Venom and Song

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  It was a powerful creature and very beautiful in its color and strength. Kat looked at its nest among the scrolls and wondered how long the bird had lived in Whitehall. That was when she looked a little more closely at the unrolled parchment near the bird’s foot, the one the bird had daubed blood upon. There were four blotches. Two of them glistened, still wet. The other two were very dark . . . very old.

  Rawwwaaawwwk! The bird shook the book and extended it a bit farther.

  Her mind reeling, Kat looked away from the scroll and back to the bird. She wished she could read the raptor’s mind. Not that I’d understand bird thoughts. She smiled in spite of the potential danger and reached for the book. The scarlet raptor stared down at her as she took the book, and bobbed its head. The book was so heavy Kat needed both hands to keep from dropping it.

  Rawwwaaawwwk! The bird bobbed its head some more and flapped its wings.

  “What’s the book?” asked Tommy, wind buffeting his body.

  “I don’t know,” she replied, wiping dust from the thick volume. “There’s nothing on the cover.”

  “Think it’s another copy of The Chronicles of the Elf Lords and Their Kin?”

  “If it is”—Kat measured its thickness with her thumb and fore–finger—“ then it’s the extended director’s cut.”

  Sheathing his sword and shaking his head, Tommy joined Kat at the first step. “Open it,” he said.

  She did and was met with a pungent but not unpleasant old-paper smell. There were a few blank pages of parchment paper and then what seemed to be a title page. “Elfkind: The Histories and Prophecies of Berinfell.” She shrugged. “Maybe it is the same. Our books were histories, also.”

  “Maybe,” said Tommy. “It is handwritten, too. But it looks older . . . smells older.”

  “And ‘prophecies’? That wasn’t part of my book.”

  “Mine, either. Let’s bring it back. Maybe Goldarrow will know what it is.”

  “Good idea,” she said, but as she turned to leave, the gigantic bird did something very strange.

  Rawwwaaawwwk! Rawwwaaawwwk! Still bobbing its head, the raptor leaped down from its perch, landed on the chamber floor next to the teens, and laid its long wing at their feet.

  Tommy marveled at the intricate spread of feathers—long and short, wide and thin—spread majestically before him. “Is . . . is it bowing?” he asked.

  Kat shrugged. “I don’t know what to think.”

  The scarlet raptor cocked its head sideways, looking directly at Tommy. It squawked, flapped the extended wing a few times, and then sidled over so that its wing actually lay over the tops of their boots.

  “It wants something,” said Kat.

  “Seems like,” Tommy agreed. “But what?”

  Before Kat could answer, the bird shifted to the side, knocking both teens off balance. Tommy fell directly on the creature’s back. Kat toppled right behind him and almost lost the book.

  Rawwwaaawwwk! Its cry sounded almost jubilant compared to the piercing screeches from before. So quickly did the raptor rise up on its legs that Tommy and Kat had to scramble up and straddle the creature’s back—that or fall off. And it was supremely good that they did not fall off, for the scarlet raptor leaped up onto its scroll-strewn perch, and with a mighty push from its strong legs, it dove out of the chamber window.

  “Did yu hear something?” asked Jimmy, picking up the hand-carved football from the grass behind him. He and Jett stood in the grassy courtyard on the northern side of the main castle. The sun had gone behind the trees, casting Whitehall in the gray of twilight.

  “Just the sound of the ball hitting your brick hands,” said Jett.

  “Nay, I’m serious,” said Jimmy, scanning the darkening skies. “It sounded like screamin’ or somethin’. I canna’ explain it.”

  “You sure?” He looked up. “’Cause I don’t hear anything.”

  Tommy and Kat stopped screaming as the raptor pulled out of the dive and leveled out just above the treetops. Its speed was still remarkable, and the wind washed over the two teens as they clung to the giant bird’s back. It turned and glided swiftly around the contour of a jutting cliff, and then beat its wings and sped out over the vast ocean of green foliage. The sun was setting red on the far eastern horizon, and a misty blue shroud was creeping up on the forest below.

  “You still have the book?” Tommy yelled over his shoulder.

  “Yeah!” Kat replied, most of her voice swallowed by the airflow. “It’s smashed between us!”

