back, they might come after you to get their losings back.”

  “But we would like to get some food and provisions before we—”

  “You best find food elsewhere.”

  “Better listen, old man. If we catch up to you again, you will lose more than a few d’nars.”

  “Point taken. If you will excuse us. We’ll be on our way.”

  So that’s what led us up to today, having walked for two days, no food or drink, except for some berries we found along the way. Gnath is not a hunter. Between his size and scent, no animals come close enough for him to kill them with his massive broadsword. And me, I’m more bait than hunter. Not a skill I am proud of, nor a story I wish to share, but I have proven this point in the past. More than once.

  Chapter 2

  Gnath doesn’t talk very much. Not an orator, one might say. Usually, his verbal skills get all mangled up from the time the sentences formed in his head to the time they made their way out his huge mouth. But he always got his point across. In the two days since we left Hammelberry Commons he might have said six unique words, and those made up seven sentences.

  “Village ahead,” he grunted in his low, baby-like voice.

  “That is correct, my giant friend. I hope there is a place where we can get us a few morsels to eat.”

  “Lots morsels.”

  “Of course. Lots of morsels for the big guy.”

  A sign came into view as we approached that said,

  Welcome to Vanderspar.

  Now go away.

  “Looks like a warm and inviting place. It doesn’t sound like they take well to visitors.”

  Gnath grunted in agreement.

  Entering the town from the south, I could see not one nor two, but three separate fights taking place in the streets. As we approached, the closest group of rabble-rousers seemed to stop and take notice of me. No, that’s not correct. They took notice of Gnath. Two of the four men in the group brushed the dust off their outer clothes while looking my friend up and down but said nothing as we passed. As soon they were behind, they picked up fighting right where they left off.

  Gaining on the second group they also stopped their brawling, and one particularly gruff and bloody looking individual took a step towards us. One grunt from Gnath while sliding his huge sword a few inches out of his sheath stopped the man cold in his tracks.

  “What are you looking at?” the bloody man said, before spitting out one of his few remaining teeth.

  “Please, kind sir,” I said in my most pleasant and humble voice. “We simply wish to find a place to gain a bite to eat. I and my friend are very tired, and very hungry after our long journey.”

  The small group of roughnecks found something very humorous in what I asked, as they all burst into laughter.

  “You’re hungry?” the man said, stopping his laughter long enough to wipe the blood from his nose on his torn sleeve. Of all the hovels in Neverwind, you have found the place that has the absolute worse food.” The chorus of laughter and affirmations made me believe he wasn’t the only one that felt that way.

  “Still, we are very hungry. If you could simply point us in the right direction, we would be on my way.”

  “Sure, stranger. You might want to take notes because it’s quite complicated to find it from here.” Again, the gang of ruffians found his remarks funny.

  “And what is this place called?”

  “It’s called the Rat Hole.”

  “Of course. Perfect name for an eatery.”

  “More of a tavern than an eatery. But they serve food, if you can stomach it.”

  I pulled my little knapsack around in front of me and opened it, hoping to find a quill and a piece of parchment. I found the parchment, but my quill must have gotten lost somewhere.

  “Gnath, do you have a quill?”

  Gnath reached for his own knapsack as more laughter erupted from the gang of troublemakers. Looking through his sack, his frustration showed as he produced no quill.

  “I have no pen. Perhaps if you tell me, I will remember the way?”

  “Very well, old man.” He stopped a moment and looked at his cohorts. They all grinned, as the man turned back to us to give the directions. “First, you must head down this main road to the edge of town.” Each sentence brought more laughter from the group. “Then turn right and go to the next alley on the left. Follow that alley until you come to another main road and turn right.”

  With each direction change, I logged the path and direction into my head. I had it all plotted precisely, until…

  “Wait, Ubandic,” one of the others interrupted. Are you sure it’s a right? I remember it as a left,” which of course, brought even more laughter.

  “So you turn right—?”

  “Left!”

  “Of course, left, and go three city squares, and turn—”

  “Right!”

  “Yes, turn right. Then you go another two city squares, then turn left and go two more blocks. You can’t miss it.”

  I slowly plotted this all out in my head, and as I did so, the cogs all fell into place. The looks on the stranger’s faces told the whole story. I turned completely around, and there it was, the Rat Hole in all its glory.

  “Clever guys. Glad we could entertain you. We will be on our way now.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t order the meat on a stick.”

  We no more than took our first steps toward the Rat Hole, and we could hear the fighting starting up again behind us.

  “What they do for entertainment around here…” I let the sentence trail off.

