Dragon In The Darklands

by Bruce Leslie

  “Then, please,” pleaded the Sutton. “Let me help. I can have my craftsmen repair your vessel, perhaps they can even build a new one.” He held his hands wide. “I can even give you a crew to help, an escort with my new weapons to scare away monsters. This I can offer. You can use it, yes?”

  Meena brought a hand to her chin. “We could make use of your offer, but my experience with kings leads me to believe there is a condition.” She asked, “Would you expect me to agree to a betrothal in return?”

  The Sutton put a hand on his chest. “I would not ask this thing from you. Not a betrothal, but instead a kozal.”

  Meena arched an eyebrow. “And what, pray tell, is that?”

  “It is a kozal,” repeated the Sutton. “It is less than a betrothal, it is a…” He looked the Templar. “Please, help me find the word.”

  The Templar shrugged. “I am sorry Tus Agoosta, I know no other word for this thing.”

  The Sutton looked at the ground and scratched his head, then lifted his face. “A kozal, it is a promise to… think about making a promise.” He wrinkled his forehead. “You understand this?”

  Meena drew in a long breath and pulled her thick, red braid forward, over her shoulder. “Yes, I think I do understand.”

  The Sutton smiled again. “Good, good, you agree to kozal, and stay as my guest while the craftsmen and spearmen prepare for your journey.”

  Meena’s eyes became green and blue slits. “The last time a king kept me as his guest, I felt more like a hostage.” She gave her head a slow shake. “I will not allow that to happen again.”

  “It is your good fortune that I am not a king!” The Sutton laughed. “We have no king in Ylam.”

  The Lump raised his eyebrows. “It don’t matter known what you call it, you look an awful lot like a king to me.”

  The Sutton’s smile shrank slightly. “I see.” He held his hands up by his shoulders. “But if I wanted to make you my hostage, why would I offer you so many gifts? Why would I ask for your approval?” His hands fell to his sides. “If I wanted to make you hostages, I would have my guards seize you.”

  Meena rested her hand on the gold-handled dagger she still wore beneath her cloak. “You would find I am not so easy to seize.”

  The Templar held up his hands. “My advice, Tus Agoosta, is do not challenge this one.” He shifted his gaze to Meena. “Please forgive him, he still struggles with Molgatong.”

  The Sutton laughed. “Of course, of course, I meant no challenge.” He bowed his head. “Sometimes I speak too fast and strange words come out.”

  Meena’s face softened and she took her hand off the dagger. “Yes, my two companions do that sometimes as well.” She looked down the table at all the seated people watching the exchange, then looked at the Templar. “Do you think they understand what we’re saying.”

  The Templar smiled and tilted his head. “They understand kozal at the very least.”

  “Yes, I should have guessed as much.” Meena looked at the Sutton. “And how long do I have to answer your proposal?”

  Flynn huffed. “Meena, you can’t be—”

  Meena held up a hand to quiet Flynn. “I am capable of deciding this for myself.”

  The Sutton returned to his seat. “A promise such as this is no small matter, consider it tonight while you sleep.” Any semblance of a smile left his face. “You can answer me tomorrow.”

  “Good sleep is always best for the mind and heart,” said the Templar. “Perhaps, Tus Agoosta, you should excuse our guests back to the temple where they can search for this sleep.”

  The Sutton nodded. “Sleep will be good for us all.” He waved a hand. “The feast has ended, anto sas mis amix.”

  The people around the table abruptly rose, offered quick bows of farewell, and hurried out of the feast hall.

  After all the other feast attendees left, the Templar turned to Meena. “I must conduct evening rites in the xiphos, I can have one of the guards escort you back to the temple.”

  The Lump shook his head. “We don’t need that, that’d feel too much like a jailer.”

  Meena nodded her agreement. “I think we can find our way back just fine all by ourselves.”

  “If you made your way through the jungle, the temple will not be a challenge,” said the Templar. “Take your rest in the front room, such things are not allowed in the sanctuary.” He grinned. “Or take your rest in the sanctuary, I won’t tell anyone. I will be back after a while, if you have any questions, I will try as I may to answer them for you.”

