Laugavegur, A Hinterland Journey

Chapter 21 - Dragon Hunters

The Bottomlands lay on the far side of a great wasteland of wind-blown black sand. The flat expanse was punctuated by sharp moss-scaled pinnacles and low jagged rock blisters. The Bottomlands were a series of small, connecting valleys populated with stone and turf huts and a few timber-framed meeting halls. One could smell the Bottomlands well before arriving. It was a mixture of earthy manure, bitter tannins, soot, and the general stink of unwashed humanity. A haze of smoke hung over the entire area emanating from the stone chimneys of several huts as well as from the village center where several large fires were burning brightly beneath large cast iron cauldrons.

Skari pulled his hood up, tucking his wispy green hair away from sight. "Come on," he said easing his way down the slope toward the village. "If you have the option, try not to announce that we are Huldu. I think many might not take well to that here."

On the way in, they passed two herders that were working to skin a large reindeer. Instead of using hunting knives or daggers of iron, the herders were using flakes of the glassy black obsidian similar to the rock they found on the way to Ravendome. A woman looked at them suspiciously as she buried herself to the elbows in the deer to haul out a pile of steaming offal.

They reached the center of town where the great cauldrons were bubbling away over lively fires. The pop and hiss of escaping steam reminded Tokki of Ilse's hut and boiling herbal remedies.

"Wait here while I see about locating a dragon's egg," said Skari pointing to a wooden plank laid across two rocks to form a makeshift bench. As the seer hobbled off toward one of the common buildings, Anja and Tokki took in the bustle of activity, much of it focused on the central square. A thick-armed woman with watery eyes and a cloth tied over her mouth and nose rotated from one cauldron to the next, stirring the contents with a large wooden paddle. She choked, coughed, and dry heaved, pulling the rag away from her face so she could spit. The wind shifted direction, enveloping Anja and Tokki in the potent aroma emanating from the cauldrons. The smell initially stung with the tang of acid but had a strong undercurrent of rotten flesh.

"Gods, that is awful," said Anja waving at the air.

Tokki's curiosity overpowered his olfactory revulsion and he walked over to one of the cauldrons.

"Watch it, young man," called the woman tending the pots. "That'll melt the flesh right off your bones." While the woman's voice was rough with age and hardship, her countenance was not. She walked over to Tokki. She was stout, but her mass was the result of hard-living sturdiness, not gluttony. The woman gave him an appraising look. "A newcomer to the Bottomlands, I see. Not wise enough to keep your distance from Prox and her cauldrons! What is your name?" she asked.

"Tokki. And that's my sister, Anja." Tokki extended and hand out. It was a strange formality but Prox laughed and took his tiny pale hand into her calloused paw. Anja wandered over at the sound of her name.

"Pleased... Very pleased," Prox said shaking Tokki's hand.

"What are you cooking? It smells terrible," said Tokki.

"Tokki!" hissed Anja

Prox laughed. "Oh, this is not for eating, friends." With the large wooden paddle, she dug down deep into the cauldron and scooped out a large red scale, meat still clinging to the underside. she placed it on the ground.

"Skinka on toast! Is that a dragon's scale?" Tokki said reaching out.

"Hold on a moment," said Prox grabbing a bucket of water and submerging the scale in it. "Have to wash the acid off." Prox lifted the scale out of the bucket and picked a few pieces of gristle off before handing it to Tokki. He held the scale reverently, watching the sun dance off its smooth surface.