  We found our way to a corner near the back of the cramped establishment and sat at an empty table. Gnath and I made ourselves comfortable, though Gnath was never truly comfortable in the average human-sized chair and waited for one of the foodservice professionals to offer us options for our evening meal. The large frame of Gnath dwarfed t
he furnishings, and stress-tested the poor chairs maximum weight rating beyond manufactures tested limits. More than once he had broken a chair and was forced to pay for it. All the while, my feet wouldn’t reach the floor. Such an odd pair we make.

  Finally, a less than enthusiastic bar wench approached the table, her low-cut blouse, showing off more than enough of her ample bosom with the help of a corset that seemed to be a few sizes too small. Her ruffled skirt partially hiding hairy legs that found their way into some low-heeled boots.

  “Wha’d’ya want?” she said with a gravelly voice reminiscent of one who spends much of her free time sucking on smelly smoldering cheroots and drinking cheap whiskey.

  “Well, my lady, what is the house specialty?” I said, trying to brighten the lady’s mood.

  “Meat on a stick.”

  “Ah, yes. But unfortunately, I have had meat on a stick three nights in a row, and I really have a longing for something a bit more substantial.”

  “Meat stew,” she said as an alternative.

  “Okay, I will have the meat stew. Gnath, what would you like?”

  “Meat on a stick. Thrice.”

  “But Gnath… you heard… never mind. My friend will have three meats on a stick.”

  “Three meats on sticks. Gottit. What to drink?”

  “Do you have ale?”

  “We’re a tavern and you ask if we have ale?”

  “Of course. Silly of me. I will have a pint of ale, and my friend will have a pitcher of ale.”

  Without a word she walked away and yelled some incoherent orders back to the kitchen.

  “Charming young lady. And the atmosphere in here is delightful.”

  And by delightful, I meant dark and dreary. There were some drunks attempting to maintain their seating at the main bar, laughing at jokes that were probably only funny after the proper amount of ale and whiskey. A cloaked gent sat at a table by himself, eating and grimacing at what looked to be a bowl of stew, and several ladies around the parameter looked like they were hoping to take home someone with enough money to pay for their services.

  The stale smoke from far too may cheroots and pipes of ‘backi created a haze within the chamber; the dark brown wood of the walls and furnishings stained from years of not being cleaned and being subjected to the cloud that probably never cleared. The only interesting thing in the place was a very nice, though dusty, model of an old sailing vessel behind the bar. It’s once-white sales stained yellow, the rigging clogged with cobwebs and dust. It was a depiction of one of the pirate ships I’d heard so much about as a kid, not unlike the tall ships docked at Farrador.

  Out of nowhere a man plopped his hands down on our table. He had obviously been sipping ale, but also reeked of mash and cheroots.

  “Where you headed, travelers,” he slurred, spitting a bit as he blurted out his words.

  “Well, friend, we have been planning a trip north.”

  “North! You don’t want to go north. There’s dragons to the north!”

  “Dragons? Bah! There haven’t been dragons in Neverwind for two centuries.”

  “Some say an evil sorcerer resurrected them from a single dragon talon found in the Forest of the Damned. It’s said there are two or three around. Cattle and crops burned to bits, quick-fried to a cracklin’ crunch, HAHA!”

  “Yes, we heard the crier—”

  “It’s true! Be warned! Before long they will come flying down over Vanderspar and cook us all where we stand. Someone has to do something.”

  “Yes, quite right. Um, here’s our food now. Nice talking to you, friend.”

  “Don’t mess with the damn dragons, I always say…” he said as he wobbled off to talk and spit at someone else.

  Our friendly hostess had made her way back to our table and dropped my bowl and Gnath’s plate on the table in front of us.

  “Six d’nars,” she said.

  I paid her the six she asked for and she was gone before I could offer feedback as to what she had brought me. My stew looked like watery boiled vegetables and some kind of meat, barely a brown hue to the liquid. I now know why the cloaked man grimaced as he ate. But I was hungry, and food is food. I think.

  Gnath wasted no time in digging into his meat on a stick, which I must say looked far tastier than my stew. Maybe I was hoodwinked again by the band outside and tricked into not getting the better meal? The smile on Gnath’s face, and my first sip of broth from my stew, confirmed that I had made the wrong choice. How they could call the concoction stew is beyond me. The peppery flavored water did nothing to enhance the meal, and the meat and vegetables were the only sources of true flavor. But not a good one. I ate what I could and pushed the bowl away as Gnath finished his last meat stick.

