A Dragon's Betrayal

by C L Patterson

  The giant birds weren’t bothered by him as they continued to gain speed. Maerek roared, taunting the feathery flying beasts. Some of the cockatrices faltered and attempted to turn back. One of the cockatrices screeched. It wasn’t a paralyzing screech, but a rally cry. Maerek focused on the cockatrice that made the call and roared at it. The taunt was returned with another menacing screech.

  “We see him Maerek,” a cousin yelled from above. “Take him down. We’ll be right behind you.” Maerek steadied his wings and drifted up toward the other dragons. He took a deep breath and filled his mouth with the fiery spit. Then he tucked his wings in and rocketed toward the leader of the flock. Just as he began his descent, the leader of the cockatrices screeched again and shot up toward Maerek. The other cockatrices soon followed.

  Just before impact, Maerek sprayed his spit, creating a blanket of fire that fell toward the creatures. The flock of cockatrices broke formation and flew off in random directions. The cousins soon followed, racing off after individuals, catching them in jaws, claws, and flame.

  The leader of the cockatrices screeched again. The sound cut a hole through Maerek’s jet of fire and smacked across Maerek’s ears like a thunder blast. He lost focus, his vision dimming for a moment, and in the next instant, the cockatrice sank its claws into his neck. Maerek whirled and spiraled out of control. The cockatrices moved just out of the way as Maerek tried to bite and spew fire. Frustrated, Maerek grabbed the cockatrice’s neck with his claw and tore the creature off, blood dripping from both their talons. He whipped the creature in his hand, wringing its neck and then tossed the writhing, twitching corpse at the trees.

  The ground and sky spun in a violent collogue of blue, green, red, grey and blue again. His head clear, Maerek opened and stiffened his wings. Gradually, he tilted forward, until he was spiraling downward in a controlled motion, allowing the wind to bend around his body. With the slightest tilt of his wings, he corrected the spiral and skidded hard on the ground, just above the tree line.

  He licked the air, tasting the burnt wood, blood, smoke, but searching for the smell of suon and man. They were close, just behind the fire. Something made a click sound. He rolled sideways, expecting a large arrow to head straight for him. Instead, it shot up toward one of his cousins. Maerek watched in horror as the arrow speared through the cousin’s wing. The rope made a loud hiss as it threaded through the leathery membrane. It was Tamera. She jerked back as the roped went taut. She couldn’t recover in time and hit the side of the mountain, sending up a plume of rock and dirt.

  Maerek swallowed, stifling a roar of fear and anger. If the humans were aiming at his cousins, they then didn’t know where he had landed. For a few moments, he had the element of surprise. He crouched low, flicking his tongue, tasting, and waiting for the humans. The humans roared and shouted as they started to rush out from behind the fire. The hunters waved their huge cleaving axes, swords, spears, saws and other rendering equipment above their heads as they headed up the mountain… and then stopped as Maerek came into view.

  Maerek growled once, filled his mouth with spit and blasted the humans. The unrelenting flames circled around the hunters like a firestorm. The screams were only for a moment, and the cries of pain were even shorter.

  “Change!” Tamera yelled. She then bit through the spear in her wing, pulled herself free, and took off. Her flight was jerky, slow, and visibly painful. Maerek said a quick prayer that she would escape and turned away. He understood what he needed to do, and he needed to do it fast. Dragons had been given a special gift by the Faye to shift into a human form. It was believed by the dragons that the Faye gave them this gift to hide and associate with people if a proper keep could not be found. Not until now did Maerek realize the true purpose of that gift.

  Maerek filled his lungs and exhaled forcefully through his nose. Grey smoke fumed out and surrounded the large dragon. As he shifted, he removed the clothes from this satchel and got dressed. When the smoke blew away, Maerek wore a black tunic and brown, leather pants. The fire that consumed the humans still smoldered but was tolerable to be around. He reached for his satchel out of habit, and then hesitated. He couldn’t take it with him. The hunters would recognize it as a “dragon purse”, as it was sometimes called. Maerek closed his hand and headed toward the burnt bodies.

