Dragon In The Darklands: The Lump Adventures Book Three

by Bruce Leslie

  The driver shook his head. “We can’t do that, me and the guards have strict orders to return straight away.” He tugged on the leather reins in his hands to turn his pair of draft horses about in the road. The horses whinnied and snorted.

  The mounted guards pulled their horses farther down the dirt road to make room for the wagon driver’s maneuver.

  Meena grimaced as she watched the big horses pull at the wagon. “Then I wish you safe travels.” She drew her brows together. “Would you like some help with the horses?”

  “Nah, I got these beasts trained well enough,” answered the driver.

  The Lump laughed at the exchange. “I suppose he don’t know about your skills, Dragon.”

  Meena shot the Lump a cold glare. “Don’t call me Dragon!”

  The Lump tilted his head. “Whatever you say, chief.”

  Meena’s face screwed up in annoyance.

  With a bit of a struggle, the driver managed to get his wagon and its team of horses pointed eastward. He snapped the reins and the wagon and its escort of guards headed west and left a plume of tan dust in their wake. The wagon moved more quickly without the burden of passengers.

  Sam said, “Dragon - I mean, Meena, I expect you’d like to see your parents at once.”

  Meena wrinkled her forehead. “Yes, I would, but I must speak with the crone right away.” Her grip around the ash staff tightened. “Flynn reports that she’s not well.”

  “That’s true enough,” said Samak. “But you can see everyone at once, she’s the same place as your parents. They’re seeing to her.” He beckoned and walked into the ruins.

  Meena, Flynn, and the Lump followed Sam through the piles of slimy, black stone. A few of the old stone structures were cleaned with fresh thatch roofs upon them, obvious renovations to accommodate their new residents.

  Sam lead the group into one of the restored domiciles. Its interior looked quite comfortable, with all the black slime scrubbed off the inner walls. There was no sign of the ruined city’s plentiful population of lizards in this chamber. The creatures must have been happy enough with the abundance of unused stone piles to eschew the refurbished structures. Perhaps they were no more interested in cohabitation than were the people.

  Johanna and Arik, Meena’s mother and father, stood at the far end of the room, near the crone. The white-haired lady reclined on a straw bed with her eyes closed. Her lips were pale blue, and she wheezed audibly, struggling to draw in each of her shallow breaths.

  Meena gasped when she saw the crone. She ran to the bedside and gave each of her parents a quick hug.

  Johanna said, “We’ve worried sick about you!”

  Arik added, “When Flynn arrived alone and told us you were taken hostage…” His words trailed off and he frowned. “I… I feared for the worst.”

  “It was not so bad as Flynn reported,” said Meena.

  Arik raised his eyebrows. “We feel better now that we see you, just the same.”

  Meena turned away from her parents and knelt beside the crone. “I came to see you as soon as I could.”

  “Ah-ha.” The crone opened her eyes and mustered up a feeble smile. “So, the pretty boy actually did it…” She paused to pull in a wheezing breath. “He rescued you.” Her voiced was soft, almost like a forced whisper absent any of its usual shrillness.

  “No.” Meena let out a gentle laugh. “In truth, we didn’t need to be rescued.” She put a hand on one of the crone’s withered arms. “We were preparing to come here and gather Flynn when he arrived.”

  The crone gave her head a slow shake “Ha, sounds about right.” She coughed, then continued. “Idiots, there are idiots all around me.” A faint tremble danced across her face. “Not the least of which is melon head over there.” Her head nodded slowly toward the Lump.

  The Lump grinned and lowered his face. “I missed you too, sunshine.”

  The crone’s eyes drifted back to Meena. “Did he burn the dung?” she asked.

  Meena smiled and nodded. “Yes, that he did exceptionally well.”

  The crone’s feeble smile grew. “I would have paid… good coin to see…” Her words were broken up by struggled breaths. “…fancy breeches tending… a burning pile… of poo!” With the last word, she laughed and set off a bout of violent coughing.

  Meena stroked her shoulder. “Take it easy now, you need to regain your strength.”

