Dragon Clan #2: Raymer's Story

CHAPTER TWELVE

Raymer could have fallen asleep in the meadow, but for his churning thoughts and worries. He trusted Quint and had somehow come to trust Ander despite his upbringing and royal family history. His primary concern was to wonder if those of the Dragon Clan, who supposedly lived a day’s travel away would trust him. Or, could he convince them?

He hadn’t mentioned to Quint and Ander that if scaring locals away didn’t work, his family had often taken more drastic measures. He’d heard of a clan living near Dripping Falls years ago. Old King Stephen had offered rewards for information about any Dragon Clan members and a local resident had provided the family location. They survived the attack, but barely, and the family was forced to flee.

Later, a clan member called Moon returned to that village one night. When he departed the local’s new barn purchased with the reward money had burned, as had his home and outbuildings. His sheep died ten days later. So did his chickens. The gold and silver coins he’d gotten as a reward had been in the home before it burned. They had holes drilled in them and were nailed to a post near the center of the village, where they remained for years as a warning to others.

As he lay there thinking, an image of his father formed. His stern face and angry eyes filled Raymer’s mind. He’d said, “Son, you have to do what you believe is right. Not what others tell you, or what you wish.”

So the question became simple. Did he believe what he was doing was right? Or did he simply want it to be right?

As he mulled over the various aspects, he seized on one truth he could not avoid. The Army of King Ember was secretly moving into Northwood, and people were going to die. That much seemed certain. Any farmers or hunters, they captured along the way might already be dead so they could not spread the tale of the advancing troops.

Warning Northwood would save innocent lives and allow their army to defend itself honorably on the battlefield. It felt right. He believed it the right thing to do, and his father would understand. Now all he had to do was convince a family of people he’d never met.

“’Bout time for us to get our butts moving,” Quint said.

Ander groaned. “My body is so sore it can hardly move.”

Quint grabbed his staff and climbed to his feet. “Come on, I’ll teach you a thing or two besides counting numbers.”

“I can’t,” Ander said, as he slowly got up and stood, his arms limp at his sides.

Raymer put his thinking aside, feeling mentally refreshed. He hadn’t missed the limp of Quint when he stood, and his shoulders were not square. Ander was not the only one who was sore, but Quint couldn’t help teasing him. Two can play this game.

Raymer grabbed his staff and stretched, for show. He turned his back to them and started to run. Over his shoulder he called, “Since the two of you are feeling so good, see if you can keep up with me.”

He raced up the trail and around the first bend, ignoring his own aches and pains. Then a better idea came to him. He leaped behind a juniper bush taller than his head and watched through the wall of green until Ander came into view. When he was ten steps away, Raymer leaped onto the path, his staff raised high above his head, and shouted, “Defend yourself.”

Raymer managed to rush three steps before Ander sprang into action and suddenly his staff was held before him in the defensive position. Raymer slowed his attack and lowered his staff to strike Ander’s soundly. “Well done.”

Quint smiled and nodded, a better compliment than Raymer’s. He turned and began to lead them again, always looking to see the mountain for guidance. All had finished their meager amounts of food and Raymer’s stomach was beginning to protest. They waded across a stream knee deep and probably full of trout, perch, bass, and other edible fish.

A deer bolted from nearly at their feet. But without time to build a fire, food had to come from elsewhere, even if they had a method to kill it. Raymer kept his eyes on the trees. Members of the Dragon Clan lived ahead, and there should be apple trees nearby. There are varieties of apples that ripen in early summer, others later, and some in the fall.

He paused at the top of a rise and looked out over the tops of the trees, seeing the familiar shape of at least three. No doubt they’d passed a hundred others during their escape, but then they’d carried food and were fleeing, far too busy to look for trees.

He lifted a hand and pointed, departing from the trail and expecting the others to follow. He heard Ander’s clumsy feet right behind him, but nothing of the much larger Quint. Two hundred paces later Raymer started to wonder if he had seen apple trees or had only imagined it.

