Sowing Dragon Teeth

by James Alderdice

  Aisha swung her sword, daring him to approach. The thought that he might toss the massive stone at her crossed her mind, but pride would not allow her to run. She faced him with the conviction that if she died, at least it would be on her feet.

  “Take her,” ordered the war mage. Kathulian knights pressed forward past him. They kept their shields and blades up. They were in a choke point, but they would soon overwhelm Aisha with their numbers.

  “For Hodari!” cried Nyo.

  The war mage gasped as Nyo’s spear sprouted from his back. The great stone dropped back into place, blocking the chasm with a terrible crash, pulping the foremost pair of knights beneath its mass.

  Ole roared and threw small boulder after boulder into the Kathulians midst and again the horrible screams of Kathulian men and horses echoed.

  “Ha! That’ll teach you bastards!” shouted Ole with gusto. He and Nyo climbed back down the canyon wall. “Let’s find the others.”

  Aisha rapped him hard across the chest. “Never make me wait like that again! I thought my time had come when that stone rose.”

  “We had to wait a moment so Nyo could get a good shot,” said Ole. “Besides I never said you had to get that close.”

  “No, you didn’t but you could have warned me.”

  He grinned. “And if I had called and warned you, the war mage would have been warned too.”

  Aisha cursed beneath her breath and mounted her horse. She hated his grin, because she was beginning to love it. Not a very smart way to feel about someone who forced you into following them on a wild goose chase, she chided herself.

  They caught up to Catlo, Diamanda, Feroze, and another Avaran that Aisha still did not know the name of. She wished she didn’t know any of them. They were less than half the number they had begun the journey with. Odds were on Aisha’s side she could escape in the dark of night if she wished, but her thoughts returned to the words of Neema and the dreams of dragons. Was it possible that it was her destiny to awaken the mountain? Could she gain revenge upon the one-eyed black dragon that had slain her father? Could she be as wealthy as any queen in the world? Perhaps this would be the best way to help her people against the coming Kathulian invasion. She could hire an army of mercenaries to destroy the fanatical zealots. The famed company of Sellsword’s under the man known as Gathelaus would leap at the chance for such an endeavor.

  ***

  “Are you awake?” asked Ole. “It will be your turn for watch soon.”

  “Yes, just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “What I will do when I get my part of the treasure.” She stood and sauntered toward the smoldering campfire.

  “You have to get us there first,” snapped Catlo as he appeared out of the darkness. “Which way should we go?”

  Aisha shook her head. “You led us this way, I didn’t.”

  “Well,” said Catlo, “I was busy saving our lives.”

  “No, you weren’t, you ran. Ole saved us.”

  Catlo snorted. “And who was clever enough to have a man like Ole in his party? Me!”

  “Yes, you truly are the savior of the party by being intelligent enough to have persons greater than yourself along,” chided Aisha.

  “You’re trying to make me angry. It won’t work. I am lord of all I survey,” he quipped.

  “Lord of running away,” she retorted.

  “I know when to fight and when to run.” Catlo patted his fine hilt.

  She waited until he turned away. “I haven’t seen you fight yet.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes, he snorted and turned his back on her.

  “Would you fight me?” she challenged.

  Catlo wheeled and his smirk curled into a bitter frown. His hand slid toward the hilt of his rapier. “I’d love to, but I can’t have anything happen to our precious map. If I killed you, how would I ever get to the mountain? And the mountain means more than any person or even honor. I’ll take your insult this time and leave it where it is, but perhaps when we have reached the mountain and gotten away with the treasure, then, then I will duel you and stick this blade between your voluptuous mountains. What do you think of that, huh?”

  “Brave words, but that’s all they are, words,” she said. “You have nothing else to offer.”

  “That’s enough,” broke in Ole. “We should keep to the plan. Nothing else matters.”

  The two opponents glanced at Ole. They parted ways, each scowling at the other over their shoulders as a cold moon painted silver light on a red desert.

