Dragon In The Darklands

by Bruce Leslie

  The Lump shouted, “Toss me one of those oars!”

  Flynn furrowed his brow. “You plan to paddle in the shallow water?”

  “Not at all,” answered the Lump. “Just hand me one of those berry-popping oars.”

  Brow still furrowed, Flynn handed an oar as requested.

  “Here we go!” The Lump took the oar from Flynn and used it to slap the water ferociously.

  Meena turned her face aside to avoid the splashing. “What, exactly, are you doing?”

  “I’m chasing off any of those Sol-forsaken eels,” answered the Lump.

  “You certainly seem to be doing a thorough job of it,” said Flynn.

  “Can’t be too safe,” said the Lump. “But that ought to do it.” He Beckoned to his friends. “Let’s get to shore!” He hopped over the edge of the boat, keeping the oar firmly in his grip.

  Flynn and Meena followed, the water came to their mid thigh, but it reached just above the Lump’s knees. They tried to run toward lands, but the water bogged them down to a gait best described as a trudge. Flynn was careful to dodge the twin swings of Meena’s staff and the Lump’s oar. They made it to land with no tooth eel sightings.

  Flynn narrowed his eyes and looked around. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

  “No.” The Lump sat on the ground and drew in heavy breaths. “But, I reckon heading south is the best. If nothing else, we’ll hit the Needles and know where we are.”

  Meena looked southward and nodded. “Yes, I agree we should go south, by the look of the pines, we are in Gallis. I hope we’re north of the ruins, but until we recognize a landmark, we have no way to know.”

  They marched south without waiting to dry. When the sun sat, they briefly considered journeying on, but made camp instead. Given the uncertainty of their location, rest seemed best.

  They rose with the sun the following day and continued south. By midmorning they saw something familiar. It wasn’t the Needles, but instead a trail they knew led to the ruins of old Molgadon. They moved more quickly, now aware of both their location and current destination, and made it to the ruins by early afternoon.

  Meena led the way into the collection of slimy, black stones that had been re-purposed as a refuge for her friends and family. “Is anyone here? Mother? Father?” she shouted.

  A form made its way out from one of the stone huts. It was person they knew, but not one they knew well.

  “You’re the smith’s apprentice, aren’t you?” asked the Lump.

  The young man nodded. “That’s right, Kinnad’s the name, if you forgot.”

  “Yup.” The Lump leaned against a pile of stones. “That sounds about right.”

  “It’s not about right,” grumbled Kinnad, “that’s what it is.”

  The Lump sneered. “Well ain’t you about as pretty as a spider’s nest!”

  Kinnad returned the sneer. “Times aren’t pretty right now.”

  The Lump twisted his face into a near snarl. “What kind of chip-flipping—”

  “Enough!” spat Meena. She smiled at Kinnad. “Where are my parents?”

  Kinnad looked at the ground, avoiding eye contact. “They aren’t here.”

  Meena drew her brows together. “Where are they?”

  Kinnad said, “Men took them.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Footmen.”

  The Lump stood up straight and balled his hand into a fist. “You mean that louse-infested King double crossed us!”

  “It wasn’t the King.” Kinnad lifted his face and looked at the Lump. “It was the traitor, the Baron.”

  Meena narrowed her eyes. “He was locked in a cell.”

  “It’s true!” Flynn chimed in. “We saw him before we left.”

  “I suppose he was,” said Kinnad. “But he isn’t now.”

  The Lump wrinkled his forehead. “Do you know how he got out?”

  Kinnad tilted his head. “A conspirator helped him escape, folk say it was a dragon lover.”

  “That can’t be!” The Lump buried a big thumb into his chest. “We captured the dragon cult.”

  Meena sighed and shook her head. “Not all of them.” She arched an eyebrow. “One escaped, remember?”

  The Lump gritted his teeth. “That good for nothing, badger-loving, mule-killing scoundrel!” The big man spat. “Just wait until I get ahold of him again, there won’t be no escaping then.”

  “But what of the King?” asked Flynn. “Surely he wouldn’t stand idly by.”

