by Bruce Leslie
The commander stared silently at Meena for a moment, then turned his head toward the prisoners. “If any of those animals move, run the hostages through with your halberds.” He turned his gaze back to Meena. “Now, shall we hang this miserable crone?”
14: An Old Friend
“Here is my proposal, witch,” said the Gallisian Commander. His hand was on the hilt of his sword, and a confident smirk stretched across his face. “If you surrender yourself, and the crone hangs, I will release your parents.”
“And my other companions?” Meena gave a quick nod toward the three men behind her.
“The big one must return to Galliston.” The Commander gave his shoulders a slight shrug. “I have no interest in the other two.”
Meena glanced at her parents. They had fear in their eyes as they stood motionless at the point of two halberds. She turned her eyes back to the Commander. “If I surrender, you must spare the crone!”
The Commander shook his head. “The hag has to hang for her offenses, there is no changing that.”
Meena looked up at the birds circling low overhead. They glided on the wind, holding their powerful wings steady as they banked. She looked over at her frightened parents with their hands bound and mouths gagged, then back up at the crone with the rope around her neck. She said, “This is the final time I will make this offer: release my parents and the crone, and I will surrender myself to you.” She glanced back at the Lump, then returned her eyes to the gallows. “My friend will be free to choose whether or not to return to Galliston. Those are the terms for my surrender.”
“No, Meena, you can’t do that!” Flynn kept his drawn bow trained on the Commander while his eyes shot toward Meena. “You have no idea what they will do to you.”
The Commander laughed at Meena’s proposal. “To show how little I care for your offer, I believe I will hang the old woman now.” He tightened the loop of rope around the crone’s neck.
“No, you won’t!” Meena gripped her staff tight in both hands and shouted, “I warned you!”
A chorus of screeches erupted overhead. Falcons swooped down from the cloudless sky and buried their talons into the mail of the footmen guarding Meena’s parents. The footmen let out startled cries while wings, beaks and talons beat against them.
The well-muscled stag leapt at the guards while the birds demanded their attention. The noble beast lowered its head and the mighty rack of antlers crashed into the poles of the extended halberds and forced them away from the prisoners. The stag snorted and dug its hooves into the ground as it pushed against the guards.
Flynn loosed his arrow. It sailed toward the gallows and the Gallisian Commander that stood upon them.
The Commander dropped to his knees. The planks made a hollow thud when he hit them and the arrow sailed over his head. He shouted, “Kill them all!”
Meena rushed toward the gallows and swung her staff in a fast arc at the legs of the two footmen standing next to the crone. She swept their legs out from under them and they crashed hard on their backs. One footman’s helmet fell away and rolled off the wooden platform.
The crone pulled the loop of rope off her neck with her bound hands. “You waited long enough, girl!” She slid down from the gallows.
Meena reached under her thick, green cloak and snatched out the golden handled dagger tucked at her belt. She cut the ropes from the crone’s hands and quickly shoved the blade back in its sheath.
Sam ran over to Meena’s parents and ushered them away from the struggling guards. They rushed to the side of Snowy, the great white bear. The crone shuffled forward and joined them.
Flynn released another arrow at the Commander. The Gallisian dropped down to his belly with a groan and lay flat against the gallows’ planks.
The two footmen on the platform scrambled to regain their feet. Meena’s staff whacked the un-helmeted man in the temple and he crumbled limp to the platform. Her staff zipped back to the other footman and knocked his helmet free. She then brought the thick stick of ash low and swept his feet out from under him once more.
Meena ran to Snowy’s side and stood with her parents, Sam, and the crone.
Flynn launched another arrow to keep the Commander pinned, then darted toward the bear. The Lump lumbered along behind him.
Once he reached the big white bear, the Lump used his little sword to free the hands of Meena’s parents. With their hands free they were quick to jerk the gags from their mouths.
