Tickling the Dragon's Tail by Thomas Lombard

  Orris retrieved his sword and went to look for Anson.

  Nevin turned to console Corissa, but she soon regained her composure and resisted his embrace. “Corissa, are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes, yes! Do not fuss over me. Check to see what they took from the packs.”

  “Corissa, I want to be sure you’re all right.” Nevin’s concern went unheeded as Corissa was already busy checking the packs. The curtness of her rebuff made him think he had overstepped his bounds. She was, after all, the King’s consort. He quickly brushed that off because they were still companions and he was dutifully concerned about her welfare. And she did run to him when she broke away from her captor. Nevin was confused.

  Orris returned with Anson, who was sporting a contusion on the side of his head. Nevin hustled over to examine the injury, pronouncing the damage as superficial and should not require special treatment. Relieved that there was no sign of a concussion, Nevin asked the mage what possessed the horses to attack the brigands.

  Anson smiled meekly but shrugged his shoulders. He raised his eyebrows in surprise as he explained, “I would not call it a ‘possession’ exactly, Nevin. The horses seemed to turn to me and…and…demanded an order, so I pointed and whispered to them to pick a bad man and knock him around. The animals seemed to understand my request and decided among themselves which man to take on.”

  “You mean you talked the horses into doing it? Did you use a spell?” Nevin was thrown by the thought of a spell involving animals.

  “No, no. It was not a spell. I used a spell voice, but I implored them much as I talk to you. I cannot tell you why it worked; I have never done anything like this before.”

  “It must be magic, my friend. You are more potent in magery than you credit yourself,” said Orris.

  “It’s not really that surprising,” Nevin interjected. “Horses can be trained to do all kinds of extraordinary feats.” Nevin did not mean that as a put-down because he could have cited many famous examples of remarkable animal behavior, like Clever Hans the Counting Horse. He just felt that Anson’s communication with the horses was explainable on some basis other than magic. After all, their horses did not do anything outside of normal horse behavior. They just kicked and snorted and jumped about. They did not do anything really strange, like talk or fly. Still, it was pretty remarkable. Anson had not had sufficient time to train these horses yet they reacted as if they were highly conditioned. It was a puzzle, but if he gave it time he could think of a reasonable explanation.

  Corissa interrupted by suggesting that he and Orris repack their mussed parcels. She and Anson would recover the horses so they could move out right away, in case the intruders decided to regroup and return. She calculated there was about three hours of daylight left and they should use it to put distance between them and any pursuers. Nevin studied her as she moved about. She seemed completely recovered from her experience. Quite a woman, this was. The King was a lucky man.

  They were packed and mounted within minutes and the four riders were off again down the Public Road. Corissa told the others that the coin she had brought was lost in the fray, but no other important things were taken. Privately, she was relieved that the most precious item she carried was still safe. Corissa learned a lesson from this encounter, and she told herself she would have learned sooner had she heeded Orris’ warning about showing off their coin. Her opinion of the King’s soldier had gone up significantly. But the most important thing she learned was that the King’s token entrusted to her could not be safely hidden in her bosom, so she chose a new hiding place. Better to submit to a personal violation, she thought, than to lose this precious item.

  Chapter 2

  Dwarf

  It was well past dusk when the four stopped for the night. They had long passed any settlement, so they had to camp outdoors. At Orris’ suggestion, they chose a stopping place not previously used by travelers, some distance off the road and well protected by trees and undergrowth to screen a campfire. Unfortunately, the ground was damp and littered with uncomfortable tree roots.

  They agreed to stay in pairs as they made preparations. They would also rotate guard duty, so that someone would be awake in case they were set upon again. Orris and Corissa took care of the horses and firewood, while Anson and Nevin prepared the campsite and the evening meal. Anson decided to make as good a meal as possible to help offset the impending discomfort of a night on the damp, root-laden ground. He assured Orris their vigilance would allow them the luxury of a fire. Warm food and drink would help them settle comfortably for the night.

