Offspring (The Sword of the Dragon)

by Appleton, Scott

  “Garfunk thinks this’s silly!” a voice suddenly said from behind.

  Turning to face the trapper, but keeping both hands on his sword’s leather-wrapped handle, Ombre shook his head at the man.

  “What, so you think thar may be another Sea Serpent out here?” The trapper turned his black eyes from Ombre’s frustrated gaze and faced the broad base of an oak tree. He made a sucking sound with his mouth and shot a dark wad of spittle at it. “Yeps … this’s silly. I’ve been trappin’ this part of the wilderness nigh five years. Garfunk thinks this’s a waste of his time.” He crossed his thick arms over his broad chest and stood with his legs set wide apart, bringing his height, which was still rather insignificant, below Ombre’s chest. “Thar’s no serpents here,” he said through his grizzly, black beard.

  “If there aren’t, then you’ve no need to worry, Garfunk.” Ombre raised his eyebrows. “And if there are, then you are going to put us on the short end of the fighting stick by alerting every critter from here to the sea to our presence.”

  “Bah! Garfunk thinks not!” The trapper shook his head and seemed amused. “Go on, young one … Garfunk’s takin’ a nap.” With that, Garfunk sat on the ground, where he’d spit, pulled his coonskin cap over his eyes, and rested his hand on his belt, just above the row of hunting knives he had sheathed there.

  With a sharp, long whistle the trapper pierced the silence. As Ombre twisted his finger in his ear, trying to get rid of the high-pitched ringing now playing havoc with his sense of direction, an old basset hound trotted through the trees, then howled and lay next to its master.

  “Thars Garfunk’s boy.” The trapper patted the dog’s head. “Just a smidgen nap, I promise,” he said to Ombre.

  “Garfunk!” The ringing in Ombre’s ear had finally stopped. He lowered his sword, backed up to the tree, and kicked the trapper in his leg.

  “Yow!” The trapper leapt to his feet. His foot landed on the dog’s tail, and it yelped, rolling to its feet as well. Both dog and master looked up at Ombre, neither hurt, but both with wide eyes.

  Ombre sighed and shook his head at the man. “Come on.” He pointed his blade into the forest. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

  Behind him he heard the trapper muttering as he followed, though with a new note of respect in his tone. “Now thars a feller that’ll get us both killed. You all right, Boy?”

  His dog whined and the trapper seemed to take that as a yes.

  “We’ll be takin’ a nap … just not yet. Ombre’s got the idea to hunt some serpents. C’mon,” he said with vigor, “mustn’t disappoint the man.”

  Hours later, when the trapper started complaining again, Ombre left him and his dog to nap while he proceeded alone. The sunlight fell through the trees in perpendicular rays. It had to be about midday.

  He’d left the trapper a good half mile behind. Now he stopped and sat against the rough bark of yet another broad oak. This part of the forest was not as hilly as where he and Ilfedo lived, and the trees were almost exclusively oaks with the occasional exception of a white birch or maple.

  The forest was silent. He pulled the head of his wolf’s skin over his forehead, cushioning his skull against the unrelentingly hard bark.

  He thought back to the other day when Ilfedo had returned to his home without his wife, cradling his child in his arms. Ombre had never seen his friend so broken up. Not even the death of Ilfedo’s parents had left a wound as deep as Dantress’s loss.

  With a twinge of guilt, Ombre remembered struggling with jealousy when Ilfedo returned to the Hemmed Land with his beautiful young bride. Not that he’d wished to deny his friend happiness, but Ilfedo and Dantress’s bond prevented him from maintaining the close brotherly relationship he’d had with Ilfedo before.

  All had changed for a period of less than a year. Now Ombre wished that he’d willingly sacrificed his adopted brother. How could he not have? Dantress was the most exquisite, delightful creature ever to step foot in their tiny corner of the world. Subterran had been brighter for her presence.

  Now she was gone, and he could only imagine the depth of sorrow Ilfedo bore. To have loved so deeply, yet for such a brief time …

  Ombre rested the hilt of his sword against his chest, the point of it stuck in the grass at his feet.