  9. The Hyena’s Paw

  They made camp that evening in a low set of hills that gave some small amount of cover. If they were lucky, they might hear any sound of pursuit if the Kathulians possibly found a route through the stony mountains to follow them, but in taking turns at watch upon the highest of the hills they saw no sign of pursuit yet.

  Diamanda made a tiny fire of dry kindling they had brought along, just enough to warm some tea and roast a bird that Musa had shot.

  The moon rose above them and cast a brilliant light over the face of the desert. They spoke little, enjoying the slight amount of rest and warm evening that was, for a time, a perfect blend between the heat of the day and the cold they had known on the haunted mountain.

  “Who is on watch now?” asked Feroze. “Out on the perimeter there.”

  “No one,” answered Catlo.

  “Then who is that?” He pointed behind the bulk of them gathered about the fire.

  On a far hill stood a vague shape. Ole stood and stared. “It’s not a man. It looks like a big dog.”

  “It’s a hyena,” said Aisha.

  “It’s no animal,” insisted Feroze. “I’m telling you it’s a man. I saw it standing up. He slunk down when we noticed him.”

  “I can see it too,” said Catlo. “Looks like a hyena.”

  It trotted back down the side of the hill and out of sight.

  “You’re dreaming up dangers that don’t exist,” said Catlo, slapping Feroze on the back.

  Mus and Nyo armed themselves.

  “What’s with you two?” asked Catlo.

  Musa said, “That was no hyena. It was a Bouda. A being that is blend of both man and beast.”

  Aisha drew her sword. “Will it attack?”

  “It might, but it could just be scouting for its pack,” said Musa.

  “You mean there are more?” gulped Feroze.

  “Of course,” said Nyo. “There are always more. They are said to be guardians of the Bamulas to the west.”

  “Who are they?” asked Diamanda.

  “Our tribal enemies. Cannibals,” explained Nyo.

  “Or maybe, it was just a hyena,” said Catlo, returning to the fire as he tore a large piece of meat from the roasted bird and shoved it into his mouth. He continued talking with a full mouth. “Not everything is a monster.”

  But his doubt brought little comfort to anyone but himself. The others watched the gloomy hillsides for hours and Aisha couldn’t fall asleep until it was nearly dawn.

  “Time to go,” said Ole, nudging her awake.

  “I didn’t sleep at all. And to think it was nothing.” She got up and sheathed her drawn sword.

  Ole shook his head. “I walked up that dune just a few minutes ago. Both the tracks of a man and beast were on top of that peak. It was a Bouda, but it was by itself, so it left us alone.”

  “Small miracles.”

  “Maybe, but we should keep watch just the same for creatures following us as well as men.”

  They rode on all day under a blazing sun and saw no sign of man or beast, until almost dusk. Just as the shadows lengthened, casting long blankets of grey across the desert, Aisha wheeled in her saddle and caught the faint dark shape of a big dog lingering upon their trail. It was almost two miles away, but her eyes were sharper than anyone’s.

  “It’s still following us,” she said.

  “We’ll have to do something about that,” said Ole.

  “
We don’t have time to wait for a damn hungry dog,” said Catlo. “It’s nothing, let’s keep moving.”

  “I have a trap,” said Ole. “We won’t lose much time.”

  Catlo’s raised his eyebrows. “Oh yes, you have those iron jaws from the north, you said you used them on bears, yes? I didn’t know you brought it along.”

  “I try to be prepared for anything.” Ole hopped down from the saddle and fetched from his bags an iron set of teeth. Aisha had never seen the like. They were a dull grey iron almost as dark as charcoal but set with thick hinges and a zig-zag set of teeth that fit into one another perfectly.

  Ole set the teeth in the dirt and, with the back of his axe, hammered a spike into the ground. The spike was chained to the teeth. He carefully covered it over with dirt and pebbles until the links were hidden. Then, wrenching the teeth open, he placed a small morsel of jerky upon it and wetted it with a bit of wine from his skin.

