Tickling the Dragon's Tail by Thomas Lombard
Pell sensed something was wrong and called out from the stable, but got no answer. He called again. The third time he made the mistake of facing too long toward the house as Nevin grabbed him from behind and threw him to the ground like a rag doll, his sword flying. Nevin kneeled on the youth’s chest keeping pinned him to the ground. Orris came running up with his sword upraised, but Anson intercepted him.
“No! Leave the boy alone! There must be no more killing.”
Orris backed off. “What shall we do with him then? We cannot let him send others after us.”
Seeing the Guardsmen’s horses tied behind the house, Anson said, “We will tie him to one of the horses and set it off. By the time they are found, we will be safely gone.”
“That would be a mistake, Anson!” Orris protested. “The horse would seek others of its kind and then we would have a force after us. The safest thing for us is to kill him, which he would have done to you had I not altered their Captain’s plan.”
“No matter, Orris. We will not kill this boy, even if his mind has been poisoned by the preachment of his leaders. If we succeed in our mission, he will change back to a more natural temperance. We will not deny him the long, good life he would have if we bring an end to this foul war.”
Orris, perplexed by the restraint imposed by Anson, appealed to Corissa and Nevin but saw only their agreement. The mage put his hands on Orris’ shoulders and looked straight into his eyes.
“Orris, my friend. Our Alliance for Antrim, as you like to call us, is really an Alliance for all. We have to give the people of Gilsum and Antrim the chance to throw off the mantle of hate created by war mongers. We cannot save lives by taking them.
“Those are difficult ideas for an old soldier to abide, but you are a persuasive man,” sighed Orris as he sheathed his sword. “Perhaps I should confine my skills to matters involving four-legged enemies.” He briskly walked in the direction of the soldier’s tethered horses.
Orris selected the least robust and slowest-looking of the horses and located some rope, which they used to tie the frightened young soldier’s hands and pin him securely to the mount. Before Orris could start the horse with a hard slap on the rump, Anson whispered to the nervous mare and stroked its ears. After a snort, the horse ran off in the opposite direction of Adel’s Mountain. Within a few minutes, the four had gathered their packs and water bags and left the town of Canby behind them.
* * *
They walked as fast a pace west by northwest as they could manage. Anson had a little trouble keeping up, but they took frequent short rests to favor him. By mid-day, they stopped in a cave-like outcropping of rocks located a short distance off the road. As they sat to rest and passed a water bag around, Anson signaled for them be still. He crawled to the opening of the cave and looked out. A moment later, he waved frantically for them to get low and stay quiet. A plodding sound, first detected by Anson, but now audible to all, grew steadily louder as it reverberated in the small cave. It was unmistakably the sound of horses—which meant riders.
After a few minutes the horses passed by their hiding place. To their relief, there was no break in the sound and it grew fainter as the riders hurried on their way.
“Was it Guardsmen?” asked Corissa.
“Yes. It appears I sent the horse in the wrong direction and Pell was rescued sooner than we thought,” said Anson. “We now have a serious dilemma. They will watch the Highway and we will be easy to spy. If we wait till night and there is no wind, they will easily hear us.”
“We will have to leave the road again and make a straight run toward Adel’s Mountain,” answered Corissa.
“What does this mean?”
Corissa reflected and said, “We can assume there will be little or no water to be found. Water sources are few and scattered, which is the reason the Highway meanders to connect these points. I do not believe the soldiers would follow us very far if we went straight to the northwest; they would give us up for dead and not risk their own end.”
“That’s not very reassuring,” added Nevin. “It’s gotten awfully warm and arid around here to try to stretch the amount of water we have right now. I suppose we don’t have any better options. Besides, Hillister and Zamora said that among us we have powers to deal with our obstacles. I guess we’ll see if they’re right.”
“Who is Zamora?” asked Anson.
