Dragon In The Darklands

by Bruce Leslie

  “Oh,” said the Templar. “I am… not understanding, but very excited to learn.”

  12: The Sutton

  The Templar conducted a long, dull exercise consisting of holding up objects and asking what they were called. Though they engaged the endeavor with enthusiasm, the three travelers grew restless.

  The Templar appeared rather disappointed that nearly all the objects he displayed were named exactly what he thought. The dark-skinned man rubbed his chin with a contemplative expression hung across his face.

  The Lump scratched behind his ear and hoped the linguistic examination was drawing to its conclusion.

  The Templar dropped his hand from his face. “Come with me, into the temple’s sanctuary.” He turned and walked toward a closed door beyond the altar. “I have much to show you.” His hand pressed against the simple, wooden door and it swung open. “Something, I think, will be of great interest.”

  The Lump, Meena, and Flynn followed the Templar into the rear room. The sanctuary was much larger than the entry, and was beneath the domed portion of the temple’s roof. The dome was painted with all manner of celestial bodies and seemed to glow from the sunlight that shone behind it, passing through small, round windows near the structure’s top. The light illuminated the dome, but failed to cast its rays directly into the main part of the chamber. Brass candle holders were distributed around the walls, though no candles were lit. The room felt like a shadow beneath a luminescent orb.

  The Templar held out an open hand, toward the wall above the door through which they passed. “You should see the mural.”

  The Lump turned around and looked up. He rubbed his eyes, not believing what he saw and his mouth fell open in a slack-jawed expression.

  Above the door was the painted likeness of a woman’s head and shoulders. She wore golden robes draped over her shoulders and had long, auburn hair billowing down from her head in amber waves. Her cheeks were sprinkled with flecks of gold and she had mismatched eyes, the right one was a deep blue while the left was an emerald green.

  The Lump pointed up at the mural, dumfounded. After several silent heartbeats, he forced out words. “Meena, that’s you!”

  Meena groaned. “No, it’s not! Just because her hair is red doesn’t mean she looks like me.”

  The Lump opened his eyes wide and looked at Meena. “But the freckles.” He turned his gaze back to the mural. “Those are freckles on her cheeks.”

  Meena shook her head. “Those aren’t freckles, they’re flecks in the paint.” She kept her face turned aside, not looking at the image in question.

  “I don’t know…” Flynn put a finger to his chin. “They certainly look like freckles to me.”

  “Is that so?” Meena narrowed her eyes and glared at Flynn. “You’re certainly no expert on painting.”

  Flynn frowned and looked at the ground.

  The Lump bounced his finger in the air, still pointing to the mural. “Look at those eyes, there’s a blue one and a green one.”

  Meena crossed her arms with one hand gripping her staff. “The sun has simply faded the pigment on one eye, you’re allowing your imagination to get the better of you.”

  The Lump furrowed his brow and looked around the room. “I don’t think any sunlight shines on that wall.”

  Meena sighed and rolled her eyes. “That’s no painting of me.” She asked, “How would the painter even know what I look like?”

  “That’s what I’m getting at,” answered the Lump. He leaned in close to her and spoke in a low voice. “There’s a whole lot of strange going on.” He grunted. “For the love of honey-baked bread! We’re only here because an old lady’s specter sent us.”

  Flynn looked at the Templar and asked, “Who is the woman in this mural?”

  The Templar clasped his hands in front of him. “This is the Sophia.”

  “And who is Sophia?” asked Flynn.

  The Templar took a step closer to Flynn and his companions. “She is the daughter of the Sun and Moon, I spoke of her before.”

  “Yes, I recall now.” Flynn looked away from the Templar and up to the mural. “And what is she? How is she special?”

  The Templar flashed a broad grin and looked up at the mural. “When she arrives, she will be a blessing to all people, even the lowest of those among us.” He spread his hands wide. “She will be the kind one who rules over all. All manner of rulers will step off their thrones to make way for her.”

  “Is that so?” The Lump raised and eyebrow and looked at Meena. “That sounds a lot like something a ghost told us.”