  Many of the hunters were tall and broad shouldered and heavy in the center. They were rugged men who ate well and were able to afford the finest hunting gear. The axes and saw blades, though tarnished by fire, showed signs of minimal use. Maerek took a hatchet from one of the dead hunters, and a belt with a sheathed dagger from another for safe measure. Lastly, he picked up some of the blackened dirt and smeared it over his face, arms and neck.

  As he looked around, another group of human hunters, similar to the ones he just killed, came out from behind the smoke blind and ran toward him. Maerek unsheathed the dagger and ran toward them, screaming a battle cry and waving the hatchet and dagger above his head. The group stopped, looked at the man before them.

  “Shhhh.” a man in front hissed. “Is it gone?” the man whispered. Maerek nodded, and then pointed up at the mountain.

  “It came when that one went down,” Maerek whispered. He started to shake slightly, his muscles twitching from gripping the weapons with a white-knuckle grip. “Everyone, burned, dead, so much fire… It’s still nearby,” Maerek purposely quavered his voice, trying to pass off as a visible shaken man. The leader nodded and waved for him to follow. The group of hunters quickly retreated back to the forest. Maerek caught up with them as they disappeared behind the smoke.

  The group stopped and formed a circle. Maerek looked up to memorize faces briefly and then stared at the ground, bent over, hands and weapons on his knees as if he was catching his breath. There were ten of them, all similar build, broad shouldered, well fed, tall, and all of a similar age.

  “We’ve got what, twenty, thirty bolts left?” one of the men said. He was in the center of the group and was looking at another man.

  “About that, maybe less considering Lupus lost his suon and quiver,” he paused and caught his breath and then looked at Maerek. “What about you, what happened?”

  “The cockatrice brought one of the dragons down, but we didn’t see it. One of the dragons was pegged and brought down and we rushed to it. That was when we saw the other dragon. He burned up my group. Thank the Faye I’m still alive.”

  “We won’t be giving anyone or anything any thanks,” the leader said. “Not until we get every last dragon in this Keep. I need ideas, were running out of ground and the cockatrices won’t be able to keep them distracted forever.”

  “We have to move the suon past the fire line,” someone said, a couple people away from where Maerek stood. “We’ll be seen, but that the only way we can get a hold on this hunt.”

  “I don’t like it,” the leader replied. “I don’t think any of us do.”

  “I like it very much,” Maerek thought. The leader took a deep breath and sighed.

  “But it’s something we have to do. Let’s get those suon moved. Make every shot count. Drop as many dragons as possible, and then let the trappers do their job. This needs to be quick. We can’t have another get away like the one that was speared through the wing. You, what’s your name, I don’t recall you traveling with us?”

  The leader pointed at Maerek.

  “Maerek, sir,” he said with finality.

  “You’re new. It shows,” the leader said. Maerek felt a pang of fear. “Go with Yacobsen, and make sure you do exactly as he says.”

  Maerek looked around and Yacobsen gave a short nod. Yacobsen’s face was unmarred, unusual for an experienced hunter. His body was rigid and his muscles appeared to be as dense as rocks. Grey hair streamed down the side of his head and was tied back in a tight short braid. He carried a long broad sword strapped to his back.

  “Hope you’re good with that hatchet,” was all Yacobsen said, in a flat, low tone before walking off into the woods.
Maerek followed, sheathing his dagger and holding his hatchet down by his side. The hunters dispersed into two groups, Maerek and Yacobsen in one group, and everyone else in another. After just a few paces, the larger group disappeared in the thickening smoke and heat.

  The green trees and foliage added to the thickening, black smoke, creating a suffocating haze. The air popped and hissed as the fire boiled the moisture in the tree trunks. As Maerek followed Yacobsen, Maerek, two other trees exploded and fell down. The fire crawled against the north wind and continued to travel down the mountain side.

  Even in all of the smoke and fire, Maerek smelled the suon before he saw it. From the musk, Maerek could tell that the suon was male, a breeding bull. The suon hissed and grunted, stomped his feet and shied away as Maerek walked past. Maerek didn’t look at the animal but stood by its side, looking at the leather and metal harnesses that attached it to the wagon. The driver’s bench was open and had a single post in front to tie the reigns around. The wagon held an oversized, rotating crossbow. There was enough room for the shooter rotate the crossbow clear around the wagon as well as aim up and down. Hung on the back of the wagon were two large coils of thick rope.

