by Bruce Leslie
“Of what sort of information do you speak?” asked Flynn.
“Stories of witches, gifted with magic from the Darklands.” The crone crossed her bony arms. “Men around here deny they are true.” She groaned and spat on the stable floor. “Never has one been known in my life. According to the tome, the last were burned long before the Great War.” She flashed a wry smile. “Of course, the tome didn’t know about Meena.”
The men’s eyes opened wide at the crone’s shocking words.
The crone shuffled over to one side of the stable and sat on a stool. “I say there would have been no war if there was a witch around.”
“Why do you say that?” the Lump asked.
“Because a witch wouldn’t allow such foolishness!” The crone looked up at the men from her seat. “Meena is a woods witch, she communes with beasts of fur and feather.”
“That would explain the things I’ve seen in her company,” said Flynn.
The Lump asked, “Is there more than one kind of witch?”
“There used to be,” answered the crone. “Water witches have power over fish and creatures of the sea. The most impressive were the dragon witches, they controlled scaled creatures of the land and sky.” She let out a long sigh. “How I wanted to be a dragon witch, all my life I tried.” She held her withered hands wide. “But look at my years. I accepted that it would never happen.” She pointed at the Lump. “I even let you clean out my snake nest.”
The Lump narrowed his eyes. “You mean those chip-flipping snakes were there on purpose?”
The crone let out a slight laugh. “Then you brought the girl to me. She survived the trial by water.” She crossed her arms across her knees. “I gave her my staff, it’s made of ash. The wood helps channel her gift.” She smiled and showed her few remaining teeth. “There is hope for the future in her.”
The Lump shook his head. “Meena’s something special, but she’s not some awful witch.”
The crone nodded. “Yes, she is special. There is nothing awful about being a witch, it is a beautiful thing.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard,” said the Lump.
“I wouldn’t trade a rotten apple for what you’ve heard,” said the crone. “You’ve only heard what Solsons have to say. Those Solsons are so jealous that women once held true power.” Her narrow nostrils flared. “They deny a woman a chance to hold a place in their order now.”
Flynn asked, “Why would you think Gallisians know any more about witches than we do?”
“The Gallisians may know more of the old wisdom than Aards.” The crone’s lips twisted into an angry sneer. “Perhaps they don’t keep their knowledge locked away from people like Solsons do.” She scratched her chin. “I think they may have surmised that Meena is a witch, but they must think she’s a dragon witch. They likely think she has control over the putrid thing.”
The Lump said, “She sure didn’t seem to have any hold over the ruddy-striped beast when we fought!”
“Of course she didn’t!” The crone scowled at the Lump. “I already told you, she’s a woods witch.” She waved a dismissive hand. “A king has good reason to fear a witch. His power is only make-believe, but the power of a witch is real. Unlike a king, a witch wants what’s best for folk.”
The Lump frowned. “You’re talking awfully big there, I just want to help Meena stay safe. I mostly wanted to ask if she can stay at the inn if we bring her here.”
The crone swatted her hand through the air again. “She can have my wretched inn if she wants it!”
A loud pounding came at the door. A man’s voice shouted, “Open up at once!”
The crone shouted at the door, “Open it yourself! It’s not barred!”
The stable door swung open. A blue-robed Solson walked through the door. A golden amulet fashioned to look like the sun hung around his neck. This man was familiar to the Lump. His name was Costello, and he was the Abbot of the Western Abbey.
The Abbot did not come alone. Four men-at-arms were with him, brandishing long, wooden poles with broad, hooked silver blades affixed atop them.
The crone rose from her stool and walked to meet the Abbot. “And what business do you have here?”
Th Abbot smirked. “Solsons in the Needles tell me they have seen you travel the Peddler’s Pass many times.” He cocked his head to one side. “They have also given me reason to believe you may have knowledge of something that was stolen from the abbey.”
The crone squinted one eye. “And what would that be?”
