Dragon In The Darklands

by Bruce Leslie

  One-Eye shook his head. “I don’t know no Sophia, but I know she’s the double-eyed lady.” He pointed at Meena. “I saw her fight. The double eyed-lady is a fierce warrior, also has strange magic.” The gray-bearded man crossed his arms again. “Can’t nobody stand in her way, so I ain’t even going to try.”

  Meena tilted her head. “So you’ll help us?”

  “Help you?” repeated One-Eye. “We’re dragon blinders now, and if I remember right, you’re the chief.” He scratched his bearded chin. “You’re about the right age, too.”

  “The right age for what?” asked Meena.

  “The Twisty-Beard troubles,” answered One-Eye. “Years back, there was a fuss that maybe the double-eyed lady had been born in the Twisty-Beard clan.”

  The Lump took a seat on the ground. “What kind of troubles were those?”

  “Not every chief takes to the idea of a lady who’s supposed to do away with all the chiefs,” answered One-Eye. “If a baby was born in one of those clans, and looked even a little double eyed, it’d be left out in the woods to die.” He held his hands up by his shoulders. “Of course, some chiefs figure being afraid of the double-eyed lady is like being afraid of growing old, it don’t do no good.”

  The Lump shrugged. “I suppose that makes sense.”

  One-Eye continued. “When the other clans heard maybe the Twisty-Beards had the double-eyed lady, we didn’t know if it was a lie to make us fear them, or the truth and they’d done something awful.” He tapped the center of his chest. “All the clans, we joined together and fought the Twisty-Beards, we stole them all and made them into parts of our clans.” He raised his eyebrows. “After that, there wasn’t no more Twisty-Beards.”

  “And what are your feelings about the double-eyed lady?” asked Flynn.

  “I didn’t get to be this old by fighting when I can’t win,” answered One-Eye. “So, I’m stepping aside and folding my folks into your clan.”

  “How many folks are there?” asked Meena. “How many can help us fight?”

  One-Eye waved a lazy hand through the air. “There’s a good many, and I’d say twenty and five or six more can swing our sticks for you, if we have to.”

  “I see.” Meena pointed her staff eastward. “We’re going to rescue hostages from the castle in Galliston.”

  “That King done wronged you, did he?” One-Eye sighed. “He never did care none for the clans.”

  “The King isn’t the King anymore,” said Meena. “He was usurped by the traitor we fought, the Baron.”

  One-Eye wrinkled his nose. “The one that mixed in with those hill-stealing dragon lovers?” He balled one hand into a fist. “I’d help you fight him even if you weren’t the double-eyed lady.”

  “Good.” Meena put one hand on her hip and squeezed her staff with the other. “Because I’m not, I’m just Meena.”

  One-Eye nodded. “Whatever you say, chief.”

  Meena sighed. “I should have expected that.” She pulled her thick, red braid over her shoulder. “To take the castle, we’ll need as many fighters as we can get.” She paused and drew her brows together. “I’ll have other… help, but I still need people for some aspects of the maneuver.” She asked, “Do you think you can convince other clans to help us?”

  One-Eye nodded. “We can go to the Long-Ears, their chief’s always been scared of me. That’ll get us another dozen, at least.” He brought a hand to his chin. “After that, we can go to the Blue-Feet, when they see all of us together, they’ll come along.” His hand fell from his face. “The other clans are farther out and a lot more wild.”

  “More wild than your lot?” The Lump shook his head. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

  “Oh, it is, big fellow,” said One-Eye. “We’ll have to fight them before they’ll join up, but we’ll whip them good and they’ll get in line.”

  “I don’t have time or resources for any extra battles now,” said Meena. “With three clans at our side, and some extra help I plan to call on, we should be able to secure my parents release.”

  One-Eye frowned. “There won’t be three clans at your side.”

  Meena’s face wrinkled in confusion. “You said you and the others would join us.”

  “That we will,” said One-Eye. “But, we’ll only be one clan. We’ll be Dragonblinders.”

  20: Gathering

  The Long-Ears joined Meena’s cause straight away, just as One-Eye predicted.