One of the halberd wielding guards remained locked with the antlers of the stag. The other managed to pull his weapon free and retreated a few steps, he had two falcons tangled in his black iron mail. The man squared his shoulders and thrust his halberd at the stag.
The stag swung his thick neck and parried the lunging blow with its rack. A few branches of antler snapped from the force of the blow.
Two more groups of footmen, comprised of at least six men each, appeared at either end of the clearing and flanked the group. They held their halberds low and stood in well organized formations.
The four wolves loped toward the left flank to engage one group of footmen. Saliva flew from their bared fangs as blood-thirsty snarls tore through the air.
The two brown bears charged the men at the right flank. Low grunts the only noise they made as they rushed forward.
The guard engaged with the stag lunged again. His weapon got under the broken antlers and the spike atop his halberd sank into the stag’s broad neck.
Meena cried out in pain as the stag folded to the ground.
The footmen at the right flank spread out and enveloped the rushing bears. They gouged at the big brown beasts from all directions. The bears swatted and roared as they attempted to keep their adversaries at bay.
Yelps rang out from the left flank. The out-numbered wolves fared poorly against the armed and armored Gallisian soldiers.
At both ends of the battle, halberds swung through the air and caught occasional swooping falcons, knocking them from the sky.
Tears gathered in the corners of Meena’s mismatched eyes. She gripped her staff in one hand and placed the other on the white bear. She called out, “Leave, all of you! They’re hurting you!” Her hand tightened on the white bear’s fur. “Not you, Snowy. I’m sorry, we need the dragon’s bane.”
The brown bears swiped at the footmen and punched a hole in the envelopment. They scrambled past the soldiers and disappeared into the Needles.
The wolves scampered away from the guards on the left and darted into the shadows of the stony labyrinth beyond the clearing.
The party huddled close together, next to the white bear with the crate tied to its back. The Lump clutched his small sword tight in his right hand and Flynn nocked another arrow.
The footmen fanned out in front of the gallows with lowered halberds and formed a line. They advanced with slow, cautious steps.
The Commander dared to stand. “You squandered your chance to surrender, witch!”
Flynn loosed an arrow at the left side of the advancing soldiers.
The soldiers on the left halted their advance as the missile sailed past them. The soldiers on the right rushed ahead.
The Lump galloped forward to meet the charging footmen. He ignored the shocks of pain coursing up his thigh. He raised both his oversized arms and knocked halberds aside with his leather bracers. He brought his meaty hands down, his right one still clutching his sword, and shoved three soldiers back.
Flynn nocked another arrow and swiveled from his right to his left, uncertain which direction to loose it.
The Lump deflected another halberd’s lunge and slapped a footmen’s helmet with his big left hand. He shouted, “Go! Run! Flee! I’ll hold them for you!”
“You’ll be killed!” cried Meena.
“So will you if you stay!” The Lump punched a footman and the helmeted Gallisian’s head snapped back. “You’ve got to get your folks to safety!”
Flynn kept his bow string drawn. “I’ll stay with him, Meena. T
ake the others and go.” He trotted forward.
Meena gripped her staff in both hands and shook her head. “I will not run, I’m fighting!” She jerked her head toward her white bear. “Snowy and Sam can escort the others to safety.”
The crone put a withered hand on Meena’s cloaked shoulder. “They are fools, but they are right this time.” She pointed a crooked finger. “Your survival is more important than anything else.”
The Lump knocked another halberd aside with his sword. He grabbed the pole of the weapon with his left hand.
The footman wielding it pulled back hard.
The Lump held tight and leaned his weight on his heels. He grunted as he pulled, locked in a tug-of-war with the weapons pole.
The footmen abruptly stopped pulling, and instead pushed forward.
The unexpected change caused the Lump to stumble back. He released his grip and fell hard on his rear.
Flynn sent an arrow flying toward the footman standing over the Lump.
The arrow struck the footman in the shoulder, but the battle-raged soldier did not fall. He raised his halberd high in preparation to strike at the Lump’s chest.