“I’d say she is a cousin to our friend, Hillister,” answered Nevin. He went on to tell Anson what they knew about her, particularly the strange way she acted over Anson’s condition. They remained in the cave for a few more hours, until the first signs of evening. They agreed it would be a cooler time to travel and they would have the cover of night.
Orris kept watch until it was time to depart. When that time came, they started straight in the direction of Adel’s Mountain for the walled city of Taunton. Their pace was slow this time because they all knew it was important to limit their exertion. Even though the turn of the day had moderated the temperature, the ground seemed to hold the heat and radiate it well after the sun had set. They took a short rest every hour and were able to cover a fair distance, until it got fully dark. With a limited ability to see ahead, there was frequent stumbling and a few falls. Finally, they decided to stop for the balance of the night and start again with the first light of dawn.
Sleep was welcome though fitful for all. The ground was quite stony and there was no source of bedding material, such as the forested land had offered. At sunrise, each took a sparse drink of water and ate some of the wafers provided by the elves. They marched on, making good progress until the heat of mid-day made them stop.
* * *
It was difficult to adjust their sleep patterns to such awkward intervals; furthermore, the heat of the day was becoming too stifling to rest properly. If this heat was not oppressive, Nevin asked, what must the summer be like?
Each of them became progressively more irritable. There was little conversation as each person plodded along stoically. Even Anson seemed to withdraw into his own thoughts. At early evening, they pressed on again but their progress was very slow. Nevin knew they were suffering from inadequate hydration and could not go on much longer under these conditions. He also realized that their survival was now a more immediate concern than their mission. When it came time for them to try to sleep through the dark hours of night, they settled on a high spot that had a few grassy tufts to soften their bedrolls.
Nevin tried to stay awake and formulate a plan that would increase their prospects of survival, but he found it too difficult to concentrate. He awoke just before dawn, startled by a noise coming from the area where their packs were heaped. He poked Orris and stifled the soldier’s voice by covering his mouth and motioning that he should listen. Both men quickly realized that someone was rifling their packs. When they heard the new sound of someone drinking their water, they both sprang from the bedrolls and jumped on the shadowy figure.
For a moment, the creature fought mightily, but its strength waned almost immediately and it was no match for Orris and Nevin’s combined efforts. When they had it pinned down, Orris let out with a curse.
“It’s a dwarf! Another thieving, damnable dwarf!”
The commotion woke Anson and Corissa and all four humans converged on the hapless dwarf. Anson made them step back because he could see the dwarf was not well. The stoutly built dwarf struggled to speak to Anson but a parched throat made the words cracked and difficult to understand. Anson understood the dwarf to call himself Swiggum, and it was plain to see he was near death from thirst. Anson gave him another drink. As the dwarf began to recover, he grew fearful for his life, especially with Nevin standing over him.
“Oh, me! Another giant of a man! Only more bad business can come from meeting another one,” Swiggum droned.
“What do you mean, ‘another giant man?’” demanded Corissa.
“I met another, like this one,” the dwarf said, pointing a trembling finger at Nevin. “May I have more?” he ti
Swiggum’s voice improved after another long drink and he talked further at Anson’s encouragement. “The man was wandering upground alone during the hot season. Dying of thirst, he was, like Swiggum is today. I saved him then, I did. Brought him to Glorhummn and he helped us, yes, when our water was turning to mud. But since then our well has nearly dried and it has been bad luck gone worse for the Dwarves of Glorhummn. With hope gone, the Moot sent me to seek him out, this man. ‘Go find Lord Stryker,’ they said. And sent me off.”
“Stryker? You have seen John Stryker?” Nevin rasped.
Chapter 14
Swiggum
“You met John Stryker! When did you see him? What was he doing here?” asked Nevin.
“Nevin, allow this poor fellow to collect himself before we press him with such questions,” said Anson. “Let us find out why his need for help is so urgent. Perhaps we may be able to help each other, but first we must show him he has nothing to fear from us.”