  He couldn’t help wondering what Ilfedo was up to at this moment. He chuckled to himself, thinking that once again his friend had the beautiful woman with him. Or, rather, women.

  Why couldn’t Ilfedo have sent a couple of them with Ombre? Actually, it seemed odd that Ilfedo had taken them along at all. They were surely going into battle. Then again, all five of the sisters had been armed and seemed to wield their swords with practiced ease.

  He’d caught Ilfedo sparring with his wife once, not long after the wedding. Dantress had surprised him with both her agility and her reflexes. In fact, he doubted that he could have bested her in a duel. Ilfedo had done it without too much difficulty, but Ombre … no. She’d possessed a mastery of the sword that was inexplicable for one so young and so feminine. Maybe her sisters did as well.

  He let the silence of the forest envelop him and closed his eyes. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, his other senses became more alert. Now his ears picked up the faint clopping of hoofs on dry leaves, the sound of running water, and a child’s playful laugh.

  A child? Curious, he opened his eyes and looked around. Seeing no one, he stood and crept in the direction from which he thought the laughter had come.

  Again the child giggled. This time he spotted her, dipping her small feet into a clear stream running through the forest. He couldn’t see her face, but she had long red hair and was no more than three feet tall. If he had to venture a guess, he’d say she was so no older than eight.

  Nothing seemed remarkable about his discovery until a stallion appeared behind the child and nuzzled her. With a broad grin spreading across her rosy cheeks, the child turned. The stallion lowered its head, letting her run her fingers through its silver mane.

  Ombre walked closer, fascinated by what he saw. The animal was magnificent. Never had he seen its equal. Its body rippled with muscle, and it looked at the child with eyes that glinted silver and ocean blue.

  The stallion raised its head in Ombre’s general direction. The muscles beneath its pale-gray body rippled as it pawed the ground with a silver hoof.

  At first Ombre thought he’d been discovered, but a long black, scaled body slid through the forest growth ahead of him. A Sea Serpent! They have come inland! Before he could react, the stallion charged through the trees. Rising with a scream, it bent its forelegs and struck the serpent’s body with its sharp hooves.

  The forest around Ombre erupted into chaos as the injured serpent’s black head rose from behind several bushes. Its white eyes targeted the stallion, its fangs framing its gaping mouth.

  With the serpent’s blue blood now dripping from the tips of its silver hooves, the stallion reared. It whinnied, wheeling to face its opponent.

  The little girl screamed.

  Ombre spotted another pair of white eyes rise from the opposite side of the stream. Another Sea Serpent come to join the hunt. It pulled back its head, its open mouth twisted into a snarl.

  With his sword gripped in both hands, Ombre leaped over the first serpent. Racing to the stream, he splashed into it just as the second serpent struck. As it brought down its head to strike, he slipped his blade between its fangs, ripping into the roof of its mouth. The sword passed through the serpent’s mouth and rose like a horn out its snout.

  The serpent’s blood ran in blue rivulets down his blade, and Ombre yanked the weapon free. The little girl dashed to him and wrapped her arms around his midriff, screaming in terror. He tried to calm her, but that was difficult to do with the Sea Serpent’s monstrous head only a foot away.

  Behind him the stallion screamed. It would be a shame if such a fine animal were poisoned by the Sea Serpent, but he dared not look because a third serpent rose
from the forest floor.

  Its tail whipped through the air, crushing his shoulder and sending him crashing into the water. He rolled to his side to protect the child from the fall, and the pebbles in the shallow stream bruised his arm and side.

  As he fell into the stream, he pulled the sword with him. It left a hole in the second serpent’s snout.

  The serpents hissed as they loosened their jaws and struck at him … and the little girl.

  Sitting up in the cold stream, he pulled the child out of the way and lifted her to the opposite bank. Rolling onto his shoulder, he evaded the second serpent’s attack. The third serpent almost nailed him with its venom-dripping fangs. Ombre climbed to the stream’s bank, raised his sword over his head, and brought it down with such force on the serpent’s skull that it erupted, spilling its brains all over his hands and arms.