Then he saw the first one directly ahead, the red apples growing large and the branches hanging low. Some apples last all winter. The ancient ritual of eating one, then planting one continued not only in the Dragon Clan but with others, too. Raymer reached for a beauty and was chewing with juice seeping from the corners of his mouth before the others noticed the tree.

“Hey, what’s that?” Quint said as he used his staff to knock down one from higher up. He caught it in his left hand and admired it before biting into it.

Ander let his staff fall to the ground as he grabbed two and held one in each hand as if undecided which to eat first. He looked at Raymer. “You knew about this tree.”

Raymer shook his head. “I suspected they would be around here.”

“How?” Ander asked, taking a huge bite from one.

“We’re nearing the home of the Dragon Clan. It’s a tradition that when you eat an apple, you plant a seed or two.”

Ander chewed and looked around, spotting another apple tree. He pointed and grinned. Then he spotted the third, a tree with small green apples.

Raymer said, “Seeds are easy to plant. Apples can keep you from starving.”

Quint stiffened and motioned with his hand for them to be quiet. He edged back under the apple tree a few steps. Raymer spat out the apple in his mouth and listened as he did the same. Ander scooped his staff from the ground and quickly joined them in the dim light under the tree.

A harsh voice issued a command.

Another answered subdued, but it carried.

Quint motioned for them to spread out. Raymer took the far end, leaving Ander in the center. All crouched down as the voices grew louder.

Five soldiers in the king’s blue and gold colors entered single file into the small clearing where the first apple tree grew. Four held swords as they searched the ground for footprints. The fifth was an officer who directed them, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Fresh,” one said as he followed the footprints.

Another knelt to examine one, “Big sucker. Look at this.”

The officer snapped, “Never mind that. Which way did they go?”

Raymer knew it would only be a matter of time before one of the soldiers spotted them. He also suspected Quint was waiting for him to act, first.

Raymer charged the nearest man, screaming and raising his staff to scare the man as he attacked. The man was short and wide and totally taken by surprise.

He held his sword in a limp hand, at his side. Raymer’s staff jabbed the man in his stomach before he raised the sword. Raymer felt it sink in until he thought it might exit the back of the man, but finally, it halted near the backbone. Raymer yanked it back and swung the other end at a second soldier standing in shock at the attack, as he heard Quint yell from the other side of the clearing.

The end of Raymer’s staff clubbed the second man on the side of his head, and he dropped as if he had fallen into a large rabbit hole. Raymer turned to his right in time to see a soldier raise his sword for a downward stroke at Ander.

Ander went to one knee, his staff in the defensive position he’d practiced all day. The blade struck between Ander’s hands, and as it did, Ander made his practiced move of swinging the end of the staff at the head of the attacker.

A hollow sound followed, and the soldier fell forward to his knees, then onto his face. Raymer turned to where Quint had attacked and found one man lying still. The last, the officer, had a knife held to his throat. Quint stood behind him, one arm wrapped around the officer’s head and the other holding the knife to the throat.

Quint said, “His knife if you’re wondering. Tie any that are alive.”

Both Raymer and Ander leaped to obey. They used a sword to rip material from the soldier’s uniforms. The first man Raymer struck in the stomach was retching and didn’t protest, but his eyes begged for mercy. A second was unconscious and a third dead. Raymer moved to the other side of the clearing where Quint had attacked and checked the last. He breathed but didn’t look like he’d live. Raymer tied him, anyhow. It was a show for the officer who watched every move with wide, scared eyes.

Quint tossed the knife to Raymer, and in the same motion allowed his fingers to wrap around the hilt of the officer’s sword. He pulled it. The blade glittered in the sunlight as Quint whipped it around in the air several times, then the sharp edge came to rest on the officer’s neck, exactly where the knife had been.

“Feel like talking to me?” Quint asked, his voice soft and husky.

“I am an officer and servant of the king. I’ll see you in the dungeons for this.”

“You could have done that without all the fuss a few days ago. Why are you following us?” Quint said with a chuckle.

“Orders.”

Quint waited for a full breath, then tossed the sword aside and spun the officer around. The officer stood more than a head shorter. He looked up at Quint defiantly and never saw the fist that struck the bottom of his jaw so hard his feet lifted off the ground. Before he could fall, Quint grabbed him by his neck.