  Meena lowered her eyebrows and shot a stare at the Lump that suggested she was not interested in continuing this particular conversation.

  “Did you say something about a ghost?” asked the Templar.

  “Never mind that,” interjected Flynn. “It is just more of his colorful language.”

  “Oh, I see.” The Templar brought his hands together in a clap. “I believe the Sutton wishes to meet you at once.”

  “Who is this Sutton fellow?” asked the Lump.

  “He is the one who rules Ylam,” answered the Templar. “He is something like the Molgatong word king, I think.” He turned to yet another door at the rear of the sanctuary. “We shall go to the xiphos.”

  “What’s the xiphos?” asked the Lump.

  The Templar turned to answer the question. “It is like the word castle.”

  The Lump tilted his head. “Is it that big pyramid?”

  The Templar wrinkled up his face. “I don’t think I know this word, pyr-a-mid.”

  “It’s like a triangle,” said the Lump.

  Flynn added, “A pyramid is to a triangle as a box is to a square.”

  The Templar smiled at Flynn’s explanation. “Ah, yes. The xiphos is the triangle shaped box beyond the temple.” He beckoned to his three guests. “Come, I will take you.”

  The Templar led the party through the rear door of the temple that connected to the large pyramid that marked the center of town, the xiphos. Two guards armed with spears nodded when the Templar approached, and stepped aside to allow him passage. After a short walk down a wide corridor, the group emerged into a large, open parlor. The chamber was occupied by a half-dozen spearmen surrounding a rotund man.

  The rotund man stepped forward. He wore fine, yellow robes of silk, silk slippers, and a silk cap on his head that looked like a small bucket made of cloth. His face was the same copper hue as the spearmen, but significantly more plump. Each of his fingers bore a gold ring, and a gold chain draped around his neck held a round, red ruby.

  “I am the Sutton.” The bejeweled man held his hands wide. “Welcome to my humble xiphos.”

  The Lump lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “You speak Molgatong?”

  “Yes,” answered the Sutton. “When I was young and my father was the Sutton, he made me study in the temple every day.” He held a ringed finger in the air. “I would cry that it was unfair and that Molgatong would be of no use.” His hand dropped to his side. “Today, I must admit that I was wrong, and my father, in his wisdom, was right.” A wide, toothy grin stretched across his face. “I am proud to be versed in Templatong, but I am not yet as skilled as the Templar. Someday, I think, I may be his equal.”

  The Templar bowed his head. “I am not worthy to be your equal, Tus Agoosta.”

  The Sutton laughed and pointed at the Templar. “But, you struck my knuckles when I was a boy.”

  The Templar nodded. “You were my student, and your mind would wander.” He held a hand toward the visitors. “Shall I introduce your wonderful guests?”

  The Sutton clapped his hands together and smiled. “Please, Templar, I am…” His brow furrowed. “How do I say proteemo?”

  The Templar gave his head another slight bow. “Eager, Tus Agoosta.”

  “Yes!” said the Sutton. “I am very eager to meet the visitors.”

  The Templar said, “First we have Flynn from…” He paused, then asked, “Where did you say?”<
br />
  Flynn bowed to the Sutton. “I am from Silverport, Your Majesty.”

  “Oooh! Majesty!” The Sutton opened his eyes wide. “This is much better word than Sutton, don’t you think?”

  The Templar shrugged. “If it pleases you, Tus Agoosta.”

  “No Tus Agoosta.” The Sutton shook his head. “For our guests, we can say Majesty.”

  The Templar nodded. “Yes, Majesty.”

  The Lump pointed at himself with a thick thumb. “I’m the Lump.”

  “Oh, look at you!” The Sutton held a hand toward the Lump. “You are a…” He glanced at the Templar. “Help me, how to say gigos.”

  “The word is giant, Majesty,” said the Templar.

  The Sutton turned his gaze back to the Lump. “Ah, yes! You are a giant! You must be a great soldier in your land.” He pointed at the big man. “You should join my legions, I can give you a whole company of spearmen, make you commander.”

  The Lump shook his head. “No thanks, Your Majesty. I’m no soldier, I’m more inclined to keep the peace.”

