Bitterwood da-1

by James Maxey

  The assassin gurgled, then squealed. The smell of burning flesh tainted the air.

  Hands fell upon her shoulders-a man’s hands-rolling her over until her head lay in his lap. She looked up into Pet’s concerned face.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he said, pressing his fingers to her throat, pinching the torn flesh closed. “Ven says to keep calm and he’ll help you.”

  She gasped for breath. She sucked blood into her lungs… but air as well. How bad was her wound? Where was Ven? The room was spinning slowly. She cast her gaze about the room but couldn’t find him. Her assailant’s screams came from a patch of air before her. His voice faded in a series of brief, weak sobs. No one could be seen in the hall except for Pet and herself. Then she spotted the smoke hanging in the air, the bottom edge of the cloud cut into an almost perfect arc. The assassin’s voice rattled into silence.

  The upper half of the earth-dragon’s body appeared suddenly as it slumped to the floor, the charred flesh of the face flaking away in the outline of a three-fingered hand, revealing the skull beneath. Without warning the dragon’s legs appeared, and Vendevorex also, standing at the slain assassin’s feet. Smoke rose from the fore-talons of the now visible mage, and his eyes were narrowed in a look of grim determination.

  He crouched beside Pet and said, “Move.”

  Pet moved his hands away from Jandra’s throat. Vendevorex’s claws touched her, exploring the wound. She arched her back in agony as his nails probed beneath her skin.

  “Don’t struggle,” he said. “I’m going to knit your trachea closed. The wound didn’t reach the jugular. In five minutes this will only be a bad memory.”

  Jandra nodded. For once she appreciated Vendevorex’s cool, emotionless approach. He was looking at her wound as mere matter to be rearranged. If he was frightened or worried by the task, it didn’t show in his impassive expression.

  He worked in silence for several long moments. The distant sound of battle grew louder but Vendevorex’s eyes never strayed from the task. Pet continued to cradle Jandra’s head in his lap and didn’t let go of her hand. Her eyes met his. She saw all the emotion that was missing from Ven’s face… The worry, yes, but also the hope.

  Jandra realized, suddenly, that her breathing was easier. There was no blood in her mouth anymore. She swallowed and found no pain.

  “Perhaps now you can see the logic of my position,” Vendevorex said, wiping the remaining blood away from her throat. It felt as if his fingers were stroking smooth, unbroken skin. “Chakthalla is dead. Staying here provides the possibility of defeat without the slimmest hope of victory. Will you come with me now?”

  “Okay,” she whispered. Her throat tingled, the way an arm that has been laid on too long will tingle when the pressure is released.

  “Good,” said Vendevorex.

  “Great,” said Pet, breaking into a smile. “Let’s get going. I just have one small thing I need to do.”

  Pet helped Jandra to her feet before going to Chakthalla’s body and kneeling before it. Pet lowered his head as he took her limp claws. Jandra was moved by his sorrow until she saw him pull the golden rings from Chakthalla’s talons and then rudely let her limbs drop back to the floor.

  He stuffed the rings into his pocket as he stood. “I’m ready,” he said without a trace of remorse in his voice.

  Jandra turned to Vendevorex. “This is the wrong place and the wrong time to say this,” she said.

  “Then don’t say it,” said Vendevorex.

  “I have to,” she said. “I don’t know what you feel for me. I don’t know if you think of me as your daughter, your apprentice, your slave, or your pet. It doesn’t matter. I love you, Ven. You’re like a father to me.”

  “How touching,” a deep voice said from the doorway.

  Jandra turned to see a huge spear flashing through the air as fast and straight as a ray of light. It dug into Vendevorex’s side, sending him to his knees. Vendevorex gave a pained cry as he grabbed the spear with both hands, struggling with its weight.

  In the doorway stood Zanzeroth the hunter and his slave Gadreel, both of whom Jandra recognized from Albekizan’s court.

  “Gadreel, take care of the humans,” Zanzeroth said, drawing a long blade from a leather sheath strapped to his waist. “The wizard’s mine.”

  VENDEVOREX SUMMONED A shield of invisibility to swirl around him-not that it mattered while the spear jutted from his side. The long shaft lay beyond the edge of his shield, betraying his position. The pain made it impossible to concentrate but he couldn’t give up now. He’d just saved Jandra’s life. If he didn’t pull his wits together, that would all be a waste. She’d die just as surely as he would.