“I am not going to play word games,” Quint looked at Raymer. “What was it? Two life sentences I got for killing the king’s officers?”

“Three,” Raymer corrected with a straight face. “To be served one after the other.”

Quint turned his attention back to the officer who trembled in his hands. “Why were you following us?”

“We’re on patrol to gather up anyone who might be heading west.”

“Why?”

“They didn’t tell me. We have a dozen patrols on this part of the King’s Highway, alone. Everyone is being detained. Please don’t hurt me.”

Raymer watched the tears fall from the eyes of the young officer. Instead of pity, he felt anger and disgust. The man Quint held begged for his life while one of his men lay dead and three injured a few steps away. He never even bothered to ask about them.

Raymer glanced at Ander, who held his staff in his hand and looked ready to continue the fight. All he needed was an opponent. Time for another lesson. “There are four swords on the ground. Take your pick.”

Ander shook his head, “I think I’ll just use my staff if that’s okay with you.” His eyes went back to Quint.

Quint said, “We can’t take any with us. They’ll slow us down and escape at first chance if they don’t manage to kill us.”

Raymer locked eyes with the officer and said, “I’d prefer seeing him die because he does not care about his men. In my family, it’s different. But, you do what you want.”

“Nooo,” the officer moaned.

Ander said, “Tie him and leave him. If he gets free, we are already safely gone. We don’t have to fear that coward.”

“If he does not get free?” Quint asked.

“Then he will lay here and starve, die from the cold, or an animal will eat him. He can stay here and smell the rot of his men decaying,” Ander said.

Quint rolled his eyes. “To think I misread you by so much. Only a few days ago I wondered if you were tough enough to be the Dungeon Master. Now I see you’re twice as hard as the last one, and he was a mean bastard.”

“I’ll do that,” Ander said, ripping more strips of shirt from a dead soldier.

Raymer caught Quint watching, as well. Would Ander tie loose knots? It was not exactly distrust, but Ander had been an official of the king. The job became a confirmation of Ander’s true feelings.

Raymer moved to each man and searched for purses. He located three, each with a few coppers and one with a small silver. He also found two pieces of flint and some dry tinder that he stuffed into a purse and pulled the strings tight.

He turned to the officer and found a heavy purse almost bursting with copper and silver. As he retrieved it, he casually checked the knots and the number of strips used to tie the officer. The man wouldn’t be able to free himself, and he considered removing a few. Ander had done a far better job than was required.

Let one of his men work his way free and decide what to do with him. Raymer wouldn’t blame the soldiers if they left him lying there, but decided they wouldn’t. Ander had gagged them all so they wouldn’t call for help. He split the coins into roughly three equal shares and placed them into empty purses removed from the soldiers. One for each of them.

“Any food?” Quint asked.

Raymer hesitated, looking at the dirty uniforms, filthy hands, and general sloppy appearance of the men and said, “Would you eat their food?”

Quint said, “It’s not as dirty as they are.”

“I will take their coin, but won’t eat their food, either,” Ander said, hands on hips, his voice firm.

“Okay. Okay, I see your point. Is it agreeable if I gather some more apples to carry with us?” Quint said with a hint of a smile, and then he looked at Ander. “And I’d like to take the lieutenant’s knife with me, too. Not to use it to eat with, but for a tool.”

The last round of inspection ensured all were trussed up, but at least, one of the soldiers should be able to work his way free before dark, or morning at the latest. Quint returned with his blanket loaded with red apples, and then he stripped each soldier of the rolled blanket he wore at his waist.

One unconscious man was taller than most and large around. Quint pulled his coat off him and tried it on. The arms were too tight, so Quint used his new knife to cut the sleeves off and wore it as a vest. It didn’t fasten in the front, but other than that, it worked.

A minute later he had removed the coat again, cut all the ribbons and insignia off, and reached for the man’s pants. They were too short but longer than the ragged prison pants torn off knee high he had been wearing. They fit around the waist.

Raymer helped himself to a pair of boots, almost new, pants, and a shirt. For the first time in a year, he felt almost clean. None of the boots would fit Quint.

