Bitterwood da-1

by James Maxey

  The man shook the horse’s reins and rode toward the platform. The crowd of humans murmured, excited.

  “Release them,” the stranger said in a firm, commanding voice. “The war is over. I’m the one you want. I’m Bitterwood.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: MASKS

  SCREAMING WITH RAGE, Zanzeroth lumbered toward the man on the white stallion as fast as his wounded frame would carry him. The horse bucked, panicking. The man somersaulted to the ground with acrobatic grace then turned his steely gaze toward Zanzeroth’s charge.

  “Stop him!” Kanst bellowed.

  Pertalon, a sky-dragon half Zanzeroth’s size, dashed into the hunter’s path. Both tumbled into the assembled humans, sending them scrambling in fear. The soldiers plunged into the crowd, beating people down with their spear ends, preventing them from fleeing. A mob of earth-dragons rushed toward the man in the velvet cape, surrounding him in a wide circle. Most kept a respectful distance from the fabled dragonslayer, but two of the braver-or perhaps dumber-members of the guard ran forward and grabbed his arms.

  Pertalon and Zanzeroth rolled on the broken ground, each seeking to best the other. Zanzeroth had the advantage of size but his wounds sapped his strength. Pertalon proved to be a skilled brawler. In seconds, the smaller dragon had pinned his much larger opponent.

  “Damn you!” Zanzeroth howled. “Why do you deny me my justice?”

  “Justice is for Albekizan to dispense,” Kanst said. “Tell me, are you the one willing to face the king? To say we had Bitterwood captive, then killed him instead of giving Albekizan that pleasure?”

  “I demand my revenge!” Zanzeroth said.

  “I deny it,” Kanst said.

  Kanst turned back to his captive, the blond-tressed hero of the humans who stood stoically in the grasp of the two earth-dragons. Borlon, the captain, stood nearby, a two-handed sword gripped tightly in his chunky green fists, his eyes wide in an alert expression that was set somewhere equally between fight and flight. Kanst said, “Chain this man, then take him to my tent. Keep him constantly under guard. Under no circumstances allow Zanzeroth to come near. Use whatever force is necessary.”

  “Yes sir,” Borlon answered. Then, he cast his gaze toward the assembled crowd. “What about the villagers we’ve gathered? Should we let them go?”

  “Why bother?” Kanst shrugged. “In less than a month we were supposed to escort them to the Free City. We will take them now, as we return to the palace with Bitterwood.”

  Kanst turned to Zanzeroth. His armor clanked and clattered as he lowered himself to all fours to address the pinned hunter. “Old friend, I know you are a dragon with more than his allotment of guts and guile. I’m tempted to put you in chains as well to insure Bitterwood survives. Still, in the years I’ve known you, I’ve come to respect you as a dragon of unparalleled integrity. If you give me your word, as one sun-dragon to another, that you will not seek revenge against Bitterwood until he is presented to Albekizan, I will spare you from bondage.”

  “So be it,” Zanzeroth snarled. “Our precious king may have his prize. But you must tell him I was the one with the plan that snared him. Speak for me, tell him that I deserve to be appointed as Bitterwood’s executioner.”

  “I shall grant this,” Kanst said, rising back to his hind-talons. Then, to Pertalon, “Let him go.”

  “My apologies,” Pertalon said as he helped Zanzeroth to his feet.

  “You had your orders,” Zanzeroth said, brushing dirt from his skin. He looked down at his worn and torn body. This impromptu wrestling match had not only reopened some of his wounds, it had also cost him many more scales. Faded, rust-colored flakes littered the ground like leaves. He sighed, then raised his head to address Kanst once more. “One last thing. We must retake the castle. The body of Vendevorex lies in the throne room. It is a prize for which the king will reward both of us highly.”

  “Agreed,” Kanst said. His polished armor gleamed in the light of the morning sun. “Our retreat from the castle to gather the villagers came as our victory was imminent. We shall retake it within the hour.”

  JANDRA TURNED FROM the wall, running back toward the throne room. She had gone looking for Pet and arrived in time to witness the turmoil as a sky-dragon tackled Zanzeroth. She couldn’t make things out clearly from this distance, but it was apparent that Bitterwood had surrendered. The executions had stopped. So why didn’t she feel any better?

