Dragon Clan #2: Raymer's Story

CHAPTER SIX

The Dungeon Master groaned. It was his first sound since the dungeon collapsed from the weight of the dragon. He still lay across the back of the horse Quint led, but didn’t move or ask to be released.

As they traveled west, the forest of evergreen trees had thinned until only brush grew in the hard packed sand the color of dead skin. Juniper and cactus grew in patches. The sun felt hotter. Raymer’s eyes squinted to see across the barren landscape.

“Are you sure you know where you’re leading us?”

Quint said, “Of course I know. Away from that damned castle and dungeon. Any more than that you want to know? Maybe we should stop and discuss it while sipping tea?”

No, we can’t stop. He’s right. The pace Quint set remained brutal. The Dungeon Master had missed a grueling trek in the dense forests and down the slopes of mountain after mountain. The horses were worn out and needed a break, but they kept urging them on. They crossed a flat area with little vegetation and a lot, of course, brown sand.

Suddenly, the canyon appeared directly in front of them. At first, they couldn’t see the bottom, but as they rode closer, the immense size revealed itself. At the rim of a canyon, both sides that appeared to drop straight down to nowhere Quint paused and gathered landmarks. He pointed to a far off peak, “The Older Sister.” His head turned, and his eyes searched the upper end of the canyon. Finally, he smiled.

“Recognize this place?”

Quint nodded and twisted in his saddle to look behind. It only took a short time before he said, “When you know three points you can tell where you are.”

Raymer swung a leg over the horse and felt the stiffness had already set in. He hadn’t ridden in more than a year and despite his self-training in his cell, he would pay dearly for today’s ride. His hand went to the back of his neck and heat from the sun on his white skin told him it wouldn’t be the only pain he’d suffer.

“Where are we?” He asked as he went to the Dungeon Master.

“If the guards, or whoever the King sent after us, did what I think, they’ll wait at either end of this canyon for us ride to them. They’ll set their traps a day from here in either direction. When we don’t come, they’ll start to close the jaws of their trap.” He pointed down the valley and continued, “There’s a small trail made long ago that descends into that thing.”

“You’ve traveled it?”

“Of course not. Do I look crazy?”

Raymer had to laugh. He looked behind and saw a faint rise of dust in the distance. He judged the pursuers to be so far off they might not reach the canyon until dark. “It looks like they may have split into three groups.”

Quint scowled as he confirmed the sighting and studied the dust. “No more than six of them, I think.”

Six? How can you tell that from so far away? The Dungeon Master groaned again. Raymer quickly untied him and helped him to the ground where he stood on wobbly legs. “Take it easy, you were hurt when the wall fell on you.”

“I remember. I thought I’d die when those iron bars hit me,” he moaned.

“You can thank Raymer for wasting our escape-time to rescue you.” Quint pointed down the sharp edge of the cliff again, “The trail shouldn’t be too far that way.”

The Dragon Master swayed, and his eyes were glazed. “Who?”

“Don’t worry,” Raymer said. “Just mount up and we’ll tell you everything. Are you hurt?”

“No. You’re prisoners. You should both be in cells.”

Quint still sat in his saddle, and he leaned closer, “I think you’re mistaken about those two items, sir.”

The Dungeon Master quieted. He accepted a lift to his saddle and rode loosely as if he might fall at any time, but at each sway, he wavered and caught himself. His balance quickly improved, and his cheeks flushed as he lost the deathly pallor he’d worn earlier.

Raymer continued to hold his position as the last in line as Quint led the way again. They took it slow and allowed the horses to pick their own way across the rocky ground, circling around sprawls of cactus and jumbles of rock. An injured horse would cause them to travel even more slowly. The canyon wall opposite, in the far distance, appeared more red than tan, and he caught several sparkles of what could only be a river flowing down the bottom of the valley.

A slight tingle on his back instantly drew his attention. Without being obvious, he scanned the sky and found a black dot circling where he judged the palace to be located. The dragon then turned and flew in his direction. Raymer watched it approach until he realized it would lead an army to him. Fly home, my friend.

While he couldn’t be sure, it looked like the dragon was black. At the palace had been a red. But it was probably just because of the distance.

“Where are we?” the Dragon Master asked.

When Quint didn’t answer Raymer quickly said, “West of the palace. If you look hard, you can see the Raging Mountains over there.” A single glance behind ensured the dragon had turned away. The reaction of Quint and the Dragon Master to the dragon’s appearance was uncertain.

