Dragon In Gallis: The Lump Adventures Book Two

by Bruce Leslie

  Meena let out a long sigh. “They don’t need looking after, Sam will be fine enough.”

  The Lump placed his water-skin back at his belt. “That crone is a handful.” His belly bounced with a chuckle. “Maybe she’ll start collecting snakes again, there ought to be plenty in those slimy stones.”

  Meena wrinkled her forehead and rested her body against the white bear with the wooden crate tied to its back. “Why would she collect snakes?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “She has the tome to keep her occupied, she loves reading the secrets in that old book.”

  The Lump pointed a thick finger at her. “You seem to read that book plenty yourself.”

  Flynn added, “You did know a lot of detail about the Molga people.” He took a drink of water from his own skin.

  Meena shrugged. “I just want to understand the dragon, and the history of the lands in which we live…” She stared down at the ground for a moment, her back leaning against the bear. “And, maybe, I want to learn more about myself.”

  The Lump raised an eyebrow. “You mean about your witch power?”

  Meena grimaced, and her freckled cheeks rose. “I don’t like that, witch is such an ugly word.”

  The Lump shook his head. “I don’t think it’s ugly.”

  Flynn was quick to add, “You’re certainly not ugly.” His face turned red with the realization of what he said. “I mean, rather, what would you prefer to be called?”

  Meena drew down her brows and her eyes became blue and green slits. “Just call me Meena.” She looked around at the terrain, eager to change the subject. “These hills are beautiful.”

  “Yes.” Flynn nodded, the red hue leaving his face. “They do make for difficult traveling, but they are pleasing to the eye.” He made sure to look and the hills and not Meena.

  The Lump put his hands on his hips and looked around. “It’s a shame we don’t have hills like these in Aardland.” He rubbed his bearded chin. “They’d make for a nice place to visit every now and again.”

  Flynn shifted his gaze from the scenery to the Lump. “Do you think your aunt Wendy made it safe to Silverport?”

  The Lump laughed. “By my reckoning, if anybody can make it safe, it’d be Wendy.”

  “Good to know.” Flynn straightened the bow slung across his body. “I hope she gets word to my mother that I’m well.”

  “If she said she’d give word, she will.” The Lump grinned at Flynn. “You’d best hope to make it through this Gallisian conundrum in one piece, you don’t want to make Wendy into a liar.”

  Meena stood up straight, taking her weight of the bear. “We need to be focused on the dragon.” She drummed her fingers against her staff.

  “We have plenty of bane this time,” said the Lump. “The dragon shouldn’t be no problem.”

  Meena brought a finger to her chin. “Yes, but we need to decide how best to use it.”

  The Lump held his hands wide. “I think we ought to do as the crone says and use smoke to do the job.”

  “I agree,” said Meena. “But how? We have no idea when we will encounter the creature, we need to have a formed plan.”

  The Lump furrowed his brow. “I think we should burn the flowers and blow the smoke at it.”

  “Should we burn it on the ground?” Meena asked, appearing inpatient. “Do we burn it in a bowl? In a brazier?” She brought her hand down from her chin and let it rest at her side. “How will you blow the smoke?”

  The Lump grunted. “Just fan the smoke at the monster!”

  “And do you have a fan?” asked Meena.

  “Well, no.” The Lump looked down and put a hand on the back of his neck. “I guess we ought to make something.”

  “We’re getting somewhere.” Meena smiled. “Now, we need to decide what to make and how to build it.”

  The Lump took his hand off his neck and looked at Meena. “We could go back to the King and ask him for help. He has a smith that made a pretty good torture rack, maybe—”

  A loud crack cut the Lump short. A tall pine fell across the trail less than ten paces from where they stood. The hills erupted in hoots and shouts.

  “Is it the dragon cult?” Flynn asked.

  Someone shouted from up on the hill beside the path. “Give us your goods and we’ll let you be!”

  A second voice called out, “What you’ve got is ours now!”

  A dozen odd looking people came out of hiding and charged down the hill at them. They had long, unkempt hair. The men among them had equally long and ungroomed beards. They wore plain shirts and breaches made from scraps of burlap pieced together with sparse animal skins. Their clothes looked like little more than an accumulation of patches. They were armed with sticks they wielded like clubs. The bounded down the hill in leaps like an army of overgrown grasshoppers.

