by Bruce Leslie
Flynn stepped forward with the help of the staff and put a hand on Meena’s back. “Don’t worry about what you thought you heard, the hideous creature is gone.” He looked to the Lump. “You do think it’s gone?”
“Yes,” the Lump answered, “not likely to be seen around here again.”
Flynn tilted his head. “Do you think it fled to Gallis?”
“Yes, I’d say that’s likely.” The Lump shook his cap in the air to sling the blood out of it. “Gallisian soldiers should be able to handle a blind…” His voice trailed off and he watched the stony landscape begin spinning around him. His vision went black and he stumbled sideways. He felt his knees buckle beneath him and his limp body collapsed to the ground.
24. Some Stay, Some Go
The Lump’s body was in pain when he awoke. His head pounded like a hammer was working at it, his legs ached from his hips to his ankles, and his arms were more sore than they had ever been. He was in a room he had never seen before, and a pleasant smell was in the air. It was a fruity smell mixed with boiling grain; it made his mouth water and his stomach rumble. His stiff joints ached when he got out of the straw bed and managed to stand. The Lump shook off the pain and made his way through the chamber’s door. He entered a room with four people in it. Meena was there, along with an older man with mostly gray hair wearing a green tunic and light brown breeches. Next to the man was a pretty, older woman with light brown hair pulled up in a bun, she wore a brown dress and white apron. He assumed this man and woman were Meena’s parents. He was surprised to see the fourth person. She sat at the table in the center of the room and wore a faded blue dress with a blue scarf wrapped around her head. It was the crone, and she was looking at the leather bound book that he had helped to purloin from the Western Abbey.
The Lump limped into the front room of the small, stone hut. “How long?” he asked, “How long was I asleep?”
The crone looked up from the book and held two slender fingers in the air. “Two days.” She dropped her hand and looked back down at the tome. “I tended to your wounds. You got yourself beaten more than half to death, I didn’t know when you would decide to stir.” She shook her head. “Idiot.”
The Lump raised his eyebrows. “What else should I have done?”
“I told you how do defeat the rancid thing back at the inn.” The crone wrinkled her crooked nose at him. “If you only knew how to listen.”
“You did no such thing!” The Lump held his hands out beside him.
“Oh, you are a slow one.” The crone closed the book. “What did I tell you about the snakes?”
The Lump thought for a moment, then answered, “I should have smoked them out.”
The crone placed a finger on the leather bound tome in front of her. “Right in here it says that the bane of the dragon can work through the beast’s lungs.”
The Lump opened his eyes wide. “You mean…”
“Yes, that’s right.” The crone nodded her head up and down slowly. “You should have dried the flowers, then burned them slowly. Then you could have released the smoke at the dragon.” She raised a finger in the air. “I suppose the only way to get something through that overgrown melon you call a head is to draw a picture.” The berry sized bump on her cheek rose as she sneered at him.
“Oh.” The Lump dropped his head. “And my wounds, you looked at them?” He ran his hand across the back of his scalp and felt tiny, thread stitches that held the broken skin together.
“They’re fine.” The crone waved a hand at him. “No plague in them. You’ll live until you undertake some other ill advised endeavor.”
The older lady standing next to Meena stepped forward. “Hello there, I am Johanna. I am Meena’s mother.” She smiled and nodded her head
The man next to Johanna said, “I am Arik, I’m Meena’s father.”
The Lump bowed his head. “Pleased to meet you both.” He looked at Johanna. “That daughter of yours, she is something. She is an amazing young lady.”
Johanna raised a hand to her chest. “We were so happy to see Meena return.” She turned to Meena and smiled. “It’s the longest she’s ever been away from us since we found her, all those many years ago.”
The Lump wrinkled his nose and scrunched up his forehead. “You found her?”
Johanna smiled and nodded. “Yes, I was unable to have a child.” She reached for Arik’s hand and held it. “We knew Meena was a blessing to us, but now she’s proven to be a blessing to all the Common Folk.”
Arik squeezed Johanna’s hand. “When we found her in that basket in Molgadon, it was like our dream had come true.” He looked to Meena.
“You found her in Aardland?” the Lump asked, feeling a bit confused.
“No.” Arik shook his head. “Molgadon is an ancient ruin in Gallis, on the shore of the Wretched Water.” He looked at his wife, then back to the Lump. “It was abandoned when we passed through, well, except for our little Meena. She was wrapped in cloth and sleeping in a wicker basket.”
The Lump tilted his head. “You don’t say…”
Meena spoke up. “Lump, aren’t you the one who likes people to mind their own business?” Her green and blue eyes narrowed as she looked at him.
Flynn hobbled into the room with the assistance of a stick wedged under his arm. “It’s such a joy to see you up and moving.” He limped to the table and took a seat. “Yes, an absolute joy.”
“How’s your leg?” The Lump pointed at Flynn’s leg, it was splinted with two flat sticks that were held in place by strips of cloth tied around them.