  He licked the skewer clean and dropped it on the plate with the other two. Then he noticed there was still some stew left in my bowl, and offering only a slight grunt as a request, I pushed the bowl across the table to him. He daintily picked the bowl up with his thumb and index finger, and with his pinky extended, drank down the remainder of my stew like a socialite might finish a cup of tea. Smacking his lips as he chewed the fragments of whatever the contents were, he placed the bowl on the table, then washed it all down with the remainder of his pitcher of ale.

  His chair creaked as he sat back and patted his belly – a sign that he had gotten enough to eat. As I said, he was a beast of few words, but he always managed to get his point across.

  “So, my large friend… what do we do now? I only have a few d’nars left, and some change. Probably not enough to get a room for the night. I don’t see any games of chance being played, so we will probably have to sleep outside of town tonight.”

  “I sleep,” Gnath said, nodding his large unshaven face.

  “I haven’t heard of any werebears or werewolves in these parts. I think we would be fine for one more night. Then we will decide whether to go north to Forest Edge and beyond, or west to Bane.”

  We really didn’t have a reason to be heading west, but we had heard that there were opportunities for employment in the northern city of Edenkeep, on the Gulf of Edenkeep. Sometimes referred to as the Castle City of Edenkeep, the city was so large that it was said to take a day’s travel to get from one side to the other. At least, that’s what they say. I have never been there. Edenkeep was a two-week hike from Vanderspar, and the terrain could be treacherous. It is rumored that bands of orcs roamed the plains and wooded areas to the north, and any number of enchanted beasts would think nothing of ripping one’s heart out and roasting it over a fire pit. They don’t call it the Forest of the Damned for nothing.

  I put a few pitneys on the table as a tip, adequate compensation for the stellar service we’d received, and we headed for the door. We were just pushing the door open as the server wench found her way back to the table.

  “Three pitneys?! What the blazes kind of tip is that?”

  “Quickly, out the door!” I said, trying to hustle Gnath through the exit. Without warning an ale mug – my ale mug- struck the door over my head and shattered. Quickly we closed the door behind us, and I could still hear her cussing as we accelerated our pace down the street to the north.

  As the Rat Hole faded into the distance, we found ourselves moving into a darker section of town. And though this part of town seemed quiet, as we approached an alley, we could hear a bit of a commotion. Once in front of the dark alley to the left, we could hear a girl being manhandled by thugs. I pulled Gnath with me into the alley, blocking the only exit of what appeared to be a dead end. The five people tugging and grabbing the girl stopped to see the silhouette of my large friend and me. They stood for a moment wondering what to do.

  “Please help me!” the girl begged. The poor lass, who appeared to be about nineteen years of age but too well dressed to be homeless or working class, struggled against the grips of her attackers. How cliché that we were now able to rescue a damsel in distress.

  Chapter 3

  “Let her go!” I yelled in my les
s-than-intimidating half-elf voice. Two of the men laughed at me and continued tugging on the girl to get her deeper into the alleyway, her dark purple dress too tight to allow her to put up much resistance.

  “Let go!” Gnath yelled, his voice rattling the few windows within the alley. “Let go now!”

  The men stopped. One of the men turned to face us, and said, “You just turn around and go back the way you came. You don’t want to get hurt now, do you?”

  “I think Gnath here made his point clear. You better do as he asked. You don’t want to get hurt yourself, now, do you?”

  Gnath took several steps towards the group, the girl still struggling against the men restraining her. Two of them ran at my large friend and immediately regretted that decision. With two long swipes of his massive arms Gnath clubbed each of them to separate sides of the alley, their momentum stopped by the brick and mortar walls that lined the street. There was very little bounce when they hit, and then they fell straight down onto the dirty road.

  “Let go!” Gnath warned once more.

  “I suggest you do what he asks. He doesn’t often give second chances.”

  The three remaining thugs let the girl go and made a dash to get around me and Gnath. My half-ogre friend made a half-hearted move towards them as they passed but let them go. Quickly, I ran to the girl now sitting on the ground next to a wall on the side of the alley.

  “Are you okay, m’lady? Gnath, she’s fainted. Poor dear.” I gently patted her cheek to revive her. Soon she came around, and quickly shuffled backward and took what appeared to be a defensive posture.

  “It’s okay, m’lady, we are here to help you. Gnath, hand me your bota bag.”

  Gnath handed me his leather bag of water. I uncorked it and handed it to the lady, who eagerly took a dainty sip. She handed the bag back, and I, in turn, handed it back to Gnath.

  “I am Wellington, this is my giant friend Gnath. What is your name, m’lady?”