  Kinnad held his hands out by his sides. “The way I heard it, the Baron usurped the throne.” He let his hands fall to his sides. “Nobody’s seen the King.”

  “How could he do that?” asked Meena. “The King had no shortage of guards.”

  “The smith told me a soldier’s loyalty is a funny thing.” Kinnad rubbed his chin. “The footmen were loyal to their old commander rather than the King.” He shrugged. “I guess the Baron is the King now.”

  “Baron Eugene is no king,” said Meena. “Do you know where my parents were taken?”

  “They were taken to Galliston.” Kinnad frowned. “They told me to let you know when you arrived, said it was to guarantee your good behavior.”

  Disgust washed over the Lump. “Now you’re loyal to the Baron, too?”

  Kinnad squinted one eye and wrinkled his nose. “I’m not loyal to that traitor!” He grunted. “I wasn’t terribly loyal to the King, either.”

  Meena raised an eyebrow. “Then why did you wait for us and deliver the message?”

  Kinnad looked away from Meena’s gaze. “I waited because the smith told me to, he gets grumpy if I don’t do what he says.” He sighed. “I told you where your parents are because I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Well… thank you, then.” Meena gripped her staff in both hands and leaned against it. “What of Samak? Was he taken hostage, also?”

  Kinnad gave his head a quick shake. “No, he left, said he was going back to the Needles.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “That’s all I know. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I need to get back to the smith.”

  Meena nodded slowly, then asked, “Is the smith in Galliston?”

  “No,” answered Kinnad.

  “Well, where is he, then?” asked the Lump.

  Kinnad shook his head. “I won’t tell you, he doesn’t want people to know where he works.”

  “We can respect that. Thank you, for what you have told us,” said Meena. “We won’t hinder you any longer.”

  The Lump groaned. “Well, I’m pretty sure we’re going to Galliston, ain’t we Meena.”

  Meena squeezed her staff tighter and grinned. “No, we’re going to Itchy-Leg Hill.”

  The Lump furrowed his brow. “But we aren’t even sure where that is.”

  Meena glanced at Kinnad. “Perhaps you could tell us how to get to Itchy-Leg Hill?

  Kinnad raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I could do that.” He scratched his head. “But why would you want to go there?”

  “Because,” answered Meena, “when I arrive at Galliston, I plan to have an army.”

  19: On The Hill

  “How are you going to convince those Hill-Folk to help us?” asked the Lump. “They sure don’t have no love for King Ferte.”

  Kinnad’s instructions about how to find Itchy-Leg Hill were both detailed and precise. The Lump was simultaneously impressed and curious about how well the young fellow seemed to know the lay of the land.

  “They helped us defeat the dragon,” answered Meena. “They will help us again.”

  The rolling hills of this part of Gallis were familiar, if not entirely pleasant. The landscape evoked memories of the last time they passed this way, the time they were ambushed by torch wielding dragon cultists.

  “We had Six-Toe with us.” The Lump stopped walking and adjusted his leather vest. “He’s who went and got them.”

  Meena nodded. “And we have Six-Toe’s memory to help us this time.” She beckoned at the Lump, urging him to resume w
alking.

  The Lump trudged along. “So what if they do help us?” He shrugged. “There’s only about a dozen of them.”

  This time, it was Meena who stopped walking. “There may be more.” She leaned against her staff. “But, even adding a dozen will bring our numbers from three to fifteen.”

  Flynn opened his eyes wide. “That does seem like a much better number.” He sported a freshly crafted bow across his torso and a new quiver filled with arrows on his back.

  Meena drummed the fingers of one hand against her staff. “If I convince the Itchy-Leg chief to give us aid, perhaps he can help us recruit other clans to our cause as well.”

  The Lump flashed a sly grin. “So, you plan to rally the clans around the chief of the Dragonblinders?”

  Meena grimaced. “As much as I dislike that name, having a clan identity will likely be of use for this matter.”

  Flynn surveyed the terrain, then pointed. “I believe we’ve found the hill.” He let his hand fall and looked at Meena. “Do you think we’ll be able to find the Hill-Folk?”