  “Thank you,” said Meena. “We are quite weary from our travels, I think we will find sleep quickly.”

  The Lump ran a hand through his mop of dark hair. “I’ll be dreaming as soon as I lay down.”

  Flynn frowned. “I want to be well rested also, I hope we set out for home in the morning.”

  “Let’s not delay the Templar any longer.” Meena tugged on Flynn’s tunic and walked toward the feasting hall’s door.

  The Lump and Flynn followed Meena out of the feasting hall and into one of the pyramids many wide corridors. Meena seemed quite adept at navigating the halls, easily making her way back to the short breezeway that connected the xiphos to the temple.

  Flynn was first to break the silence as they walked. “I hope you’re not considering this man’s ridiculous proposal.”

  “It would be irresponsible to not consider it, at the very least.” Meena stared straight ahead as she spoke. “Regardless of what I decide, there are significant implications in the Sutton’s words.”

  The Lump scratched his chin through his thick beard. “I’m not one to go poking my nose in somebody else’s business, but this don’t seem like something you’d consider even for a moment.”

  “You’re right, Lump,” said Meena. “I wouldn’t have in the past, but I’m looking at the world through different eyes now.”

  The Lump raised an eyebrow. “I’m none too sure I’m digging what you planted.”

  Meena stopped in her tracks and shot a confused glare at the Lump. “I don’t have any idea what you just said.”

  Flynn shrugged. “I don’t think he understands what you mean about different eyes.”

  The Lump nodded. “That about sums it up.”

  Meena resumed walking. “After what the crone’s spirit told me, I’m trying to take a different view of events.”

  “Sure,” said the Lump. “But that don’t mean you ought to marry some blowhard from the Darklands.”

  Flynn tapped his chest emphatically. “I agree with the Lump!”

  Meena let out an annoyed sigh. “The crone told me to learn who I am.” She stopped walking and crossed her arms. “Perhaps I am meant to be an empress.”

  They now stood outside the entrance to the temple. They chose to stand outside and finish their discussion before entering the domed structure.

  “I’v got to say…” The Lump lowered his head and put a hand on the back of his neck. “That don’t really sound like something the crone would get behind.”

  “Of course it does,” Meena countered. “I could have spearmen secure the Common Lands’ borders from Gallis and Aardland alike.”

  Flynn frowned, not in simple dissatisfaction, but in deep, heartfelt sorrow. “We have been working to create our own defenses for the Common Lands.”

  Meena turned her eyes away from Flynn. “And thus far, they have failed.”

  “Then we can make them better,” pleaded Flynn.

  “I don’t know that we can,” answered Meena.

  The Lump threw his hands up and bellowed, “What in the name of a sour-breathed sister is wrong with you?”

  Meena and Flynn jerked, startled by the Lump’s shout.

  Meena narrowed her eyes and stared at the Lump. “What do you mean?”

  The Lump held up a thick finger. “First of all, what makes you think the Needles being occupied by these Ylam soldiers would be any better than what’s going on with the Gallisians?”

  Meena op
ened her mouth to answer.

  The Lump cut her short. “That Sutton has already said he wants an empire, he’d just want to conquer the Common Folk like he does those horsemen out on the plains.” He raised another finger. “Also, I’ve never heard you say you can’t do something before, and now you’re telling Flynn you can’t protect your home? Girl, I’m not worried about protecting you, I’m worried about protecting everybody else, I count on you to keep my backside out of the fire.” He pointed at the doorway to the temple. “And you think the crone wanted you to come here to find out you have to be an empress? You saw what she wanted you to see as clearly as I did under that dome.”

  Meena clenched her jaws and spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m not—”

  “Yes you are!” shouted the Lump. “I can’t think of another honey-loving reason the crone would’ve sent you here.” He shook his head. “You can marry that muskrat-loving braggart if you want to, but don’t marry the Sutton because you think you have to!”