  Fighting a revolting stomach, he slashed at the remaining serpent. His blade sliced its jawbone, and he followed through with another cut that left half the creature’s mouth hanging useless.

  As the creature twisted on the ground, Ombre stood to his feet. Pointing his blade at its head, he waited until it twisted into a convenient position and thrust through its brain. It stopped writhing.

  The little girl splashed through the stream and clung to his waist. He rested one hand on her shoulder, his sword in the other as he turned around to find out what had become of the first serpent.

  It lay on the ground nearby, the stallion’s hooves had left innumerable marks on the vile creature’s body so that its blue blood now painted much of the forest floor. But the creature wasn’t dead. Gray shadowed its usual white eyes as it stared up at the rearing stallion. Its head, held low to the ground, jerked from side to side.

  Suddenly a dog howled from the west, and Garfunk the trapper ran out of the trees from behind the wounded serpent, a long hunting knife in each hand. The serpent, already weakened, slowly twisted toward the new threat.

  Garfunk’s basset hound bayed from a safe distance while its master stabbed his armament of hunting knives into the serpent’s head. When Garfunk backed off and stood with legs set wide apart, he crossed his arms over his burly chest. At least half-a-dozen knife handles crowned the Sea Serpent’s head. And it fell moments later.

  Ombre lowered his sword, breathed deeply of the cool, moist morning air. The little girl sobbed quietly. Nothing of her face was visible, only her red hair as she smothered herself in his soaked shirt.

  He looked down at her, wondering how best to calm her. “You’re going to be all right,” he said, patting her head.

  A soft snort made him look up. A pair of large, round blue eyes returned his gaze. The little girl’s stallion protector. A breeze toyed with the stallion’s silvery mane. Its eyes swam with the beauty of an ocean, deep and blue. Yet it seemed that strands of silver swam in that ocean, demanding something of him.

  But what did the horse want? The child released his waist.

  The stallion bent its legs until it crouched to the ground. The little girl grabbed a fistful of its long, silver mane and jumped to its back. It stood, snorted at Ombre again, and galloped away, avoiding the trees with gracefulness and vanishing like a phantom. The only evidence of its existence were the prints of its silver hooves in the dead Sea Serpent’s body.

  “You know,” Garfunk pursed his lips, letting out a shrill whistle of amazement. “I thinks I’ve seen everythin’ … but I’s never seen a horse like that.” His hound trotted up to him, and he sat on the enormous serpent carcass, punched it with his fist. He nodded at Ombre. “That thar was some good swordfightin’ you did. You just ‘bout killed these things yerself!”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Ombre rubbed his bruised side and looked to the east through the trees. “I think we’ve covered all the territory around here, that is, us and the other hunting parties. We’re not far from the coast now. Are we?”

  “I’ve been trappin’ these forests a long time,” Garfunk said, rubbing his hand along the serpent’s skin as he sat on it. “Garfunk never thought to see one of these things inland.” He stretched out on his back, atop the serpent, and closed his eyes. He jabbed his index finger eastward. “You’ll find the coast thataway.”

  Ombre sheathed his sword. “I’ll see you around, then.” He jumped the stream and waved his hand without bothering to look back. “Thanks for your help.”

  Ilfedo let the tree branches slide across his face as he stepped out of the forest. The air was still, the morning quiet. Dew from the branches moistened his forehead, and he didn’t bother to dry it. The moisture felt good, refreshing.

  Not a single cloud graced the blue sky. Beginning where the forest ended, the field where he walked rolled east to a distant line of white sand washed by the gentle waves of the Sea of Serpents. That vast body of water, in turn, stretched all the way to the eastern horizon. He imagined that the water beyond the horizon touched undiscovered lands full of green, rolling hills. Places he’d often wondered and dreamed about after his first visit to the coast when a youth.

  Off to the side a walled town stood by the sea, and smoke rose straight to the heavens from several of the buildings. Ilfedo glanced over his shoulder. The five sisters emerged from the trees in a row, their dark eyes staring back at him intently, enduing him with extra strength.

