Chapter Three: Extra Hands

The Messenger

Chapter Three: Extra Hands

In this world I had very little left to smile about.  With the war ongoing and my busy schedule delivering what messages I could, chances to actually sit down and enjoy the company of others was a luxury. Dinner at the Dunahan household was one of the few enjoyable things left for myself. With it brought forth a sense of comfort to a situation where neither I nor my hosts, both big and small, had but little.

After a quick prayer of thanks, we ate our fill, though most of the meal was spent answering the children’s questions about my recent travels. Not that I minded, I was more than happy to stoke their imaginations with the wonders of the world. They listened admirably, the places I told of sparking smiles of wonder amidst even Marian’s usually solemn face.

But, it was at the suggestion of Montre that I relay a particular story that evening, one that I had heard many times in my travels. This particular story was oddly relevant to future events, though at the time I recounted it, it seemed like any other legend.

“The dragon.” He said, leaning forward in his chair. “Tell us the one about the dragon of Mildor.”

I looked about the table. “I’m sure you’ve all heard that one before. What about the tales of the elders, or the gifted during the dark wars?”

“No, no.” Montre said. “The dragon.”

Several of the other girls pressed. “Yes! The dragon!”

I turned to Noniea for guidance, to be sure that the tale would be acceptable. I was sure she was familiar with it. My hesitation was somewhat warranted, considering the tale was not exactly friendly to the imaginations of the youngest girls.

“I don’t know, kids.” She said, concerned. “I remember the last time you wanted a scary story from our friend…”

“I’m no’ scared.” Breen said, sitting up straight and puffing out her chest. There was a slight quiver in her voice.

Sara and Naomi were similarly attempting to act brave. “Me neither!”  They said in unison.

Noniea leaned back in her chair, humming as she picked up her plate. “Okay. But I don’t want too many of you crowding my bed tonight. Understood?”

“Yes, mother.” The kids all replied.

She smiled slightly, looking at me with a slightly uneasy frown. I took that as the go ahead, though I also knew that she wanted me to tone the story down for the younger ones.

“Very well.” I said, clearing my voice. I began, leaning forward so that the single candle in front of me illuminated my face. “Many years ago, there was once a quaint little village within the gloomy oak forest of Mildor. You might have heard of it by the name of the Wayward, or perhaps the Lost Village. It was like any other village at the time, much like this one, lying along a pristine river filled to the brim with fish and game. But the village was not alone, and one day a hungry dragon had settled nearby in a nearby cave.”

“Was it a friendly dragon?” Sara asked. “Like the ones from Lenton?”

“Hardly.” I replied. “This one was cold and heartless, a snollygoster who enjoyed little else than to terrorize the village and its people. It began quietly at first, as people from the village began to disappear, one at a time, until the villagers realized it was the dragon who behind it all. So, they got together their bravest men and set out to slay the dragon.”

Looking around the table, trying to gauge how well each of the children were handling the story.

“Then what ‘appened?” Breen asked, peaking over the edge of the table in an attempt to hide her worried smile. “Did they?”

I shook my head. “No. Not a single man returned.”

The little girl shrank further, her worried eyes the only thing visible under the mop of hair.

“Mercher…” Noniea nodded at the child, frowning with disapproval as she came back from the kitchen.

I grinned in acknowledgement, yet continued nonetheless. The child would get over it, especially when I left out the more… gory details. “The dragon continued to prey upon the remaining people of the village.”

Noniea rolled her eyes and folded her hands together, burying her face within them.

“Well, the people tried to bribe the dragon into leaving them alone by bringing him fish and deer and cattle.” I said, my voice lowering as I spoke each word. “The dragon accepted the gifts at first, much to the villager’s relief, but secretly he only feigned satisfaction. That night, the dragon took the villagers who brought the bribe. But instead of simply eating the villagers, he thought it entertaining to take them to his cave.

