Dragon In The Darklands: The Lump Adventures Book Three Page 4

The smith frowned. “Kinnad will wait for you in the ruined city.”

  Kinnad snapped his head toward the smith. “I will?”

  The smith nodded. “Yes, you will, but just for the Summer.” He held his hands wide. “When Fall arrives, I’ll need you back in my shop.” He shook his head slowly. “Besides, if you aren’t back by Fall, we know you won’t be coming back.”

  “Fair enough,” said the Lump. “Now, let’s get this honey-loving ship into the water.”

  Meena tossed her staff into the boat and took up a position behind the Lump. They braced against one side of the ship while Flynn and Kinnad braced against the other. The four of them groaned as they pressed against the vessel. The smooth stones covering the ground made footing less than ideal, but with a little more straining the ship began to move. The group continued to push and cool water rushed into their boots as they waded into the gentle waves.

  The Lump felt the water creeping up his shins when he the boat’s burden lifted, the ship was afloat. He waved a hand and shouted, “Hop in! She’s out far enough!”

  Kinnad turned and ran back toward the shore. He stepped high as he ran and squealed all the while, eager to get back on land.

  The Lump lifted Meena, and she slid into the ship with ease.

  Flynn grabbed the side of the boat and pulled himself up until he could rest his waist against it. He swung his legs around and flopped into the vessel sideways.

  Meena beckoned to the Lump. “Hurry, climb aboard! It’s drifting into deeper waters.”

  “On my way!” The Lump looked down at the water that now came to his middle. He thought of the tooth eels and pulled frantically at the side of the boat. His wet hands slipped from the side as he struggled to pull up his bulk. He shouted, “Sweet greasy cheeses!”

  Meena grabbed one of The Lump’s hands. “Flynn, come help!”

  Flynn ran over to Meena. The ship lurched to one side with a violent jerk that threatened to dump them both out.

  The dragon slid hard against the bars of its cage. The smoke continued to puff out of the iron pot and the creature didn’t stir.

  “It’s unbalanced!” Flynn ran back to the far side of the ship. “Come over here, Meena. We have to brace it against his weight.”

  Meena stared down at the Lump with a furrowed brow.

  “Go!” The Lump waved Meena off. “I can climb up on my own.”

  Meena took a few long strides toward Flynn and the boat leveled.

  The Lump pulled hard against the side of the ship. He grunted and heaved his weight up. One of his big legs raised out of the water and a slimy brown tube as thick as his arm jumped after it.

  The brown tube had a gaping mouth filled with jagged teeth. It was a tooth eel, and it snapped at the Lump’s calf.

  The Lump shouted, “Son of a hammer-toed witch!” He kicked at the eel and his body slid back down the side of the ship.

  The boat rocked with the commotion and a slight rumble rose up from Red-Line.

  The Lump looked down and saw several more eels circling in the water beneath him. He winced and kicked again.

  The boat rocked harder and Flynn and Meena stumbled.

  Meena called out, “Forget the eels!” She threw her hands up. “Just get into the boat! You’re about to sink us and we haven’t even made it out of sight of the shore!”

  The Lump squeezed his eyes shut and tried as best he could to ignore the circling tooth eels. He pulled hard against the ship and swung his legs up. The sting of several small stabs shot through his thigh as he tumbled into the vessel.

  Flynn pointed at the Lump. “Your leg!”

  The Lump saw the source of his pain. An eel nearly as long as Meena’s staff writhed on the ship’s deck while its mouth held purchase on his thigh.

  “For the love of swine-slop!” bellowed the Lump. “That’s an ugly thing!” He grabbed just behind the eels head and pulled. His hand slipped down the slimy creature’s tubular body.

  The tooth eel squirmed faster and bit down harder at the big man’s touch.

  “Ouch!” shouted the Lump. “That hurts worse than you’d think!”

  Meena pulled the gold-handled dagger from beneath her cloak and slammed it into the base of the eel’s head.

  The tooth eel released its teeth from the Lump’s flesh and thrashed on the deck for a few moments before falling limp.