  As she ran through the corridors she had to constantly step around the bodies of the dead. She wanted to think the defenders of the castle had been defending more than the walls. They had died opposing Albekizan’s cruelty and his vision of a world without humans. As shocking as it had been to watch the boy die at Kanst’s blade, she knew that atrocity paled before what was to come.

  When the other sun-dragons learned of the assault against Chakthalla, would they be galvanized to rise against the king? Or would they instead cower before him, acquiescing to whatever mad scheme he might conceive? She feared the latter. Only Vendevorex could make a difference. He would listen to her now. He had to.

  But as she entered the throne room she gasped in horror. Vendevorex had lapsed back into unconsciousness, causing his aura of invisibility to fade. Now an enormous sun-dragon crouched above Vendevorex’s helpless figure. Hearing her distressed cry the dragon turned his face toward her. He wore a black hood, hiding his features, so that only his eyes could be seen. Jandra had never seen a dragon in such a mask before. She thought it looked sinister, evidence enough that this was a servant of Albekizan-another assassin, no doubt.

  Jandra knew that she stood little chance against a sun-dragon, even if she wasn’t exhausted already. Despite her sense of impending defeat she clenched her fists and braced herself for one last battle. She again summoned the illusion of flame around her hands.

  “Get away from him,” she growled, stepping forward with all the menace she could muster.

  “Jandra,” the dragon answered, stepping backward. “I mean no harm. I’m here to help.”

  Jandra paused. She didn’t recognize the dragon’s voice, slightly muffled by the hood. “How do you know my name?” she asked. “Who are you?”

  “A phantom,” the dragon said in a weary voice. “A faint echo of the being I once was. I heard whispers of a plot against Albekizan and came to investigate. It looks as if I came too late.”

  “We’ve lost this fight,” Jandra admitted. “But no war is decided by a single battle.”

  “Perhaps. But news of the slaughter here today will squelch any thought of rebellion among other sun-dragons.” The masked dragon sighed, his voice full of despair. “Albekizan need not rule with the respect of his subjects when all he needs is their fear.”

  “Fear you must possess in abundance,” Jandra said. “You say you want to stand with us but you hide your face. You want to protect yourself if the war is lost. Obviously you fear for your name, or your power.”

  The dragon shook his head. “I no longer have a name, or power.”

  “Then you have nothing to lose,” said Jandra. “At the moment, I’m short on allies. Can I count on your help?”

  “I am at your service,” the masked dragon answered with a courtly bow.

  Suddenly, the blast of battle horns could be heard from the castle gates.

  “Sounds like they’re coming back in,” Jandra said. “We’d better move Vendevorex.”

  “Why was he brought to the throne room to start with? With such serious wounds he should never have left his bed.”

  “He received his wounds here.”

  “When?How?”

  “Zanzeroth almost killed him. This happened only hours ago.”

  “Hours?” The dragon sounded as if he thought Jandra was crazy. “These wounds are days old.”

  “Listen, Phantom, this isn’t the best time to explain. No one’s left to defend this place. Kanst’s soldiers will just sweep through here. We need to get moving.”

  Vendevorex moaned. He turned his head to
ward Jandra’s voice. His eyes fluttered open as he whispered, “What’s the point?”

  Jandra ran to his side. She dropped to her knees and placed a hand on his fevered brow. “You’re burning up, Ven. Phantom, go get him some more water!”

  “Don’t bother,” Vendevorex said. His voice sounded utterly defeated. “I-I heard the battle horns. I’m too weak to move. It’s time to accept… I’m going to die. Save yourself, Jandra.”

  “I’m not going to let you die,” Jandra said. “I won’t abandon you, Ven.”

  “You m-must,” the wizard sighed. He closed his eyes. He arched his back in response to some internal agony. His belly was twisted and distorted with ugly tumors of scar tissue. His skin seemed to be crawling. “It’s all o-over. I’m too sick to move. You could make us invisible, but what’s the p-point? Zanzeroth will bring in ox-dogs. We’ve lost.”