“One of the bones is likely cracked.” Flynn rubbed his thigh under the table. “The crone told me it should heal well enough with time.”
“You speak about me like I’m not in the room.” The crone stared at Flynn with one eye squinted. “Inconsiderate.”
Meena walked to the table holding a large bowl. “Enough talking, you need to eat.”
The Lump took a seat at the table and the big bowl was placed before him. It was filled with porridge and had bits of dried fruit mixed into it. “Thank you, I’m starving.” He took a spoonful and shoved it into his mouth.
Flynn stirred his own bowl of porridge that Johanna had given him. “It took four men to carry you back, we were worried you might never wake.” He raised his spoon to his mouth.
The Lump swallowed his mouthful of food. “Where did you find four men willing to lug me around?”
Flynn chewed his porridge, then answered. “It was easy. People are so grateful that the dragon is gone, they hail Meena as a hero.” He looked over his shoulder at Meena. “The Common Folk will do anything she asks.” He turned his attention back to his bowl.
Meena took a seat at the table with food of her own. “The people here just make a habit of helping each other.” She looked down at her porridge. “This isn’t Aardland.” She scooped up a bite of food in her spoon.
“Be thankful for that,” the crone said, “but for me and your cohorts, it is home.” She had her hands on the prized tome in front of her.
The Lump turned to Flynn and asked, “When do you want to begin our journey home?”
Flynn looked down at his bowl and stirred his porridge nervously. “I was thinking that I might stay here for a while.” He looked up from his food. “Miss Johanna said that I am welcome.” He raised his spoon to his mouth again.
The Lump let out a little chuckle. “You’re that afraid of facing your mum?”
“No, I just feel I need a different sort of life, at least for a time.” Flynn looked at the Lump and asked, “Would you let her know that I’m well?”
“Of course,” the Lump answered, “but if she’s as scary as you say, I may not be well afterward.” He dropped his head and laughed, then looked at Flynn. “When you decide to come home, I’ll be happy to see you.” He put his hand on Flynn’s shoulder. “I’ll attest to your worthiness to be the Hero of Aardland.” He paused for a moment, then said, “I’d even be willing to squire for you, if nee
ded.”
“No, Lump.” Flynn shook his head. “It is you that should be the hero in Aardland.” He looked to Meena and asked, “Can there be more than one hero in the Needles?”
Meena raised her head from her bowl and smiled. “Everyone in the Common Lands is a hero.”
Flynn grinned and said, “Then I should fit in perfectly.”
The Lump swallowed another mouthful of porridge, then asked, “Did you ever find those quarrymen that escaped?”
“No.” Flynn shook his head. “Folks seem to think they went back to Aardland to resume their banditry in the forests around Bleuderry.”
“How about your sword?” the Lump asked, “Do you think you’ll ever find it?”
“No, but honestly, I was never much of a swordsman.” Flynn lifted his head up and put his hand on his chin. “I think I may make a longbow, I just might become an archer.”
Meena stopped eating and looked to the crone. “Have you ever heard tales of a woods witch?”
The crone tapped the tome in front of her. “There is likely something about it in this volume you liberated from that self-righteous Solson.” She pointed a crooked, pale finger at Meena. “Read it, read it thoroughly, come visit me and share what you learn.”
Meena nodded her head. “Yes ma’am, I will do so.”
The crone swung her bony finger to the Lump. “We leave on the morrow!”
“Sounds good enough to me.” The Lump raised his head from his food and looked at the crone. “I’ll see you safely to Bleuderry.”
“Bah! I’ve never had trouble seeing to my own safety.” The crone rested her hand on the book. “By the looks of you, it’s a struggle keeping yourself out of harm’s way.” She tapped her chest with a yellow fingernail. “Maybe if you listen to me you can make it home without breaking anything.”
“True enough.” The Lump made a broad smile. “I’ll value your sage advice. If I come across anything treacherous, I’ll just blow smoke at it.”
The crone said, “You can stay at the inn for a night or two. Get some food and build your strength.” She pointed at him again. “We have plenty of potatoes now, thanks to you.”
“I’ll never turn down a bowl of potato soup.” The Lump shoved another spoonful of porridge into his mouth.
“I’ll even give you a couple of coppers for your journey home…” The crone smiled and showed her few remaining teeth. “…if you convince Beverly to cut off that ridiculous mustache.”
The Lump laughed. “I’d be happy to sit on him and cut it off myself, I’m still a little sore at him about the snakes.” He pointed his thumb at the spot on his shoulder where the snake had bitten him.
“Bah! You should be sore at yourself about the snakes.” The crone waved at him dismissively. “Forget about the mustache, you can sweep up or something for your coppers.” She turned her head away from him. “You’ll be welcome to stay as long as you wish, I know you’ll earn your keep.”
“I appreciate it, but I won’t be staying too long.” The Lump lowered his head and put his hand on the back of his neck. “There’s a tavern in Windthorne that needs me.” He gritted his teeth. “I get a good bit worried when I think of what a mess Marty has likely made.” He took his hand off his neck and raised his head. “Did you know he can’t even put his boots on?”