The Lump held up a hand, turned his face away, and closed his eyes. He was prepared for a hundred possible outcomes, but he was completely shocked by what happened next.
The footman screamed in agony.
The Lump opened his eyes. He saw the footman above him squirm, his arm caught in the grasp of blocky, shimmering gray teeth. The teeth belonged to a spectral mule shrouded in glowing, gray mist. It was a most unexpected sight, but a familiar looking animal.
“Tilley, old girl!” The Lump blinked his eyes hard, not believing what he saw. “I must have gone mad, ‘cause I see your ghost, Tilley.”
The spectral mule shook its head and threw the footman to the ground. It spun around and launched several lightning fast kicks with its glowing hind legs that sent Gallisians scattering. The ghost-mule leaped high in the air, seeming to fly, then dove down and disappeared beneath the packed soil of the ground.
The Lump’s large body jostled as the dirt beneath him shifted. The phantom mule emerged from the ground with the big man astride it. The otherworldly mount snorted and gray smoke billowed from its nostrils.
The Lump beamed a smile that stretched from ear to ear. The apparition felt cold as ice against his thighs, but he did not care. He raised his undersized sword high and said, “Let’s get ‘em, Tilley!”
Cries of fear and confusion sprang up from the body of Gallisian soldiers. They scrambled about in a haphazard effort to resume their formation.
The phantom mule charged fast and fluid, as if unencumbered by the large rider it bore on its back. Strikes from halberds had no effect on the spectral beast as it galloped across the line of footmen. Its charge was far too fast to give the soldiers any hope of striking its passenger. Phantasmal smoke continued to pour from its nose with each snort.
The Lump swept the battlefield on his supernatural mount. He kept his head low and zipped about the clearing like cold, Winter wind bringing a terrible storm. Powerful and precise strikes with his tiny sword snapped the heads off halberds. Mighty kicks from his leather boots sent men flying onto their backs, his natural strength augmented by the force of the speeding ghost-mule. There was no pain in his injured thigh, the apparition’s cold aura seemed to heal it. Shouts of glee flowed out of the big man as the otherworldly mule circled the pitch. The Lump’s joyous sounds were matched by cries of terror from the shocked Gallisians. He felt invincible.
The Gallisian Commander stood on the gallows’ platform and watched with wide eyes and a pale face. He called out, “Retreat! Retreat and regroup!”
Many of the footmen dropped the remnants of their broken weapons and ran into the security of the limestone columns to the south. The few bearing intact weapons were careful to hold them close to their bodies as they fled.
The party made no attempt to pursue the routing Gallisians.
The Commander jumped down at the rear of the gallows. He looked back and shouted, “Your witchcraft will run dry soon enough! You will suffer before you die!” With those words, he scampered away and hid in the slabs of limestone behind the gallows.
The Lump rode his spectral mount over to where the party gathered by the white bear. He raised his sword high and waved it around. “Let’s go get that dragon!” He rubbed the icy coat on the mule’s neck. “Follow me and Tilley.” He gave his hand a beckoning wave and his ghost-mount galloped north.
15: Green Acolytes
The Lump felt the icy cold aura of the spectral mule beneath him as he rode at a slow walk through the pine forest of Southern Gallis. The long shadows of dusk gave way to night, and the party encountered no obstacles during their flight from the Needles. A full, bright spring-moon hung overhead like a celestial lantern, and the forest around him was silent. It was a peaceful time to spend with the mule, the friend he thought was lost forever. His face hurt from smiling.
The ghost mule stopped walking and stood as motionless as a statue in the center of the path. The gray mist that shrouded its body danced in the moonlight like smoke from a camp fire.
The Lump leaned forward, toward the apparition’s head. “What’s the matter old girl? Do you need to rest?” He ran a hand down the icy cold neck of his mount. “I do believe you’ve earned a little rest.” He hopped of his otherworldly mount and landed on both feet. “How about that?” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, then back again.