  “Let’s climb,” answered Meena. “I think finding the Itchy-Legs will be easy enough.”

  The trio left the narrow, dirt path and climbed the hill. The growth of tall pine trees wasn’t dense, but tall grasses and scrubby growth abounded. The lack of a clear path made the climb more difficult than the hill’s incline.

  The Lumped breathed heavily as he climbed, while Flynn ascended the slope without getting winded. Meena used her ash-staff as a walking stick to assist her trek up the hill.

  Flynn waved one hand towards some scrubby growth. “Be careful of the weeds, they will make you itch.” He held one hand up by his shoulder. “At least, that’s what Six-Toe led us to believe.”

  The Lump stopped climbing and caught his breath. “What makes you so certain we’ll find them?”

  Meena arched an eyebrow. “Because we won’t have to.”

  The Lump furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

  Meena pointed overhead. “Look up, through the trees.”

  The Lump turned his gaze skyward. He watched as birds danced from limb to limb of the tall pine trees, moving across the hill. After watching this for a few heartbeats, he brought his eyes back down to his companions.

  Meena said, “By the look of things, and what I’ve gleaned from the birds, they should find us at any moment.”

  “So, what do we do?” asked Flynn.

  “Just be quiet, and wait,” answered Meena.

  The party stood in silence for several moments until the voice of some unseen man came out of the trees.

  The voice said, “You better go back down the hill!”

  A second voice, a feminine one, shouted, “This here’s Itchy-Leg country!”

  The Lump shouted back, “It just so happens, we’re looking for the Itchy-Legs.”

  “It don’t matter, you ain’t Itchy-Legs,” called back the woman.

  The man added, “Go back down the hill!”

  Meena leaned against her staff. “I need to speak with the chief. He fought with us last Spring, against the dragon.”

  “Is that right?” asked the male voice. “We heard of that clan what fought the dragon.”

  The female voice ordered, “If you be them, give us your name!”

  Meena looked at the ground and sighed. She lifted her face and said, “We are the Dragonblinders and I’m Meena.” She paused, then forced herself to add, “I’m the chief.”

  The unseen woman said, “Bah! Anybody knows that.” She asked, “How do we know you ain’t lying?”

  The Lump grunted. “Well, you asked and we answered!”

  “Don’t go growling at us,” shouted back the male voice. “We have you circled!”

  The woman’s voice added, “And we’re in trees! We can get you, you can’t get us.”

  “We knew Six-Toe,” said Meena. “He died fighting at our side, he rallied your chief to support us in battle.”

  Flynn shouted, “His support saved us and led to the dragon’s removal.”

  “That dragon ain’t gone,” said the male voice. “It’s just sleeping in Galley-town.”

  “No, it’s not,” called back Flynn. “The dragon is gone now.”

  “What do you mean?” asked the woman’s voice. “Are you saying you killed it?”

  “No,” answered Flynn. “We returned it to the Darklands.”

  The male voice hissed. “Now, we got you caught in a lie for sure! You can’t get over the awful water.”

  “It’s true!” Flynn placed a hand over his heart. “I swear it upon my honor.”

  “‘Pon m’onor, ‘eh?” said the male voice, with a hint of somberness. “You ain’t supposed to say ‘pon m’onor if it ain’t true.”

  “It’s true!” Flynn nodded. “It really is.”

  “Huh,” said the male voice. “Well, if you really knew Six-Toe, how many toes did he have on his left foot?”

  “Well…” The Lump rubbed his beard and considered the question. “I believe he had six of them.”

  “Ha! Caught you!” shouted the male voice. “He had six toes on his right foot, not his left!”

  The woman’s voice said, “He didn’t have six on his right, he had six toes on his left.”

  The man in the trees said, “I could have sworn that nubby little extra toe was on his right foot.”

  “I remember his feet as plain as my own,” said the woman. “That yellow, nubby toe with the extra-long nail was on the left.”

  “That was an ugly looking nail,” said the man. “It was brown, and curled to the side.”

  “Please!” shouted the Lump. “Stop talking about the extra toe, you’re going to make me toss up my honey-loving breakfast.”