  He squeezed the shaft with his claws, twisting it slightly, purposefully increasing the pain, to focus the agony from a cloud that fogged his mind into a tight beam that pierced his center. His mind clear, he set to work, reaching into the very forces that bound the wood together, loosening them. The spear shaft glowed brightly, then vanished with a sizzle in a spray of bubbling light.

  Vendevorex rolled forward as Zanzeroth landed where he’d been when the shaft hit. Zanzeroth carried a long, curved knife in one claw and a whip in the other. Vendevorex could tell by the way the hunter held his head that his circle of invisibility was working perfectly. Zanzeroth couldn’t see him.

  But a pool of blood marked the spot where Vendevorex had been, and a line of red drops marked the path he’d fled. Zanzeroth whirled his whip in a half circle behind his head then flicked it. The leather raced around Vendevorex’s neck before he even knew what had happened. With a savage yank Zanzeroth jerked Vendevorex forward, out of his field of invisibility. Vendevorex fell to the marble before Zanzeroth’s feet. Zanzeroth loomed above him, nearly twice his size, and Vendevorex could only flail helplessly as the hunter placed his clawed foot onto the back of his neck, pinning him.

  “This need not be painful, wizard,” Zanzeroth said. “Albekizan wants your head. You can keep everything else.”

  JANDRA SCURRIED BACKWARD. She grabbed the assassin’s sword from Chakthalla’s back with a wet slurp as Gadreel flew toward her. Gadreel was a sky-dragon like Vendevorex, slightly taller than a man with a wingspan twice his height. She was outmatched physically, but if she could hold out for even a minute to get out of his line of sight and turn invisible, she stood a chance.

  She ducked and Gadreel’s claws raced by inches above her. She heard him flap his wings up to land before he hit the back wall of the chamber. She threw a handful of dust into the air, turning invisible just as he spun around to attack again. Now she could strike him by surprise. With luck she’d kill him before he ever knew what hit him. The sword was heavier than she had guessed, however, and her hands were drenched with slick sweat and her own blood, making it hard to hold. Her breath came in loud, ragged gasps that she feared would betray her position. Her throat was okay now, but it felt as if half her ribs were broken from the assassin’s tackle.

  Gadreel drew his own sword and inched forward, slicing the air before him savagely. Jandra crept to the side to strike at his back as he passed.

  To the surprise of both of them, Pet let loose with a bloodcurdling cry and charged Gadreel while carrying Chakthalla’s huge spear. Jandra was impressed; not many humans could wield such a huge weapon. Alas, due to the weight of the spear, Pet didn’t wield it well. His charge was slow and clumsy. Gadreel turned away from Jandra to face the attack.

  VENDEVOREX GROWLED, HIS rage rising with the humiliation of being under his former ally’s talon. He raised his fore-talon to grasp Zanzeroth’s ankle. Flames burst from around his claws.

  Zanzeroth cursed and jumped backward, freeing Vendevorex. The old dragon beat at the flaming scales on his ankle, extinguishing them.

  “You dare?” Vendevorex snarled, rising to full height, ignoring the pain that pierced him. “You face the Master of the Invisible! I control matter itself!” He spread his wings and crafted the simple illusion that made him double in
size. “Have you forgotten who you are dealing with?” he shouted. “I am Vendevorex!”

  “I am unimpressed,” said Zanzeroth. With a flick and a flash, his long silver knife sliced through the air.

  Vendevorex choked as the knife sank squarely into his shoulder, paralyzing his right wing. He pulled the knife free with his left claw and staggered backward. Before he could blink Zanzeroth stood before him, raking his claws savagely across Vendevorex’s eyes. The old dragon then twirled, slamming Vendevorex’s belly with his heavy tail. Vendevorex began to fall, all strength gone, when Zanzeroth spun back around and grabbed him by the throat. The old sun-dragon lifted Vendevorex as if he were weightless, holding him in the air as steady as a gallows.

  “You scare the king,” Zanzeroth said, taking the knife Vendevorex still held in his feeble grasp. “But I’ve studied you for years. You’re one-tenth magic and nine-tenths bluff. You need time to think to do your tricks. Right now I’m guessing all you’ll be thinking about is this!”

