Sowing Dragon Teeth

by James Alderdice

  Following the small river Aisha was struck by the beauty of the land, especially after a good rainstorm.

  Catlo was the first to break the silence of their ride. “Do you know how far it is to Jokameno now? Any idea on how many more days?”

  “Not far,” she said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means not far.”

  “Yes but—”

  Aisha cut him off. “Maybe I should have bargained with Izangomma for you to be left for his son.”

  Catlo balked. “Listen here—”

  She wheeled in the saddle to face him. “Do you think you could have beat him, hand to hand in a fair fight?”

  “I don’t know, but I never fight fair,” said Catlo.

  “What a surprise,” Aisha said, with a grunt. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t leave you lost in the desert.”

  “He’s with me,” said Ole.

  “And according to the leopard tribe, you belong to me now,” she said.

  “Yes, well,” Ole blushed again.

  Aisha thrust her next question to Ole directly, not caring if Catlo overheard. “I’d really like to know when that blood debt is going to get repaid so we can get on with our lives without that desperado hanging it over you.”

  Ole waved Catlo off before he could speak. The bandit chief snarled under his breath and spurred his horse ahead to ride with Musa at the forefront again.

  Ole began, “I was in the Red Brotherhood. I sailed under captain Tiberius aboard the Vulture.”

  “I knew the man and I knew the ship,” Aisha said.

  “We were with you in the Black Armada of course. You gave directions to hold the line and we did, we were broken on the first wave from the Shogunate. They are doughty and crafty sailors and the Vulture was no match for their flagship’s onslaught. I think you should have known that.”

  Aisha reluctantly nodded her head. “I did. But I had to catch the Shogun’s command ship in a trap.”

  “A trap that didn’t work.”

  “I know that now, but I can’t take back the past or my failings, I can only go on.” She paused. “But I’m sorry, you go on.”

  “I was lucky in that I survived, but I was picked out of the sea, captured and taken prisoner and sent back to Sen-Toku in chains. I became a slave. I worked there under terrible conditions for only two weeks, it was incredibly lucky because then I was bought and or freed depending on how you look at it. By Catlo, he knew enough of Northmen and the code of honor we are raised with that he didn’t want to just try and keep me as a slave, knowing full well that I’d strangle him the first chance I got. Instead he was savvy enough to free me and clothe me and take me away from my enemies—if I would swear a blood debt to him.”

  “What kind of blood debt?”

  “That I should save his life three times. In his line of work, he knew it was something that would need doing.”

  “How many times have you already?”

  “Twice since just before we met you. I figured I would see through this adventure and get rich in the process if it panned out. I don’t think I can go back to being a pirate for a while, all the Shogunate rules the Iraythian Sea now and they know my face.”

  “Some might say that’s a good thing for a pirate,” she joked.

  “Don’t,” he stopped her. “If this can pay half as much as Catlo promised I could go back to Vjorn and become a nobleman myself, get land and start a family. I’m not going to be young enough for this forever.”

  “You’re not old, you’re as strong as any man I’ve ever known.”

  His ice-blue eyes sparkled as he spoke. “We all get old sometime. I’d like to have something good set up before I’m too old to hold onto it.”

  “Do you think I could love the land that you do? This northland of Vjorn? Where the looms of the gods color the skies at night?”

  “Maybe. I’d like that,” he said.

  “Maybe you could stay here and come to love my lands too?”

  He shook his head. “I must go back sometime. I need to see my parents before they go to Valhol.”

  “Is your heart too cold for my land?” she teased.

  “I love my land above all others. You don’t know cold like I do though. It is cold like this land is hot. Snow and ice cover the land for almost half the year. Frost is common enough more than half the months out of the year.”

  Aisha shivered at the thought. She had seen snow, but it had never lasted longer than the noonday sun showing itself. A land where it remained half of the year? That would be something to see. “If there is snow so long, how do things grow?”