The Abbot cast an accusatory glance at the Lump and Flynn. “I believe your associates know of what I speak, all too well.” He turned his gaze back to the crone. “A tome of no value to anyone but the order. His Radiance wishes for its return… by force if necessary.”
“Why isn’t His Radiance here to ask for it?” The crone squinted one eye and pointed a crooked finger at the Abbot. “Is he afraid his pretty dress might get dirty?”
The Abbot’s expression hardened. “I will not tolerate your blasphemy! Now tell me, where is the tome?” He narrowed his eyes and glared at the crone. “Or, would you prefer I burn your inn to the ground?”
“You dimwit!” shouted the crone. “If I had the tome here, and you burned the inn, what would happen to your precious book?”
The Abbot’s eyes opened wide. His appearance suggested he was not accustomed to being addressed in this manner. “Well, I assumed you don’t want me to burn it…” He looked at the floor, then jerked his face back up. “Wait, are you telling me it’s here?”
“Fools!” The crone shook her head. “I’m surrounded by fools, I tell you!” She pointed at the Abbot again. “Of course I’m telling you it’s here. All you had to do was ask, you didn’t need to barge in here with your men waving those ridiculous spears around.”
Flynn said, “They’re glaives, actually.”
The crone snarled at Flynn. “Don’t interrupt when elders are talking, pretty boy!”
“Where is the tome?” asked the Abbot.
“First, you threaten to burn down my inn, then you ask nicely?” The crone raised her hands shoulder high. “I shouldn’t expect any better from a nincompoop who spends his days so close to the wretched water.”
The Abbot spoke in a terse tone, “Enough, now give me the book.”
“Which one?” the crone asked with a grin.
“The one your bandits stole from the Western Abbey!” The Abbot pointed at the Lump and Flynn, indicating they were the bandits to whom he referred.
“You have to be more specific.” The crone laughed. “I’ve been stealing books longer than you’ve been alive.”
“I am tiring of your game. You know very well the book I speak of, The Collected Knowledge Of The Darklands.”
“Oh, that dusty old volume.” The crone crossed her arms. “It’s a very boring thing, you know.”
“Delay no longer!” The Abbot looked over his shoulder at the men-at-arms, then back to the crone. “I should hate to have my men cut you down, it could take us days to search the place.”
“Forget your threats!” The crone narrowed her eyes. “I care more about the weather in the Darklands than I do about you cutting me down.” She pointed at a large cabinet above one of the stalls. “Your book is up there.” She swung her hand toward the Lump. “Let the fat man fetch my stool and hold it for me to climb up.”
The Abbot met the crone’s gaze with his own narrow eyes. “I’ll let my men do that.” He nodded at the two men-at-arms standing on his right.
The two men marched over to the cabinet. One of them reached up and opened its square, wooden door.
A massive knot of tangled black snakes slid out of the cabinet and onto the men-at-arms below. They screamed in horror as their arms flailed about. This hissing tubes squeezed at their heads and shoulders.
The crone whipped open a stall door and grabbed a large wicker basket. She slung it toward the Abbot and sent another ball of writhing black snakes flying at him, as well as
the two men-at-arms remaining by his side.
The Abbot screamed and fled to the far side of the stable with black cords of serpent wrapped around him.
The crone shouted, “Come, now!” She ran out the door.
The Lump and Flynn galloped out on her heels, more eager to flee the snakes than the men-at-arms.
Outside the stable, the crone slammed the door and dropped a thick, wooden bar across it. “It’ll take them a good many minutes to collect their wits and get out of there.” She turned away from the door. “Take me to Meena.”
“Sure thing!” The Lump wrapped a big arm around the crone’s waist and hoisted her on his shoulder.
The crone screamed, “What are you doing, oaf?”
“I’m going to carry you, we can move faster that way.” The Lump started away from the stable.
Flynn asked, “Should I go fetch the goats?”
The Lump shook his head. “No, we need to hurry into the forest.” He leaned his head back, toward the crone. “I’m sure you know how to sneak into the Needles unseen.”