  “I don’t know who they are,” said the Lump, “but they don’t look like the dragon cult.”

  The rushing folk descended on the party before they could draw their weapons.

  Flynn pulled his bow off his body, but a hand grabbed it before he could nock an arrow.

  The scruffy faced man clutching the bow said, “Give it to me!”

  “No!” Flynn tugged on the bow. “I made it myself, I won’t relinquish it!”

  The scruffy man swung the stick in his free hand at Flynn’s temple.

  Flynn jerked his arm up, and it absorbed the blow. He grabbed the stick and tugged at it and the bow in unison.

  The man gave the stick a quick jerk, and it pulled free of Flynn’s grasp. It flew free of the attacker’s hand as well and tumbled to the ground.

  The two men danced in a circle, both holding tight to the bow. They kicked and swatted at one another as they spun around in the trail.

  The man shouted, “It’s my bow now! Let it go, ninny!”

  A short man with a red beard rushed toward the Lump. He held a shovel high over his head and brought it down with a powerful, two handed swing.

  The shovel crashed into the Lump’s shoulder. He spun around from the force of the blow, pulling his sword from its loop in the process. He raised his sword in time to block a second strike from the shovel. He raised his leg and smashed his boot into the shovel-wielding man’s torso, knocking his attacker back.

  Two of the odd assailants charged Meena. She swung her staff with both hands in a wide arc level with her shoulders. Her staff crashed against the raised clubs of the attackers.

  Each of the attackers took a cautious step back.

  Meena dropped into a crouch and swung her staff again, this time low and aimed at her adversaries’ feet.

  The attackers fell back as the staff took their feet out from under them.

  Two new attackers rushed Meena from the rear.

  Four of the wild-looking people advanced on the white bear with crude spears, crafted by sharpening the ends of long sticks.

  The bear roared and swiped a mighty paw knocking two of the spear bearers aside. A second swipe dispatched the other two. The bear lifted its head and roared again, the ear splitting sound echoed through the hills.

  Meena rose from her crouch only to be struck by a swung club between her shoulder blades. She grunted and fell forward onto her belly. With a kick of her legs, she rolled over and bounced back to her feet brandishing her ash staff in both hands.

  The Lump slashed his undersized sword at the red-bearded attacker. The blade clanged against the scoop of the shovel.

  The man swung the shovel’s handle up, and it caught the Lump under his chin.

  The Lump’s head snapped back. Lights flashed before his eyes and bells rang in his ears.

  The red-bearded man raised the shovel high to bash his the Lump over his big head.

  The Lump raised his sword up in time to block the blow. The force of the shovel’s strike knocked the little sword free of the big man’s hand and it tumbled to the ground.

  The Lump threw his meaty left hand at the shovel’s wooden handle and caught it on the back swing. He balled
his right hand into a fist and buried it in his attacker’s belly.

  The red-bearded man groaned and released his hold on the shovel.

  The Lump flung the shovel aside. It twisted end over end as it flew into the trees and landed with a clank.

  The red-bearded man leaped with his arms out. He landed on the Lump’s back and wrapped his arms around the big man’s throat. His arms squeezed with all their might.

  Meena swung her staff at her two new attackers.

  One held up a club that deflected her strike.

  She drew her staff back in a quick, precise gesture, then lunged. The staff poked hard into one adversary’s middle.

  The man coughed and doubled over.

  A stiff, short swing of the staff caught Meena’s other attacker in the side, just below his ribs.

  The second man groaned and put his hand on his side.

  Three hidden assailants dropped from a tree and landed on the big, white bear’s back. Snowy reared and spun around in the path, but could not shake them off.

  A woman on the bear’s back cut the rope that secured the crate. The box of aster flowers rolled off the animal’s back and onto the trail.

  The three assailants tumbled off the bear’s back and grabbed the crate.

  Three more of the ambushing party helped lift the crate, and they disappeared back into the hills.

  With the crate’s disappearance, Meena and Flynn’s attackers made a hasty retreat. They scattered in all directions as they scrambled off into the hills.