  “Good enough,” said the woman in the trees. “Anybody that’d lose their breakfast over a toe must’ve known Six-Toe.”

  Meena looked up at the trees. “So, you’ll take us to speak with the chief?”

  “No,” answered the woman’s voice. “We wouldn’t do no such thing.”

  The Lump gritted his teeth. “But we told you who we are!”

  “Sure did,” said the male voice. “And we believe you, but we can’t take you to the chief.”

  “And why not?” asked the Lump.

  “On account of he’s coming here,” replied the female voice. She ripped off a loud whistle.

  The air filled with other whistles, relaying through the forest then back to the tree from which they originated.

  “What should we do?” asked Flynn.

  Meena shrugged. “I suppose we wait for him.”

  The whistling subsided and after several, quiet moments laughing came from a growth of scrubby brush to the east. An old fellow with a gray beard shuffled out. He was accompanied by no less than six people clad in patchwork clothes and armed with cudgels made from hardwood branches. The group was a mixture of both men and women.

  This gray-bearded man was not a stranger, he was the Itchy-Legs’ chief. He was short and stout, about the same height as Meena, though much more broad. His left eye was cloudy-white, a malady he did not have when last the trio of adventurers saw him.

  The gray-bearded man displayed a yellow-toothed smile. “Have a look at these devils.”

  Meena gave her head a slight bow. “I am glad we found you…” She wrinkled her forehead. “I’m not certain what to call you. What’s your name?”

  The Itchy-Leg chief answered, “They call me One-Eye now.”

  “What did they used to call you?” asked Flynn.

  One-Eye chuckled. “Why, that’d be two eyes, I suppose.”

  Flynn raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

  “Of course not, you mud-pile!” One-Eye leaned his head back and laughed loudly. He stifled his laughter and said, “What kind of fool name is two eyes? They used to call me Yarlish, but now they like to pinch my pride by calling me One-Eye.”

  “I know you likely didn’t expect to see me again,” said Meena, “but I’ve co
me to propose we join our clans for an important endeavor.”

  One-Eye put his hands on his hips. “I knew good and well you’d come back for me.”

  Meena said, “The reason is—” She stopped abruptly and wrinkled her forehead. “Wait, how did you know I would return?”

  “Because I know who you are,” answered One-Eye.

  “Yes.” Meena nodded. “We fought together.”

  The Lump pointed at Meena. “She’s Meena, chief of the Dragonblinders.”

  One-Eye cocked his head to one side. “That ain’t all she is.” He crossed his arms. “Hill-Folk live a simple life, but we ain’t simple.” He shook his head. “We don’t have no Lunaris filling our heads with that King’s foolishness, we have our own ways, old ways with old wisdom, hill-wisdom.”

  The Lump chuckled. “It’s too bad you never got to meet the crone, I think you two would’ve gotten along real well.”

  Meena asked, “And what does this hill-wisdom have to do with me, exactly?”

  One-Eye pointed at Meena. “I knew who you were when I saw you outside Galley-town.” His hand fell to his side. “You’re the double-eyed lady.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked the Lump. “Everybody’s got two eyes…” He saw the Chief’s cloudy eye and swallowed hard. “Well, almost everybody.”

  “I didn’t say two eyed!” One-Eye scowled at the Lump. “I said double-eyed. That’s an eye for the day and an eye for the night. It’s the reason they’re two different colors.” He stroked his gray beard. “I’ve heard tales of the double-eyed lady since I was only knee-high to a mudpuppy, and as old as I am, that’s a long time.”

  “And what is this double-eyed lady that you think I am?” asked Meena.

  One-Eye held his hands wide. “You’re than one that’s going to do away with all the chiefs, get the Hill-Folk into one clan, then do away with the King.” He held up a finger. “After that, you’ll get the towny-folk in the clan, then go south and keep doing it until all we have is one big clan.” His hands fell to his sides and he smiled. “It sounds kind of nice to me.”

  Flynn opened his eyes wide. “You know of the Sophia?”

  “I’m not the Sophia!” snapped Meena.