Chapter Twelve
Dreadgons
Pluck and Quip returned, having found several more men. Soldiers, Fletching and Morgog alike, set about their daily chores. Some stoked the fires while others gathered wood. Large cast iron pots were placed over flames to boil water for Sable Coffee, a very black liquid served straight, and Chip Tea. It was made from a brownish-red bitter root sweetened with Forest Bee’s honey. Supplies were divided as Fletching Archers and Morgog Bowmen checked their equipment, made new arrows, and repaired old. Many High Guards and Sentinel Calvary sat, sharpening their swords. Trackers set out, scouting the area and led parties to hunt game. Sailors searched for springs and gathered fruits and nuts while the princess and Lady Flaxen slept through the morning. Before midday, the Fletching circle and Quip met with the Morgog command.
“I say we send a party to this Great City the Trif...”
“Me Trife,” Quip interrupted Vim.
The Morgog Second growled, and the rat-monkey said no more, returning to his drawing.
“As I was saying, we should send a party to this Great City the Trife speaks of,” Vim said as he leaned on the table, looking at the map Quip drew of MayPah. He didn’t like dealing with the small creature. It reminded him too much of what Necroms supposedly looked like. “Surely they shall have ships we can hire to sail us to Kismet.”
“We are too few. We shouldn’t send a group,” Ardor insisted. “Let us move as a whole and send scouts ahead of us and that should save time.”
“There... Me done,” Quip stated as he stood on the sketch, examining his creation. “Good map.” He pointed with the quill which was nearly half his size and told them, “Shangra beyond Echo Marsh. Take riding animals three sun cycles, but travel through Land of Mud People. Me travel long way around. Mud People no like visitors.”
“What other options are there than going to this city?” Edward questioned as he scanned the map. The gold medallion of a charging Black Elk dangled from his neck.
Lord Caliber scanned the prince’s hands, looking for markings then turned to the Morgog Commander and shook his head.
Avarice frowned and turned his attention to Edward’s question and stated, “Other options?”
The Morgog Commander and Han glanced at each other and shrugged.
“None that we can come up with, my lord,” Han spoke as he studied the Callow Jungle. “Quip, what dangers might we face, trekking this land besides these Mud People you spoke of?”
“Dangers?” he questioned as he scratched his rat nose.
“Yes, are there other creatures like the Breed that we might face? Even though we are running out of time, I would prefer a safe route.”
“Many...” the Trife replied as he shuttered. “Me avoid. Me not like conflict.”
“Avoidance is best,” Han said. “Can you draw us the best course to the Great City Shangra?”
Quip nodded and went to work.
Sinew rushed in as sweat ran down the tracker’s bald head and he said, “Commander, quickly outside.” His pale face shone of terror.
Everyone hurried out.
“What is it?” Ardor demanded.
“There!” Sinew shouted as he pointed.
The camp was up in arms, looking down at the jungle where the tracker motioned. In the distance, trees swayed and cracked, toppling to the ground as a tidal wave of leaves and branches headed for the camp. The ground trembled as a great weight stumped across the land, and the wave of trees continued their way.
Han turned to Sinew and uttered,“By Fletching! What manner of creature is approaching us?”
The tracker told him, “I don’t know. A man from my hunting party came, screaming to us about monsters. When the ground shook, I told the men to run.” He pleaded with his hands as he said, “Please forgive me, I wasn’t thinking. I led the creatures here.”
“Creatures?” Han spoke as he turned to Avarice. “Let us ready the Archers and Bowmen, so they may attack whatever emerges from the jungle if these things are hostile.” He faced his men and ordered them, “Melee and Pluck take Edward, go retrieve the princess, and take them to a more protective area.” He looked down for the Trife. “Quip.”
“Me know place,” he said as he turned to Pluck. “Hurry, me don’t like what comes.” Quip muttered, “Very big. Very bad.”
“I shall join you,” Lord Caliber spoke as he followed Edward.
Pluck stared at the unknown menace as part of her wished to stay and face this enemy. Reluctantly she obeyed Han, following Edward and Melee, but she paused once more as the ground shook. She was apprehensive and felt like she needed to stay. Something was going to happen that would shape the future. Dread gripped her heart as she feared it wouldn't be for the good. Pluck watched as Archers and Bowmen readied themselves, and she felt their terror and those in the camp. Whatever came even the trees couldn't stop them. Pluck obeyed Han through her mounting fears and followed the prince.
Han and his men mounted their horses and unsheathed their silver handled rapiers. The Sentinel Cavalry mounted their horses, drawing their Flamberges as their Footsoldiers readied their spears. The last tree fell just short of the clearing, shooting leaves up in a whirlwind. The undergrowth settled and there was silence. No one dared move as a few restless horses neighed and stomped the dirt.