  “They grow, but the season is short, and you must keep things in root cellars or pickled for the long winter months. It can be done. We have done it for centuries.”

  “I think I should like to see this homeland of yours, once my duties here are done,” she lamented. “But I don’t know when that will be.”

  “What are those duties?”

  “You know, I told you when we first met. I was scouting for the Valchiki army. I am supposed to be on watch for the Kathulians who seek to invade.”

  Ole rubbed at his jaw. “Well, judging by what we have seen, they are already doing that. So will you go and fight them head on? Or from the shadows?”

  “I would do whatever I could.”

  He nodded. “But after this?”

  She looked at him and shook her head. “I have another reason for wanting to come.” She watched to see that Catlo and Musa were too far ahead to hear her words carried on the wind.

  “They can’t hear you,” assured Ole.

  “A dragon slew my father when I was just a girl. I want revenge. If I can go to the place where dragons go to die and be born again and crush their eggs and steal their treasure, well, I guess I will. It won’t bring my father back, but I’ll get something out of it.” She realized she was almost shouting her fury and excitement at the prospect of such revenge. Catlo and Musa were a hundred yards ahead of them, but they turned in their saddles to look and see what was happening.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she shouted back at them.

  Catlo waved his arm and muttered something like, ‘Keep quiet then.’ It was hard to tell between the distance and rushing of the winds that were gathered about them.

  “We might want to seek shelter soon. It looks like a great rainstorm could be coming and we should be on the high ground,” said Ole.

  Aisha agreed, and they caught up to Catlo and Musa. They followed a goat path up the rim of the canyon to a spot that gave a slight amount of shelter from a rock overhang and a few scrubby trees that helped block the wind and rain. The storm battered at them the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. They could not get a fire to start and took to being clustered together for warmth in the cool damp air. There was nothing to do but try and sleep.

  It was a cold night but by morning the rain had let up and they were moving again. The day remained grey and as they rode on, the hollow of a valley widened, though the gloom never washed away with the rising of the sun. Trees crowded the steep slopes, covered in what at first Aisha though was moss but it was soon apparent that it was fungus. Even the leaves no longer existed but instead a cobweb of gray-green fungus blanketed the landscape.

  The path through the gloomy forest narrowed and the mists became thicker until they could no longer see the sides of the valley. Abruptly, a great post barred their way, directly in the middle of the path. It stood like a sentinel, with an ancient rope affixed to it like a belt. The rope stretched on into the unfathomable grey.

  “I suppose this is where we dismount and hold onto the rope.” Aisha said.

  “Ridiculous, we can just as easily ride beside it. No need to walk,” grumbled Catlo.

  “Izangomma warned that if we lost the rope, we would lose the path and be devoured by Grey Stalks, whatever those are,” said Aisha.

  “Bah! Grey Stalks? Sounds like old corn. This is stupid.”

  O
le dismounted and tied his saddle to Aisha’s reins. “I’ll walk first, with a hand on the rope and leading the pack. There is only room for us to be single file in any case and it wouldn’t hurt the horses to be relieved of carrying our backsides for a while.”

  “Always the pragmatist Ole, you should have been a lawyer in Avaris,” said Catlo.

  “I should have been somebody, all right,” muttered Ole.

  They all dismounted and held to their horses’ reins in one hand and the rope in the other. They watched the sides carefully but saw nothing beyond the leering, mold covered branches of trees. In places, even their view of the ground beneath their feet was obscured and lost. Everything vanished as the fog grew denser and soon, Aisha could hardly see the horse in front of her, though the clomping of hooves and the shuffling of feet assured her everyone was there.

  A cold tremor ran through her body as she realized more footsteps trod than just those of her companions. Something stalked them, walking as they did just beyond her sight in the grey murk.

  “Wait,” she said, drawing a halt to their precarious march.

  As they stopped all sounds of their invisible companions froze too.

  “What is it?” asked Ole.