  “Wow.” The Lump looked up at Meena with wide eyes. “I didn’t expect you to do that.”

  Meena wiped her blade on her cloak and put it back in its sheath. “The problem needed to be resolved. I would have preferred another way, but there wasn’t one.” She grabbed the tooth eel’s limp form. “Now, help me toss this back into the water.”

  The Lump grabbed the other end of the eel and together they tossed it over the side of the ship.

  The lifeless tube splashed into the dark water and at once its brethren tore into it. A fury of teeth ripped the dead eel to shreds and, within a few heartbeats, it was gone.

  Meena stood up straight and crossed her arms. “See there? It didn’t go to waste.”

  The Lump narrowed his eyes and stared at Meena. “I’m starting to think you’ve gone cold.”

  Meena met the Lump’s stare with her own narrow-eyed gaze. She shook her head and turned away.

  5: At Sea

  The Lump set about raising the sail. He tugged on a rope that passed through a pulley overhead, near the top of the mast. The wooden rod holding the white, canvas sail rose up until it latched into an iron hook to hold it in position. A second cord of braided rope hung down from the hook, a tug on this cord would lift the hook and drop the sail when it needed to be lowered.

  The Lump plopped down on the deck and looked up to admire his work.

  The unfurled sail swelled with the press of wind that pushed the vessel across the dark water’s surface. Clouds hung low in the auburn sky like bundles of wool threatening to snag the ship’s mast. The wind was fierce over the open water with no trees or hills to slow its charge.

  The Lump reclined further and watched the sky.

  The sky was absent of birds and the view in every direction lacked signs of life. Unseen creatures undoubtedly lurked in the murky water, but the Lump preferred not to dwell on that thought. The roar of the wind was the only sound, but it sufficed to disrupt casual conversation and led the three to sail in silence as the day slowly passed.

  Meena sat near the caged dragon and tended to the iron smoke maker. She kept the small fire burning and adjusted the pot’s location to ensure the wind blew the slumber inducing smoke toward the dragon rather than away from it.

  Flynn perched at the rear of the ship and adjusted the string on his longbow. Once satisfied with his bow, he turned his attention to his quiver of arrows and inspected each of the missile’s stone tips.

  The Lump reclined on the deck at the fore of the boat and rested his legs up on the edge of the ship’s side. A pile of six oars lay in the space beneath his propped-up legs, they would shift and rattle when gusts of wind rocked the boat. So far, the water had been calm and devoid of any waves. From time to time, the big man popped his head up to make sure the ship still traveled in the proper direction.

  Flynn finished inspecting his arrows and fiddled with his bow again, while Meena continued to tend the smoker with more detail than required.

  The Lump pulled his tiny sword from the loop on his hip and squeezed its hilt. He focused his mind on the blade to see if he could make it glow again.

  The sword gave off a faint, gray aura.

  The big man squinted his eyes and clenched his jaws, his grip on the hilt grew tighter. He attempted to make the glow burn brighter. The Lump strained for several minutes, but failed to make the aura grow more intense. His grip loosened and the glow vanished. He sighed and slid the sword back into its loop and pulled his feet down from the ledge upon which they rested. His back cracked as he sat up and tucked his knees against his plump belly. He turned his head toward Meena and asked, “How are you
doing?” His voice was near a shout to be heard through the wind.

  “The same as you,” answered Meena, not bothering to look at her companion. “I am finishing this foul business once and for all.”

  “Sure.” The Lump sighed and rubbed his beard. “But that’s not what I’m asking.” He furrowed his brow. “How are you feeling? You were awful close with the crone, after all.”

  Meena looked at the Lump and her expression hardened. “Was I?”

  “What kind of ox-sniffing question is that?” The Lump held his hands wide. “Of course you were close to her! You might have been closest to her of anyone on the whole Egg this past year.”

  Flynn rose from his perch and made his way toward his two shipmates to better hear the conversation.

  Meena took her hands off the smoker and crossed her arms. “Then why don’t I know her name?”

  “You knew her name,” answered the Lump. “She was the crone.”