  “We can hardly afford to be without that food now,” said Catlo, wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead and fanning himself with his hat.

  “It will be worth it. I’ve always wanted to catch a lycanthrope,” said Ole.

  Musa and Nyo looked at each other. “This could be a mistake. It is not wise to anger the gods of the wilderness.”

  “If it’s a hyena as Catlo says it’s no loss. If it’s a monster or even just a scout, we don’t want it tailing us,” argued Ole. “So we kill it, either way.”

  “Even if you catch it,” said Musa. “They are sorcerers and may not be killed by mortal weapons.”

  Ole said, “Anything alive can be killed.”

  He finished setting the trap and, once satisfied with its concealment, got back on his horse and rode on. The others stared back at it, curious. “It won’t work if we are still standing here, let’s move on,” he said. “At least over the next rise. Have none of you trapped before?”

  “Not like this,” mentioned Feroze. “I’ve never seen such a thing.”

  “Neither have I,” said Aisha. “Our traps were only ever nooses or pits. We could never afford implements of iron to do such things.”

  “Well, we do it all the time in the north, let’s go.”

  They rode over the rise, with no sign of the thing trailing them. They moved but slowly up a sandy embankment, when in the distance behind came a sudden squalling.

  Ole grinned and, wheeling his mount, shouted, “We got him!”

  The cantankerous yelping continued like the pained whine of a dog, with mournful cries of fear, then went silent.

  They raced up the sandy slope of the dune, anxious to see the creature they had heard caught in the trap. When they reached the zenith of the hill overlooking the trap they saw no sign of the beast, though the iron trap still lay where it had been. Blood was splashed across the rust red ground nearby and they rode down slowly to investigate.

  “Where did it go?” asked Feroze.

  “There is something in the trap,” said Aisha.

  The trap had in its jaws a great paw. It had been gnawed off at the wrist and left behind. The moon came out from behind the clouds and they watched in amazement and horror as the paw turned into a large, black human hand.

  “Bouda,” said Musa with grim enthusiasm.

  “Light a fire,” said Ole.

  “We don’t have enough fuel,” argued Feroze.

  “Do it!” ordered the Northman.

  Feroze got a small blaze together as Ole opened the trap. He dropped the severed hand into the flames. The flesh crackled and gave off a foul odor. Once it had burned for a few moments, it shriveled and reverted to looking more like a hyena’s paw again.

  “Sorcery,” muttered Musa.

  “But was it a man first? Or a beast first?” asked Feroze.

  “Maybe it doesn’t even know,” offered Nyo.

  “This is how we keep the beast from reclaiming its lost parts. It won’t regrow the limb and we’ll know who it is if we see him watching us in a friendly village,” explained Ole. “It’s how we handle this kind of thing in the north.”

  “There are no friendly villages on the way to the mountain,” said Aisha.

  Ole nodded. “Fair enough. But it helped me out once long ago when I recognized a man following our clan. He was missing his left hand. We knew he was a shifter and we dealt with him accordingly. Now we ride on, without that thing trailing us. I think it learned its lesson.”

  “Unless it wants revenge,” murmured Feroze.

  Ole laughed and brandished his axe. “And I’ll face a one-handed foe, over a two-handed one any day,” he said, mounting his horse.

  “I do not think we have seen the last of this enemy,” said Musa.

  10. Waybills of Death

  If a land could be malevolent this was it. Sharp jagged peaks of rock that tore at the sky yet never offered shade to the heat blistered travelers reared above them while at their feet were deadly alkaline pools of water that could not be drunk yet teased at their dry mouths. These were not their only companions however, here the scorpion, snake, vulture, and biting fly always sought to join their caravan.

  “See that?” asked Catlo, pointing at the sky and the herald of circling black birds. He was shouting loud enough for all to hear but directed his scorn at Musa and Nyo. “The vultures follow after the dead chief’s body, revealing us to any Kathulian with half an eye.”

