Dragon In Gallis: The Lump Adventures Book Two

by Bruce Leslie

  He said, “Look at the King’s foreign mercenaries, such a pathetic lot.”

  At least ten more torches appeared in the trees on both sides of the trail, doubtlessly accompanied by their own masked men in green. The torch-lights glowed and flickered like stars that had left the sky and taken up residence among the forest’s pines.

  Flynn slipped his bow off his body and grabbed an arrow. He nocked it carefully and held the weapon low.

  The torch-bearing man in green took a single step forward. “You seek to deprive us of our savior!” He held his masked face fixed on them, his eyes appeared to be only two black holes in the shadows cast by the torch.

  The Lump drew his undersized sword from its loop and held it low by his waist. “It’s the dragon cult!”

  “You are a clever one, aren’t you,” said the man in green. “But, we are no cult, we are acolytes of the coming order.”

  The Lump leaned in close to Flynn and said, “If we grab one of them, they can lead us to the dragon.”

  The mysterious man raised his torch high. “We demand you halt your search for the remaker of the world!” He held up his free hand and balled it into a fist. “If you continue your foolish quest, you will perish at our hands, or the great one’s claws!”

  Meena leaned against her staff and put a hand on her hip. “How do you know what business we are on?”

  “We know all that the Lunaris know,” the man answered. “There are more of us than you realize, and in more places than you would dare to believe.”

  The crone shuffled up to Meena’s side. “We aren’t afraid of some dragon-loving fool with a sack over his head!” She pointed a crooked finger at Snowy. “Also, in case you didn’t notice, we have a giant bear!”

  The man lowered his torch. “A bear is no match for the dragon and its Green Acolytes, you will learn that presently.” He raised the torch again and waved it.

  Stones flew out from the trees and pelted the party. They had no cover to shield them other than their extended hands. Panicked shouts rose up from the party as the scrambled about in fruitless attempts to evade the stones.

  The crone let out a particularly shrill cry.

  Flynn loosed an arrow toward one of the torches. A pained groan rang out from the trees as the torch fell.

  The bear raised up on its hind legs and roared. It came back down on all fours and rumbled up the path toward the masked man.

  The man shouted, “Burn the beast!”

  Torches flew at the bear from all directions. They streaked through the dark, night sky and made orange arcs plunging toward their target. Most of the flames landed in front of the bear, but two struck its white fur.

  The large white animal gave a fearful cry at the sight of the flames, then turned around and ran back to Meena. Smoke rose from the white fur on the bear’s side.

  Meena threw her cloak over the smoking fur on the bear’s flank. The cloak snuffed out the small flame that clung to the mighty beast. She ran her hand under its chin and the bear grew calm.

  The Lump shouted, “We need to grab one of them!” He tugged on Flynn’s blue tunic, then ran up the path.

  Flynn followed the Lump through the scattered flames on the path, smoke rose from the hedges at either side.

  The Lump stopped at the far side of the thrown torches and looked around. There was no one to be seen.

  “They’ve disappeared into the forest,” said Flynn. “Should we search for them?”

  The Lump grunted and shook his head. “We’ll never find them, dressed all in green in these pines, at night, no less.” He turned and walked back toward the rest of the group. “Let’s see if anyone is hurt.”

  Flynn walked beside the big man. He noticed one of the hedges had gone from smoking to full on flame. “Should we do something about the fire?”

  “Unless you have a couple of shovels and a barrel or two of water, there’s not much we can do.” He held his hands wide. “The fire won’t spread, Spring has made this forest green.”

  They reached the rest of the party and Flynn asked, “Is anyone harmed?”

  The crone had a hand on her forehead, a red line of blood ran beneath it onto her face. “One of those masked cowards hit me in the head with a stone!” She growled and wrinkled up her face. “If I ever see them again, I’m going to shove a snake up under the sack over one of their faces.”

  Meena removed her cloak from the bears fur and shook it. “Snowy was burned, but mostly fur. It frightened her more than it hurt.” She placed the green cloak back around her shoulders.