  Upon meeting the clan, the Lump was surprised their ears didn’t look to be longer than anyone else’s. The size of their ears varied just like any other group of people, one person’s lobes might hang a little lower than the next, and one poor chap looked kind of like his head was trying desperately to sprout wings, but it wouldn’t be fair to call any of the ears long. He briefly considered asking why they were called Long-Ears in the first place, but decided there was a slight chance knowing the answer may be worse than his current state of blissful ignorance. Thus he did one of the few things he was actually pretty good at, he kept his mouth shut.

  The Long-Ear clan wore the same patchwork garb as the Itchy-Legs, and to the outsider it was impossible to tell to which clan each of the wild folk belonged. Somehow, the Hill-Folk didn’t seem to have any trouble determining who was who. As far as the Lump was concerned, clan affiliations didn’t matter anyway - so long as these people weren’t trying to choke him the way Six-Toe once did.

  When the group of nearly thirty Dragonblinders, most of whom were Itchy-Legs less than a day ago, came upon the Long-Ears’ hill, One-Eye handled the negotiations. He spoke with the other clan’s chief, a man called Wooly.

  Wooly’s name was an apt one. The man had entirely too much hair on his face, his beard crept up his cheeks until it nearly brushed his eyes. Hair crept down his neck in a similar fashion. Brown hair grew dense on the back of his hands, and little tufts popped up from the back of the neckline of his pieced-together, rawhide shirt. The Lump thought Wooly was lucky to be short in stature, because if he were a hand or so taller he would surely be mistaken for a bear.

  When One-Eye asked Wooly to join the cause, the hairy man simply nodded and complied.

  The group approached the Blue-Feet differently. After a half-day’s march across the rugged terrain, they gathered at the base of the clan’s hill and discussed how best to make their proposition. Apparently, a different type of tact would be required for this lot.

  One-Eye stroked his gray beard and looked at Meena. “When we go up there, can you do some of your magic?” He waved his free hand in a circle. “Try and make a big fuss about it?”

  Meena’s jaws tightened. “I don’t have any magic.”

  One-Eye took his hand off his beard and grinned. “Sure you do! I saw you conjure up those nice, fat groundhogs when we was fighting the dragon.” He pointed to his face. “I still had both eyes then, I know what I saw. Them groundhogs tore into those dragon lovers!”

  Meena sighed and shook her head. “That wasn’t magic, I didn’t conjure them.” The corners of her mouth dropped into a slight frown. “I just have a connection.” She drew a deep breath through her nose. “I can feel what the animals are feeling, and they do the same with me.”

  One-Eye’s grin grew into a wide smile, showing his butter-colored teeth. “Sounds close enough to magic for me!” He squinted his milky eye. “Any chance you could use your connection to call up some right fierce critters to pile around the Blue-Feet?”

  Meena drew down her brows. “Are you asking me to intimidate them?” Her head tilted. “If they join our cause against their will, we can scarcely rely on them in battle.” She was quick to add, “Should it come to that.”

  One-Eye gave his head a quick shake. “No, no, I’m not wanting to do that at all.” He held his hands wide. “The strength of the chief is strength of the clan! If folk see a strong chief they know it’s a strong clan, and being a part of that clan makes them strong.”

  Meena arched an eyebrow. “It sounds a lot like a way
for chiefs to justify ruling through fear and intimidation.”

  One-Eye’s face screwed up in confusion. “Chief’s doing what now?” He let his face relax slightly. “How do you think a chief is made? We ain’t kings! Nobody is born a chief, they get picked.”

  Meena furrowed her brow. “And who, exactly, picks them?”

  One-Eye answered, “The folk in the clan do.” His forehead wrinkled. “Who else would it even be?”

  “All of the folk in the clan?” asked Meena. “Men and women alike?”

  One-Eye nodded. “That’s the way of it. Anybody old enough to have hair under their arms gets a say.” He held his hands up by his shoulders. “They all make their pick, and whoever gets picked the most is the chief.”

  Flynn asked, “Is it someone’s job to check all the armpits for hair?” He grimaced. “I think no one would be eager for that vocation.”

  One-Eye chuckled. “There’s nothing to check. When there’s a choosing, folk just walk up to the fire, lift up their arm, and say their pick.”