“Yes!” The crone swatted the Lump’s rear while she dangled over his shoulder. “Just hurry, and try not to break me in half!”
9: Brief Reunion
The crone indeed knew the hidden paths through the forest. She led the two men to the rocky terrain that demarcated the Needles’ entrance. Her chosen route allowed them to travel without encountering any unwanted attention. The passage into the land of the limestone slabs was steep and narrow, but free of other travelers. Now in the Common Lands, the party felt it was time to rest and collect themselves.
“Which way do we go to find Meena?” the Lump asked.
Flynn surveyed his surroundings. “I will have to put out a call, she won’t be where I last saw her.”
The Lump furrowed his brow. “Why not?”
“Think about it, melon-head!” The crone pointed a crooked finger at the Lump. “If she was found, it would be a disaster.”
“I understand.” The Lump’s forehead remained wrinkled as he looked at Flynn. “How do you put out a call?”
“I use the bird code,” Flynn answered.
“You say that like I should know what it means.” The Lump looked up at the stony slabs towering overhead. “Well, get to it. We ought to keep moving before something pokes its head around one of these big rocks.”
Flynn cupped his hands over his mouth and blew through them. It made a low, hollow whistle.
Something whistled back, and the Lump felt certain that it was an actual bird.
Flynn nodded his head to the north. “We go this way.” He walked into the rocky labyrinth and the others followed. He led the group north and to the East. He stopped several times to repeat his call and adjusted course to follow the sound of the response. After a couple of hours, he stopped and inspected the ground.
“What are you doing now?” asked the Lump.
“The calls have stopped,” Flynn answered. “That means we have nearly reached out destination.” He continued to scan the ground with his eyes. “I just have to find the mark.”
“What is the mark?” the Lump asked.
The crone sneered at the big man. “You know Meena, don’t you? What do you think the mark will be?”
The Lump took off his leather cap and rubbed his head. “I don’t know… I think she likes sour apples with little worms in them.” He put his cap back on his head.
The crone groaned and shook her head.
“There it is! We’ve found her.” Flynn pointed at the ground, in front of a narrow cleft in the stone.
The Lump looked where Flynn pointed. A cluster of blue flowers lay on the ground tied up in a small bundle. “Oh, the aster flowers, that makes sense!”
“Go ahead, Lump.” Flynn gestured toward the opening. “Meena will be eager to see you.”
“I’m happy to see her as well.” The Lump stooped and squeezed through the opening. When he rose up, he was face to face with an enormous white bear. Its black eyes stared directly into his own.
He jumped back and shouted, “Sweet greasy cheeses!” He turned to run when he heard a soft voice.
“Don’t be frightened of Snowy.”
The Lump recognized that voice. It was Meena’s voice.
Flynn enjoyed a long laugh at the Lump’s expense while the crone rolled her eyes.
The Lump turned around with extreme caution. He asked, “Meena, are you sure your bear don’t want to eat me?”
“No, she doesn’t,” Meena answered. “Please come in, I’m happy you’re here.”
The Lump tip-toed around the massive white bear. He saw Meena. There was no mistaking who she was, with her mismatched eyes. The right one was bright blue and the left deep green. Her red hair was tied in her ever present thick braid and pulled forward over one shoulder. She still wore the same old, green cloak he knew. He half expected her to be clad in some manner of regal robes to denote her new role as leader of the Common Folk.
Meena was not alone in the cave. In addition to the bear, there were three people with her. The Lump recognized two of them as her parents, Johanna and Arik, but the third was a man with an unfamiliar face.
The Lump asked, “Why do you have a bear in here?”
“Snowy is my friend, and personal guard,” answered Meena. “She reminds me of you, though she is smarter…” Her nose wrinkled as she got a whiff of the odor the Lump brought with him. “She smells a good bit better too.”
“Sorry about that.” The Lump shrugged. “We rode from Pog’s Landing in a dung cart.”
Flynn was quick to add, “We will wash as soon as we get a chance, I prefer you endure our stench no longer than necessary.”