  Zanzeroth sank his knife to the hilt into Vendevorex’s belly.

  “And this!” he shouted, pulling the knife free and driving it home again.

  “And this!” The knife once more plunged into Vendevorex’s gut.

  “And this!”

  “And this!”

  The hunter’s voice seemed to fade, washed away by the roar within Vendevorex’s ears. Zanzeroth’s leering face vanished behind a growing dark veil. Vendevorex could no longer feel his body. Only some slender thread of intellect remained, coolly observing the scene. He felt as if he were outside himself, watching the sad, limp doll dangling in the giant dragon’s grasp. He stared with grim fascination as blood and feces and urine showered onto the marble around Zanzeroth’s feet. Then, as the world around him went black, leaving him alone in a vast, formless void, he set to work.

  PET CRIED OUT savagely as he charged with the huge, heavy spear of his former mistress. Gadreel pivoted at the last second, dodging the tip, then knocked the shaft aside. Pet tripped forward as the spear flew from his hands. His momentum took him straight toward Gadreel who raised his sword to strike.

  “No!” Jandra shouted, leaping onto Gadreel’s back and thrusting her own sword with all her strength. The blade tore into the dragon’s wing near the junction with his ribs. Gadreel cried out in pain, bringing his sword down against Pet, but poorly aimed. The flat of the blade whacked the side of Pet’s head, making the steel blade peal like a bell. Pet’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling as he fell to the floor.

  Jandra braced her feet and pushed forward, pressing her weight against her sword. The blade struck something hard within the dragon, then lurched sideways, tearing from the skin. Jandra fell against Gadreel and as she slammed into him, the sword twisted from her wet hands.

  The dragon turned, grabbing Jandra by the arm, digging his nails deep into her muscles. He flung her around, releasing her. She slammed against the heavy throne pedestal, then fell atop Chakthalla’s body. She looked up at the spinning world. She could see Zanzeroth tearing viciously at Vendevorex’s belly. Pet lay helpless on his back, knocked senseless. Gadreel advanced toward her, his sword held ready to strike. Yet he moved cautiously and his eyes watched her warily.

  There was no one to help her. Her head throbbed, keeping her from concentrating enough to turn invisible. She wondered briefly where Chakthalla’s guards were. Surely some still lived; there could be a last-second rescue.

  Almost as if wishing it made it happen, four earth-dragons rushed through the doors of the throne room, spears lowered for attack. These dragons weren’t bedecked in the fine uniforms that Chakthalla forced upon her guards. They must have been awakened by the noise of the battle, and rushed into combat in their half-naked, savage state. Hope stirred within Jandra as she saw the bloodlust in their eyes.

  “Sir?” one of them asked.

  “Everything’s under control here,” Zanzeroth answered, releasing his grasp on the wizard’s throat. Vendevorex sagged lifelessly to the floor.

  Jandra’s heart sank. The dragons were soldiers of the king.

  With Vendevorex dead, she didn’t know what she had left to live for. She watched as Zanzeroth lifted one of Vendevorex’s wings, limp as cloth, and used it to wipe his gore-soaked knife clean.

  Jandra couldn’t find the will to raise her arms to defend herself as Gadreel stalked carefully forward atop Chakthalla’s body. She gazed into his golden eyes and found no hint of mercy there. Beyond Gadreel she saw one of the stained-glass windows that ran along the room’s upper half. The pane portrayed a scene of a dragon battling a small group of humans. All around the great beast the humans’ torn bodies lay scattered. A lone survivor knelt before the dragon, his arms raised, begging to live. The look in the stained-glass dragon’s eyes and the gape of its long, open jaws over the man’s head showed there would be no mercy.

  A shadow flickered behind the glass, darkening the scene. It looked almost like the form of a man. Just as Gadreel prepared to strike, the window shattered.

  Gadreel looked over his shoulder. Zanzeroth glanced up at the noise. Shards of colorful glass fell to the floor like a broken rainbow. The dark form of a cloaked man stood in the window, outlined by the flames of the castle wall beyond.

  “You!” Zanzeroth shouted.

