Barnaby the Wanderer

Chapter 19: The View From the Back of a Dragon

Mist turned the rungs slippery. Barnaby climbed slowly, not wanting to fall before ever seeing the top. Soon reaching a point where end and beginning were equally lost in bright mist. And there he paused. Appreciating how he perched in as unlikely a place as any miller had ever found themselves. On a ladder in a glowing cloud twixt earth and sky... quite interesting, if shadowed by mad and bloody purpose.

"I don't want to push anyone to their death," he told the fog. "Makes me almost a murderer."

"No, it does not," argued a voice. "Makes you a fighter."

"That you, Mr. Hypo?"

"No one but me and Friar February up here, and he's as quiet as his master."

Barnaby sighed; continued climbing. Came to the ladder's end, where Hypo leaned over, observing his progress. Smiling, of course.

"I worried you'd got lost climbing in the fog."

"How shall I be getting lost?"

"Ah, that was jest."

"Oh." Barnaby hesitated. "Would you mind backing away a bit?"

"Not at all." Hypo stepped away, Barnaby completed the climb. Clambered upon a square of wooden boards lacking railing. This square perched in a sea of white mist glowing with the dawn. Hypo now sat at the far end.

"Rest a bit," he suggested.

It seemed rude to refuse. Barnaby sat. They contemplated one another.

"You aren't any kind of soldier," decided Hypo.

"No sir, I am not. I'm a miller, actually."

"Oh? Water or wind?"

The question delighted Barnaby. "Wind, as it happens. We don't have river enough in East Demetia. But I've heard of water mills on the Lethe. Like to see those, I would."

Hypo laughed. "I'd wish that you do someday. But the wish would put a halt to the things I'm looking forward to seeing myself.

Barnaby nodded. "Understood. What things were you wanting to see?"

Hypo fingered his chin.

"A dragon," he decided.

Barnaby laughed. "Me too! The fiery red ones of the mountains? Or the green worms of the southern sea?"

Hypo prepared to answer, when from beyond the mist tolled a leaden bell, sounding slow and solemn as funeral march. The signal to begin. The man sighed, rose to his feet.

"And now to our work, Mister Miller."

Barnaby jumped up. Feeling sick to his stomach. Hypo stood with feet spread even, hands to side, palms open. Still smiling pleasantly. He took a casual step to the side, as though to get a better view of Barnaby.

Moving come quicker when you are already in motion. So Val instructed last night. And they'd proven it true, though the motions had not been those of fighting. Barnaby stepped to the side, matching Hypo's pace.

Think on her, he told himself. Live to get back to her. Live for her mad smile. The way her brows rise when you say something foolish. The way she bites lip playing the harp. That sound she gave like a petted cat, when you ran your hand down her stomach...

Of a sudden Hypo pivoted, kicking a heel towards Barnaby's knee. Barnaby stepped, not backwards nor to the side, but closer in. Punching fist up into Hypo's face.

The man staggered back surprised, near going over the edge. Barnaby waited till Hypo regained his balance.

Should have rushed him then, he told himself.