  “I thought I heard us being trailed. As if something was following us just off to my left.”

  “I heard it to the right,” said Musa.

  “It’s nothing,” said Catlo scornfully. “The fog is playing tricks on you. It’s echoes, nothing more.”

  “Don’t you get tired of being wrong,” pressed Ole. “I heard it too. We are being tracked.”

  “Could it be the Leopard people?” asked Catlo.

  Aisha shook her head, then realized no one could see her. “I don’t think so. They might want us dead now, but Izangomma said they would not follow us on this path.”

  “You can’t trust anyone who wants you dead,” said Catlo.

  “Thanks for the reminder,” she said.

  Ole pulled on the reins resuming the blind caravan. “Keep your wits about you and your steel closer.”

  The ground in front of them was lost in the swirling murk and soft moldy underbrush. Every footfall had a carpet of soft stinking mildew creeping over it. The sound of their invisible antagonists resumed as well.

  Aisha did her best to pierce the grey wall of mist. She thought she saw long tendrils swinging through the murk, hardly darker than the fog itself, but she could not be sure if they were just the slime coated trees or some strange being striding along.

  Whatever followed them stopped whenever they stopped and resumed when they resumed. Aisha began to wonder if Catlo was right, that there was some form of echo causing a delusion. The fog created a mind-altering experience as it wafted about.

  “I’m tired. We should rest for a while,” said Catlo, as he let go of the rope and leaned against his horse.

  “Catlo, take hold of the rope. I could feel you let go,” scolded Ole.

  “I’m tired too,” said Musa, drowsily.

  “All right, we can take a break for a moment,” agreed Ole.

  “No!” Aisha shouted. “I know what is doing this. The mold, the spores, it is all to make us unawares and drug our minds. We must get up and leave this place as fast as we can.”

  Ole yawned, but took his place at the lead and pulled on his sluggish mount to move. The horses stamped and protested but finally agreed to move once the Northman gave a powerful tug on the reins.

  The forest appeared to be coming at them, massive dark shapes with wide extended horns looming, crashed toward them.

  “Grey stalks!” cried Musa.

  The mountainous things still hid in the gloom, but their huge presence was felt as the earth shook beneath their footfalls. Hoping to gain a height advantage in fighting the towering beings, Ole mounted his horse and let go of the rope. The animal panicked and raced into the gloom with both of the other mounts tied to it and the Grey Stalks in fierce pursuit.

  Aisha ran after her horse and caught hold of a stirrup before it tore from her grasp. She fell face down into the moldy earth. Something massive stepped over the top of her, chasing after the horses. More of the Grey Stalks moved nearby but soon they too moved farther away after the sound of the fleeing horses.

  She had just begun to get up when she heard something behind her. It was Catlo.

  “That you Aisha?” he said. “What were those things? Looked like giraffes covered with big antlers and mold.”

  “I didn’t get a good look,” she admitted.

  “I’m just gonna lay down and take a rest.”

  “Stay if you want, but if you stop moving, I’m sure you’re dead.”

  “Fine,” he said, sleepily. “I’ll keep moving then.”

  “Follow me then. We need to find that rope.” She knew if she backtracked ever so slightly perhaps less than twenty paces she would find the rope. Everything was covered in the grey mist, but she was sure she could find it. It had to be so close.

  But after five fruitless minutes, Aisha was at a loss. “I can’t find the rope. My sense of direction is gone.”

  Catlo yawned loudly and slumped to his knees.

  “Get up,” she growled. “If we find one of those Grey Stalks, I want you able to stick it with your sword.”

  “I’ll stick you with my—”

  “Don’t even say it,” she thundered, slapping him across the chest. He fell backward just out of sight but made a splash in water.

  “Damnit. Now I’m tired and wet. Damn you Aisha.”

  “Shut up. I may have just saved your life.”

  “How?”

  “We’ll follow this creek. Water will flow down, it could take us to the Hermonthis river since this canyon goes that way.”

