Dragon Clan #2: Raymer's Story

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Raymer pulled to an abrupt stop ten paces from the two men and let his staff fall to the ground. He heard Ander and Quint stop, but didn’t bother looking to see what they were doing. He kept his eyes on the others, each holding a staff with one end on the ground in a non-threatening manner. But he had no doubt the situation could change in an instant.

“My name is Raymer. I’m from the Raging Mountains seek refuge with your family.”

The shorter one had shoulders so wide he almost looked fat until the hang of his clothing displayed his waist was so small as to be nonexistent. His biceps bulged, although relaxed as he lightly gripped his staff in fingers like sausages. The taller one, despite his full fleshed beard, shuffled back a small step, deferring to the other.

The shorter one said, “Yet you bring strangers to our home? Is that how it is done in the Raging Mountains?”

Raymer heard the baiting tone. They would not respect weakness. “No. How it is done in my home is that a clan member displays himself before speaking of private things.”

They clearly didn’t like being admonished for something so standard they should have done as soon as one claimed to be of the Dragon Clan. Since Raymer had displayed his back, as a sign of goodwill and identification they should have done the same. They locked eyes. He waited.

Neither Quint nor Ander moved or attempted to speak. Finally, the taller one spun and lifted the rear of his shirt to his shoulders. A red dragon writhed there, so finely made and so lifelike, it appeared to crouch in preparation to strike.

The shorter one hesitated and slowly turned in a surly manner, his lip curled in anger. He raised his shirt part of the way and dropped it.

Raymer could have allowed the action to pass, but chose not to. He took two steps closer and said in a soft but clear voice, “Am I being insulted?”

“You insult me by bringing strangers here.”

Raymer stooped and grasped his staff without taking his eyes off the man. He shifted his grip on his staff, bringing it to the defensive position. “I will explain my actions to your clan leader . . . or your father.”

The taller one said, “He’s right Dakar, he asked for refuge. Our laws don’t give you the right to refuse.”

“Shut up.”

The taller one stepped in front of the one called Dakar and allowed his staff to fall to the ground in a proper display of deference. He said, “Forgive our manners, Raymer of the Raging Mountains. My name is Meryn, and I greet you with open hands.”

Raymer let his staff fall back to the ground and repeated the traditional greeting, his eyes on Meryn as if Dakar didn’t exist.

Marian said, “The strangers you brought with you are not supposed to learn about our village. They already know too much, as you well know.”

“In normal times you are correct. In these times, I will call for a clan meeting and leave their lives in the hands of the elders.”

Quint shuffled, but when Raymer cast him a warning glance, he stilled.

Meryn didn’t miss any of the byplay. “No weapons.”

Quint smirked, as he handed Dakar his staff and knife. “Well, if you boys insist on giving us a hand, can you carry our blankets and packs too. Thanks for helping.”

Meryn asked, “Is he always like this?”

“Worse,” Raymer smiled. “To know him is to laugh.”

Dakar said, “I don’t think so. Big men always think they’re tough until I’m done with them.”

Quint stepped forward and with each step he appeared larger because of the size difference. The short one called Dakar had large biceps, but as Quint stood in front of him, he looked like a deformed dwarf. Quint said, “In my home we have traditions of wrestling and fencing. Would you happen to have anything similar?”

Ander caught Dakar’s eye. “Don’t do it, my new friend.”

That gave Dakar an out. “I’m not your friend.”

Meryn said to Raymer, “We’ll show you the way since you requested refuge, but your friends will face whatever fate the elders decide. You should have left them behind.”

Raymer nodded. “We’ll speak to them at the council. Please lead on. Will the other two who are still hiding out in the forest go before or after us?”

“How did you spot them?” Meryn asked.

“The clan always travels in pairs for safety. You two are one pair.”

Dakar snarled, “We do not travel in quads. How do you know there are more? How did they reveal themselves so they do not do the same again?”

Raymer shrugged, “When you brought the feathers to scare us last night one of you had eaten garlic, and I smelled it. It was neither of you, so there must be another pair.”

Dakar spat, “Shensi. He’s always eating garlic or onions.”

“This time, it told me all I needed to know. By the way, I really like your feather idea. It lets a man’s mind fill in all sorts of terrible things. Such a simple thing, but I’ll bet most run home to safety, never to return.”

Meryn said, “Since my men saw us greet each other as family, they’ll run to our village, and you will be expected. All of you.”

They gathered their few things. Raymer asked, “Will we be there before dark? We have important business.”

“Long before dark,” Dakar muttered, his disposition is not improving. “You may find yourself dead before dark.”

Meryn looked at Raymer and said, “We all have our burdens, but I suspect mine is easier than putting up with his poor attempts at humor.”

“Sometimes I laugh with him,” Raymer said.

The path they followed went up the river bank until the river widened between two sandbanks at a wide bend. Rocks littered the sides and bottom, but the current appeared sluggish, and as they crossed, no one got their knees wet. The path continued, rising as they moved, always in the direction of the solid gray cliffs.

Dakar took the rear which was fine with everyone. Twice Raymer looked back to see him struggling with three extra staffs to carry, but never offered to help him. There was almost no talking.

After passing two more streams and countless hills, dips, and one flat valley, Raymer noticed the face of the cliff they approached had a distinct place where the color of the rock didn’t precisely match. He kept his eye on it. As they continued, the mark grew more defined, if only because he knew to look for it.

Quint said, “One of you little people wouldn’t happen to have a pair of sandals or shoes that would fit me, would you?”

Raymer had taken notice of his feet before they left their campsite. Each had several scrapes and cuts, and his left had a raw scrape that probably came from slipping while crossing the talus. If Quint complained, even as little his question indicated, he must be in pain.

“Just a little further,” Raymer said.

“How do you know how far it is?” Dakar snarled.

Raymer turned to face him as he struggled to carry his load. He smiled and shrugged, then said in a jolly voice, “You look old enough to seek out other families. You might try mine. And on the way there you can stop at the king’s summer palace. You might enjoy staying in my old room. Just ask anyone for directions to the palace, and I’m sure they’d be glad to show you the way.”

Ander and Quint broke into laughter while the other two just looked and wondered at the joke they missed.

Dakar said defiantly, “I just might do that.”

Now all three laughed, and as they continued the trek now and then one or the other added to the humor. The distance and time passed faster with their minds occupied.

The next time Raymer looked up to the cliffs they were much closer, and again, knowing what to look for, he spotted the actual split in the wall that they would traverse.

Reaching the entrance seemed anticlimactic. The path turned slightly and almost without warning they walked between two high walls, taller than the highest trees. The floor of the split was soft sand, and a thousand plants grew there, especially where the split began. Raymer realized many of the plants were probably moved there to conceal the entrance from an accidental discovery. Looking ahead, Raymer estimated the passage must be at least a thousand paces long.

His heart beat faster and his breath came in shallow pants, not because of the altitude, but because he neared the destination that had been his goal over a year ago. A thousand steps. Nine hundred. Eight.