  Meena’s face became stony, all emotion washing from it. “Let’s go sleep, we’re all weary.” She looked the Lump square in the eyes. “I’ll do what I think is best, but I won’t marry the Sutton.” She shook her head. “Or that muskrat-loving braggart, as you called him.”

  The Lump smirked. “No, I called him the Sutton.” He pointed at Flynn. “He’s the muskrat-loving braggart.”

  Both Meena and Flynn’s faces grew red, but for different reasons.

  The Lump bounced with laughter as he trod into the temple. As promised, the moment he lay on the floor, he fell asleep.

  17: Midnight Message

  The Lump, Flynn, and Meena were well satisfied by their makeshift beds on the temple’s hard, stone floor where they slept the deep slumber of the truly weary. Their repose was devoid of dreams, minds completely drained by exhaustion both physical and emotional. This made it all the more jarring when the Templar shook them awake.

  “Quick, now!” The Templar shook Flynn with one hand and the Lump with the other. “You must awake! I need to speak with you urgently!”

  Though he didn’t shake her, the Templar’s words were loud enough to rouse Meena. She propped herself up and rubbed her eyes.

  The Lump grimaced and groaned. “What in the name of a hammer-toed witch is going on here?”

  Flynn asked, “Is there a fire?”

  “No,” answered the Templar. “But you must leave at once.”

  Meena closed her eyes and shook her head to chase off the remnants of drowsiness. “I don’t understand.”

  “My mind’s a bit twisted at the moment, also,” said the Lump. “Why do we have to leave?”

  The Templar’s face was absent any signs of joviality when he responded. “The Sutton believes Meena is the Sophia.”

  “So he’s casting us from the city?” asked Flynn.

  “No,” answered the Templar. “Quite the contrary, he will try to keep you here.”

  “And why do you counsel us to leave?” asked Meena.

  The Templar looked down as he spoke. “He will never let you live unless he can control you.” He lifted his eyes. “If you do not marry him, he will have you killed.”

  Flynn grunted. “I knew his ego would be too fragile to handle a rebuke.”

  “It is not that.” The Templar shook his head. “He fears she is the end of all Suttons, not just him, but those to come.” The creases in his dark face grew deeper as he looked at Meena. “He will never let you live unless he can control you. If you refuse to marry him, you will die. If you marry him, you will live like a prisoner.” He waved a hand toward the Lump and Flynn. “Likely, your friends will be hostages to ensure your cooperation.”

  “Why would he ask me to marry him at all?” asked Meena. “Shouldn’t he just try to kill me and be done with it?”

  The Templar ran a hand through his white hair. “He will use you as a symbol of his power, a divine sign he is free to conquer all.”

  “Mind if I ask you a real important question?” The Lump rubbed his bearded chin and awaited a response.

  The Templar nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  The Lump held his hands wide. “Why are you helping us? Don’t you work for that mud-kissing Sutton?”

  The Templar’s mouth became a hard line. “I am helping you because I am the Sutton’s prisoner… a slave even.”

  The Lump opened his eyes wide. “I didn’t know that.”

  “It is not an easy thing to know,” said the Templar. “I was born in a land far to the west, across the barren Sea of Sand.”

  Flynn wrinkled his forehead and scratched under his chin. “We keep learning about new lands and people, this world is much bigger than I ever thought.” He asked, “Is that why you look different?”

  The Templar nodded. “Yes, my people have skin a shade darker and hair two shades lighter. The world is often bigger than most people think.” He tilted his head and continued his story. “Famine forced my family to dare crossing the Sea of Sand. In doing so, we nearly died from heat, thirst, and hunger.”

  The Lump held his hands up by his shoulders. “But I guess you made it, since you’re telling us the story.”

  “In a way,” replied the Templar. “The spearmen found us, and we thought we were saved. We were too trusting to know they had captured us, not rescued us.”

  Meena narrowed her eyes. “I am suspecting we have that in common.”