Meena’s eyes narrowed with curiosity. “Where did you get a dung cart?”
The Lump smiled. “We bought it from a dung-merchant.”
Meena tilted her head. “Why would anyone sell dung?”
“That’s what is asked!” said Flynn.
The Lump shook his head. “It don’t matter.”
“You can burn it!” The crone still had a sneer on her face.
The Lump looked over at the crone. “I am starting to think everything is smoke with you.”
The crone swatted a hand at the big man. “It also helps crops grow!”
The Lump turned his attention back to Meena. “I’m here to help with this chip-flipping mess, I’ll fix all this up at once.”
Meena smiled. “I’m glad you arrived so quickly, I take it Flynn didn’t have to goad you very much.”
“Not at all,” said the Lump. “I’m happy to help.”
“Very well.” Meena nodded. “I have a stockpile of Dragon’s Bane, it’s much easier to gather with the aid of sparrows. I have been keeping it on hand in case of the dragon’s return.”
“Wyrm,” Flynn corrected.
Meena lowered her eyebrows and shot Flynn an annoyed glare.
Flynn frowned and looked at the ground. “Please, carry on.”
Meena’s expression softened, and she looked at the Lump. “The dragon is still your responsibility, now more than ever.”
Flynn raised his head and grinned. “He calls himself Dragonblinder now.”
“Dragonblinder?” Meena furrowed her brow. “I don’t like that name.”
The Lump held his hands up by his shoulders. “That’s kind of the point.”
Meena shook her head. “The Gallisians are misguided. They are frightened, as the Common Folk were, but what they are doing must stop.” She ran the back of her hand across her forehead. “I am keeping the people safe, inasmuch as I can. I hope they should tire of this folly soon and leave.”
“I’ll get them to leave,” said the Lump.
“I hope we will.” Meena crossed her arms, she still wore her gold handled dagger beneath her cloak. “We are fewer than they, but we will mount a defense if we must. If that happens, many will perish.”
The Lump held his hands wide. “I told you, I’ll speak with them and fix this up.
”
“Yes,” said Meena. “Now that you are here, we will speak with them. I will offer our help, and our Dragon’s Bane if they agree to leave us be.”
Flynn’s eyes grew wide. “They want to capture you! You can’t go speak with them!”
Meena’s eyes grew narrow again, her arms still crossed. “You should know that I don’t shy away from my responsibilities, and I’m not so easy to capture. It is I who rescued you in the Western Woods, remember?”
The Lump nodded and answered on Flynn’s behalf. “Oh, we remember alright!”
Meena turned her gaze to the Lump. “We are a team. The three of us started this, we should complete it together.”
“Just let me go, who knows what they’ll do if you show up.” The Lump brought a hand to his chin and tilted his head. “I can talk to them, explain it was me that sent the dragon their way. I’ll tell ‘em about the flowers and pledge our help. Once they withdraw, the three of us can start hunting Old Red-Line together, just like before.”
Flynn nodded with a solemn expression on his face. “He makes a valid point, Meena. If the three of us go, violence may be their first response. We may never get a chance to speak.”
The Lump added, “And if I get in a pickle, you’ll be able to save me again, Meena.”
Meena pointed a small but stern finger at the Lump. “I am not a coward who will hide behind you.”
“I know that!” The Lump clasped his hands together in front of his chest. “But truly, I think it would be safer for me if you stay here. Would you do that for me?”
Meena turned her head aside to consider the request. After a silent moment, she looked back to the Lump. “You risked much to help me last Autumn, I can do this much for you.” She arched an eyebrow. “But, you will not go alone.”
The Lump flashed a nervous smile. “I hope you’re not planning to send that bear with me.”
“No.” Meena shook her head. “I fear they would feel threatened by Snowy. I will send someone to let me know at once if there is any treachery on the part of the Gallisians.” She put a finger on her chin and thought for a moment. “The crone will go with you. There is no other I trust more, no one wiser in dealing with difficulties.”