Anson motioned for Orris to put away his sword, which the soldier did dutifully. This was a sign to the others and the dwarf that no harm was intended. Swiggum calmed down and took another drink. This dwarf did not have the bearded face that was Nevin’s stereotyped image, but his disproportionate limbs left no doubt of his race. His skin was ashen but that was not likely due to deprivation from water, though he said he went without for nearly two days. He explained his pallor came from living in the underground village of Glorhummn. This community of dwarves seldom spends more than a few hours at a time upground during daylight, but Swiggum was something of an exception. He liked the feeling of adventure offered by wide-open land, plus he did not disdain the company of humans. His interest in observing and occasionally talking with humans apparently distinguished him from the other dwarves of Glorhumm, especially members of the Moot. For that reason, he sought help upground, knowing it was likely a suicidal mission.
No dwarf would be expected to last two days outside their cavern city, but Swiggum’s mission was desperate. The single well that supplied water to Glorhumm for generations was nearly dry. The Moot, a council made up of the ten eldest, would no longer take advice from Smeker, the Lorekeeper. Hope was dwindling because there was no other source of water and they had no means to solve this problem, despite their experience and skill in “downground” matters. As a last resort, Swiggum was asked by the Moot to go upground to seek the human who had helped them once before, or anyone else who could aid them. For the Dwarves of Glorhumm, their need for clean water had grown so dire it was now worth seeking the company of humans, or even risking the secrecy of their city’s location to find a benefactor, but few realistically expected to see Swiggum again. His chances for success were slim, but if anyone else went there was no chance at all.
When Swiggum came upon the four sleeping humans this night, he was too reckless with thirst and fear to wake them and beg for a life-sustaining drink of their precious water. He had barely sipped a few drops from the water bag before he was beset by the two humans, one a giant who bore resemblance to another tall human he had encountered a year ago upground.
“Please do not harm me! No harm!” the dwarf pleaded. “I only seek a few drops of water to keep me alive. I must find help for Glorhumm, I must! Oh dear, I fear that we spilled some of your precious water when you set upon me,” said Swiggum.
“Aye, one of the bags was ruptured and most of its contents lost,” confirmed Orris.
In the meantime, Corissa went over to Nevin’s side and whispered, “Is this Stryker the man you spoke of? The one you think is providing counsel to King Meire and gave over the secret of ‘mustard gas’?”
“Yes. That must be what happened.”
“Then we must learn what we can about him. Meire has ministers who will not hesitate to use whatever powers this Stryker has to offer, no matter how dreadful or deadly.”
Nevin pressed Swiggum to tell all he knew about the chemistry scientist from Hempstead College. About a year earlier, the dwarf had come across Stryker, wandering alone in this general area. At that encounter, the tables were turned. It was the human who was dying of thirst and hopelessly lost, seeking the city of Taunton. Swiggum did not carry much water because it was already in short supply, but he had enough to sustain both of them as they made it to Glorhumm.
“Did Stryker do any magic, Swiggum?” asked Nevin.
“Stryker, I mean Lord Stryker as he bade us call him, cast no spells or showed any such powers, save he claimed to be a man of great knowledge. In payment for my aid, he offered to help us with our water shortage, yes, yes, he did. At first, he told us he could get water by heating upula, but that was nonsense to us all and nothing came of that. Then he took a guide and walked all around the upground, he did. When he returned he gave an order to dig a new well at the most unlikely looking spot near the old one. This order was opposed by Smeker, our Lorekeeper, who held steadfast to his opinion that more water would be found by digging deeper in the old well. Smeker did hold steadfast, he did, and did not like the influence of this human on the Moot.”
Swiggum sat up, seeming to recover overall and his voice grew less raspy. “The Moot argued over this and decided to dig the new well, which just made old Smeker’s beard go straight. We did find water, though, wet it was, and we thought our problem was solved. Lord Stryker left for Taunton with our blessing. But woe to us, it was to be, the new well water was drumly and old to the taste. We had to let it long settle in jars before it was fit to drink. Now, there is little more than dirt soup left in either well. Poor Smeker says we have cursed ourselves by taking in a human and doing his bidding against our lore.”