  Meena drummed her fingers against her staff. “Once a chief is picked, how long is he chief?”

  “Until the clan chooses another one,” answered One-Eye.

  Meena leaned against her staff. “How often are these choosings you speak of?”

  One-Eye shrugged. “If anybody wants to challenge for chief, we have a choosing. We don’t do them in Winter unless a chief dies, but other than that we can do it when we want.” He held up a finger. “That is, as long as the chief’s had at least a year to show what he can do.”

  “That’s…” Meena brought a finger to her chin. “That’s actually a very good way to choose a chief.” She let her hand fall to her side. “It’s not unlike life in the Common Lands… well, save for the armpits.” Her expression softened. “Your method seems much better than how governance works in the kingdoms.”

  One-Eye raised a bushy, gray eyebrow. “Of course the Hill-Folk do things better than those kings do.” He poked himself in the chest with a thumb. “That’s why the kings always hate us, try to kill us or lock us up.” His thumb dropped from his chest. “But they ain’t ever been good enough to catch us all.”

  The Lump curled his lips into a devious smile. “And now we’re going to the castle to put old Ferte back on the throne.”

  One-Eye shoot the Lump a sneer, made all the more unsettling by his cloudy eye. “We ain’t doing nothing for no king, we’re going to get back the chief’s people.” He turned his attention to Meena. “That’s why we need to impress those Blue-Feet, try and get them on our side quick like, so we can get to it.” The gray-bearded man pointed. “You go in there and show them what you can do and they’ll want to be Dragonblinders.” His hands went to his hips. “They’ll want to hold their heads high and say they’re part of the best clan. You impress them, and if their chief don’t go along with us, they’ll have a choosing and pick a new one who will.” A quick grunt escaped the former chief. “They ain’t as quick to figure things out as I am, but let them know who you are, and they’d likely choose you.”

  Meena nodded slowly. “I think I understand your meaning.”

  One-Eye’s face lit up with a smile. “So, you think you can use your magic on them?”

  Meena’s mouth became a hard line. “It’s not magic, but I do believe I have a plan.” She waved her staff toward the Hill-Folk gathered about. “Please pass word to the others, no matter what happens they shouldn’t be frightened.” She rested her staff on the ground and leaned against it. “All will be well.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it will,” said One-Eye. “Now, lets give them a shout so they know we’re coming.”

  Runners went up the hill ahead of the host that trudged behind them, a measure to announce the Dragonblinders’ impending arrival. Neither Meena nor One-Eye wanted their presence to be mistaken for an ambush. During the conference at the hill’s base, the group decided One-Eye and Wooly should handle introductions and invitations. Meena would answer any questions about the purpose of the gathering.

  The Blue-Feet stood together en masse to meet the large band of Dragonblinders atop the hill. Their chief, a black haired man One-Eye called Grumpet, stood at the fore of the gathered clan.

  Grumpet’s dark hair was slicked back against his scalp with oil. He sported a smaller, better-trimmed beard than most Hill-Folk and stood on bare feet. In fact, no member of this clan wore boots. Their feet were heavily stained with soil, though they looked more gray than blue, so far as the Lump could tell.

  The Blue-Feet chief stood scowl-faced in front of a semicircular gathering of at least a score of people armed with cudgels. He asked, “What kind of trick have you Itchy-Legs pulled?”

  “It ain’t no trick,” answered One-Eye, “and we ain’t Itchy-Legs.”

  Grumpet grunted. “The who are you and why are you on Blue-Foot Hill?”

  One-Eye cocked his head to one side. “We’re Dragonblinders and we’re here to let you folk join up.” He glanced at Meena, then back to Grumpet. “You can join of your own free will and help our chief.”

  Grumpet narrowed his eyes and looked at Wooly. “Is this true, Wooly? You joined up on account of you wanted to?”

  Wooly nodded. “It was the only thing to do, it’s time for the clans to bind together.”

  “What about the Wolfpaws? And the Moon-Watchers?” asked Grumpet. “Where are they?”

  One-Eye shook his head. “We ain’t had time to fool with them yet, but their chance will come.”

