Dragon In The Darklands

by Bruce Leslie

  The Lump called out to his fighters. “It’s over! We’re surrounded!” His arms hung by his sides like limp, withered vines on a tree. “We had them outnumbered a hundred to sixty, and they surrounded us.” He looked up at the sky with hopeless eyes and asked, “How can an army with fewer numbers surround the one with more?”

  Halberd spikes pointed at the encircled Hill-Folk. A shout commanded all the footmen to step forward at once and tighten the circle. Another shout rang out and it tightened again.

  The Lump put a big hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’ve doomed us all.”

  Wooly barked at the Hill-Folk. “If it’s the end, let’s go down hacking at ‘em!”

  The Lump uncovered his eyes and raised his small sword for one final go at the footmen.

  A scream rose up from the Gallisian formation, followed by a dozen more. The Lump opened his eyes wide in disbelief as a hole opened up in the footmen’s circle of doom. Something rumbled through it.

  It was Meena, atop a familiar, white bear.

  The Lump’s despairing face quickly shifted into a wide, toothy grin. He pointed his sword and said, “Look at that! She found Snowy!”

  A mere dozen refugees followed Meena, but the determined crew all lowered long pikes that further opened the gap in the footmen’s formation.

  Gallisians scrambled, trying to fill the newly opened gap in their line. A half-dozen skunks scampered out of the scrubby brush and raised their tails to spray noxious fluids. The foul spray covered the footmen and the formation remained broken.

  The Lump’s grin switched from joyous to maniacal. “Fellows, get in that hole and roll them up like a mud-kissing rug!”

  The freckle-faced man furrowed his brow. “But I ain’t never had a rug.”

  The Lump laughed, not allowing the comment to dampen his newfound enthusiasm. “Then tell me, how do you pick berries?”

  “Why, I pick ‘em one at a time,” answered the freckle-faced man.

  The Lump pointed his sword. “Then get in there and pick ‘em off like berries!”

  The Hill-Folk shouted out their endorsement of the oversized commander’s orders and commenced to collecting the soon to be defeated Gallisians.

  26: Pressing On

  The newly formed Dragonblinder army already had two victories, though one was a great deal more harrowing than the other. Despite their recent successes, they still failed to find either Baron Eugene or Meena’s parents.

  After securing the footmen defeated in their recent engagement, a combination of searching and interrogation suggested these sixty soldiers were indeed all to be found currently in the Common Lands. Also, to the best anyone could determine, none had slipped away to warn the Baron of the Dragonblinders’ intentions.

  Meena stood before the man who identified himself as the over-commander of the footmen. The prisoner’s arms and legs were bound and he sat upon the ground surrounded by his captors. Wooly proudly brandished one of the seized halberds at the bound man. Flynn and the Lump stood behind Meena, curiously watching her question the prisoner.

  The over-commander wore a stony expression accented with cold, dark eyes. Cords of rope wound around his torso, wrists, ankles and knees making him look not unlike a large worm. One of the Hill-Folk claimed his mail, and left him wearing only his quilted tunic and breeches. His dark hair was unkempt and he sported a bruise under one eye.

  Meena Sighed and looked down at the man. “Tell me your orders and plans, and anything else that may be of use to me.”

  The bound man said, “We are the Lord Baron’s rear guard, that’s all I’ll tell you.” He shook his head. “Not another bit, and I’ll personally execute any of my men who speak to you!”

  Meena opened her eyes wide in mock surprise. “My, you are in quite the situation to be performing executions.” She tilted her head and gripped her staff firmly in her left hand. “It looks to me like your hands are bound and you’re staring at the spike of one of your own halberds.”

  The over-commander sneered up at Meena. “Don’t mistake for a moment that the present situation will endure, witch.” He spat on the ground.

  Wooly thrust the halberd’s spike closer to the bound man’s face. “You’ll be watching that tongue of yours, or else I’ll be getting this pretty axe dirty!”

  Flynn said, “It’s a halberd, Wooly. An axe has neither a spike nor hook.”

  Wooly grunted. “Don’t matter none what you call it, It’ll teach him better than to call our chief a witch, just the same.”