  “Oh!” Tommy could feel it now, pressing into his back. That was okay. He shut his eyes, desperately trying to think of something other than how high up they were.

  “Are you okay?” asked Kat, but before Tommy could answer, the bird brought its wings in close to its body and plunged into a dive once more.

  Tommy cracked his eyelids open just a bit and was immediately sorry he had. The raptor was taking them almost straight down, diving toward the canopy. We are going to die, Tommy thought with some sense of irony; they’d made it through battles, portals, more battles, and even careened down a thousand-yard zip line. Being smashed to death by a suicidal bird wasn’t at all how he expected to go out.

  But the raptor had no intention of killing itself. It blasted through the leafy canopy and seemed to slam on the brakes just before hitting the ground. Kat heard a sharp agonizing scream as the bird pulled up, but it wasn’t Tommy. And it wasn’t the bird. Tommy had heard it, too, and the two teens peered down along the side of the bird. Between wing beats, they saw clutched within the mighty raptor’s claws a large Gwar warrior. He was struggling mightily and shrieking out words that Tommy and Kat didn’t understand.

  “How did the bird see him?” exclaimed Tommy.

  “It’s a bird of prey!” answered Kat.

  The creature beat its wings harder, and soon they were climbing above the trees again. Upward the bird soared. Tommy’s heartbeat banged against his chest like a boxer’s speed bag. He wouldn’t look. He couldn’t look.

  There came a fresh round of snarls from below, and they looked down. The raptor suddenly let go of the Gwar. Screaming and flailing, the Gwar disappeared from view.

  “That’s going to hurt!” yelled Tommy. “The Gwar’s a goner!”

  “I . . . I think this giant bird is a friend!” Kat yelled over the wind.

  “Yeah, but where is it taking us?”

  16

  The Age of Chains

  THE THOUSAND-LEAGUE Forest seemed even larger and vaster from above than it did from beneath its canopy. Convinced that the scarlet raptor meant them no harm, and to his own surprise, Tommy had kept his eyes open much of the long flight. There was a dizzying variety of trees below, but after more than an hour of flight, the scenery seemed to blend into one endless pattern with no landmarks in sight.

  Tommy felt Kat’s head on his back. He gave her a slight shrug. “Don’t fall asleep, Kat!” he called back.

  “Ummm,” Kat mumbled groggily.

  The raptor reduced its airspeed, and Tommy was glad not to have to yell. “I was afraid if you fell asleep, you might fall off.”

  “That would make some heroic story, huh?” Kat laughed aloud. “The great Elven Lord Alreenia Hiddenblade survives countless battles only to fall off a giant bird.”

  Tommy laughed, but only politely. No matter that she was joking, Tommy didn’t want to think of anything bad happening to Kat.

  Kat didn’t mean to eavesdrop on Tommy’s private thoughts. It just kind of happened. “Aww,” she said almost involuntarily. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you? For what?”

  “Uh, well . . . for keeping me awake, right? I could have fallen off.”

  “Uh . . . sure,” Tommy replied, but then he exclaimed, “WHOA!”

  Kat looked over his shoulder and saw that the immense forest had come to an end. A sprawling gold vista stretched before them, a lush, hilly grassland, carpeted in some tall waving grain with a few trees standing tall and alone here
and there, as well as thatches of rich burgundy flowers.

  The raptor glided between the hills, back and forth, swaying on the wind. Soon the last sliver of sun on the horizon disappeared, and night descended over Allyra. Still, the two teens had no idea where the giant raptor was taking them.

  “Look,” Kat said, pointing to the sky. “The stars . . . there are a lot more blue ones.”

  It was a clear night. Without glare from the big-city lights, the heavens looked immeasurably more vast and deep, but closer. Tommy felt if he could just stand up on the bird and leap, he might be able to grab a star. And Kat was right; there were a lot more blue stars, very few white ones.

  The raptor banked left and rose on a draft over a tall hill and a grove of trees. On the other side a menacing shadow loomed, a structure of many tall towers and sprawling castle keeps. Knowing Kat could not know, Tommy still found himself muttering, “What is that?”