“How about what?” Flynn asked.
“My leg don’t hurt no more!” The Lump pointed at the spectral mule. “I think Tilley had some kind of magic that healed it.” He rubbed the spot where his thigh had been stabbed. The flesh was whole, bearing no evidence of injury. “I tell you, it’s like nothing happened.”
With the rider off its back, the ghost mule moved down the path, gliding more than walking. It traveled about a hundred paces away when another apparition stepped out of the forest to greet the mule. It looked like a small figure, perhaps a man. The new specter was slender and appeared to be an inch past five feet tall. The small figure put a hand on the mule’s shoulder and stroked it. Standing in the light of the moon, they both faded away to nothing.
“Could that’ve been…” The Lump stared down the empty path with his mouth agape. He shook his head and said, “I’ve been spending too much time around Marty, I’m becoming as chip-flipping crazy as he is.”
“Perhaps we’re all going mad,” said Johanna, Meena’s mother. “I have seen so many strange things in the past year, I no longer know what to believe.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“So how did you do it?” The Lump walked to Meena and stood beside her. “How did you bring Tilley back? Can you do it again?” He held his hands up by his shoulders.
Meena wrinkled her forehead and rested a hand on the fur of the white bear. “I had nothing to do with it.” She tilted her staff, pointing it at the Lump. “I thought it was a trick you had planned. I meant to ask how you did it.”
The Lump shook his head. “I don’t know how to plan nothing like that.” He looked over at the crone. “Do you know how it happened?”
The crone shrugged. “How should I know?” She pointed a crooked finger at the big man. “You’re the one that’s haunted by a mule!”
The Lump furrowed his brow. “Don’t you know about this fairy story stuff?”
“I know about witches.” The crone crossed her arms and turned her face aside. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“What do you mean?” The Lump pointed a meaty finger at the old lady. “You just saw a ghost!”
The crone shook her head and sneered. “I don’t know what I saw!” She raised her thin, gray eyebrows. “Besides, if I tell anyone about it they’ll think I’m mad.”
“I already think you’re a lunatic,” said the Lump.
The crone bared her few remaining teeth and the berry-sized bump on her cheek rose. She pointed a
knobby, crooked finger. “And you’re an oversized buffoon that rides a haunted mule!”
Meena pounded the bottom of her staff against the ground. “Enough of this idle chatter!” She adjusted her cloak around her shoulders. “I need to get my parents somewhere safe, then we can pursue the dragon.”
Flynn asked, “Where do you think would be safe?”
Meena’s father, Arik, spoke up. “I know a safe place we can go, it’s to the west.”
“That sounds splendid,” said Meena. “The crone can stay with you as well, and Sam can help keep watch.”
“I’ll go where I please!” snarled the crone. “You don’t order me around!”
“My apologies.” Meena gave her head a slight bow. “What would please you?”
The crone raised her chin. “I’d like to stay with your parents, in the safe place.”
“Fine enough,” said Meena. “I will leave the tome with you.”
“Now that we’ve settled that, I suppose west is as good a direction to go as any.” The Lump held out an open hand. “Lead the way, sir, and we’ll follow.”
Arik smiled and nodded. “Yes, Lump.”
Arik and Johanna walked down the path with Meena and the white bear close behind them. Sam and the crone came next, and the Lump and Flynn took the rear position. Despite the late hour, they traveled on rather than make camp. Traveling with a bear offered a measure of security that made the night less foreboding.
After several miles of walking the winding westward trail, the party’s peaceful moonlit journey was disturbed. The group came to an abrupt stop when an unexpected voice shouted in the distance.
“So, we’ve found you!”
The voice sounded sinister, it had a hint of a growl mixed in with its elocution.
A man in a heavy green cloak stepped onto the path ahead. He held a torch and the flickering light of the flame shone on his masked face. It was a green cloth mask draped over the entirety of his visage save for two small holes for his eyes. There was a jagged red stripe down either side of the mask.