  Meena waved dismissively. “Give it no mind, Wooly.” Her arm fell to her side. “Calling names is something weak people do, fearful people.” She brought a hand to her chest. “If I let such empty, petty words get to me Snowy would sense it.” She glanced at the large, white bear. “And I feel certain she would be much rougher with our prisoner than would you.”

  The Lump let out a short laugh. “The bear’s bigger, but Wooly’s got more fur.”

  Wooly turned his head and gave the Lump a dose of what the Hill-Folk called stink eye. When the Lump had first heard the term, it confused him. For the life of him, the big man could not understand how a person could make his eye stink. Then, he saw it for the first time, delivered expertly by a woman whom he had interrupted during a conversation with Meena. As the woman unleashed the wrinkled, one-eyed stare at him, all made sense. Though technically he couldn’t smell the eye, it was perfectly correct to say it stunk.

  Wooly broke his gaze from the Lump and nodded at Meena. “Whatever you say, chief.”

  Meena rested a hand on her hip and looked down at the prisoner. “So, if I may ask, what makes you expect your present situation to change?”

  The over-commander smirked. “You’re a sorry lot.” He rolled his eyes. “I only had sixty men and nearly beat you in the field.” The arrogant tone in his voice seemed inappropriate for a man in his position, though not entirely unexpected.

  “Is that so?” Meena brought a finger to her chin. “The last I checked, nearly winning a battle is just a proud man’s way of saying he lost.” Her hand fell from her face and she smiled. “If your present situation makes anything at all clear, it’s that you, sir, are a loser.”

  The over-commander bared his teeth. “Not so long as I draw breath!” He narrowed his eyes. “When the Lord Baron returns with ten times our number, your witchery won’t save you.”

  Meena leaned against her staff, relaxing her posture. “See there? That wasn’t so hard.”

  “What?” The over-commander wrinkled his face in confusion. “What wasn’t so hard?” The arrogance disappeared from his voice.

  “Giving me information,” answered Meena. “You just told me I should expect Eugene to have a host of six-hundred footmen.”

  The over-commander gave his head a violent shake. “I didn’t give you anything, you tricked me!”

  “I did not!” Meena stood straight and returned a hand to her hip. “Your own failing led you to boast, and you tricked yourself.” She flashed a wry grin. “I wish I could claim credit for being very clever, but the unfortunate truth is simply that you are very dull.” She asked, “Now, would you like to give me any more information about Eugene?”

  The over-commander’s face grew red with rage. “You will call him by his title, Lord Baron!” His left nostril flared wide. “He’s higher than even a king.”

  Meena bent down and leaned in close to the bound man. “Gallis has no King now, and the man you so foolishly follow has no title. He is simply, Eugene.”

  “So, you fancy yourself a queen now?” The over-commander’s smirk and arrogant tone returned. “That won’t abide, you’ll be tossed off your throne within a month.”

  Meena stood up straight. “I make no claim to the throne.” She adjusted her dark-green cloak. “Gallis is governed by its rightful ruler now, one who will not be easily usurped.”

  “Is that so?” asked the over-commander. “And who is this mighty ruler?”

  “The very people of Gallis its
elf.” Meena now wore a smirk on her face. “If anyone wants the throne, it is her you will have to unseat.”

  The over-commander’s face twisted into an expression of disgust. “That’s absurdity, a land can’t be run like that.”

  Meena pointed her staff at the man. “It can, and currently, it is.” She rested her staff back at her side and leaned against it. “I simply must put an end to Eugene to secure her safety.”

  Red returned to the over-commander’s face. He shouted, “I say I put an end to you, witch!” He tugged against his bonds. “Unbind me and face me in a duel!” His eyes flitted around the clearing. “We can stop this foolishness today, all you have to do is choose a champion for me to cut down.” He rested his gaze on the Lump. “I’d like to cut apart the fat fellow, personally.”

  Wooly growled and looked at Meena. “Untie him, I’ll fight him for you, chief.” He looked at the prisoner. “I’d like to be the one to thump the ugly off his face, that it’d be a tall labor.”