  Kat’s grip on Tommy’s shoulders tightened. “I don’t know,” she said. “But I think it’s our destination.”

  “Vesper Crag!” Tommy gasped, his hand instinctively moving to his sword. “I should have known . . . this bird’s a spy. It’s bringing us to the enemy!”

  “I don’t think so,” said Kat. “Vesper Crag, that was far to the east. We’ve been traveling north, away from the setting sun. And look at this place. It’s all dark. If this were an enemy fortress, there’d be torchlight or bonfires or something.”

  “Okay, but I still don’t like it.”

  Fields of that same tall grain surrounded the building, and as the giant bird cruised low above them, there seemed an ever-present whisper, like a multitude of ghosts trading secrets. The raptor rose up to a half-wrecked wrought-iron gate and set down softly on the other side. Behind them, a high fence encircled the entire fortress.

  Tommy and Kat did not dismount immediately. In fact, they didn’t want to get down at all. But the raptor had other ideas.

  “Whoa! Hey!” The raptor rolled its body hard to the left, extending its left wing like a ramp. Tommy and Kat toppled off, hitting the ground rump first. Adding insult to injury, the thick book of prophecies slid down the wing after them and thumped Kat in the back of the head. “Owww! Oh, come on!”

  The two teens had barely gotten to their feet when the raptor leaped ahead, toward the building, turned, and squawked. Kat said, “I think it wants us—”

  “I know . . . it wants us to follow it,” said Tommy, shaking his head. “Of course it does.”

  Wishing he’d brought his bow, Tommy put his hand on the pommel of his sheathed sword and set off after the bird. Cradling the book, Kat followed after. Seeing the teens behind it, and apparently satisfied, the raptor continued forward, leaping ten yards with every bound.

  There was no clear path through the tall grain, so they walked through it.

  The building loomed up before them, and a sliver of moon had risen to bathe it in pale white light. Walls of differing heights encircled the structure, and tall towers with black windows at the top peered down on Tommy and Kat. A ruin, it seemed, for the walls were damaged, great sections caved in places. Broken chunks of wall and single stones littered the ground and were blotched with moss and surrounded by tall grass. The main entrance was just ahead, a yawning black mouth locked open to receive its meal. The raptor waited there and jerked its head with a beckoning motion.

  Tommy and Kat approached and looked at each other. “No way,” said Tommy.

  “What choice do we have?” asked Kat.

  “Lots of choices. We can run away.”

  Rawwwaaawwwk!

  “Right,” said Kat. “Don’t you remember how the bird swooped down and plucked that Gwar right out of the tree? How far do you think we’d get?”

  “Good point,” Tommy said. “But look at this place. Anything could be lurking in there.”

  “If this bird wanted us dead, he could have already killed us.” Kat entered the shadows of the building.

  Reluctantly, Tommy drew his blade and went in after her.

  “It’d be nice to have some light,” said Kat. “I left the arc stones back in Whitehall.”

  “Wait,” said Tommy, shifting his sword under his arm and drawing two stones from his belt. “Ah, knew it. I’ve got a couple. Here.”

  Kat received the small clear stone and immediately scraped it on the wall. It sparked once and kindled bright blue light inside. Tommy did the same, and soon they had plenty of light—eerie though it was— to find their way. Tommy glanced back to the opening behind them. The raptor waited there, cocking its head curiously side to side.

  “I guess it’s not coming in,” said Kat.

  “Smart bird,” said Tommy.

  They made slow progress up the main hall, which was what it seemed to be. Wide enough for five adults to walk side by side and with a high ceiling, the hall went on for a dozen paces before the first passages opened up on either side. “Which way?” asked Tommy.

  “Lots of choices,” she replied, holding her arc stone high. “There must be ten lefts and ten rights up there.”

  “Well?”

  “Let’s try the first left.”

  “Why?” Tommy asked.

  “It’s what I do when I play video games,” said Kat. “Process of elimination. We take this to the end, come back, and take the first right and so on.”

  “Except this isn’t a game,” said Tommy.

  Kat didn’t have an answer for that, but they took the left-hand path anyway. Arc stone in one hand, sword in the other, Tommy led the way. This hall felt cold and drafty. And a foul smell permeated the air . . . sweet in a sickening kind of way, like meat that had spoiled. Cobwebs wavered above and in the corners like ghostly garments. The walls were a mere eight feet across and felt closer than that.