  Orris and Corissa returned with a large store of firewood, but all of it was wet from the recent rain. Orris seized upon the opportunity to remind his companions that this problem would not deter a good Armsman and he promised them a snug fire. He unsheathed his dagger, sharpened it and proceeded to whittle some of the sticks down to their dry centers until he had amassed a large pile of dry, thin shavings. He arranged some of the shavings into a carefully designed pyramid and proudly announced, “We have kindling enough to roast a pig. Well, a piglet, maybe.”

  “Now all we need is sufficient spark and a pig,” replied Corissa, though Nevin was not quite sure whether this was a jest or a complaint.

  “I should be able to provide at least half of that request, My Lady,” said Anson as he knelt over the mound of wood shavings. In a low voice, he uttered a few short phrases that no one understood, except Nevin, if only partially for its energy accordance. In less than a minute, a small flame appeared at the base of the kindling. Orris fed the flame with more shavings until the fire could accommodate the damp twigs and eventually larger sticks. Before long, a campfire rose with welcome heat and light and the four erupted in applause and good cheer at their success. A spirit of camaraderie had surfaced again amid the miserable conditions.

  The meal of smoked fish, brown beans and honeyed hardcakes was tasty and everyone ate their fill. The meal and the travail of their day left them all sleepy. Corissa worked out the order for guard duty. She would take the first shift and Orris should have the last one, since he could use that time to prepare the horses for the coming day’s ride. Despite the shortcomings of the damp ground, all except Corissa were sound asleep within minutes.

  Corissa observed her three companions as they slept. Orris snored loudly and drew her attention first. To her, this man was easy to understand. Even wearing a common surcoat and breeches in place of his uniform, his military bearing was plain to see. He was a career soldier with sworn fealty to King Lucan, and, like her husband, his duty would come first in his life. Her husband had always put his duty first, and in the end chose death over retreat in a hopeless battle. Her own unwavering loyalty to Lucan was in part a perverse tribute to her husband’s full measure of duty.

  Anson slept quietly by comparison, which in her eyes befitted his mysterious ways. Even his dress was uncommon, with a long dark tunic and patched woolen leggings. He was a mage and no one knew much about them. Based on what she did know, it was remarkable that a mage should care so deeply for the land and its people. At first, she did not believe he was truly a mage and advised Lucan to send him away, but now she was certain of this gentle man’s sincerity. She knew that he was not here for Lucan’s sake, as she and Orris were. It was his love of Antrim that held his devotion—a love that was matched by Lucan, who had grown desperate for some way to save his people from the disastrous war with Gilsum.

  Nevin was another matter entirely. He slept restlessly and often mumbled audibly about unknown things, as if he was arguing with himself. He was such a contradiction: so large and obviously much stronger than other men, yet he seemed completely absorbed by intellectual more than physical matters. He proudly thought of himself as a scholar and there was little doubt it was true; at the same time, he was uncommonly gentle for a man of such physical advantages. Could a normal woman ever love a man of such size? She found herself mentally comparing her height to his own, and laughed at the prospec
t of telling him that the extra clothes she brought for him were costumes for two men acting the part of troll in a comic play. She conceded that he was somewhat appealing, although the reasons why were not clear. He was tall among the men of Antrim, but so was she. She found the men in Lucan’s court did not like to look up into a woman’s face, and doubly so if she had a Gilsum heritage. These were among the reasons she had no suitors, but Nevin seemed to be above such petty foibles. Though he was somewhat clumsy in his manner and sensitive to personal remarks, he had a comforting presence. She had doubts about his alleged high magery, especially since he claimed he was only a teacher before touring to Antrim. While he spoke of great marvels in his land, he was merely a “professor” of such things and not a conjurer. However, Lucan was more certain that Nevin possessed great powers, whether through vast knowledge or magery or both, and that Nevin could play a vital role if this meager plan was to succeed. It was evident that they were becoming increasingly reliant on him, yet this troubled her. Nevin seemed trustworthy, but enough so that should she tell him about the ring that Lucan had entrusted to her in secrecy? He might have some knowledge of its alleged magic properties and know better when or how to use it, although Lucan said she would have to figure out when the time was right to reveal it. She looked again at Nevin as he stirred in his sleep. She had found other men attractive but could always divert her attention from them. It was more difficult for her to ignore Nevin; he seemed to need her help and took such pleasure at her company. In the midst of today’s attack she had sought his side, but that wasn’t born of fear more than romantic feelings? She had not sought a man’s embrace since her husband died, and, like many widows she had known, struggled with guilt over looking to another man for comfort. She could tell at first meeting Nevin was not a man with much experience at intimacies with women, but such an intelligent man would surely be a quick learner if he stumbled into an opportunity.