  “Don’t be so willing to surrender, my friend,” the phantom said, reaching for a large pack he had left on the floor. “Let Jandra make us invisible to their eyes and I will make us invisible to their noses. I can carry you both from here with ease.” The phantom pulled a crystalline atomizer from his pack.

  “You’re going to save us with perfume?” Jandra asked

  “Hold your breath until the mist settles to the floor,” the hooded dragon said. “This is filled with the essence of hot peppers. The dogs won’t even enter this room.”

  The phantom sprayed the fine pink mist around the room. Jandra fought aside her own exhaustion to concentrate on her role in the escape. She needed to create a circle of invisibility large enough for all three of them to hide in; this was no small task, given the sun-dragon’s great size. The phantom looked back as he neared the door.

  “Where?” he whispered, looking around.

  “Here,” Jandra answered, certain now that the invisibility was working. “Follow my voice.”

  The phantom hurried to her, stopping with a shock as he entered the circle and saw them again. “I’ve always wondered how this was done,” he said. He looked at the sparkles on his scales. “A reflective dust. Interesting.”

  “Keep quiet,” Jandra whispered. “Someone’s coming!”

  “In here, Pertalon,” came a voice from the outer chamber. Oh no, thought Jandra. Zanzeroth.

  Jandra held her breath as the hunter’s head appeared in the doorway. The phantom froze where he stood. Zanzeroth moved into the room slowly. He was a mass of fresh white gauze bandages. He walked with the assistance of another dragon, a sky-dragon who stood beneath Zanzeroth’s shoulder to support him.

  “Damn,” Zanzeroth said. “We’re too late, Pertalon.”

  “What’s wrong?” Pertalon asked.

  Zanzeroth motioned toward Jandra. “This is where I left the body. It’s gone now.”

  “I thought he was too wounded to move.”

  “Jandra must have taken his corpse,” Zanzeroth said, sounding disappointed. “Damn Gadreel’s incompetence. She should have been an easy kill.”

  Pertalon asked, “Who’s Jandra?”

  “The wizard’s pet,” Zanzeroth said. His eyes were following her bloody footprints from her earlier trip from the throne room to the armory. Ven’s blood had been freshest then; it was the most obvious trail in the room. Zanzeroth twisted his neck around to follow the trail back into the hall. He continued his explanation of Jandra’s role in Vendevorex’s life as he studied the clues before him. “The wizard raised a human girl from infancy. The little bitch treated Vendevorex like a god. She never suspected the truth.”

  “What truth?” Pertalon asked, supporting Zanzeroth as they stepped back into the hall.

  “The girl was an orphan by Vendevorex’s hand,” said Zanzeroth. “The wizard killed her parents with as little thought as you or I would give to killing a fly.”

  Jandra raised her hands to her mouth to silence her surprise. Zanzeroth had to be lying. But why? Why would he lie if he didn’t know she could hear? Was this a trick? Perhaps he wanted her to cry out, revealing her location.

  “Let’s see where her trail leads,” Zanzeroth said. “She can’t have taken him out of the castle. We’ll come back with the ox-dogs.”

  Jandra turned to Vendevorex as the voices of Zanzeroth and Pertalon faded down the hallway. The wizard lay with his head facing away from her. The phantom studied her face, his eyes sad, as if he knew some awful truth.

  “Ven?” she said.

  “What t-terrific luck Zanzeroth didn’t come further into the room,” the wizard whispered, looking at the wall. “We have a chance after all.”

  “Agreed,” the phantom said. “I will carry you. If we can remain invisible we can slip through the gates unnoticed.”

  “Ven?” Jandra said, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Why won’t you look at me?”

  Vendevorex twisted his neck around to face her in a swift motion. Pain etched lines onto his face as he hissed, “Because it’s t-true.”

  “What?”

  Vendevorex sighed. He closed his eyes. His whole body slackened and sagged. “Years ago, when I arrived in the k-king’s court, I was no one,” he said softly. “I had no allies to convince Albekizan to take me in. I had to p-prove my abilities, to convince him I was a worthy member of his court. Albekizan tested me by having me destroy a cottage near the castle.”