“He kept them locked up for days, before releasing them into the darkness of his lair.” I continued. “He thanked them politely for the gifts, and told them should they find the exit, they were free to leave. So through the cave they wandered, attempting to find a way out. But what the dragon did not tell them was that while they did he followed behind them, hunting them. He picked them off and devoured them, one by one. This went on for days and weeks, until eventually there was no one left.”

“Right.” Marian said from across the table, her arms folded. “And how would you know that he did any of that? Someone obviously survived if you know that much.”

“Shut it, Marian.” Montre growled, sitting on my right. “Let him finish the story.”

“Hey! Manors, Montre.” Noniea said, peeking out from her hands.

Montre began to argue, but I patted his shoulder.

“No, she’s right.” I smiled slightly. “When the villagers that brought the offering did not return, the others were unsure of what to do. They began to flee the village, the entire population of Wayward fled into the forest to seek refuge elsewhere. The dragon, not wanting to let his prey escape continued tracking them down, capturing every single one of those that made the attempt to leave. But being to full from his previous hunt within his lair, he hung the villagers within the trees of the forest in metal cages to save for later. Almost none escaped, leaving the village a ghost town.

“But there was a single little girl, whom he never found. Having concealing herself within the dragon’s own lair right near where he slept while he hunted the others, she remained there until that night when he returned after capturing the last of the villagers.”

“How old was she?” Vela asked.

I thought for a moment. “No one really knows, though she was probably no older than you were.”

“Did she get away?” asked Sara.

“Now just wait, you’re getting ahead of yourselves a bit.” I said, waving her down. “But yes, she did indeed. While the dragon slept, she beheaded him!”

 The younger girls all frowned and stuck out their tongues in disgust. “Egh.”

Montre grinned. “Yeah, serves him right.”

“Wait, I’m not done.” I said, holding up my hands. “But when she left the cave, she found the entire village had been abandoned, and a thick fog had enveloped the forest. For days she wandered the dark corners Mildor, following the roads that led out until she found her way to the village of Glory’s Gate, not far from where we stand.”

“Then what happened?” Naomi pried.

I bobbed my head back and forth before answering. “When the villagers found her, she was cold and wet and hungry, and more than a little tired. Well, she told the villagers there what had happened in Wayward and dispatched soldiers to investigate.” I said, pausing for a brief moment. “They searched for the cages the dragon had used to imprison the remaining villagers… and it is said that many of them could hear their cries, but after days of searching for them all they ever found was the dragon’s empty cave. The villagers and the dragon had vanished without a trace.”

“Scary.” Marian moaned, the palm of her hand barely holding up her head.

“No, it’s true.” I said. “To this day, no one has ever known what happened to the rest of the villagers, or the dragon himself.”

The children looked at each other, trying to decide if I were lying or not. To be honest, I now wish I had been.

“Wait, so if they never found the body of the dragon, how do they know the little girl beheaded him?” Marian asked.

“I’ve asked that question myself numerous times.” I said, grinning at her skepticism. It was one thing that we could probably both agree on. “But from what I understand it was either that the dragon’s death was greatly exaggerated or that he somehow managed to live through his decapitation… or by becoming…” I paused a moment, before quickly leaning forward to startle them, “a ghost!”

Several of the children gasped, but Montre simply laughed at the girls’ reactions.

“Th-there’s no such things!” Vela stammered.

“A skeptic?” I said. “Who says there isn’t?”

“I’ve never seen one.” Vela said, sitting up straight.

“Ah!” I said, leaning towards her. “You’ve never seen Earth, but you believe it exists, no?”

Vela crossed her arms, “That’s just an old wives’ tale.”

I was about to answer, but Noniea cut me short. “All right, children, enough.” She said, smiling. “It is time for bed.”

A collective complaint filled the room. “Aw, but ma…”

“No arguing.” Noniea said sternly. “Just because we have company does not mean you get to break the rules. Besides, you still have your chores in the morning.”