  The Sutton drew his brows together. “Keep the piece of what?”

  The Templar frowned. “No, Tus Agoosta, I mean, Majesty. He says paxos.”

  “Oh!” The Sutton laughed. “You are a man of Law.” He held up a finger. “I should make you a constablar, no one would defy my law with you looming over them.”

  The Lump wrinkled up his nose. “Well, I’m not really an enforcer, I’m more the type to run off bandits.”

  “Yes, I see. You hate latro.” The Sutton balled his hand into a fist. “I say the bad Skythe would tremble at the sight of you, big man.”

  The Lump held his hands up by his shoulders. “They saw me already. They did plenty, but they didn’t tremble.”

  The Templar held and arm out with a flourish toward the final member of the party. “And this young woman is Meena, the just.”

  “No.” Meena gritted her teeth. “I’m just Meena.”

  The Sutton slapped a hand to his chest and stumbled back. “How do I speak?”

  Meena arched an eyebrow. “I don’t understand.”

  The Sutton brought his other hand to his chest, overlapping the first. “I cannot speak in the presence of such beauty!”

  Meena shook her head. “Please, no. I’m a simple—”

  “Do not tell me where you are from,” interrupted the Sutton. “I already know, you must be from Cielo itself! No other place could be home for such a wonder as you.”

  “Please.” Meena leaned against her staff and drew in an agitated breath. “I have no interest in flattery.”

  The Sutton looked at the Templar. “She has all the beauty of the Sophia. Why did you not bring me to her sooner?” He turned back to Meena. “Ah, Meena, I bow to you.” The man dropped to one knee and lowered his head.

  Meena gripped her staff in both hands and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Please, get up. You’re making me uncomfortable.”

  “As you command.” The Sutton lifted himself back to both feet. “But I beg you, all three of you, let me show you my court.” He bent his arm and offered it to Meena.

  Meena squinted one eye and stared at the Sutton’s arm for a brief moment before taking it. She wore an uncomfortable stiffness as she walked next to the yellow-robed man.

  The Lump shoved his own bent arm toward Flynn. “May I be your escort?”

  Flynn snarled and smacked the Lump’s elbow with the back of his hand. “I think I can manage on my own.”

  The Lump laughed. “Something seems to have you a little sour.”

  Flynn sneered. “I’m just growing weary of this place, I hope we leave soon.”

  The Templar urged the two men forward. “You should follow the Sutton, do not repay his hospitality with rudeness.”

  Flynn groaned. “No, I shouldn’t wish to do that.”

  13: Grand Tour

  The Lump, Flynn, and the Templar walked behind the Sutton and Meena. Six spearman, assumed to be royal guards, accompanied the group in rows of three on each flank.

  These spearmen dressed far more impressively than the ones who discovered the Lump and his companions. Their tunics were bright red and longer than the others, they hung down to the midpoint between the knee and ankle. These guards also had bronze breastplates rather than the odd cloth ones the other spearman wore. They did not carry shields and their spears were not as long, the weapons only matching the height of the men that wielded them, rather than rising above their heads. The most noticeable difference was the helms, a long plume of red feathers crested the helmets these guards wore. All these elements combined for a look that was quite effective at communicating these guards held a position far more prestigious than the lowly patrolmen.

  While they walked through the grand corridor of the xiphos, the Lump turned to the Templar. “We scrapped with a monster like I’ve never seen before when we got into the jungle.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think you could tell me what it was?”

  “I think, maybe,” answered the Templar. “Can you describe it?”

  “It looked kind of like a man, but it was big and hairy,” said the Lump.

  Flynn added, “It had ears and teeth like a wolf, and wore nothing but a loincloth made of animal skin.”

  “I think you may have seen a bugbarro.” The Templar brought a finger to his chin while he strolled along the corridor. “I think in Molgatong you would say bugbear.”

  The Lump’s eyes opened wide with excitement and he swung a celebratory fist through the air. “It was a booger-bear! I knew it!”

  Meena looked over her shoulder at the Lump’s demonstration, but the Sutton didn’t take notice.