  The crone closed her eyes and pursed her lips. “I’ll not be regaining anything, child.” She opened her eyes. “I’m not long for this world… it’s time for me to pass on.” Her eyes drifted to the Lump. “Melon head… I need you to go to Bleuderry… tell Beverly the Inn is his… for good.”

  “Sure.” The Lump nodded. “I’ll do that for you.” His face took on a somber expression.

  Meena wiped the corner of her eye. “Don’t speak like that, you can’t pass on yet.”

  The crone sighed. “It happens to all of us… in time.” She drew another labored breath. “Twilight is upon me and night must fall.”

  Meena rubbed her eyes again. “But I need your help.” She sniffed. “You need to continue helping me, help me understand my bond with animals.”

  The crone drew in another rasping breath. “You don’t require any more help.”

  “You mean I already know all there is?” asked Meena.

  “No,” answered the crone. “You need to find out… who you are.” She bared her few remaining teeth with a weak grin. “But I can’t teach you that.”

  Meena put both hands on the crone’s arm. “Please! Cling to life, you must stay alive until I return.”

  The crone exhaled with a loud wheeze. “I grow weary.” Her eyes drifted away from Meena. “I’m ready for the big rest, the forever sleep.”

  Meena squeezed her eyes shut. “But now? I’m setting off for the Darklands.”

  “Bah!” The crone screwed her face into a sneer. “I would thump you on the head if I had more strength.” Her gaze went back to Meena.

  Meena opened her eyes wide. “Why?”

  The crone let out another long wheeze. “You’re going to the Darklands without me.” The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. “There are titan snakes there…” Her voice shrunk to a barely audible whisper. “Serpent’s so large…” She struggled to get out the words. “So large that…” She stopped speaking. She stopped wheezing. Her eyes became empty orbs as life slipped from her body.

  Meena burst into loud sobs, no longer able to hold back her despair.

  Flynn pointed to the Lump’s hip. “Lump, your sword!”

  The Lump looked down where his small sword dangled at his hip. The blade gave off a faint, gray glow. He scratched his head and looked back to Flynn. “I don’t mind Tilley and my pop, but if she’s in there now, it’s truly haunted.”

  Flynn shrugged.

  Meena remained on her knees beside the crone and her sobs grew louder. Her parents each put a comforting hand on one of her shoulders.

  Johanna squeezed her daughter’s shoulder but said nothing.

  Flynn clasped his hands and lowered his head.

  The Lump frowned. “Flynn, we should give her some time alone.”

  Flynn nodded in agreement. In a gentle voice, he said, “Meena, we will be just outside if you need us.”

  Meena wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of one sleeve. “Yes, I’ll be out after a moment.” Her sobs quieted.

  The Lump and Flynn walked out of the stone hut. Sam followed them, but Arik and Johanna remained with Meena and the crone’s body.

  Flynn brushed a strand of hair behind his ear. “This is a most sorrowful beginning for our endeavor.”

  The Lump lowered himself to the ground and sat. “It would’ve been worse if Meena hadn’t made it back in time.” He looked up at Sam. “How long was she sick?”

  “She only admitted her illness once Flynn set out,” answered Sam. “But I could tell she wasn’t well many days before.”

  “Huh.” The Lump rubbed
his beard. “How could you tell?”

  “It isn’t right to speak ill of the dead,” said Sam. “But she was… well… she was nice.”

  The Lump’s eyes grew wide. “That would’ve worried me, too.”

  Flynn looked at the Lump and asked, “Do you think that’s why she sent me to rescue you and Meena?”

  The Lump raised an eyebrow. “I’d say she didn’t give a rotten berry about me, but Meena was on her mind.”

  Flynn sat on the ground, next to the Lump. “That’s not true, she made it clear to return with both of you.”

  Sam crossed his arms and smiled. “I’d venture she wanted to call you a melon head one last time.”

  The Lump let out a melancholy laugh. “True enough, I’m glad I gave her the chance.” He looked over at Flynn. “Despite all the sour words, she showed me kindness in her own way.” He rubbed his shoulder. “She always tended to my wounds and tried to keep me alive.”