  “Quit gawking at it and get in,” Yacobsen ordered. Maerek smiled wide and jumped into the cart. “You ever shot one these before?”

  “No,” Maerek said, trying to understand the contraption.

  “The wooden harness there sits on your shoulders. The bolts are in a quiver underneath the left arm, rope with hooks are under your right arm. The crank on your right pulls the bolts back, and then you attach the rope. That handle in front of you is your trigger. When I tell you to shoot, you pull back on that lever. You can walk side to side to aim left and right, duck to aim high. Don’t rotate completely around when loaded. You’ll get the rope twisted around the main axel and if you shoot, you’ll rip the whole machine up, as well as your arms. Got it?”

  Maerek nodded. He didn’t need to tell him twice. He lifted the harness onto his shoulders and the crossbow evened out. After ducking and sidestepping a few times to get a feel for the machine, he loaded a bolt. At the end of the bolt was a loop. Maerek took the rope and tied it to the bolt. Yacobsen whipped the reigns and the suon pulled toward the wall of flame. The animal shied twice, but after a lashing with the reigns and some stiff curses, the giant lizard moved forward.

  As they came closer to the mountain, the smoke lessened and Maerek looked toward his home. Up and through the smoke, Maerek could catch glimpses his family ripping the last of the cockatrices to pieces. Carcasses of cockatrices, some with their beaks crushed, wings torn off, or a bent and broken back were strewn on the rocky slopes.

  Maerek felt a warm liquid slide down his neck and wiped it with his hands. There were three small slash marks. He hadn’t yet healed from the cockatrices attack. The wound was only an annoyance and wasn’t deep enough to cause any lasting damage. Maerek was sure it looked worse than it really was.

  “There,” Yacobsen yelled, pointing up at a cousin that had just finished diving out of a spiral and was gliding toward them. Was that Tsugo? He was headed toward the tree line and was followed his mate Rachael. “Track them. Wait till they are right on us. Lead the target, then wait for my order. If it’s clean, and if we’re lucky, we might be able to drag it down to our level.”

  “It needs to be close,” Maerek thought. He could see the rope serving a dual purpose for the hunters. The rope, if the hit was clean and felled their quarry, would allow them to pull down the slope and toward them, instead of risking being out in the open. If the hit was off, the winged animal might twist, get tangled up and plummet to its death. A third purpose, and the one that suited him, was if his cousins couldn’t see him, they would at least be able to follow a trail after the shot. Maerek smiled and squatted, raising the crossbow, followed and then led on one of his cousins, aiming just above the back.

  “Wait,” Yacobsen said, raising a steady arm. The cousins came closer. Rachael let out a high-pitched roar. Yacobsen grimaced and covered one year, still keeping his other hand steady. Tsugo filled his mouth with the flammable spit. Just then Yacobsen dropped his hand. Maerek pulled the trigger. The bolt shot straight and was headed just above Tsugo’s back. The cousin saw the arrow and barrel rolled, lowering his altitude.

  “Load another, we still have time,” Yacobsen said. Maerek did as he was told, loaded another bolt, and tied another length of cord to it. He reset his aim and waited.

  “Shoot it!” Yacobsen ordered.

  Maerek let the bolt fly. Tsugo performed the same maneuver but lifted his wing as if to dodge the arrow, and then closed it quickly, trapping the rope against his side. Rachael broke off and flew back toward Moving Mountain. The line went taught and the wagon started to move. He was too far away for Yacobsen to see that Tsugo was merely holding the bolt.

  “Got it,” Maerek said.

  “Just hold on. It’ll be coming down any second,” Yacobsen said, holding up a hand, his eyes focused on Tsugo as he spiraled down. Maerek was sure he hadn’t hit him, but his angled descent, his cries for help, and his one wing flapping with reckless abandon made him question his sight. He was reassured as Tsugo banked slowly toward the wagon, landed on his belly, and then slid temptingly close to Yacobsen.