  Beckoning for them to follow, he set a brisk pace and made his way to the town’s west gate. To enter, he ducked under a fallen beam and sidestepped one of the gate’s twin doors, which had fallen to the ground. The sisters trooped after him, practically dancing over the rubble.

  Inside, hard cobblestones paved the central street leading through the center of the town to its eastern gate. Those doors lay in pieces on the ground, as well, having fallen inward from the wall and onto the street.

  The homes and businesses on either side still stood, but the town was silent as a tomb and seemed almost as cold as one, too.

  “I want all of these buildings checked. Caritha, Rose’el, and Laura”—Ilfedo pointed to a street leading north—“look in that direction.”

  Caritha reached into her skirt, through a fold in the outer garment, and drew out her rusted sword. The blade glowed with a faint light. She held the weapon in one hand, acknowledged Ilfedo’s order with a slow nod, and walked up the north street.

  Following close behind, Laura drew her sword as well.

  Rose’el shook her head, muttering something like, “Here we go again,” and followed. She drew her sword, its rust screeching against the sheath.

  “What about us?” Levena’s eyes searched his face.

  Beside her, Evela stood with her hands clasped over her bosom. “Give him time to think. He has dealt with these creatures before … surely he knows best what to do now.”

  “I have dealt with these creatures before.” Ilfedo reached to his side, slipping his hand over the cool pommel of the sword of the dragon. For a moment he considered leaving the remaining two sisters to watch the main street. But he could hear the crackling of fire in several nearby buildings, their wooden walls feeding the blaze. He’d feel better if he kept his wife’s kin in sight.

  “Come with me.” He forced a smile as he spoke, but it was a weak smile, one borne of necessity and not from his heart. That part of him still ached, trying to cope with the loss of his dearest love.

  Casting aside his inner grief, he set off toward the southern end of town. At each building he expected to see a pair of white snake eyes peering around the stone foundation. If he found one of those foul creatures, he would channel his grief into his sword arm … and heaven help the serpent that dared stand in his way.

  The buildings burned around him as he made his cautious way through the streets. Most of the buildings were single-story structures; some rose a couple floors higher than that. In places, the cobblestones had been stained red with blood not yet dried. But nowhere did he see any bodies.

  Turning into a side street leading to the southeastern corner of town, he climbed a
pile of rubble, stones mixed with wood. He stood on the rubble and gazed around. Behind him Levena and Evela murmured, “Take care, brother.”

  Few of the buildings remained intact. Gaping holes had been punched through most—holes large enough for a horse to walk through. Telltale bits of black leathern snake skin ringed each gap and mixed with the rubble. He crouched and extracted a black scale from under a stone.

  As he turned it over in his hand, rage built within him. The rough snake skin scraped over his palm. Curling his fingers into a fist, he crunched the scale, paying no heed to the pain it caused as it bit into his hand.

  Not bothering to warn the two women with him, he dropped the snake’s scale and bolted into the nearest hole. Smoke stung his eyes, roiling around him. Rubble crunched under his feet; flames spread up the stairway and over the floors, threatening to burn him. But he pressed on through the building, past a table broken in half and chairs burning around it. He trampled a burning pair of curtains on his way out the back of that house. The alley led to another serpent-sized hole. He wound through that building and the next and the next.

  He stumbled over an anvil in a smaller building, its long roof now smashed by some creature. Picking himself up, he gritted his teeth and skirted the blacksmith’s forge. The forge itself appeared undamaged, but the rubble had fallen into the blazing fire. A wall of flames spread from the forge, churned along the wood walls, splashing against what remained of the splintered ceiling.

  With a burst of speed, he ran through the flames, reaching the other end of the blacksmith’s shop unscathed. The thick wall of wood had also been smashed through by something that had left three-foot-long strands of black-scaled skin hanging across the opening. The strands flapped back and forth as the fire within the building sent waves of heat against them.

  Parting the strands of snake skin with his hands, he darted through the wall. He stepped out of the shop into the six-foot-long bed of a wagon. But one of the wheels was missing and the other was ringed with flames, leaving its bed angled sharply toward the street.