“I’ll tell you what, though.” I said, grinning. “I can tell you more of the Dunes of Gorne tomorrow before I leave. They have ancient caves there that are completely hidden by the sands, once used by the Wardens.”

I leaned in closer, whispering. “There are legends that say there are metal men who still walk down there.”

“Neat!” The twins, Naomi and Sara, both exclaimed at once. Before anyone could say more, the pair had excused themselves and were on their way to bed. They were soon followed by Breen and Montre, though they did so with less speed.

Vela and Marian took their dishes to the kitchen before they left as well, leaving Noniea and I in the relative quiet of the dining room. Though perhaps quiet was not the correct word, as the sounds of a half dozen children clamoring to get ready for sleep echoed loudly through the entire house.

Noniea smiled at the sound, breathing a heavy sigh of relief.

I decided that the relative silence was a bit too much.

“So, how’s Gwen?” I asked.

“She is well, though she claims otherwise now that she has the little one.” Noniea answered. “It’s always the first one that’s the hardest, so they say.”

I smiled. “I don’t see how that could be. She should now be the personification of motherliness with all the young siblings she had to deal with.”

She paused, looking up at me with a shake of her head. After a brief moment of quiet, she blinked and fiddled with her glass. “It’s been a long time, Mercher. They’ve missed you.”

“In case you haven’t heard, there’s a war going on.” I replied, reaching over and taking hold of my glass.

“I understand. You must be terribly busy.” She said, looking down at the table. After a moment of thought, she looked up at me, a concerned look on her face. “But would it hurt you to stop by when you’re near? It’s not like you’re out there fighting like the rest. It’s just… you’re like a second father to them, and they could use a… positive male figure in their lives once in a while.”

“That almost sounds like a pass, Mrs. Dunahan.” I smiled, taking a drink. “You know I do like older women.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Channing.” She said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not that desperate for companionship. Besides…” she looked over at an old, warn ring displayed on the mantle. “It is still too soon. For all of us, I think. Plus… you’re not really my type.”

I paused, lowering my head. I knew exactly what she meant. With a sigh, I took another drink and leaned back in chair. As I did so, the words came out which I, even then, felt uncomfortable saying. “Indeed. Can’t blame a man for trying.”

Even so they received a smile. “I appreciate your trying to cheer me up. But you’re not very good at it.”

I nodded, reaching over and taking a bit of left over dinner bread, taking a small bite. I chewed it thoughtfully for a moment, looking over at Marian and Vela as they walked passed to get to their room. I had no desire to replace the memories of their father, nor fill the void he left in their lives. Yet, at the same time, it felt as though they accepted me as one of their own, like an old friend.

Well, perhaps with the exception of Marian.

While I was sure that Noniea enjoyed my company as much as I liked visiting, I knew that I was nothing more than an acquaintance and friend. It was a relation that I had been missing over the last few years, one that I had denied myself as a punishment for my own wrongs. Perhaps it goes to show that no man is meant to be alone on his journey through life? The thought had crossed my more than once since meeting these fine folk, though I was not one to become philosophical of such things. All I knew was that I could not help but feel guilty not helping this poor family whenever I could, if only as penance.

She paused for a moment, turning towards the stairs as if expecting the children to be interrupting them any second. When that failed to happen, she turned back to me, hesitating for but a moment before she finally asked the question that was bothering her. “Have… have you heard of any news of Belesprit?”

It was only a matter of time before she would ask, and I always hated giving her my answer. “I have not.”

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. It took a moment for her to find the words. “I worry for her. With this war… it is not a time to wander as she has.”

“You’re speaking to a wanderer, ma’am, and I’m fine.” I replied, unsure if the words were comforting or not. “Not all of us spend a great deal of time in danger. Besides, she could be exploring the jungles of Cantong or Jsar-Vocab and be perfectly fine.”