  Arik had his arm around Johanna’s shoulders. “We may have a few bruises, but we are fine.”

  “I reckon they weren’t aiming for me,” said Sam, “I wasn’t hit.”

  The Lump coughed at the smoke in the air. “We should be fine enough to travel.” He put his sword back in its loop and waved a hand to clear away smoke. “And we should get moving before this Sol-forsaken smoke chokes us all.” His eyes narrowed, and he looked at the crone. “Are you sure you didn’t give those mud-kissing dragon lovers a lesson in strategy?”

  The crone’s only reply was a sneer.

  Flynn placed his bow back across his body. “Are we still heading west?”

  Arik nodded. “Yes, we are going to an abandoned place where no one will disturb us.”

  “How far west is it?” asked Flynn.

  “All the way,” answered Arik. “It lies on the Wretched Water.”

  “It sounds awful.” The Lump frowned. “What’s it called?”

  Arik gave the Lump a slight smile. “We are going to the ruins of Molgadon.”

  Meena opened her mismatched eyes wide. “Isn’t that where…”

  “Yes, Meena,” said Arik. “Yes, it is.”

  16: Ruined City

  The party made their way to the westernmost reaches of Gallis. They traveled up the coast of the Wretched Water to find the long-abandoned city known as Molgadon.

  The Lump pulled the leather cap off his head. “I still don’t understand how there are two Molgadons.” He ran a big hand through his unruly mop of hair, then placed his cap back on.

  “It’s because of the Molga people.” Meena pulled the dark green hood of her cloak down from her head. “It’s all explained in the tome, I read it.”

  “What in the name of a sour-breathed sister are Molga people?” asked the Lump.

  Meena pulled her thick red braid forward, over her shoulder. “The Molga were a tribe of people that lived in the Darklands, very long ago.”

  “How could people live in the Darklands?” The Lump wrinkled his brow and shook his head. “I don’t see how they could do it, with all the monsters and whatnot.”

  “It must not have been pleasant,” said Meena. “They left, hoping to find a more hospitable land.”

  Flynn brushed his fair hair out of his eyes. “And how did they do that exactly?”

  “It started with one brave Molga woman,” answered Meena. “She built a raft and sailed across the Wretched Water.”

  The Lump frowned at Meena. “You’d have to be crazy to do that.”

  The crone squinted one eye and pointed at the Lump. “You’re crazy, you ox-brained buffoon!” She brought her hand down to her side. “Let her tell the story!”

  Meena continued her tale. “The explorer was gone for months. All the Molga thought she was gone forever, most likely dead.” She shifted her staff from her right hand to her left. “They presumed she had fallen victim to the hideous creatures in the water.”

  “If she disappeared, how did two cities get named after her tribe?” asked Flynn.

  “She didn’t disappear,” answered Meena. “Her journey took longer than expected. To everyone’s surprise, she returned. She brought back fruit and fine stones. She reported land did indeed lie across the Wretched Water, a friendly land with no people and free of the beasts that hunted the Darklands.”

  “Was that land the Great Egg?” asked Flynn.

  The crone groaned. “Of c
ourse it was the Great Egg, you nincompoop! Did you think this story was about some other land?”

  Flynn shrugged. “One never knows with stories. You must remember that I’ve never heard this tale before.”

  “Bah!” The crone shook her head and waved a dismissive hand toward Flynn.

  “Well,” said the Lump, “aren’t you going to tell us what they did when she got back?”

  “Yes, of course.” Meena nodded. “The Molga people decided to leave and start a new life on the new land.”

  The Lump asked, “Did they build a whole bunch more of those rafts?”

  Meena shook her head. “No, they built two longships, powered by oars and wind. They filled the ships and set off to cross the Wretched Water.”

  The Lump scratched his bearded chin. “How big were the boats?”

  “I don’t know,” answered Meena. “But they were both filled with people.”

  The Lump furrowed his brow. “Did all the Molga folk fit on the boats?”

  Meena sighed. “Again, Lump, I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”

  The crone squinted one eye. “For Sol’s sake, man, stop the questions and let her finish the story!”