  Corissa’s turn for sleep finally came. She woke Anson and retrieved her bedroll from the tree branch where she stored it to stay dry. She selected a spot and spread out her bedroll, smoothing it to locate twigs and stones that needed removal. Without thinking about it, she placed her bedroll between Orris and Anson.

  * * *

  Anson’s watch went by without incident, as did Nevin’s which followed. Nevin rousted Orris about three hours before sunrise. As Nevin curled back into his bedroll and fell asleep, Orris put more wood on the fire to bring some heat to counter the late night chill. The Armsman hunched over the fire, careful not to block the heat from radiating to his comrades, his soldier’s ear alert for unusual sounds.

  Nothing unusual happened until the first light of dawn when Orris heard a twig snap. He slowly rose and stepped away from the light of the campfire flames, then unobtrusively pulled his sword from its sheath. It was best not to raise an alarm until he was sure it was not just a deer or some other innocent animal wandering too close to their camp.

  Another noise, accompanied by a grunt and labored breathing, came from the area of trees off to the right. That was the place where they stored their food up a tree to keep it away from mice and other critters. Orris was sure it could not be an elf or a troll; an elf would not make any noise and a troll would be noisier yet. As Orris stealthily stalked in the shadows toward the sounds, he could make out a two-legged body rifling through their parcel of food. The body was stout for a man, but Orris would take no chances. He crept close to the figure and smacked it hard on the back with the flat side of his sword.

  “Stand fast, you blasted thief!” shouted Orris. The figure fell forward and spilled the contents of its arms, landing face down on the ground. It immediately got up and charged Orris, bellowing an awful yell, butting the Armsman square in the groin. Orris fell backward, his sword flying from his hand. The creature jumped on Orris and pummeled him with short stubby arms. Between the punches, Orris made out a hideous face marked with scars and scabs and a toothless scowl. The breath and body odor of the creature was awful and made Orris gag as he tried vainly to get up and shield himself from further blows.

  By this time, the others awoke from the commotion and came to the scene. Nevin pulled the little man off Orris with no trouble, but was kicked in the shin for his effort. Anson took control of the situation and said sternly, “Be off with you, dwarf! Go before I cast a spell that will turn your hair to fire. You’ll not get a second warning!”

  The dwarf scowled at Anson, but seemed to recognize that this was a man who could carry out his threats. The dwarf pulled loose and ran huffing and wheezing into the nearest cover of shrubs and trees where they could not easily follow. As he passed Orris’ sword lying on the ground, he scooped it up as he ran by.

  Orris was upright by now, brushing himself off and trying to restore some of his military bearing. He was not seriously hurt, except for his pride. Anson told him he was lucky to be alive since a rogue dwarf would kill a human, given the opportunity. Orris waved off the danger as insignificant and looked around for his sword. When told the dwarf had taken it, he erupted in a stream of curses and only Corissa could calm him. After the others went about picking up the mess and repacking their parcels, the four convened around the fire. Corissa was the first to speak. “We should move off the Public Road, since we have no coin to pay for lodging or other needs. We should alter our course to a path even less traveled.”

  “Do you know which way to go?” asked Nevin.

  “The Public Road to Gilsum goes west. There is a lesser route west by northwest, but it is rough and seldom used except by local folk for short distances. Either route will take us to Gilsum, where we must eventually turn to the northwest toward the highest mountains.”