A deep voice roared from the jungle, “Violators!” Trees shook, and the voice like a Mountain Bear shouted, “We are Dreadgons and we’re infuriated. You violated our swamp and stole our food.” The ground shook as the Dreadgon yelled, “We demand retribution!”
“Swamp?” Han looked to the Morgog Commander and asked him, “Did any of your men report coming upon a swamp?”
“Yes,” Avarice replied as he kept his gaze to the jungle. “Some of my men found several birds nesting in the area and took their eggs.” He steadied his anxious horse.
Han said, “We should give them back.”
“It is too late.” For the first time, Avarice looked at the Fletching Commander like he was something he’d wiped from his boot and then he said, “My men already boiled and ate them.”
Ardor murmured to the commander, “Eggs? They didn’t mention this before.” He spoke, “They were hoarding them. Now we are about to pay for food we had no taste off.”
“Quiet,” Han ordered, stifling his own rage. “Now is not the time.” He yelled, “We didn’t know the eggs were yours. We are strangers here and had no knowledge anyone claimed the swamp. We wouldn’t have taken them if we had known.” Han looked over their combined forces and knew they couldn't afford a battle, so he asked, “What can we give you to compensate for what we took?”
Quip returned, climbed a nearby tree for a better view, tilted his head, and listened to the Dreadgons discuss the matter. Only his sensitive rat ears could hear the conversation.
“Gar, these violators stole what would have fed us this sun’s cycle and the next two. What do they possess that could compensate?”
“I don’t know, Tusk. They possess work animals, but we don’t eat flesh, and they are too small for us to ride.” Gar reasoned, “If they stole the eggs, they probably don’t have enough food to replace what they ate.” The Dreadgon paused and then he spoke, “They did say they are strangers here, and I don’t recognize their kind. I see one option that will settle this...”
“I agree,” Tusk interrupted before Gar finished.
The other Dreadgons murmured their agreement.
Gar cleared his throat and shouted, “You are wise outlander, but you possess nothing we want. Only blood will satisfy our dispute.”
Han glared at the Morgog Commander as he yelled, “They are going to kill us for the eggs your men stole!”
Avarice snarled, nudging his steed forward and then he spoke, “We shall see about that.” Vim and the Morgog Cavalry followed.
Quip climbed down the tree and jumped on Han’s horse, tugging on the High Guard’s red ca
pe and then told him, “Dreadgons no fight. Ask Blood Pledge, promise you’ll remain off land. Customary among jungle dwellers.”
“An oath?” Han repeated and then his eyes widened as he shouted, “Commander wait!” He kicked his horse and rode toward the other commander. “Hold your men.”
“Fass! You Fletching are mongrels!” Avarice yelled as he whirled his steed around to face the Fletching Commander. “How can you cower at a time like this?” he asked as he made a fist. “One sun’s cycle you Fletching shall taste...” He stopped himself.
“Commander,” Vim spoke up. “Perhaps we should hear what...”
“Nonsense,” Avarice scolded his Second. “These things call for blood.” He reined his horse to face the jungle. “Blood they shall have!” Avarice pointed his sword at the jungle and yelled, “BOWMEN! FIRE!”
“No!” Han shouted. “They don’t want a fight!”
The Morgog Bowmen released their steel pointed fury into the vegetation. The Dreadgons roared, and five of them rushed out, removing arrows like they were nothing more than thorns. The large beasts who were the size of huts swung huge spiked clubs above their heads and charged up the slope. They were stout and wide as they were tall. Thick gray skin covered them, and dense black hair blanketed their huge forearms, bare feet, and hunched backs. Their large ridged heads were a third of their size, and they had no necks. Three sallow eyes set in a triangle and glared at the men as two yellow tusks curved out from their large square lips. Their noses were pig-like, and brown pants that were held up by a wide buckled belt covered their stout legs.
The Bowmen scattered as the lead Dreadgon slammed his spiked club on the ground, and dirt burst into the air. The Dreadgon leveled his weapon, pointing it across the camp as he declared, “Small foolish ones, now blood won’t settle this dispute only your deaths.” He lifted his spiked weapon and stated, “I, Gar, proclaim this.” He swung his club, clipping three Bowmen in his path, and the men screamed as they were hurled across the camp.
Another Dreadgon grabbed two Fletchings by their capes, whipped them in the air, and slammed them on the ground. The gray beast did this several times and left the men to choke on their own blood. Avarice quickly called his Cavalry to retreat as a Dreadgon swung his club, missing a few Archers but smashed a supply tent. His attack took out several crates and barrels spilling their contents to the dirt.