  Flynn nodded. “While you were held in Galliston, she did try to pass odd bits of wisdom to me.” He frowned. “I could tell she would rather have been passing it on to Meena.”

  The Lump removed his leather cap and held it in his hands. “I guess this delays our trip, Meena won’t want to leave until she’s had time to mourn.”

  “Don’t presume to know what I want.” Meena stood in the doorway of the stone hut. “We must continue on as planned.”

  The Lump climbed back to his feet with a groan. “Don’t you want to see her buried first?” He put his leather cap back atop his head.

  “No.” Meena’s face was stony. “We will build a pyre at once.”

  Flynn rose. “But we don’t have a solson for funeral rites.”

  Meena looked at Flynn through narrow eyes. “Do you think she would have any use for a solson?”

  Flynn lowered his face and shook his head. “No, she was never fond of them.”

  The Lump slapped Flynn on the back. “We can give her as good a funeral as anybody.” He looked at Sam, then back to Flynn. “We better get to it, we’re going to need a lot of wood.”

  “Have you ever built a pyre before?” asked Flynn.

  “Of course not,” answered the Lump. “But as long as it’s good and smoky, I’m sure her spirit will like it.”

  4: Set Sail

  A midmorning breeze pushed against the Lump’s face. He stared down at his feet where the Wretched Water lapped against the smooth rocks covering the ground. The big man walked with his friends toward the strange vessel that would carry them toward to the western horizon.

  The crone’s funeral occupied the entirety of the prior evening. It was a solemn occasion, reminding all in attendance of the impermanence of life. Everyone said a few words in turn to honor the deceased woman. Flynn spoke of the courage she showed when faced by men-at-arms and Gallisian footmen alike. The Lump praised her directness and made mention of her peculiar fondness for snakes. Johanna and Arik offered gratitude for the keen interest the white-haired woman had shown their daughter, and Sam simply stated that she would be missed.

  Meena spoke last. She spoke of feeling out of place in the world, of uncertainty as to who or what she should, or could, be. With quiet tears rolling gently down her cheeks, she recounted the time she spent healing in The Crone’s Keep after nearly drowning. For the first time in her life, she felt true kinship in the crone’s company. The young woman made mention of lessons learned about true strength and folly, justice and tyranny, fear, and courage. Most importantly, she claimed, the crone taught her one could refuse to conform to the expectations of others. Her final words were of the importance of being true to oneself before she touched the torch to the pyre. The flames rose quickly around the wooden pile Flynn and the Lump built to hold the departed woman’s body. The group stood in silence and watched the flames dance until only a pile of white ash remained.

  The Lump lifted his eyes and saw the fantastic vessel perched at the waters edge only a few paces away. The brown, wooden construction was as long as three wagons lined up end to end. Its fore and aft curved up in identical arcs, but the fore was marked by a dragon’s head carved into the wood. A long pole rose up about a third of the way back with a large piece of white canvas wrapped around it. Just behind the pole was an iron cage, and the cage was not empty.

  Red-Line, the blind dragon, lay dormant inside the cage. The jagged red lines running down its sides beneath a pair of withered and battle-scarred wings were unmistakable. The beast’s face was marred with sunken sockets were its eyes should have been, and it was curled into a ball that filled the cage with its scaly mass. It looked so much smaller than it had when it slithered through the limestone slabs of the Needles, or when it rumbled out of the pines just beyond Galliston. A tiny, white rivulet of smoke rose from a covered, iron pot adjacent to the cage. For the briefest of moments, the Lump had trouble believing this monster had ever caused so much distress. He shook those thoughts from his head and looked forward to returning the wyrm to its home.

  The gray-haired smith and his much younger, dark-haired apprentice scurried around the boat making a final inspection of the craft.

  The smith noticed the group approaching and stepped forward to greet the Lump. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.” Deep lines ran through the man’s face and his forearms were swollen from years of rigorous labor.

  The Lump chuckled at the man’s words. “We always show, whether I want to or not.”

  “Maybe you do have some sense, then,” said the smith.