  Meena narrowed her eyes. “So, you think her mother looked at a newborn babe and called it the crone?”

  “Well, no,” said the Lump. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Flynn said, “It was the name she chose.” He pointed at the Lump. “Just like he chose the Lump.”

  Meena shot a cold glare at Flynn. “His mother named him Oliver.” She turned her eyes back to the Lump. “I know your true name, but I never knew hers.”

  The Lump raised his eyebrows. “And that’s got you all worked up? On account of you not knowing what her mum called her?”

  “No,” answered Meena. “I’m not worked up about anything, I am focused on the task at hand.”

  “I never met nobody as determined as you once you’ve set your mind on something.” The Lump took a slow, deep breath. “But you were always kind, maybe even gentle, in particular with animals. The way you stabbed that eel? Well, you’re usually the one stopping folks from doing that sort of thing.” He frowned and lowered his eyes. “The whole time you’ve been on this honey-loving boat you’ve been as cold as a frozen chunk of stone.”

  Flynn cleared his throat uncomfortably and stared down at the deck. “You have seemed different since we arrived back in the ruined city.”

  Meena picked her staff up from where it leaned against the dragon’s cage and held it by her side. “My compassion has been my greatest weakness. I should have been with her these past weeks.”

  Flynn tilted his head and wrinkled his brow. “You couldn’t help that, you were held prisoner.”

  “I could have left.” Meena’s face hardened and her clenched jaws bulged. “The crone told me I had more power than any King, I could have called an army from those trees like no one has ever seen. I felt my warriors all around, wings beating, burrowing claws, hunters, grazers, and protectors.” She put one hand on her hip and gripped her staff in the other. “I could have spared Six-Toe, I could have spent more time with the crone.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a silent moment, then opened them. “I could have asked her name.”

  The Lump held his hands out by his sides. “But you said yourself you didn’t want the animals paying the price for our battles.”

  “And how many animals have that foppish King’s huntsmen killed for sport since then?” Meena grabbed her staff in both hands and held it across her body. “I won’t be subject to any King’s rule again. The crone knew the truth of it, I should meet them with a strength that crushes their petty ways.” She bared her teeth. “I will no longer suffer fools.”

  The Lump felt his face droop with Meena’s words. He said, “You’ve always been sharp as a blade, but now I’m worried you might be getting downright vicious.”

  Meena drew her brows together. “You don’t want to see—”

  A deafening clap of thunder boomed over head and cut her words short. The wind rose to a roar that was as intimidating as the thunder. Suddenly the canvas sail strained at the ropes holding it to the mast. The tall, wooden pole bowed forward from the press of wind against the sail and pulled at its coupling with the deck.

  Waves rose up without warning all around the boat. The rear of the boat lurched forward and tossed Flynn to the deck. The rough waters crashed against the vessel’s hull and rocked it side to side while it still bucked forward from the wind. The ship jumped and shook like a wild horse ridden for the first time, desperate to throw its rider.

  The Lump raised his hands to the sides of his mouth and shouted, “We need to lower that sail!”

  “What?” shouted back Meena.

  “The smith said to lower the sail if the wind grew too strong,” bellowed the Lump. “He said the mud-kissing boat would turn over!”

  Flynn climbed back to his feet while the wind and water tossed the ship about. “I’ll tend to it!” He plodded toward the mast with careful, deliberate steps, trying as best he could not to fall again.

  The Lump pointed. “Just yank on the cord, that’ll release it!”

  Flynn reached for the cord. The length of braided rope whipped about in the wind furiously. He chased it with his hand while he braced against the mast. After flailing his arm about for several moments, he succeeded in snagging the cord. He pulled down on it.

  Nothing happened.

  The ship rocked hard to one side and the iron smoker dislodged from its position and rolled across the deck. Red-hot coals spilled out and smoked on the planks beneath them.

  The Lump saw the smoke rising up from the deck and swallowed hard. “Great smoky cinders!” He sprinted toward the coals. The bouncing ship slung him side to side causing his run to look more like drunken stumbling.