  Jandra shook her head, not believing what she was hearing.

  Vendevorex continued. “Setting the structure ablaze was simple. Killing the man and woman within was simpler still. To further prove my power I walked through the burning house, showing that the heat and smoke couldn’t harm me. I heard your cries above the roar of the flames. I hadn’t known they had a child.”

  “You killed my parents?” she said. “As… as a demonstration?”

  “Yes,” he said. “But I spared you. I… I saw you in your burning bed and you looked so… innocent. That night I knew I was committing murder solely for my own selfish needs. I never lied to myself. I made the cold, calculated decision to end your parents’ lives to improve my own. But when I saw the innocence in your eyes… that was the first moment in my life I ever felt shame.”

  “I can’t believe this,” she said, choking back tears.

  “I-I’ve tried to make amends,” Vendevorex said, sounding as if he, too, were on the verge of tears. “I have used my powers more wisely, I hope. I try to protect life when I have the opportunity. I use my powers to harm as little as possible. You’ve taught me that all life is precious, Jandra.” He closed his eyes and shook his head remorsefully. “I made a horrible mistake that night. I only hope the intervening years have proven that I’ve since learned compassion.”

  Jandra kept her eyes fixed upon his face. It was true, his words, his feelings. Remorse for the deed filled him, but didn’t change the fact. He had killed her parents. He had raised her all these years to appease his own guilt. Her relationship to him now seemed so clear. He kept her by his side to convince himself he was something better than a cold-blooded murderer.

  She stood up. The cloak of invisibility around them dissolved. She turned her back on her former mentor.

  “Good-bye,” she said.

  “Jandra,” Vendevorex said, reaching out a feeble wing to touch her back. “I truly am sorry.”

  Jandra recoiled from his touch, stepping beyond his reach. “Sorry? You think that an apology now makes up for a lie you’ve told all my life? It’s not enough, Ven. Nothing you can say will ever be enough.”

  “I understand you’re hurt,” he said. “And once this is over, I understand you may desire some time apart. But you can’t leave now. Our circumstances require us to stay together, at least a while longer.”

  “I think leaving now is an excellent option,” Jandra said.

  “Where would you go?” he asked.

  “Where I belong,” she said, running for the door as tears burst from her.

  ZEEKY COULDN’T STOP shaking. She’d been singled out with the other children earlier, into a group the dragons wou
ld eventually execute. Now the other girls and boys were free, threading back through the crowds to their parents who desperately called out their names.

  No one called for her. She wasn’t so far from her home village-twenty miles at most-but she knew no one here.

  She had lost Merria in the confusion so she called for her now. To her relief, Merria called back. Then Merria’s voice was cut short. Still, Zeeky headed in that direction.

  “Merria!” Zeeky cried out as she spotted the girl held in Hodan’s arms. The farmer had placed his hand over Merria’s mouth. He scowled at Zeeky.

  “Go away, child,” he said.

  “Hodan,” Alanda whispered, “couldn’t we…?”

  “Be quiet, woman,” Hodan said.

  “What’s wrong?” Zeeky asked. “You said you’d look after me.”

  “The evil that has fallen on our village arrived with you. The man who left you is mad, claiming to be Bitterwood. I don’t understand what has happened, but these things taint you. Kamon warned against the evils outsiders can bring.”

  Zeeky couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “But-,”

  “Go,” Hodan said, his eyes narrowed to hard slits.

  Zeeky shut up. She saw that Hodan was serious. Alanda looked uncertain but Hodan would never let Zeeky stay with them. She wished Poocher were here now. He needed her so. She felt stronger when she cared for him. Now she had no one.

  Unless Hey You was here. She thought she had heard his voice earlier but she couldn’t see a thing from where she had stood. If she could find him, he would be nice to her.

  She didn’t have to look for long before she found him. His arms and legs were bound with rope and he lay on the dirt. The people of the village looked away from him, ignoring him, making a circle several steps around him for him to lie in, alone.

  No one moved to stop Zeeky as she walked to him. But when she got there, his eyes were blank, staring straight ahead as if he didn’t see her.