“Why didn’t you try to dig deeper in the old well like Smeker said?” asked Nevin.
“Oh, we did, Sir, we tried,” answered Swiggum. “But it was hard stone at the bottom and pick would hardly break it. We dug twice your tall height, but it was messy going and no more sweet water was found, none found.”
Nevin thought the dwarf’s clothing was surprisingly heavy for the climate, but he passed it off as due to metabolic or other biological differences. The dwarf’s pants were made of material like canvas and his blouse was similar to muslin. Both clothing and dwarf were quite dirty, but as he recovered from his thirst, a sparkle came to his eyes and a quickness to his movements. He jumped to his feet so quickly it startled Corissa.
“Good humans, is there one among you who would stall your journey long enough to find a way to help the Dwarves of Glorhumm…” Swiggum’s face grew serious as he tried to catch the eye of each one of them. “…and our children? We must find a way to save our children. Is there not one among you, is there?”
After some hesitation, Nevin was the first to respond. “We are four, not one. Could you accept the help of four?”
“As Sir Nevin says, we will not be split. Take us all or none,” said Orris. “My Lady, can you abide this decision? There’d be no point in asking Anson; we know what he would say.”
Waiting nervously for Corissa’s response, the dwarf gave a squeal of appreciation when she nodded her head and did a little dance-like turnabout.
While Corissa chose not to speak against helping the dwarves, her manner made it clear she did not care for this delay. Nevin tried to ease her discomfort by pointing out that they also needed some source of water, and Glorhumm was possibly the only known source. This point did not seem to ease Corissa’s reluctance, but she remained silent. While the rest of the troupe prepared to depart, Nevin quietly asked Corissa if she felt bad because they were off the main road and she was unable to guide them.
“You concern yourself too much with my feelings, Sir Nevin,” she snapped. “We have a mission to carry out and do not have time for diversions, even if they are a good cause.”
“Okay, Okay. We’ll try not to take too long with this side trip. But surely you would not begrudge these dwarves a little help.” Nevin got no answer so he sidled away to
Corissa bit her lip over her curt reply. She had reason to be concerned about reaching Taunton as soon as possible, but she regretted sounding so much like her husband who had wastefully spent his life over obsessive commitment to duty. On top of that, she had not been feeling well the past day or so and was concerned that she might cause them to tarry.
Corissa was last in line as they followed Swiggum. The dwarf set a course to the northeast, which would take them off their bearing. She took a deep breath, resolved not to object as the distant view of Adel’s Mountain bore no closer.
* * *
It grew uncomfortably hot as the day wore on. With only one container of water for the five of them, they did their best to ration shares. They had to stop and rest every thirty minutes, but only allowed themselves a sip. They considered holing up until evening to travel under cooler conditions, but there was no shade to accommodate them. When dusk came, the troupe stopped for the night without the need for discussion. Conversation did not appeal to any of them, nor did eating as each sought his or her privacy. The travail of the day’s travel exhausted each of them as they settled for what respite they could find in sleep.
When dawn came, each felt better for the night’s rest. Anson offered each a tidbit of food, followed by a delicate sip of water.
“Only a quarter bag is left,” said Orris. “We must find water soon.”
“Swiggum, is there any source of water at all around here? Plants? Cactus, maybe? Anything?” asked Nevin.
“Regretfully not, Good Sir.”
“How much farther is it to Glorhumm?”
“Regrettably farther than I wish, do I. At the pace we travel, another day.”
The news of one more day’s travel under these conditions was disheartening, but they rose again to meet the challenge. The first hour went reasonably well, but each began to show the effects of dehydration. Their bodies grew sore and their heads stooped. Stops were needed every fifteen minutes, but they limited their small sips of water to the hour. By noon, their water was gone and they had made barely more than a mile or two. The distance between them in their line grew greater as the weaker ones straggled.