  “I have not traveled this other route before, Corissa,” said Anson. “What terrain lies northwest off the Public Road?”

  “Elvenwood,” Corissa answered. “The lesser route skirts the edge of it.”

  “Ahh,” Orris remarked. “We have a friend who resides there.”

  “Will your friend aid us?” Corissa asked, surprised they would know anyone who lived there. She had never talked with anyone who met an actual elf living in this woodland, or anywhere else in fact.

  Nevin could not resist answering, “That depends on whether he thinks he is our friend.”

  Anson was unsure about venturing into Zael’s territory again, although this area of the Elvenwood was a good distance from their previous encounter with this Elf-Lord. He asked how it would affect their travel, since he would not agree to a plan that would delay them further. Corissa said with no hazards and without getting lost, it could actually be a shorter journey because it lay on a straighter line to the Gilsum border. She added, “The one thing uncertain is whether we can travel by horse through this Wood. If we have to walk, the way will be shorter in distance but perhaps not in time.”

  “I would rather take our chances in the Wood than face the kind of characters we have met on this road,” offered Nevin. “I vote for changing course.”

  No one chose to disagree, so they ate a quick meal and made ready to depart. Nevin changed clothes, donning the breeches and blouse Corissa brought for him. Orris remarked that he looked much better suited and was more likely now to turn the eye of a pretty lady. Corissa gave a muted laugh, but avoided eye contact with the man unknowingly dressed in a troll costume. Oblivious, Nevin was pleased by her laugh and how much it brightened her face. It made her quite attractive. Even radiant. It was too bad that her relationship with Lucan was a barrier between them.

  After mounting their horses, Corissa took the lead and the four riders veered off the Public Road toward a dense green line barely visible to the west.

  Chapter 3

  Clarion call

  After riding all morning, the Alliance for Antrim, as Orris continued to call their troupe, reached the edge of the area called Elvenwood. While much of the nearby countryside was dotted with trees, the Elvenwood had an unmistakable border. Its trees were more dense and tall by far, and the c
olors exceptionally deep, forming a remarkable border that disguised any prevailing pathway through it.

  Despite its apparent barrier, it did not strike Nevin as a forbidding or morbid place. On the contrary, it was exceptionally fragrant and healthy looking. The trees appeared to be all broadleaf temperate species, with no conifers. The autumn foliage must be spectacular, Nevin thought. Each of his companions looked ahead, thinking about something other than radiant fall colors. The men had fresh memories of Zael’s willingness to slay anyone who posed a threat in the Elf-lord’s province, but Corissa would not know that. She did not hesitate to prod her horse forward. After a short pause, the others cautiously nudged their horses on.

  The going was extra difficult for the mounted travelers due to heavy undergrowth and low tree branches that scratched both horse and rider. In order to move forward, they had to maneuver around trees. Corissa called for a stop and complained that they would soon lose their sense of direction from having to zigzag so much.

  Anson leaned over for a private word with Orris; the soldier reacting with a sharp disagreement.

  Corissa edged her horse over to theirs. “Do you have advice for us? Speak so we all can hear.”

  “Anson thinks we should use Zael’s horn,” said Orris. “He would ask Zael to guide us, or at least lend us one of his elves. I fear the horn could alert others we’d be better off avoiding.”

  “This is the one you call the Elf-Lord? Are we to have another creature of legend come to life with this company?” Corissa sighed.

  Nevin was uncertain whether Corissa’s terse reply indicated impatience or skepticism, but it was at least ironic that she showed some disbelief about beings in this land. Now that he thought about it, Nevin had encountered little people before, so perhaps that was not so astonishing here, unless people started to fly or disappear. Real live little people could be called by any name like dwarf or elf or anything else, and it was believable for them to have long beards or pointy ears and distaste for items made of iron. In fact, he knew that 10% of the population in his world has a vestigial tubercle in their outer ears that doctors call Darwin’s ear points or “elf ear.” Facts like this helped make some of the remarkable things he had seen so far rather believable. He thought they should be for Corissa as well.