Ander found a pair of pants that fit himself. He tried on a pair of rugged boots and left his tattered and worn boots behind. He said, “Too bad we haven’t found a tailor, I’ve plenty of coins to buy a proper outfit. Right now, you’re better dressed than earlier, but you both look like the fools entertaining at the king’s court.”

“Didn’t I ask you one time if you had any pretty dresses to wear?” Quint asked.

“If I do, they’re a sight better than what you have on,” Ander replied.

Raymer enjoyed the way the ex-Dungeon Master didn’t hold back when Quint teased him. The two of them were far quicker at humorous insults than he was, but he appreciated them, nonetheless. “Time to go.”

Raymer took the lead again, out to the trail and across several more streams. The sun was at mid-afternoon when they arrived at the base of a cliff. At the bottom were rocks piled one upon another, as if half the cliff had managed to break off and fall in pieces. They ranged in size from grains of sand to boulders as large as sheep.

There was no way to climb above. Below, on the ground, was impossible to pass because of an endless tangle of briars and thorns. A boulder as large as a house stood directly in front of them.

“Boost me up,” Raymer said to Quint.

After reaching the top, he surveyed the entire area with a sinking feeling. The briars grew higher than his head, down to a river so wide a boat would be needed to cross. There was no way to climb the cliff. The scree at the base of the cliff went on for as far as he could see.

Nobody in their right minds walks on scree or talus. The loose rocks piled on each other begged for legs to be broken or ankles twisted. What seemed a sure footing would roll, shift, or turn, leaving a man to fall on the sharp rocks and boulders.

“Help me down.”

Quint held his foot while he managed to lower himself. He said, “It’s not good. We’re blocked in three directions. We can only go back.”

“I thought you knew the way,” Quint said, his disappointment clear in his accusing voice.

“Me too.”

Ander came from around the boulder Raymer had just climbed down from and chuckled as he said, “I’ll bet you’re glad you brought me.”

“Give us a minute,” Quint said to him.

Ander shook his head. “We haven’t got a minute to spare. I have a path to follow.”

They turned to him, but he had already spun and was walking away. Both of them rushed after, pulling to a stop at the edge of the field of rocks and boulders. Grinning, he pointed.

At first, Raymer didn’t see it, but as he looked ahead, he saw a faint trace of a path where sand and dirt didn’t coat the tops of the larger rocks. Disbelieving, he carefully stepped on the first few rocks, and as the path rose higher, he could see ahead much better. A thin line turned and twisted across the rubble, always following larger, better-placed rocks to walk upon.

“There is a path,” Raymer declared.

“Told you,” Ander smirked.

Quint stepped ahead of Ander while saying, “No you didn’t. You just said you were going to follow some path. As far as I’m concerned, Raymer discovered this.”

“Did not,” Ander said. “I found it, and you need to thank me.”

Quint said as he placed his bare feet on one boulder after another, “Okay with you if I thank you at the far end, supposing there is one?”

“That will do fine,” Ander said, scrambling behind to keep up.

The going was slow. Often they crawled, using their hands and feet at the same time. Even following the path, rocks and boulders shifted when weight was placed on them, and they created several small rock slides as they moved. Often they didn’t dare walk upright. One slip and a leg would be broken, or worse, they would slide down the hillside with a landslide of rock.

When Raymer couldn’t catch his breath anymore, he turned and sat on a rock to rest, his staff balanced across his knees. The others sat near him. He expected to hear more banter, but none came. A glance at their tired, haggard faces told him they were as tired as he was.

He glanced at the sun again. It was creeping down at an alarming pace. Once it dipped beyond the far peaks ahead, it would be too dark to navigate the talus. He couldn’t imagine spending a night where they were.

Raymer stood. “Come on, we have to get across this before dark.”

As if to emphasize his words, above them a boulder as large as a man shifted and began to tumble down. As it struck, more rocks shifted, and a whole section slid as if it was an avalanche of snow in winter. The sound of the shifting and falling rocks chilled Raymer.