  The Lump frowned and lowered his head. “My apologies.”

  Meena cleared her throat, then resumed the tale. “During the journey a storm hit and the ships were separated.”

  Flynn said, “That’s a most ill stroke of fortune.”

  “Very ill, indeed,” Meena agreed. “One ship was blown many miles off course, to the south.” She swirled a hand around in the air. “The other ship held more of a true course.”

  “Did either of the ships sink?” Sam asked, showing more interest in this story than he had in previous conversations.

  Meena shook her head. “No, the southern ship found the mouth of the Oxhorn and sailed down its rough waters until the ship was wrecked.”

  The Lump chuckled. “That shouldn’t take very long, from what I’ve seen of that mud-kissing river.”

  “They made it about halfway down,” said Meena. “On the south bank of the river they founded a village, they named it Molgadon.”

  “You mean the same Molgadon that serves as the capital city of Aardland?” Flynn asked.

  “Yes,” Meena answered. “The other ship made landfall north of the Needles. There was no river to take them inland, so they started their village on the coast. It was also named Molgadon.”

  “Did the two groups ever find each other?” asked the Lump.

  “No,” answered Meena. “It is believed that each party thought the other had perished. They were separated by so many miles and the difficult terrain of the Needles.” She lowered her eyes to the ground and was silent for a moment. She raised her face and said, “Hundreds of years must have passed when the descendants of the two groups finally made contact with one another.” The corners of her mouth dropped into a frown. “Unfortunately, the Great War resulted.”

  Flynn raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to one side. “You’re saying that Aards and Gallisians are the same?”

  Meena smiled. “I am saying they are both descended from the Molga people, if that’s what you mean.”

  The Lump grinned. “And it sounds like none of ‘em hatched from a giant egg!”

  The crone scowled and nodded. “This must be the knowledge the Solsons are so afraid will spread.” She spat on the ground. “They don’t want people knowing their precious order was built on a foundation of nonsense.”

  “We have arrived,” Arik announced. “This is the ruined city of Molgadon.”

  The distinctive smell of salt and dead fish hung heavy in the air, along with a general aroma of rot. Piles of crumbled stones stood where huts had once been long, long ago. Some of the larger piles may have been public houses or, perhaps, churches. All the rocks were covered in black slime deposited by the strong winds blowing off the Wretched Water. Occasional ugly black lizards would dart out off sight and hide within the stones.

  Flynn scratched the side of his head. “Why did the Molgadon in Aardland grow into a great city and the one in Gallis a ruin?”

  The crone said, “Look around you!” She swung her hand through the air in a wide arc. “What do you think? Who would want to stay so close to that putrid sea if there was a choice?”

  Flynn nodded. “You make a good point.”

  The Lump added, “That Solson told us dragons used to fly across the water too, this place was probably a little too close for comfort.”

  Flynn brought a hand to his chin. “It makes sense they would work their way to the east over the years.”

  The Lump patted Flynn on the back. “Thanks to the lousy Oxhorn, the southern lot got off to a better start.” He looked over at Meena. “How did the Solsons know all this to put in a book?” He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe it’s all fairy stories.”

  “The tome states they found painted rocks,” answered Meena. “Along with their study of the Darklands, they pieced it all together.” She held a hand up by her shoulder. “It may or may not be entirely accurate.”

  The great, white bear rooted around until it found a relatively dry spot. It lay down on the ground and closed it eyes.

  Meena walked to the bear and ran a hand over its shoulder. “Go ahead and sleep, Snowy. You’ll feel better after a rest.”

  Arik looked around the ruins and drew in a deep breath. “It feels odd being back here.” He looked at Johanna and smiled. “We haven’t been here since we found our Meena.”

  The Lump asked, “How was it you came to find her?”

  Arik looked down at the ground and brought a finger to his chin. “I was a cloth merchant north of here.” He raised his eyes to face the group. “We struggled, we couldn’t make our way in Gallis any longer.”