  “So…” Grumpet flared his nostrils and groaned. “You think the clans ought to bind together?” He looked over his shoulder at the barefooted people behind him. “Tell me, folks, do you think there ought not be Blue-Feet? We should all be…” He looked back to One-Eye. “What did you call this foolish clan of yours again?”

  One-Eye stood up straight and thrust out his chest. “We’s the Dragonblinders.” He paused long enough to put a sinister grin on his face. “But it ain’t my clan, it’s the double-eyed lady’s.” His hand flew out and poked a finger in Meena’s direction.

  Meena pulled her cloak’s hood down from her head and the gathered Blue-Feet let out a collective gasp.

  One-Eye shuffled closer to Meena and whispered, “If you was planning to do something, now’s the time to do it.”

  Meena raised her staff into the air and moved it in several, small circles. At once, the air came alive with the sound of beating wings. Out from the surrounding trees flew an assortment of all manner of birds. Hawks, falcons, and ugly buzzards cast shadows as they stretched their wings. Owls appeared and joined in the unusual flock, a particularly strange sight as they preferred to hunt at night. The last out of the trees was a cluster of pitch-black ravens, cawing loudly. They all circled together in the air like a feathered cyclone that came lower with every pass. One at a time, each of the birds picked a person’s shoulder and perched on it.

  A big, ugly buzzard perched on the Lump’s shoulder and elicited a wince from the big man. A sparrow hawk with light brown feathers that almost looked gold in color landed on Flynn, while a noble red-hawk came to rest atop Meena’s staff.

  One-Eye ran his hand over the black feathers of the raven on his shoulder. “So, what’s it going to be? Do you all want to walk with the Dragonblinders or not?”

  21: Weaponer

  The now very large group traveled cross-country, over the hills in the all but forgotten region of Gallis the Hill-Folk called home. The long column, numbering more than eighty, rumbled across the land like a slow moving herd of oxen. They created quite a stir, flushing animals from the underbrush and

  beating a path through the scrubby undergrowth as they trod along. Once in the vicinity of Itchy-Leg Hill, they found the path that led to the road, which in turn, led to Galliston.

  The rambling host of Hill-Folk filed onto the path and followed Meena. Alongside her walked the three former clan chiefs, Flynn, and the Lump, and all marched forward with quiet determination. After a quarter days trav
el, the Lump saw the form of two people and a large cart standing in the path, off in the distance.

  The Lump nudged Meena with his elbow. “Do you see those people down there?”

  Meena held up a hand and the collection of people behind her stopped. She raised a hand to her mouth and shouted, “We see you there!” After a pause to draw in a deep breath, she shouted again. “You should clear the path, we intend to pass!”

  “Sure enough,” called back the voice of one of the distant figures. It was an older man’s voice that carried a hint of familiarity. “You wouldn’t happen to have the Dragonblinder with you, by chance?”

  Meena’s face wrinkled in a surprised expression that suggested she hadn’t quite expected that particular reply.

  One-Eye shook a fist in the air. “We’re all Dragonblinders now!” His voice was equal parts pride and annoyance.

  “That’s good to know, I suppose,” called back the distant figure. “But I’m looking for the big, surly fellow with the tiny sword!”

  Meena squinted her eyes to better see the man. She asked, “I know you, don’t I?” Without hesitation, she trotted forward.

  One-Eye and Flynn quickly took off and ran along beside Meena.

  “You’re looking for the Lump.” Meena didn’t break stride as she spoke. “What business do you have with him?”

  At the mention of his name, the Lump galloped to catch up with Meena.

  The man’s voice boomed down the path. “If he’s setting out to do what I think he is, I aim to help.”

  The Lump shouted, “Well I’m right here, and I ain’t in the habit of turning away help!”

  As she drew closer to the distant men, Meena had a glint of recognition. “Kinnad, is that you?” she asked.

  The previously silent member of the duo said, “Last time I checked, that was me, m’lady.”

  The Lump saw the pair better now. Kinnad stood with a length of rope draped over his shoulder and hitched to a wooden cart. A canvas tarp covered cart, concealing its cargo. The smith’s apprentice must have been the beast of burden on this trip rather than a goat or mule. The man next to Kinnad was the smith, the same one who had built and launched the ship that carried the Lump and his companions to the Darklands.