  The iron smoker continued to roll across the deck, spilling its contents as it did so.

  Meena dropped her staff and leaped after the smoker. It rolled away from her grasp as she crashed to the deck.

  Flynn grabbed the cord in both hands and leaned all his weight against it. The wind held the sail so tightly against its latch that it would not release. The determined man jumped up and let all his weight fall to the deck while he held the rope.

  The cord broke. The sail remained in place.

  The Lump slammed his big boot against the coals. His stomps snuffed out the smoke and extinguished the red glow of the smoldering chunks.

  Meena crawled across the deck on all fours, chasing the tumbling smoker. It rolled back toward her and she sprang forward and wrapped one hand around it. She sat up and cradled it in one arm.

  Flynn held the broken length of cord out. “What should I do now?” he asked.

  The Lump stumbled toward the mast. “I’ll boost you up, you’ll have to loose it by hand.

  A low rumble came from inside the dragon’s cage. The scaled tail flicked.

  Meena shot over to the cage and placed the smoker in position. Its fire no longer burned, so she opened the burner to toss in more coals. She fumbled with the tinderbox while the ship’s abrupt movements jarred her.

  The Lump wrapped his big hands around Flynn and lifted him up. The erratic motion of the ship made the maneuver precarious. Flynn gripped the stressed pole with his arms and legs and the Lump stepped back.

  Meena got the coals burning in the smoker and shoved a healthy pinch of blue flowers into. Within a few heartbeats, the apparatus produced smoke, but the harsh wind blew it back at Meena.

  The mast did not tolerate Flynn’s added weight very well. It bowed farther forward and the wood near the bottom splintered and cracked.

  The Lump shouted, “Get down! It’s going to snap!”

  Flynn shook his head, and the wind whipped his hair. “I almost have it!” He extended his arm towards the latch holding the sail.

  Meena struggled to make her way around the cage and get the smoker up wind of the sleeping dragon. Inside the cage, the monster’s tail flicked a second time.

  Flynn’s fingers tugged at the hook atop the mast. The hook lifted and the wind blew the sail forward, like a banner. With the pressure relieved, the mast snapped upright and tossed Flynn off. He crashed to the deck with a heavy thud.r />
  The boat tossed about far less with the sail disengaged. Footing on the boat’s deck grew more sure.

  The Lump grimaced and trudged toward his fallen comrade. “Are you hurt?”

  Flynn held a hand to his head and waved the Lump off. “Help Meena with the dragon!”

  The Lump altered course to approach Meena’s position. “Let me help you with the smoker.”

  Meena shook her head. “I have it where it needs to be.” She pointed at the mast. “See how badly it’s damaged.”

  The Lump changed course again, with much less effort now that the ship was somewhat less tossed. He leaned over and inspected the mast’s coupling with the deck. The thick, wooden pole was split at a harsh angle near the bottom, with a crack that nearly severed it entirely.

  Flynn groaned and climbed back to his feet. He made his way the Lump’s side and asked, “How bad is it.”

  “I don’t think we’ll be using the sail no more.” The Lump stood up straight and frowned. “It looks like we’ll be using those paddles the rest of the way.”

  6: Landfall

  The ship pressed on across the Wretched Water driven by oars. Both the mast and the crew’s stomachs were far too fragile to attempt raising the sail again. The Lump and his companions had to rely strictly on their own muscle-power to complete their journey.

  After trying several different techniques at dragging the oars through the water, the party found a method that seemed to work best. The Lump sat at the fore of the ship with his back pointed toward the bow and pulled at two long oars threaded through oar-locks on either side of the vessel. He could better sustain long powerful pulls on the oars that propelled him backward than he could when facing forward.

  Meena and Flynn sat near the ships middle, each manning a single oar. They faced forward and use their shoulders and twisting bodies to paddle, a technique that worked better for a single oar. This allowed them to face the Lump while they propelled the long boat toward their destination. All three of them sweated profusely and sucked in big gulps of air with the effort. Despite their exertion, they conversed in brief spurts.