  Flynn nocked an arrow in his now freed bow and launched it after the fleeing folk. The arrow stuck into a tree, missing its targets.

  The red-bearded man continued to choke the Lump, seemingly unaware of his companions’ departure.

  The Lump struggled to breath and his eyes bulged in their sockets. He pulled at the arms around his throat but could not loosen their vise-like grip. Dizziness overcame him and black spots obscured his vision. He closed his eyes tight and jumped backward. All of his weight crashed onto his attacker when his back slammed to the ground.

  The red-bearded man groaned at the impact and released his grip on the larger man’s throat.

  The Lump rolled over and wrapped his arms around the red-bearded man in a most unfriendly hug. He squeezed the squirming man tight and held him while he stumbled back to his feet.

  Meena ran to Snowy and calmed the bear by stroking its thick, white fur. She looked over her shoulder and said, “They’ve stolen the bane!”

  The Lump kept a firm grasp on the red-bearded man. “We’ll hang onto this one, make him explain himself.”

  The red-bearded man growled.

  The Lump winced at the odor of the red-bearded man’s breath.

  Flynn slung his bow back across his body. “We were sorely out-numbered.” He looked at Meena and frowned. “Why didn’t you call on something to help us?” He pointed at the sky. “At the very least, there should have been some crows about.”

  Meena kept her hand on the white bear and shook her head. “I won’t do it again.” She stared at the bear as she spoke. “Animals were hurt when we rescued the crone, I won’t have any more harmed for our quarrels.”

  The Lump shoved his captive toward Meena and the bear. “This fellow has a lot of explaining to do.”

  Flynn picked up the length of cut rope from the trail. “Perhaps he can help us recover our stolen property.”

  The red-bearded man grinned a yellow-toothed grin. “I wouldn’t be countin’ on that!”

  18: Six-Toe

  Flynn marched toward the red-bearded man with the length of rope clutched in his hand. “I’m going to bind those hands of yours before you choke anyone else!”

  “You don’t need to tie me up!” The red-bearded man held up his hands in a gesture of submission. “You caught me fair and square, I’m part o’ your clan now.” He nodded his head and smiled, displaying teeth the color of old cheese.

  The white bear lowered itself to the ground, rested its head on its front legs, and closed its eyes.

  Meena looked at the man and tilted her head. “What do you mean by part of our clan now?”

  “There’s only three of ya.” The red-bearded man pointed with his hands still raised. “I figure you’re catchin’ more.” His eyes shot wide open and his bushy, red eyebrows rose. “I don’t mean no insult, just that you ought to have more’n three in your clan.”

  The Lump squinted one eye. “What crazy kind of brigands are your people?”

  “I don’t know what’s a brigand,” answered the man, “but we is Hill-Folks.” He pointed down at himself with a thumb on a raised hand. “I was caught fair and square by the Itchy-Leg clan when I was just a boy.” His bushy eyebrows lowered, and he cocked his head to one side. “Course, I was born to the Twisty-Beards, but they ain’t much around no more.”

  “Fine enough.” Meena lowered her staff and pressed it into the red-bearded man’s chest. “Tell me your name.” She withdrew her staff from the man’s torso and held it by her side.

  “They calls me Six-Toe,” he answered. “On account of I got six toes on one foot.” He let his hands drop to his sides. “You wanna see?” The man leaned over and grabbed the cloth wrapped around his left foot.

  The Lump held his hands out and shouted. “No!” He put his clenched fist over his mouth and cleared his throat. “I mean, no need for that.” His lips curled into a nervous smile. “We believe you, about the toes, no need to prove anything.”

  Flynn asked, “Is it a full-sized toe? Or is it tiny and withered?”

  “Flynn!” shouted the Lump. “Let’s not go down this road, we might not like where it leads.”

  Flynn nodded. “A fair point.” He took a step toward Six-Toe with his eyes narrow. “Why did your clan of bandits attack us? Are you in league with the dragon cult?” He stared at the man and waited for his reply.