  Meena shook her head. “That’s not necessary.” She stepped closer to the bound man. “If he should duel anyone, it would be me.” She looked down at the prisoner and asked, “With what weapon would we fight?”

  The over-commander wrinkled his forehead. “I’m challenging you, so you’d choose the weapon.” He shook his head again. “It wouldn’t matter none, I could handle you with any weapon.”

  Meena glanced over at Snowy, then back at the prisoner. “And if I choose bears? How about that?” She swept her arm in a wide arc. “We could duel to the death with bears, right here and right now.” She rested her hand on her hip. “Or, if you prefer, we could do it at dawn for dramatic effect.”

  The over-commander pulled back his lips to show his teeth. “You can’t duel with bears!”

  Meena furrowed her brow. “And why not?”

  The over-commander narrowed is eyes and huffed. “Because bears aren’t a weapon.”

  Meena gripped her staff in both hands and held it across her body. “I think a bear is the very weapon that defeated you in your recent battle.”

  The over-commander shifted his weight uncomfortably in a gesture that suggested he was trying to put a little distance between himself and Meena’s staff. “One can’t wield a bear like a sword or halberd.”

  Meena arched an eyebrow. “I can.”

  The over-commander’s upper lip quivered. “It’s hardly fair to duel against witchcraft.”

  Meena nodded. “I agree.” She took a step back. “Given that, perhaps you should withdraw your challenge.”

  Wooly frowned. “You mean I don’t get to watch the bear eat him?”

  Meena held a hand up by her shoulder. “That’s entirely up to him.”

  The over-commander grunted and looked away.

  Meena swept a loose strand of red her behind her ear. “It seems as though we have little else to discuss at present. Wooly, you can take him away.”

  The stocky, hirsute man rested the halberd on his shoulder and grabbed the ropes wrapped around the over-commander’s chest. He grunted and dragged the prisoner off into the limestone slabs.

  Flynn stepped closer to Meena and asked, “What are we going to do with all these prisoners?”

  “Cells are being constructed,” answered Meena. “The Common Folk will attend to them. Most of them will be released in due time, they are only a threat so long as Eugene is free.”

  “And what of the refugees?” asked Flynn. “What of my archers? Will they continue on with us, or stay here?”

  Meena pulled her thick, red braid forward, over her shoulder. “They will have the choice to remain at home or continue on.” She drummed her fingers against her staff. “In fact, I will also ask all the Common Folk for volunteers. We need as many as possible for or excursion to rescue my parents and capture Eugene.”

  The Lump chuckled. “Do you think some of them will throw in with us?”

  Meena gave the big man a genuine smile. “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, that’s good.” The Lump rubbed his bearded chin. “I’d rather be killed by two honey-loving Gallisians than three.”

  Flynn wrinkled his nose. “Is that really preferable?”

  The Lump shrugged. “Maybe.” He cocked his head to one side. “You never know, maybe they’ll use three to kill me anyway.” He pointed a thick finger at Flynn. “That’ll mean they only get to use one to kill you.”

  Flynn grimaced. “I must say, that doesn’t sound any better to me.”

  The Lump slapped Flynn on the back. “Sure it does, you just have to look on the bright side.”

  Flynn drew his brows together. “And what is the bright side?”

  The Lump grinned at Flynn. “After all you’ve been through, I don’t think there’s a one of them that could whoop you.”

  Flynn raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I see.”

  Meena giggled at her friends. “This feels like old times.”

  The Lump held his hands wide. “Our old times weren’t very long ago.”

  “True,” said Meena, “but it feels like several lifetimes ago.”

  The Lump held up a finger. “Considering that we’re getting ready to march toward certain death, a lifetime ain’t so long for us as it is for other folks.”

  “Perhaps,” said Meena. “But, before we march, we will give our army time to rest, train and recruit.”

  “And maybe the three of us get to do the same?” asked the Lump.

  “No,” answered Meena. “We need to make a quiet, little trip.”

  The Lump removed his leather cap and ran a hand through his hair. “Is that right?”