  The figure pushed aside his cloak and raised his bow as the soldiers drew back their spears. A shaft whistled through the air in a red streak. The closest earth-dragon fell, an arrow jutting from the orb of his right eye. Before his body hit the floor a second arrow flew home to the heart of the next dragon. With a speed Jandra’s eyes could barely follow, the human knocked a fourth arrow as his third arrow sliced into another soldier’s throat. The final earth-dragon spun, preparing to run, when the arrow pierced his kidney.

  The human then turned his attention toward Zanzeroth who flapped his wings, trying to get airborne. The hall-huge by human standards-was too small for the sun-dragon to build up sufficient speed. Arrows sank into his shoulders, his back, and his wings as he cried in pain and frustration. Then, in a wound that made Jandra shudder, an arrow sank into Zanzeroth’s nostril, the tip of the arrowhead suddenly visible in the roof of the dragon’s gaping mouth.

  Zanzeroth roared with pain. “Thith cannot happen!” the sun-dragon shouted with an almost comical lisp as he crashed to the floor. “I am the hunter! You are the prey!”

  “You can track me through hell,” the man answered, taking aim for Zanzeroth’s heart.

  Unfortunately, the hall was more than large enough for a dragon of Gadreel’s size to take wing. The dragon slave turned from Jandra and leapt into the air. Despite his injuries, Gadreel strained to beat his wings, climbing toward the window.

  “Not this time!” Gadreel cried.

  The human turned toward the voice. With fluid grace he sank two arrows into Gadreel’s chest. If the dragon felt any pain Jandra couldn’t tell. Gadreel continued to climb higher in the air before folding his wings to his side to dive forward, letting his momentum carry him into his foe. Jandra saw the human drop his bow and reach for the knife strapped to his boot. Gadreel struck the man in the center of his thighs and both toppled through the window into the courtyard beyond. A handful of blue feathers drifted in the window as a few arrows that had knocked free from the man’s quiver clattered to the throne room floor. In seconds, this was the only evidence of their passing.

  No longer able to see the combatants, Jandra sat up, holding her head to fight her dizziness. Pet was on his hands and knees. As he groped around, trying to steady himself, his hands fell upon one of the stranger’s arrows. He lifted it, studying the red feathers of the fletching, looking bewildered, half-awake. Zanzeroth was on his feet now, moving toward the broad oak doors of the far end of the room, limping away as quickly as he could manage.

  Vendevorex lay as still as a corpse. Jandra rushed to his side, praying her eyes deceived her. Blood pooled around the wizard in a circle the size of his wingspan. Her feet slipped in the warm fluid
as she sank to her knees. She lifted Vendevorex’s head into her lap. Where Zanzeroth’s claws had torn his cheek into a series of ragged flaps, she could see the teeth at the back of his jaw exposed. She cradled his head as if it were an infant. Vendevorex was the only family she had ever known, the only life she had ever had. She knew, in her heart, that other humans had meant nothing to Vendevorex. He’d defied the king only for her. She was as responsible for his death as Zanzeroth. She felt sick; chills racked her body. She worried she was about to vomit. She let loose a long, low wail of anguish as tears burst from her eyes, running down her cheeks like acid.

  “D-don’t… c-cry,” Vendevorex whispered.

  Jandra couldn’t believe her ears. She wiped her tears, trying to clear her vision. Vendevorex had opened his eyes, ever so slightly.

  “I might… m-make… it,” he said, his voice quavering. Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth. “T-this is no more difficult.. than healing your wound.” His eyes closed as he whispered, “It’s o-only a question of s-scale.”

  “He’s still alive?” a man asked.

  It wasn’t Pet’s voice.

  Jandra looked over her shoulder to see the man who had attacked the dragons standing once again in the window. His arms and chest were soaked with blood, but from the way he stood, she could tell it wasn’t his own.

  The man crouched down in the window. Still holding onto the ledge, he shifted foward and dropped to a hanging position. He dangled for a second, then let go, falling the rest of the distance and rolling backward as he hit the floor. His momentum carried him back to his feet. He cast a disdainful glance at Pet as he walked across the room.

  Jandra quickly but carefully moved Vendevorex’s head from her lap, placing it gently on the floor. She stood to face the man who strode toward her.

  “You can’t have him,” she growled, clenching her jaw. She dipped her fingers into the dust pouch. “I’ll kill you if you try.”