  Yacobsen yelled victoriously but screamed in fright as Tsugo stood up on his back legs, dropped the arrow from his wings, caught the rope in his claws, and pulled. The wagon whirled into the air. Maerek jumped out from the harness just in time and covered his head as the wagon crashed close by. The straps holding the suon broke. The beast ran away from the fire, and toward the dragon. The cousin let the creature run by and focused on Yacobsen. The hunter was face down on the rocks. Blood spilled from a large gash on the side of his head and his right forearm was bent unnaturally, broken.

  Yacobsen struggled to stand but did so, whipping the blood from his eyes and then drawing the long sword that was tied to his back. He held the sword with his left hand, hunched over like an old warrior.

  “I have marked you,” Tsugo said, still standing on his back legs. “Take your kin and leave or stay and die.”

  “You… You have not marked me,” Yacobsen said with effort. “You have only delayed me.” As he spoke, his right arm straightened and cracked into place and he gripped the sword firmly with both hands. “Your kind is very precious to us.” The gash on the side of his head closed up, leaving only dark, dried blood. “Your blood will fetch us more than a modest living.” Tsugo growled, sank low and flicked his tail low. “Yes, you see now don’t you. You cannot kill me. Your kin’s blood was given as a gift, and it is inside me.”

  Maerek took the hatchet from his belt and held it firm in his hands. His vision faded into a red tint. The Instinct surged within him, overriding thought, propelled my emotion. Anger, fear, hunger, hatred, survival pounded in his head. He was running toward Yacobsen. He knew he was running, but it was like a vivid memory. Yacobsen turned, but too slow. Maerek brought the axe across Yacobsen’s forearms, cleaving one nearly in half, and breaking the other. The long sword clanked on the rocks. The rest was a blur as Maerek swung repeatedly and cursed the hunter. Blood, flesh, and bone sprayed and splintered around him.

  “My family, I need to protect my family,” Maerek thought. Slowly, the red tint faded, and his regained his composure. When he calmed himself, Yacobsen was no more than a pile of red mush.

  “Go!” Maerek bellowed. Tsugo bowed briefly and took off. Another bolt shot up at him, but he banked left, avoiding the projectile. Maerek picked up the sword and ran toward the other group. Maerek could see their silhouettes in the thick grey smoke. He flicked his tongue out of habit, and then, realizing that he couldn’t taste the air in his human shape, threw the sword toward the group.

  The blade stuck in one of the hunters. There was a cry of pain, a brief moment of silence, followed by the drawing of swords and other weapons. Though Maerek couldn’t taste the air, he was able to hear the hunters march toward him. Th
e ash and hot ground cracked and crunched under their feet.

  Maerek threw the hatchet next. The blade sunk into flesh. There was a quiet gurgle of air passing over blood, and a scream of fear. The group was about to rush and was hushed by the leader. Maerek took the opportunity and squatted. He breathed deep and exhaled through his nose, covering his body in a thick cloud of dark grey smoke. The cloud grew and grew, covering more and more of the ground. When the smoke rose, Maerek was in his true form, waiting for the hunters. The group stopped just on the edge of visibility. Maerek flicked his tongue, tasting human blood, sweat and fear.

  “I think this is the first male that spotted us. If so, this is the one I want to keep. The venom from the cockatrice should have done its job by now,” one of the humans said.

  “Venom?” Maerek thought. “Cockatrice’s don’t have venom.” He hadn’t been struck by the humans. He didn’t feel any pain or sluggishness. The red tint in his vision, that was part of the Instinct, that was survival, but as he thought about it, all of his work should not have burned through that much energy as to release even a portion of the Instinct. Something was wrong. As he concentrated on his body, he began to feel the effects. The ground rocked side to side, he struggled to keep his eyes open, memories flashed in his mind, of Tsugo’s wedding, the hatchlings, of Vaalkún and his song. Maerek breathed hard, trying to focus as the hunters approached.

  “Watch yourselves,” the leader said, “he’s almost there.”

  Maerek tried to turn to watch the hunters as they circled around him, but fell on his side, unable to get up, unable to move. One hunter walked up to him, leaning closely to his face. The hunter smiled and kicked him in the eye. Maerek winced, and in the next moment, lost his vision. Everything went black. He could feel rope being pulled over his body and around his mouth. The last thing he felt was the ground scratching against his side as he was dragged away.

  CHAPTER 3