“I, Tusk, will smash you,” a Dreadgon shouted whose tusks were much larger than the others. He stomped after the Morgog Cavalry, grunting angrily.
Han shouted to his men, “Distract the beasts so our Archers may flee.” He scanned the camp, spotting Gar as he added, “But do not attack.” Han shouted to his Archers, “Cease fire!” He headed his horse for the leader as he yelled, “Gar!” Han galloped to the Dreadgon and told him, “I am their leader. This matter should be between you and me.”
A few of the Fletching Archers who hadn’t heard the orders fired on the Dreadgons. Most of their arrows bounced off their armor like hides, and the few that penetrated barely nicked them. The mounted High Guards ran their horses around the great beasts, allowing their Archers to flee.
Gar grabbed a Fletching sailor and raised his club to smash the head of the helpless man. He caught the sailor’s scent and paused, sniffing over him with his slimy hog nose. He glanced around the camp, sniffing the wind as a righteous anger overcame him. Gar dropped the sailor, and the terrified man scurried away.
Han neared Gar when another Dreadgon stomped in front of the commander and spooked his horse. His steed reared as Han tried to steady it, but the horse lost its balance. The steed fell back on top of Han.
“Stop!” Gar ordered, and the Dreadgons did.
“Why stop?” Tusk asked.
“We blamed all these creatures because they look alike. Bigotry...” Gar tucked his club into his wide belt as he said, “It is now clear to me there are two different groups.” He hurried to the fallen commander as he spoke, “This one claims responsibility, yet he doesn’t have the scent of our eggs on him only the ones in black do, and yet they are the ones fleeing.” He grabbed the horse with both his large hands, lifted it off the commander, put it down, and the steed walked away only winded. “This matter demands justice, but not at the cost of the innocent.”
“Then it’s a matter of fairness,” Tusk spoke and then he nodded his approval and snorted for the others to join them.
They watched Gar help the commander who had fallen.
Blood ran from Han’s mouth as Ardor dismounted, rushing to his side. “Stay back,” he warned the Dreadgon. “Commander...” Ardor dared not move him for blood stained his side. “Your ribs...”
“I know. There’s nothing you can do,” Han told him as he gritted his teeth for the pain. “We must settle this.” He reached out his arm and told Ardor, “Help me sit up.”
“I think it best if you...”
He interrupted Ardor, “I think it best you do as I command.” Han squeezed his Second’s hand as he sat up. “Gar...” He coughed up blood. “We must satisfy this.”
“I now understand your people were not at fault here,” Gar said as he glanced around the battered camp, noticing Avarice. “Are both of you the true leaders?”
Han winced and then he replied, “No, but we are the protectors.” He struggled to breathe.
“Send for your leaders,” Gar demanded.
Han looked to Parry and ordered him, “Have Quip show you where the prince and princess are. Tell Edward they have been summoned.”
The Blond Ox choked back tears, seeing his commander near death and said, “At once.”
He and Quip returned shortly with the prince and princess.
Edward stepped forward and declared, “I am Prince Edward.”
Those with Gar were awed by the princess and Lady Flaxen.
“Look fair ones,” one of the Dreadgons uttered as he pointed his club. “They would satisfy us.”
“Them?” Gar looked the females over and questioned the other Dreadgon, “What do you want them for? They are too small to be our mates.”
“They could cook and clean for us,” another Dreadgon answered. “That would make up for the eggs we lost, and they are pretty.”
“No,” Edward declared, putting himself between the women and the gray beasts. “You shall not have them.”
“Yes, they would satisfy the debt,” Tusk agreed.
Gar looked to Han then to Edward and told him, “The Dreadgons have spoken. They are what we want, but we can be fair since they’re your only females.” He glanced at Pluck and added, “At least ones like yourself.” He looked over Virago and Flaxen and said, “We’ll take her.” He pointed to the princess as he spoke, “And we’ll put it to a match. One of you verse me. If I, Gar win, we take her. You win we leave in peace.”
“What?” Virago screamed. “NO... No! No! You cannot do that.” She looked to Lord Caliber and Avarice for protection.
“That is an outrage,” Lord Caliber declared, stomping his wolf-head staff.
Gar glared at the tall man with the long inky-black goatee and told him, “That or we take her now.” He looked to the sky and said, “I, Gar, give you one nal to find your champion and tend to your wounded then the match will begin.”
He motioned to the Dreadgons, and they headed into the jungle as the ground shook as they left.
“Quickly,” Ardor shouted to Sinew and Fracas. “Help me with the commander.”
Beauty of the Beast #1 The Mystic Rose- Part A- The Flower, The Sword, And The Kiss Page 24