Even after the main portion had ceased to slide, other rocks dislodged by the slide let loose and rolled, their sounds like a blacksmith using a small hammer. Raymer gave a mental shrug and crabbed across a particularly ugly stretch. He tried keeping three points of contact, as someone had told him to do a long time ago. The staff was often helpful to maintain balance, sometimes a hindrance, but he never thought of leaving it.

Two feet and hand, two hands, and foot, or any combination. As long as only one slipped, or one rock twisted out from under him, he had two more points to keep him from falling. He pushed his staff ahead, then repeated the movements. After a time, he realized he had moved far ahead of Quint, and Ander was out of sight.

He called, “You doing all right?”

“My feet are bleeding.”

“Can you see Ander?”

“He’d right behind this bend. He’ll be here shortly.”

“Anything I can do for your feet?”

Quint shrugged, “Just get me across this before the sun goes down.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stop and wrap your feet in strips from uniforms?” Raymer asked.

“On this surface, I rather have bare feet. I don’t want to slip.”

Raymer glanced up again and realized he couldn’t make the promise of reaching the end of the scree field before dark. Instead, of the path continuing to cross the talus, it began angling down. He followed it with his eyes and saw it curled lower until it met a line of trees.

“How much is it worth to you if I get you there before dark? A large silver?” he called.

“Two,” Quint called back, his face red and his breath coming in pants.

Quint couldn’t see where the path was heading. Ander was just coming into sight behind him. The sun touched the mountain peaks. He’d reach the bottom of the path before dark, but they might not.

“The end is right up ahead. Either go faster or spend the night up here,” he called.

Raymer found that going down the jumble of rocks was far easier and faster. He scrambled down with the idea he might find the materials for a torch and help the others. But he hadn’t counted on the determination of them. As he reached to level ground at the edge of a forest, he heard a shout behind and looked up to see Quint’s fist raised in a victory salute.

A trail through the forest picked up at the end of the path at the edge of the talus, and he moved along it until he found a wide, shallow stream. At the edge was a meadow, complete with rocks rimming a fire pit. A small lean-to contained neatly stacked firewood and kindling.

Raymer used the flint and steel in his new purse to spark dry leaves and twigs alive, and as Quint entered the clearing, the fire took hold.

“Well, I see you’re making yourself comfortable,” he said, limping to the fire, then on to the stream where he stood in the water ankle deep.

Raymer had seen the bloody feet. He won’t stop. Quint would continue until he dropped and then he’d crawl. Raymer decided to use his new shirt to make strips and wrap Quint’s feet to walk in tomorrow.

Ander entered the clearing looking as bad as Raymer felt. His shoulders slumped, his mouth hung open, and he also limped.

Ander noticed Raymer looking at him and said in a husky voice, “Remind me to never go on vacation with you again.”

“This is good for you,” Raymer shot back while adding more wood to the fire and warming his hands.

Ander fell to the ground beside him. “Know what? I think you’re right. Mentally and physically I’ve never felt like this, and as soon as I heal, I’ll be proud of what we’re doing. Something to tell my grandchildren about.”

Raymer unrolled his new blanket and spread it on the soft grass. He removed the other from his back and wrapped himself in it. The last of the day’s light faded, and they sat in silence, listening to the chuckling stream and the owls.

Quint joined them, spreading his blankets while telling them that for the first time in a year he would have enough to cover his feet and body. Then he said, “Quite the setup here. Fire pit, wood, water. Someone’s made themselves a nice little home. Want an apple?”

Raymer accepted the apple and said, “There are places like this where we camp at home. We leave things for the next time we pass by, or for someone else.”

“You think this was left here by someone from a Dragon Clan?” Ander asked.

“I can’t tell for sure who left this wood here, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it were part of my clan. I think that boulder-field, we just crossed would turn back normal people, and I suspect the briars and thorns grown at the foot were planted to prevent anyone sane from coming this way. Maybe not,” Raymer said, pulling the blanket closer around himself as the first of the chill mountain air made itself known.

Ander said, “I think you’re right. You don’t keep people out by telling them to stay out. You make it so difficult to get there that they don’t want to try.”