“Yet there is still a danger to your line of work.” Noniea said, shifting in her seat. “And being in places that far away doesn’t make me feel much better. What if she receives news of the war and tries to make it home? We’re an island nation, she can’t exactly just swim here through the Ogsan armada.”

“You worry too much, Noniea.” I said. “From the way you’ve described her she’s a smart young woman. She would keep out of danger.”

Noniea looked off into the distance. “I somehow doubt that. For as much as she butted heads with her father she was a lot like him. I wouldn’t doubt she would jump headlong into the fight.”

She was probably right. I sat back, looking back into the fireplace in the living room, which crackled softly. I may be getting to know this family well, but my experience with Noniea’s second daughter was limited to stories told by Noniea and Gwenevere. Finding Belesprit was a tough job based on that, and knowing little in the way of where she had left after the fight with Tailon put a serious roadblock on my investigation.

 “Mercher?”

I turned back to Noniea, her arm reached out for my plate. She nodded towards it, as if it were her second request for it.

“If you please.”

“Oh, of course.” I said, picking up the dish and handing it to her. But as I did, I gently placed a small leather pouch atop it.

Noniea froze, her hands still hovering a few lengths away. “Mercher, you know you don’t need to bring us anything. I’m not a restaurant.”

“Nor an inn, yet I refuse to make your burden heavier.” I said, nodding at the small purse on the plate as I moved it closer.

She slowly took the plate, stacking it on top of hers. Looking hard at it, she licked her lips and closed her eyes. “Thank you, Mercher. But… I cannot accept.”

“Nonsense.” I said. “You have a mighty full home to look after. You need it far more than I ever could.”

“Mercher…” she said, beginning to pick up the money and hand it back.

“No, no.” I said, standing and gently pushing it away. “I have no need of this much.”

As much as she did not want to take it, she knew my stubbornness would win out over her own. She clutched the bag, loosening the drawstring with her free hand and dumping its contents onto the table. A small pile of coins appeared; the sight of which she frowned upon.

“Do not say a thing, Noniea.” I said, waving down her anger with my hands. “You wished for my extra hands, this is what I can offer.”

“This is not what I meant.” She said, eyeing me.

“I made your husband a promise, and this is part of the deal.” I said. “It’s not nearly as much as a soldier’s salary, but it should help.”

She blinked, setting down the plates. “And I’m sure that’s not what he meant, either. Where did you get this?” Before I could answer, she held up her hand. “No, that isn’t my business, I don’t want to know. I just…” she looked up at me, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m not helpless, you know.”

“I never said you were.” I replied. “But I know you, and I’ve seen the things that need tending. That can more than pay for the repairs.”

I knew Noniea would continue to balk at the amount I had provided for her. But in truth I could live on much less than what remained in my own pocket. I decided to cut her off before she could say much further.

“I do insist.” I said, motioning at the coins. “This discussion is over.”

With a sigh, Noniea scooped the money back into the small bag, pulling the drawstrings tight. “Thank you… you stubborn idiot.”

“I hear it’s a wanderer… thing.” I replied with a smile. I then picked up the two plates still sitting on the table. “Now, if you excuse me, I believe it would be rude of me not to assist you in with the chores before bed.”

Noniea motioned towards the kitchen with a nod. “Just put them on the counter. That will be more than enough for now.”

Placing the dishes in the kitchen, I took a glance out the window into the evening air outside. The night had become dark as we had eaten, leaving only an oil lantern of a distant neighbor as he returned inside from his duties for me to see. It reminded me of my own chores, as I had left Pratsu to fend for himself out there. Not that I didn’t trust the old horse; I simply knew that he might need his own time to rest after our long journey to get here.

With a sigh, I looked over for a lantern of my own. “If you would excuse me, Mrs Danahan, I should tend to my horse before I retire.”

“Alright, but don’t be long.” Noniea said. “The candles grow short.”

I nodded, stepping out the back door with a quite, “Aye.”