They traveled in silence until the Dungeon Master’s dull voice asked, “Am I your prisoner?”

“Well, yes, I guess you are. Hostage might be a better explanation. Not that we intend to hurt you,” Raymer said. “We just wanted to escape, and it seemed a good idea to bring you along.”

Quint spoke without turning his head. “What you are is an accidental hostage. You were hurt and unconscious. That idiot riding behind you insisted we rescue you before escaping. You can imagine how upset I’d be if our escape failed because of him taking the time to drag your sorry ass out of the flames.”

“Call me Ander. I’m not a very good Dungeon Master, it seems. You talk as if you don’t like Raymer.”

“Only two reasons to talk about a man like that. Maybe it’s because I don’t know him too well. Or perhaps it’s because I do.” Quint laughed again, throwing his head back and roaring at his own joke.

Raymer said, “The air is dusty, gritty, and my eyes sting. My butt hurts, and I have a dozen cuts and scrapes. It’s the best I’ve felt in a year.”

“May the three gods advise me. My head hurts with every step the horse takes. I know my thinking’s slow, but I don’t understand these two men,” the Dungeon Master stated, not speaking to either of them, but speaking loud enough for all to hear.

They chuckled at him, and Quint turned his horse to the left and followed a faint trail that led directly to the edge of the cliff. He climbed down and walked stiff-legged to peer over. “Here it is.”

Raymer joined him. A ledge wound down the side of a steep cliff, often no wider than his shoulders. The surface was strewn with loose rocks and sand. One slip promised a long fall. “I won’t ride a horse down there.”

“Me neither,” Quint agreed. “I knew it was supposed to narrow, but that’s not what I had in mind.”

Raymer turned to the rear and saw men on horses in the distance. They had gained half the distance in the time it took to locate the trail. If Quint was right, there were troops on their left, more on their right, and those closing in from behind. Another dungeon or take the path?

Raymer said, “I say we go down. I’d rather fall to my death than go back and rot in that cell.”

Quint nodded and started untying the blanket holding their supplies the old woman provided. Raymer gathered the blankets and shirts in his arms. He looked for anything of value on the horses and realized they were so worn out from the trip they couldn’t have carried them much further on level ground, let alone the narrow trail down the side of the canyon.

“We’ll let you wait here for your people,” Raymer said to Ander. “If that’s agreeable with Quint.”

“Good by me. We don’t need him slowing us down or trying to betray us at every turn. Didn’t want to bring him anyhow.”

“Where are you two going?” The Dungeon Master quickly asked.

“Pumping us for valuable information, are you?” Quint said, spreading the blanket and taking a quick inventory as he split the contents into two equal portions for carrying.

Raymer said, “It’s no secret. We’re heading beyond the Raging Mountains to Quint’s home. We’ll be far away from here where there’s help for us. I’ll get word to my people somehow, but don’t expect to ever see us again.”

The Dungeon Master sat on a rock and cradled his chin on his palms, his eyes closed. He opened them and looked at the far-off mountains. “I’ve never been there.”

Quint paused and stared at him. “Are you asking to go with us?”

“I don’t like being in that damned Dungeon any more than you. My father made me take the dirty job. Let me go with you and if you get caught, I’ll play the part of a hostage.”

He had the full attention of Quint and Raymer.

“I pledge you my word. Let me travel with you and see something of the world instead of the insides of the dungeon walls. You may not realize it, but I was every bit as much a prisoner like you.”

“Your word?” Quint asked. “No conditions?”

“One condition.”

Quint snarled, “Which would be?”

“You address me as Ander. Never call me the Dungeon Master again.”

Raymer relaxed and smiled as Quint stuck out his hand to shake. Quint said, “We’re not your lackeys . . . Ander. You do a third of the work or go hungry. Grab those blankets from Raymer so he can carry this.” He held out a second blanket filled with food.

Raymer said, “I’ll go first.”

He held onto the four corners of the blanket where it was tied and tossed the heavy middle over his shoulder like a farmer carrying a sack of vegetables. It didn’t weigh too much and was not as unwieldy as he feared. One last look behind revealed those chasing them were closer than he liked, and their horses were galloping as fast as able. A few of the men had already pulled swords and waved them in the air. Faint shouts grew louder.

Raymer looked down at his bare feet, the filthy and tattered trousers that nearly fell off his thin hips, and the shirt that had once been tan. It now hung in charcoal colored ribbons. But it was his bare feet that concerned him. The rocks were sharp. Even the sand was sharp, and plants with thorns grew in abundance.