  Flynn adjust the bow slung across his torso. “Where are we going?”

  Meena pulled her cloak’s hood over her head. “I thought we might want to visit an inn in Bleuderry.”

  27: Beverly

  The Lump, Meena, and Flynn shuffled around camp gathering a few items for their impending trip south. The Hill-Folk were getting some much-deserved rest and recreation while a handful of the Common Folk were both assessing and recruiting new new members for the Dragonblinder army.

  A figure in a dark cloak emerged from a path north of the camp.

  Startled, the Lump jerked his head toward the cloaked form. “Who in the name of a sour-breathed sister are you?”

  The cloaked figure said, “I was told I could find you here. I just wanted to apologize.” It was the voice of a young man, a familiar voice.

  Meena turned and said, “Samak? Is it really you?”

  “Yes, Dragon, it’s me,” answered Sam. “I wanted to apologize before you left.” He pulled the brown hood down from his head to reveal his face.

  “I have told you a hundred times to call me Meena.” Meena leaned her staff against a slab of stone and crossed her arms. “What could you possibly have to apologize for?”

  Sam lowered his face. “I promised to look after Johanna and Arik… and they were taken hostage by that Baron.”

  Meena sighed and stepped closer to Sam. “He sent footmen, didn’t he?”

  Sam lifted his face and nodded. “Yes, at least three dozen.”

  Meena shrugged, her arms still crossed. “So, there was nothing you could do.”

  “There was something, I just didn’t know what.” Sam frowned, obvious despair on his face. “If you were there, I know they wouldn’t have been taken.” He looked down at the ground. “I Failed you.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Meena’s mouth became a hard line. “There was nothing you could do against thirty or more footmen, you did the right thing to escape.”

  Sam looked at Meena with wide eyes. “I didn’t run away, Dragon - I mean, Meena.” He held his hands wide. “I tried to stand up to them.”

  Meena’s mouth fell open in surprise. “You could have been killed!”

  “I didn’t prove much of an obstacle.” Sam’s eyes went back to the ground. “I was overwhelmed at once, and held with a sword at my throat while they searched for your parents.” He looked at Meena and tilted hi
s head. “They held the smith’s apprentice in custody too, but they didn’t keep a blade to his neck.” He shook his head. “They made me feel so small, so helpless. Once they found your parents and left, I felt so ashamed I couldn’t stay and face you upon your return.” He let out a long sigh. “I left Kinnad in that wretched, ruined city all alone and returned here, to hide in the Needles.”

  Meena gave Sam a kind smile and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Well, I am glad you are alive. I’m also glad you found me.”

  Sam furrowed his brow. “You are?”

  Meena nodded. “Yes, you have been a loyal friend.” She removed her hand from his shoulder. “I have another duty for you, if you will accept it.”

  Sam nodded with enthusiasm. “Yes, Drag—” He brought the words to an abrupt stop, and started his answer again. “Yes, Meena, anything, I wish to make amends for failing my prior duties.”

  Meena walked over to her staff and reclaimed it. “No need to make amends, but I would like you to accompany us to Bleuderry.” She held her staff close to her side and leaned against it. “I could use someone to bring back a message when the time is right.”

  Sam poked a thumb into his chest. “I can do that.” His hand fell to his side. “This time, I won’t let you down, I swear it.”

  “Then it is settled,” said Meena. “We should be on our way.”

  The four of them walked south, toward the Peddler’s Pass that would take them to North Aardland and the road to Bleuderry. They encountered no one as they traveled the winding trail through the Needles, recent events had clearly frightened the usual traders from traveling.

  The Lump rubbed his beard. “You seem to have taken to being a chief since we got back, it’s a whole lot different than before we left.”

  Meena gave the Lump a sideways glance. “Are you still asserting that I’ve gone cold?”

  “No, not at all,” answered the Lump. “It’s different now. You’ve always been strong, and tough, and focused on getting a job done, but now you’re all those things… only bigger.” His chest bounced with a short chuckle. “You rearranged a whole mud-kissing kingdom, for Sol’s sake.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m more convinced than ever that you’re the honey-loving Sophia, after all.”