  “Whatever,” grumbled Catlo.

  They followed the creek, splashing through the ankle-deep water for hours, until the air started to freshen, and the mist lessened. Once they could see clear enough they strode beside the creek and finally into an adjoining ridgeline where they found the trail once again.

  Horse hooves broke the stillness as Ole and Musa burst through the mist.

  “You made it out before we did?” Ole asked.

  “I suppose so, no thanks to you,” growled Aisha.

  “I didn’t try to lose you. The horses panicked when those things came at us.”

  “Did you fight them?”

  “No, it’s like they just wanted to chase us out of there, I never got a good look at one. If we hadn’t found the creek, I don’t know what we would have done. I couldn’t see the sun, nor anything else.”

  “So tired,” said Musa.

  Ole nodded. “The horses kept moving because of their fear, or I think we all would have fallen asleep there. You have any idea what that was?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I realized it wasn’t just fog but spores in the air, perhaps they were granting a temporary sleepiness or even madness while we breathed them in.”

  “Let’s never go that way again,” said the Northman.

  They continued through the valley until the fog dispersed and the air lightened. Sunshine penetrated the remote canyon walls and as they strode up a steep incline, the air became fresher.

  Catlo slumped upon his horse, barely awake, and Musa appeared to be a sleepwalker as he trudged along beside.

  The land had a gentle slope and took them to a vista overlooking the wider Hermonthis River. They followed it for some time until in the distance they saw a squared manmade structure, standing out bone white like an island in the middle of the muddy brown river.

  “Looks like we are back on track of my map.” Aisha tapped her brow.

  18. Temple of the Crocodile

  The huge building of stone had large pillars on the front and a series of steps leading to a darkened interior. Statues on the far ends looked like open-mouthed crocodiles.

  “It is the temple of the crocodile,” said Musa, “an evil place.”

  “You know,” mused Catlo, “it kinda s
eems like you say everywhere we go and everything we see is an evil place down here. How come we never see something, and you say, ‘Oh this is a good thing, that is a blessed watering hole, this is good fortune…’”

  Musa scowled at Catlo but kept his mouth shut.

  “It looks strange,” said Aisha. “It isn’t on the shore of the river, it is out sitting in it.”

  “Well, it is for those who worship the crocodile, so it remains in the river like a crocodile would,” said Catlo, feigning Musa’s accent.

  When they got closer they could see that torches flared murkily deeper within the darkened alcove, but they did not see anyone.

  “It looks like someone wants us to go in,” said Ole.

  “Fat chance,” spat Catlo. “Why should we go in there? It’s likely a den of thieves and cutthroats.”

  “You should talk,” muttered Aisha.

  “Oh? You want too? Fine then, let’s go in and see what these priests of the crocodile have to offer. Huh? They are leaving a torchlight on, they must want humble visitors they can preach to and expound upon the virtues of their esteemed crocodile god,” responded Catlo, almost sneering his words. “I’m sure they would appreciate a tithe put into the jaws of their damnable god.”

  Aisha frowned. “I don’t think I want to have anything to do with a crocodile god.”

  “That makes three of us,” said Ole.

  “Help!” came a woman’s cry from somewhere in the dark.

  They looked to each other.

  “Every good fishhook has a worm,” said Aisha. “Let’s keep moving.”

  “Help,” repeated the cry.

  Musa and Catlo started riding ahead. Ole lingered as Aisha moved on.

  “Help me,” came the pleading sound, somewhat softer this time, as if the carrier of the voice was being taken deeper into the unhallowed halls.

  Ole still watched and listened.

  “No,” said Aisha. “It’s a trap. That’s bait.”

  “And if it’s not?” Ole persisted.

  “You can’t save everyone.”

  “Sounds like one person,” he said. “I can save one person.”

  “And risk the rest of us?”

  “I don’t have to have you all help me, I’ll do this myself if I have to. It’s the right thing to do.” He dismounted.