  “We ain’t bandits,” Six-Toe answered. “We ain’t never been bandits, ain’t never gonna be bandits, we is scroungers!” He raised his bushy red eyebrows. “We take what people don’t want no more, and make a humble life up in the hills.” His face dropped into a scraggly-bearded frown. “Well, we did ’til that dragon come along.” He snorted. “We hate that dragon and I don’t know no cult.”

  “You didn’t answer my question!” Flynn pointed a stern finger at Six-Toe. “Why did you attack us?”

  “That dragon done run us out of our hills!” Six-Toe held his hands wide. “We is stuck in these foothills. There ain’t enough to eat, so’s we bushwhack people to get stuff.”

  The Lump grunted. “The way I see it, if you take things that aren’t yours it makes you folk low-down, muskrat-loving bandits.” He clenched his jaws.

  “We don’t ever take no coins, so we ain’t bandits.” Six-Toe shook his shaggy head. “You can’t eat coins, so we got no use for ‘em!”

  “Coin don’t have nothing to do with it!” The Lump’s shoulders tightened. “If you ambush people and steal from them, you’re a brigand!” He balled his hands into fists and glowered at Six-Toe. “I’ve got some bad mud-kissing news for you - I hate brigands!”

  Meena put a hand on Lump’s shoulder. “Do not harass our guest, Lump.”

  The Lump grunted, but remained where he stood.

  Meena took her hand off his shoulder and smiled at Six-Toe. “So, you tell me you hate the dragon.”

  Six-Toe wrinkled up his nose and blew a loud puff of air out his nostrils, a small amount of sticky liquid flew out. “Yes, I hate that red-striped devil!” He raised his eyes and looked around at the trees, then back to Meena. “He pushed us out of our spot on the hill.” A raspy, hacking sound rumbled in his throat and he spat on the ground. “That’s what I think of that dirty dragon!”

  Meena winced, then forced a smile back on her face. “Well, you must not know that we endeavor to stop the dragon. We endeavor to free the lands of the threat it poses.”

  “I sure didn’t know that.” Six-Toe shook his head. “None of the
Itchy-Legs know’d it either.” He put a finger in his ear and wiggled it a bit before pulling it out. “I don’t think we’d a bushwhacked ya if we know’d that.” He wiped his finger on his patchwork breeches.

  Meena put one hand on her hip while the other clutched the staff. “Unfortunately, It happens that they stole our means of stopping the dragon.”

  “Wyrm,” Flynn corrected.

  Meena glared at Flynn with her mismatched eyes.

  “It don’t look like no worm I ever saw,” said Six-Toe, “and I’ve dug plenty o’ worms.” He flashed a yellow-toothed smile at Meena. “If what’s in your box ain’t somethin’ they can eat, wear, or fight with, I don’t reckon they want it.”

  The Lump raised one eyebrow. “Could you tell them to give it back, then?”

  Six-Toe’s smile dropped into a frown. “Oh no, I ain’t a Itchy-Leg no more.” He lowered his face and put a hand on his forehead. “They’d never listen to me now… at least I don’t think they would.” He dropped his hand to his side and lifted his face. “Nobody’s ever stole away a Itchy-Leg since I’ve been with ‘em.” He smiled again and pointed a thumb at his chest. “Now I’m one of your clan, I’m a…” His brow furrowed. “What do you call your little clan?”

  Flynn pointed a finger at the Lump. “He calls himself Dragonblinder.”

  Six-Toe’s eyes lit up with glee. “Ooh, that’s a good name! I’m a Dragonblider now!” His smiling face bobbed up and down as he nodded.

  Meena groaned. “Goodness, Flynn, look what you’ve done.”

  Flynn opened his eyes wide and shrugged.

  Six-Toe grabbed the front of his patchwork shirt with one hand and held it. “Well, Dragonblinders, where are we off to?” His eyes scanned the three faces across from him. “Which one of you’s the chief?” he asked.

  The Lump and Flynn both pointed at Meena, and said in unison, “She is.”

  Meena sighed and shook her head. “No, I’m not.”

  Six-Toe bowed his head to Meena. “Nice to meet ya, chief!” He tilted his head and asked, “What’s your name?”

  “I’m not the chief,” answered Meena, “and my name is Meena.” She waved her hand toward her companions. “The one with the bow is Flynn and the big one you choked is the Lump.”