  The Lump pointed at the vessel. “What do we do with the boat?”

  The smith grunted. “It’s a ship.”

  The Lump let his hand fall to his side. “What do we do with the ship?” he asked.

  The smith pointed westward. “Go that way.”

  The Lump furrowed his brow. “How do we do that?”

  The smith sighed. “There are three sets of oars in there, use those.”

  The Lump looked at the ship, then back to the smith. “How do we use those?”

  “However you want,” answered the smith, “so long as you keep it going that way.” He pointed west again.

  “That’s not much help.” The Lump rubbed his bearded chin. “What do we do when it’s time to come back?”

  The smith let out a laugh. “Oh, you’re planning on that?”

  “Yes!” answered the Lump. “I’m planning on that!”

  The smith wrinkled his forehead and nodded. “Well, in that case you’ll want to point it this way.” He pointed down at the ground. “Same as before, only the other direction.”

  The Lump crossed his arms and tilted his head. “I appreciate the job you did building it and all, but I don’t think you know how to use it any better than we do.”

  The smith exhaled and ran the back of his head across his brow. “Gallisians aren’t seafaring people, so I’m figuring it out as I go along.”

  The Lump raised his eyebrows. “That doesn’t inspire very much mud-kissing confidence.”

  The smith squinted one eye and stared at the Lump. “I can build a boat that goes across a river well enough. By my figuring, it’s just a bigger river, so I built a bigger boat.” He pointed back at the pole rising up in the ship. “I put a sail on it to catch the wind when it’s out, but pull them down if the wind’s too strong. You don’t want it to turn over.” He crossed his arms and smirked. “Of course, if the dragon can’t swim it don’t matter if you turn over.”

  “It matters to me!” The Lump opened his eyes wide.

  Meena, Flynn, and Kinnad gathered around to listen in on the conversation.

  Flynn asked, “Is he instructing you on the ship’s operation?”

  The Lump shrugged. “Sort of, I guess.”

  “That’s what I’m doing,” said the smith. “If there’s no wind, use the oars.”

  “How do we use those?” asked Flynn.

  The smith answered, “However you—”

  “Forget he asked!” shouted the Lump. “Just help us
shove off, or whatever you call it.”

  “Launch,” said the smith.

  “Fine!” The Lump put his hands on his hips. “Help us launch.”

  The smith raised a finger. “Make sure you mind the smoker.” He pointed to the ship. “Keep the fire going, there are plenty of coals in under the cage.” He let his hand fall.

  The Lump nodded. “We’ll be sure to do that.”

  The smith crossed his arms again. “I put all the flowers the girl sent me in a bindle near the fore of the ship.” He raised an eyebrow. “I imagine you don’t want the monster to wake during your journey.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Of course, if the dragon can’t swim—”

  “I know!” The Lump’s face twisted into a scowl. “It doesn’t really matter.”

  “I suspect it does to you.” The smith grinned.

  “How do we launch the craft?” asked Flynn.

  The smith turned to face the black water. “You need to shove it out until the water lifts it, but don’t let it get away.” He gestured upward with a raised thumb. “You’ll want to climb in once it’s in the water’s grip.” His hand dropped and he pointed at his leg. “You don’t want to get into water higher than your knee, the tooth eels will get you.”

  Flynn’s eyes opened wide. “I prefer that not happen.”

  The smith nodded toward his apprentice. “Kinnad will help you.”

  Kinnad raised his eyebrows. “I will?”

  “Yes, you will.” The smith cocked his head to one side. “You aren’t afraid of tooth eels, are you?”

  Kinnad narrowed his eyes. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  “Get out there, boy!” The smith pointed to the Wretched Water. “You don’t need both your legs to be a smith, just keep your hands safe.”

  Kinnad gave the smith a dirty look, but said nothing.

  The Lump scratched the side of his head. “Will you be here when we return? To help us get back up on land?”

  The smith’s mouth became a hard line. “I’ll simply tell you this, it was nice knowing you.”

  The Lump grimaced. “You’re not very good at seeing people off.”