  The Templar took a deep breath, swallowed, then continued. “The old Sutton, the current one’s father, tortured my parents to learn of their homeland. He had eyes on conquest, just like his son.” He sighed. “The old Sutton decided my people’s lands were too poor for the effort - the Sea of Sand is not an easy thing to cross…” Though his hands were clasped, they shook slightly as he spoke. “He executed my parents and ordered me to serve the temple as a small child. I think he thought it was a mercy, but mercy would have been to kill me as well.”

  The Lump furrowed his brow and cocked his head to one side. “It looks like you did well for yourself.”

  The Templar gave his head a gentle nod. “They expected my wits to be slow, they thought my people less than Ylamites. They were wrong. I excelled in my studies and was made Templar here, at the xiphos.” His white eyebrows fell lower over his eyes. “I think it was so I could be watched. I was forced to directly serve the man who killed my parents. I was even forced to educate his son, the man who is now my master.” He held up a shaky finger. “I know his heart, it is selfish and cruel.” His finger dropped until it pointed at Meena. “I do believe you are the Sophia, you will make things better for all people. You will do away with men like the one who murdered my family.”

  Meena’s face blanched to a pale white. “But, I am not the Sophia…”

  The Templar let out a single laugh. “It matters not what you believe. I believe you are the Sophia, and more worrisome, the Sutton believes you are the Sophia. Because of this thing, you must leave now.”

  “That sounds fine enough to me,” said the Lump. “How do we get past the honey-loving walls?”

  The Templar produced something from within his light-blue robes. “Here is a key to the pilgrim’s gate. Use it, then hide it in the bush with the red berries, I will retrieve it in the morning.”

  Meena picked up her staff and held it in her left hand. “Won’t you come with us?”

  “No,” answered the Templar. “If I leave, others will be punished for my actions. I cannot do this thing.”

  Flynn asked, “Where is this pilgrim’s gate?”

  “About a hundred paces east of the temple,” answered the Templar. “It is the nearest gate, used by Templars, monks, and the pious.” He swatted at them. “Now hurry, leave as quickly as you can!”

  The Lump looked at Meena, then to Flynn. “Let’s get to it!” He led the way out of the temple and into the night.

  They only made it a few steps from the threshold when they encountered the guards. One of them shouted some words the Lump couldn’t understand.
Five guards stood outside the temple, arranged in a manner that made it clear they were tasked with keeping people in, rather than out.

  The Lump shrugged and smiled at the guards. “Um… we’re just out to see the stars.”

  The guards clearly didn’t understand the words spoken by the big man. They lowered their spears in unison and each took a step closer. The one in the center pointed his spear and said, “Temple! Temple!”

  The Lump looked over his shoulder to his companions. “I don’t think there’s any way to talk out way out of—”

  Meena rushed forward and swung her staff, cutting the Lump short. Her staff slammed against the closest spear and a crack reverberated through the still, night air.

  The Lump yanked his tiny sword from its loop in time to deflect the butt end of a spear. He appreciated the guards trying to subdue, rather than kill, him.

  Flynn ducked a spear swung at his head. He rolled aside and dodged another that crashed down at him.

  The Lump caught the shaft of the spear swung at him in one hand, and slammed his sword hilt into the helmet of the guard wielding it.

  The guard stepped back, stunned by the blow, and shouted more strange words. It was an obvious cry for reinforcements.

  The Lump bellowed, “We need to get out of here before more of these mud-kissing guards show up!”

  Meena shoved one guard back with her staff, then swung in a wide arc at a second to keep him at a distance.

  Flynn scampered across the dirt on his hands and knees and caught the ankle of a third guard approaching Meena.

  The Lump squared off with the two remaining guards, his sword held low by his waist. “We need to do something, quick!”

  Meena raised her staff and sent out a silent call for help.

  Atop the xiphos, black specks shot out against the pale disk of the moon. As the specks descended closer, their high-pitched screeching made an ominous song. Leathery wings beat against the night air, and tiny, needle-like teeth reflected the light of a nearby torch. The bats swarmed around the five guards, taking the men’s attention away from the people they sought to subdue.

  Meena gave her head a sharp nod and darted eastward. The Lump and Flynn followed. The distressed shouts of the guards grew more distant as they fled. No one was following.