  Johanna frowned and nodded. “Times had grown too lean, and the old King too demanding.”

  Arik held his hands wide. “We heard there was no king in the Common Lands, people could make their own way in life.” He furrowed his brow and exhaled loudly. “So, we set out to start our life anew in the Needles.” He crossed his arms across his chest. “But, we had to escape. Travel was not so free during the reign of the old King. We traveled the western way, along the shore of the Wretched Water.” His eyes lifted up, toward the sky. “Most people dare not tread so near the shore.”

  “Was it a hard traveling?” asked Sam.

  “It was frightening, and we rested as little as we could bear,” answered Arik. “We often traveled through the night.” He held a finger in the air. “It was one such night, at the cusp of dawn, when we first saw the ruins of Molgadon.” He brought a hand to his chin. “It was that strange hour when the sun is trying to rise and the moon hasn’t yet disappeared.”

  Johanna added, “There was thunder, we feared a storm approached.” Her eyes danced about the slimy landscape. “In desperation, we chose to seek shelter in these ruins.”

  Arik sat on a slimy, black stone. “People avoided the ruins, folk feared this place was cursed.” He held his hands up by his shoulders. “Why else would the grand city have been abandoned countless hundreds of years ago?”

  Johanna let out a slight laugh. “We feared a storm more than any curse.” Her gaze fixed on Meena. “That’s where we saw you.”

  Arik rose from his seat on the damp stone. “In truth, it was a wolf - a mighty she-wolf - that we saw.” He pointed to an area devoid of piles of stone. “We saw it standing there, under the faint, combined light of a rising sun and a setting moon.”

  The Lump asked, “What was it doing?”

  “It was guarding something,” answered Arik. “We couldn’t tell what.”

  Johanna said, “I assumed it was her den of cubs, and thought it best to stay away.”

  “Then we heard the most peculiar sound,” said Arik.

  Flynn asked, “What was it?”

  “The cry of a baby,” answered Johanna. “I knew then that no cubs were under the wolf’s watch.”

  “I feared to
approach,” said Arik, “but we also feared what would happen to such a small child in this forsaken place.”

  Johanna shook her head. “We had no weapons, not even so much as a stick close at hand.”

  “We decided to spread apart, and approach from opposite directions.” Arik swung both his hands out in an arc. “That way the wolf could only go after one of us.” He pointed a thumb at his chest. “The wolf growled and went after me.” His hand twisted forward and a finger pointed toward his wife. “Johanna scooped up little Meena and she stopped crying.”

  “The wolf lost interest in Arik and looked at me,” said Johanna. “Its eyes didn’t look angry, they looked kind.” She crossed her hands over her heart. “I swear, when our eyes met, that wolf seemed to gaze all the way into my soul.” She shrugged. “The she-wolf must have been satisfied with what it saw because it padded away into the dawn.”

  The crone said, “So you just kept the baby? Like some coin you found on the road?”

  Johanna nodded. “We wanted a child so badly, but were unable to have one. Finding Meena was such a blessing… but we have no idea how she got there, or who left her.”

  The crone pointed a crooked finger at Johanna. “It was destiny, the girl has a purpose!”

  Meena rolled her eyes and groaned. “Enough history lessons.” She pointed to the sleeping white bear. “We should follow Snowy’s example and get some rest.” She looked at Flynn, then the Lump. “Tomorrow the boys and I need to head back east, see if we can learn anything of the Dragon’s location.” She put a hand on her forehead and rubbed it. “We need to devise a way to use the bane to make the creature dormant.”

  17: Hill-Folks

  The party spent the better part of two days trudging east on foot to reach central Gallis. The terrain grew hilly as they traveled, and the walk became laborious. The unpleasant smell of the Wretched Water was long gone from the air, replaced with the fresh aroma of the tall pine trees that grew on the hills that surrounded the winding trail.

  The Lump stopped walking and pulled the cork from his water-skin. “I tell you, my feet are really starting to ache.” He took a long gulp of water, then wiped his mouth with a leather bracer. “Do you think Sam will be able to look after your parents and the crone?”