Meena looked at the Lump and smiled. “I’m sure you miss home.”
“I do.” The Lump nodded in agreement. “But I will stay in Bleuderry long enough to take care of some business.”
“What business is that?” Flynn asked.
“I need to find a couple of outlaws…” A grin slid across the Lump’s face as he spoke. “…a hero can’t let people go around hurting mules, after all.”
Epilogue
“Men, we are the southern regiment.” The Commander rode on the back of a coal-black draft horse as he inspected the neatly organized rows of footmen with their halberds. “That means we are the shield of Gallis!” He came to the end of the block of men and pulled his steed around to ride back the other direction. “That is why we drill on this field until we can all move as one!” He brought his horse to a stop in the middle of the field and faced the men. “We are here for the protection of Gallis, and for the honor of King Ferte!” He pulled his sword from its scabbard and held it high above his head. “When the treacherous Aards are finally foolish enough to march on us, we will meet them with iron!”
The men lifted their halberds and shouted in unison. “Gallis!”
The footmen were all in identical dress with identical arms, they looked like the same soldier one hundred times over. They wore thick, woolen, gray tunics that came to their knees. Over the tunics was brittle, black, iron mail. The men wore black helmets atop their heads with a narrow strip of metal that came down over their noses. They each held in their right hand the favored weapon of Gallis, the halberd. The halberd was a six foot pole, painted black, with a deadly iron head atop it. The front side of the weapon’s head was fashioned after the sharp blade of an axe, a long, pointed spear tip rose from its top, and the backside consisted of a sharp hook. The weapon’s black color matched the footmen’s armor. The men stood in a block of ten men across that was also ten ranks deep.
The Commander wore the same tunic and armor as the men, but rather than a helmet, he wore a floppy, black, cloth hat atop his head. Instead of a halberd he was armed with a long-sword, and he wore fur around his shoulders to denote his rank. “On this day, we will divide into two bodies of fifty men.” He tapped his spurs to the sides of his large horse and resumed riding across the front row of men. “The first group will be the defenders, the second group will attack.” He held his hand out and pointed it forward. “The left fifty will be the first group.” He swung his hand back behind him. “You fifty on the right will attack.” He brought his horse to a stop and surveyed the field. It was at the base of a small mountain and had a thicket of trees at the south end. “I want heavy contact, but try to avoid killing one another. The hundred and one of us are all we have, we can ill afford to lose a man.” A few small flakes of snow were floating down through the air, and the wind carried a biting chill.
The footmen tapped their halberds on the ground in unison and shouted. “Aye!”
“Defenders, your objective is to maintain ranks and hold the line.” The Commander waved his hand at the thicket of trees to the south. “Attackers, you will take up a hidden position amongst those trees. On my command, you will pour out and attempt to break the defenders’ line.” He narrowed his eyes and pointed at the men. “I will know if you don’t put every effort into your attack. The reward for showing mercy to your brothers in arms will be double shifts on the watch. I assure you those will be the coldest and darkest shifts.” He raised his hand to his mouth and shouted. “Take positions!”
Fifty men marched to the center of the field and organized themselves into a block, ten men across and five ranks deep. The other fifty marched into the trees and hid themselves from sight.
The Commander rode his horse to the edge of the drilling field. “Attacks come unseen, unexpected.” He sat atop his horse with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “We will maintain our positions until my command. The command may come in the middle of the night, it may come with my next breath.” He looked to the trees, then looked to the block of men in the center of the field. “You will learn discipline, you will stand where you are for eternity if I deem it so.” He smiled. “I hope to see you drop your eyes to the ground, or give any hint of losing your form. A single pair of dropped shoulders could be enough for me to launch the attack.” His face grew grim again. “Now, we wait.”
The Commander sat silently on his horse as the sun moved across the cold sky. The men in the field stood like statues with their eyes forward and their halberds by their sides. The men in the trees were silent for hours.
The day’s silence was broken by a shriek from the trees. The Commander shouted, “You will be punished!” He pulled his horse’s rei
ns to one side and rode toward the line of trees. The single shriek was joined by a chorus of screams. The Commander dug his spurs into his horse and galloped toward the thicket. The screams were joined by the sounds of iron bouncing off stone.
The big draft horse stopped a few feet before the row of trees and reared. The Commander kicked his mount hard with his spurs, but the horse would go no further. The screams continued, joined by sounds of agony and voices quickly being snuffed out. The Commander dismounted from his bucking horse and stumbled to his knees when he hit the ground. The horse galloped wildly away from the line of trees and past the men still holding their ranks in the field. The Commander drew his sword and charged into the dense patch of forest. He saw the men he had stationed in their hidden position amongst trees. He dropped his sword and froze. He watched helplessly as half his men fell victim to the rage of a blind dragon.
NEXT: Dragon In Gallis
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