  “The great chief deserves to be buried with honor in the sacred place,” said Musa defiantly.

  “Sacred chief? If he hadn’t been dead when we got there you would have murdered him!” countered Catlo. “How’s that for respect?”

  Musa grunted. “But I still would have taken him back to the sacred lands.”

  Catlo snapped, “You Umoja are crazy!”

  The screech of vulture’s high overhead slew conversation for some time as they rode on under the blazing sun.

  Aisha trotted ahead to ride beside Ole. “When are you going to tell me why you are serving Catlo. That must be some story, I can’t imagine there not being an epic telling of such a feat.”

  He looked at her with those ice-blue eyes and she knew he was not ready to say.

  “I only thought since you brought up my no longer being a captain and that you knew about the defeat…”

  “You denied that was your fault. That you had any role in that,” he said coldly.

  “Yes, well. I didn’t expect anyone to bring it up. It’s still fresh in my mind and you know that not all wounds are visible.”

  Ole grunted and stared ahead.

  “Were you in the Black Armada?” she asked.

  He looked sharply at her. “I was. I was first mate aboard the Revenge. So far as I know all hands went down with her save myself. Unlike most men, I can still swim with chain mail on, for at least long enough to rise to the surface and gain a hold on floating wreckage.”

  “Ah!” she said.

  His head snapped over to glance at her.

  “I’m not laughing at you,” she said. “I’m guessing that perhaps Catlo was with the mercenary navy and spared your life and you owe him for that?”

  “No.”

  She frowned. “Why don’t you just tell me?”

  “I said no.” He spurred his horse to ride ahead of her.

  “You’re alive. What do you have to be sore about?” she called after him, but he did not respond and continued riding ahead of the pack.

  “I wouldn’t make him angry if I were you,” said Catlo, who was suddenly riding beside her. “He’s mean, that one.” He laughed and rode ahead as well.

  Diamanda glared at Aisha. The princess of Irem said nothing, but her fierce gaze was penetrating and disturbing all the same. Aisha decided it was her turn to spur her horse and cause those behind to eat a little more dust during their ride.

  “So?” Catlo brought a halt to their caravan. “Tell us the better way to get to the dragon’s graveyard.”

  Aisha frowned. She had never been this far south before, though she understood
and remembered the map well enough. So long as it was accurate, she could read the signs and find the place, but this did require that she have faith that the crazy old man had spoken true.

  “We have two routes we could go.”

  “Well?” snarled Catlo, impatient for an answer.

  Ole rode up beside her. “What are our options?”

  Aisha gestured to the left. “We could ride on through to the direct south and skirt the Hermonthis River, but that is exactly what the Kathulians would expect and the flat lands along the river would only help them catch up to us.”

  “Blah, blah, blah. And the other route?” snapped Catlo.

  She pointed to the right and the distant purple mountains. “Or we could go to the right and into the valley of Baten al Ghul. It would be a shortcut, I think.”

  Musa and Nyo instantly voiced their opposition to that plan, but it was in their own tongue and so quick and vicious that Aisha lost all meaning of their words.

  “Shut up!” shouted Catlo. “We’re bringing the corpse of your dead chief, attracting flies and buzzards, why should we go the way that would beggar the Kathulians to catch us after I just rescued our collective bacon from those zealots by gaining the bridge?”

  They went quiet but glared fiercely at Aisha.

  “We take the shortcut!” ordered Catlo.

  Ole asked Aisha, “What do you know about this Baten al Ghul?”

  “Now you want to talk to me?”

  He grimaced. “I lost a lot of friends in that battle, and I still don’t want to talk about it. I’m asking if you know anything about this path that the Umoja are so upset about.”

  Aisha shielded her face from the whipping sands and blazing sun. “Only stories.”

  “From their reaction, I’d guess they don’t think it is just stories,” said Ole.

  “Probably not, but one way is rumor and legend, the other is almost certainly going to allow hundreds of men who want us dead the opportunity to catch us.”