Quint said, “Stop thinking and do it before they capture us standing here waiting for you.”

Raymer stepped gingerly onto the center of the narrow ledge. His toes tried to find something to grip. He took another step on the steep decline and found it was not slippery, as he’d feared. The ledge was probably wide enough at the top for a horse to navigate if the animal could be encouraged to step upon it, but further down it narrowed.

Raymer’s confidence grew with every step. He heard the others moving behind, and the shouts of the army louder. Some of them would have arrows. He moved faster.

The ledge sloped quickly near the top, then leveled as it went lower, but it also narrowed, unless his eyes deceived him. A glance over the edge revealed a cliff below that was taller than the tallest building. No, taller than ten buildings. One misstep and he’d fall long enough to think about all his misdeeds in life.

Despite the danger from the ledge, his pace increased as the shouts grew closer. His feet were already sore but would heal. The ledge turned and followed the side of the cliff, always dripping lower, sometimes faster than others. He lifted his head and looked at the path in front of them and almost stumbled.

The ledge came to an end.

Raymer glanced behind and saw that Quint had noticed the same thing.

But a smile formed and Quint said, “Trust me.”

There was not a choice. Raymer turned and moved gingerly to the end of the ledge. As he got closer, there appeared to be a lip where the trail simply ended, but he kept on. From Quint’s knowing smile he expected to find a ladder or perhaps a rope.

But the ledge still appeared to end. He slowed and advanced the last few steps cautiously. The ledge didn’t end. It continued around a point of rock, turning back on itself like a switchback on a mountain trail at home. As he rounded the point, he almost returned in the same direction as he came from.

Around the sharp bend spread a wide, flat area, large enough for ten men to stand. The ledge continued to travel down, but Raymer stepped aside and waited, catching his breath. Quint and Ander appeared, both wearing relieved smiles when they turned the corner.

Quint said to Anders, “Exactly as I was told. This was made hundreds of years ago when my family was warring with yours.”

Ander said, “Made? This trail was made?”

Quint shook his head and pointed up. “They can’t see us from up there. Can’t throw rocks down on us and can’t shoot arrows. All they can do is follow down that ledge, one at a time.”

Ander continued, saying what Raymer was thinking, “You said it was made.”

Quint motioned to the marks on the rear of the stone wall. “Dug out by chisels. This wide spot only. But this is where we stand and fight. Turn them back.”

“We could just keep on and get away,” Raymer said.

“They’d follow and catch us by nightfall. Right here we convince them not to follow us,” he smiled as he stepped to the wall and reached into a split in the stone. He pulled a staff into view. Then two more. Looking at Raymer with a sly smile he said, “Ever try one of these against a man who’s not an image in your mind?”

Raymer accepted the staff and his fingers wrapped around it as if he’d been born with it in his hand. “How’d you know they were there?”

“This path? This place and weapons stashed here? I was briefed before I set foot into this heathen land of yours. My people suspected betrayal by King Ember, but wanted peace so badly they sent me anyhow. But not unprepared.”

Ander slipped his hand inside the crack and pulled it back with a sack attached. He looked inside. “Grain. Dried nuts and fruit.” He reached again and pulled a small leather bag that jingled with the sound of coins. He handed it to Quint without opening it.

Raymer said, “If this was placed here for your possible use, there are probably more stashes along the way.”

“My people are maybe too trusting, but we are not stupid.”

The shouting above had quieted. Raymer jabbed a thumb up into the air. “What now?”

“We wait. You and me with staffs. Each time one of them shows himself we attack.”

“Here on the ledge?” Raymer asked.

We have room to move. We’ll take them by surprise and shove them over the side.”

Ander stepped closer, meeting Quint’s gaze from his shorter size, but no less serious. “They’ll die.”

Quint said easily, “If you look at their hands you’ll see swords. They intended for us to die. Why are you upset if we will kill armed soldiers who are doing their best to run us through?”

Raymer nodded in partial agreement. “This doesn’t set well with me either, Ander. But if you wish our permission to walk back up to that ledge and warn them of our intentions I have no objections.”

Quint said, “Go there if you like, but don’t return to us. Perhaps it will be better for all if you do leave.”

“No, I stay! But I have never killed a man, nor seen one killed.”

“That will change soon,” Quint said. “I hear them coming down that ledge. When we strike, I expect to hear blood-curdling screams of terror as they fall all the way to the bottom.”