  I don’t like this one bit, thought Tommy.

  “Me, either,” whispered Kat.

  They soon came to a portion of the passage where there were arched openings on either side. As Tommy and Kat drew nearer, they realized that these openings were sealed off from the passage by thick black bars. Each cell had its own gate, and some of these were torn from the hinges and lay in mangled heaps.

  “It’s a prison,” said Kat. “Or was a prison.”

  “Why would the bird bring us here?” asked Tommy as he wandered into the cell on the right. “Smell’s stronger in here,” he said. The arc stones cast creepy shadows through the bars. “Kat, come look at this.”

  Kat came in and found Tommy looking at a low gray slab of stone near the wall. He held up his arc stone and said, “Look.”

  There were scratches in the wall just above the benchlike slab. Hundreds, if not thousands, of scratches in sets of six vertical lines scratched through by a seventh diagonal line. “Looks like someone was here for a lonnng time,” said Tommy.

  “Look out, Tommy!” Kat shone her arc stone on the slab where a jet black spider the size of a child’s fist had dropped and was moving toward Tommy.

  Tommy took a step back and smacked at the arachnid with the flat of his sword. Again and again he missed until he gave up and used the heel of his boot instead. Crunch! “I hate spiders,” he said.

  “Don’t we all . . . now,” said Kat, scanning the cell for other threats. She held her arc stone high, near the back corner of the cell. “Awww, I don’t want to know what this is, do I?”

  Tommy joined her there and looked down at the hole in the cell floor. He held his light directly over it and leaned over. “Looks like it goes down pretty far . . . and—whew—I think the smell’s coming up from there.” He looked up at Kat. “No, I don’t think you want to know what this is,” he said.

  “Come on. Let’s look farther down the hall.”

  Cell after cell they passed, and each one was the same: thick black bars, a wide slab bench, and an ominous hole in the back corner. There was something at the end of the passage; something there on the ground. Cautiously, they drew near and found that the strange, squat shape was a large chest.
Treasure! thought Tommy. So that’s why the bird brought us here.

  “I hope so,” Kat replied. “You want to open it?”

  “I do, but—”

  “I’ll do it,” she said. “Here, take the book . . . and watch for spiders.”

  As Kat went to the chest and looked for handholds on its lid, Tommy couldn’t help but picture thousands of little black spiders pouring out of the chest.

  “Nice mental image, Tommy. Thanks.”

  “Just be careful!” he urged.

  Kat nodded. She found two metal clasps, wiped off the cobwebs, and forced them to unlatch. The lid groaned open.

  Tommy winced, but spiders did not come streaming out. Kat muttered, “No treasure.”

  He joined her to look down at the chest’s contents: piles of heavy-looking chains and hook-shaped shackles. In spite of the discomfort he felt at the discovery, Tommy couldn’t help but pick up one of the chains. Or . . . at least he tried to pick one up. He handed the book back to Kat and put his arc stone on the ground so that he could use both hands. “Uhhnnnh, this is really heavy,” he said, holding it up. “I feel kinda bad for the prisoners who had to wear these.”

  “Hold it up a little higher.”

  “Okay, but like I said, it’s heavy.”

  He lifted the chain so that one of the shackles dangled in front of Kat’s face. She held up the arc stone to get a better look. “There’s writing . . . numbers: 6025 . . . and a strange little three-dot thingy.”

  “Three-dot thingy?”

  “Yeah, it’s like a triangle with a dot at every angle but no lines to join them. Seems like a punctuation mark maybe.”

  “Great,” said Tommy. “Can I put this thing down now?”

  “Yeah, yeah, put it down.”

  He let it drop back into the chest. It hit with a series of dull metallic thuds. He closed the chest and took up his arc stone once more. “Seen enough of this hall?” he asked.

  Kat nodded. “Let’s go back.”

  They had passed several cells when Kat spotted something. “Wait, what’s that?” She held up her light. There were some peculiar white posts sticking up toward the back of the cell, but it was hard to see due to a hunk of the cell wall that had fallen in.