  The Templar furrowed his brow. “And you defeated this bugbarro?”

  The Lump chuckled and shook his head. “No, we ran from it.”

  “That was wise,” said the Templar. “They are very strong and very fierce, but it should only attack if you disturb its den.”

  The Lump shrugged. “I think that might be what we did.”

  Flynn added, “We were fleeing a giant crab.”

  The Templar drew his brows together and looked at Flynn. “What is this word crab?”

  “Oh.” Flynn narrowed his eyes in concentration. “It’s a sea creature, with a shell and claws. They’re rather small in Silverport, but the one we encountered on the beach was larger than a bear.”

  “I see.” The Templar nodded. “I think what you speak of is a shell aurochs.” He smiled. “Their meat is much prized, but they are very hard to hunt. The shell is quite thick.”

  “We discovered that,” said Flynn. “The crab, or shell aurochs, chased us into the bugbear’s den, then that fiend chased us to the titan snake.”

  The Templar’s mouth fell open at Flynn’s words. “You survived a titan snake?”

  “Just barely,” answered Flynn. “It nearly killed him.” He pointed at the Lump with his thumb.

  The Templar looked at the Lump with a wrinkled forehead. “How did you survive?”

  The Lump shook his head. “You’re never going to believe this, but that’s when the ghost showed up.”

  “A ghost? Like a spirit, or specter?” asked the Templar.

  “Yep,” answered the Lump. “Call it what you like, it’s all the same to me.”

  “I think I should learn more about this ghost.” The Templar rubbed his chin. “Tell me, where—”

  “And here we are!” boomed the Sutton. “This is my silk room.” He led the party into the busy chamber.

  The room was filled with men and women working with fabric and needles, making lengths of cloth and at least one tapestry. When the Sutton entered, they stopped their work and bowed. He waved a hand, and they returned to their labors.

  The Sutton swept his arm in the direction of the workers. “The people make more than just silk, but I call it my silk room. They make the finest fabrics in all Ylam, maybe in all Terros.”

  Meena gave an approving nod. “Their work looks ve
ry fine, indeed.”

  “Yes, the finest!” The Sutton held one hand to his chest while he looked at Meena. “Let me make a gift of a fine robe to you. One much nicer than your old cloak.”

  Meena’s expression grew stern. “I am fond of my cloak, I prefer to keep it.”

  The Sutton let his hand fall from his chest. “Of course, you do not need any ornaments, your beauty genuine.” He swept his arm toward the workers again. “Please, pick from my fabrics, anything you want, it is yours.”

  Meena displayed a polite smile. “Thank you for your generous offer, but I am not in need of anything at present.”

  “Yes, yes,” said the Sutton. “Perhaps, another time.”

  “Perhaps,” said Meena.

  The Sutton’s plump face lightened as a broad smile stretched across it. “Now, we go to the hall of sound.”

  The Templar gave his head a slight bow. “I think you mean music, Tus Agoosta.”

  The Sutton let out a single laugh. “Ah, Templar, I would be lost without you.” He held out a hand. “Let us go to the hall of music.”

  The party left the silkroom and met the waiting guards in the corridor. They strolled down the wide passage way and the sounds of disorganized music greeted them. The guards took up positions at either side of an arched doorway and the group entered the room beyond it.

  Inside the room musicians practiced with a wide array of stringed instruments and pipes, at least twenty in all. The instruments were unlike any the Lump had ever seen before, but in all fairness, he had never spent much time around court musicians.

  The Sutton released Meena’s arm and held his hands wide. “A new song every day!” He turned to face the musicians. “Their gift of music is unlike any you will see, they always make new, pretty songs.”

  The Lump grinned and cocked his head to one side. “You must do a lot of dancing, Your Majesty.”

  The Sutton’s chest bounced with hearty laughter. “Dancing I do! I spin, I glide, I am alive when I am dancing!” He pointed to an older man who leaned over a stack of papers, but had no instrument. “Maestro, a song for me to dance!”

  The old man looked up from his papers with a furrowed brow.