Bitterwood. Part 2

"And you are breaking that law!" Albekizan shouted, spittle spraying the floor before him. "I command you to hunt!"

Jandra drew closer to Vendevorex who wrapped a wing around her.

Shandrazel stood unflinching before his father's anger. With a shrug he said, "I am indeed breaking your law. Command the guards to arrest me. I won't resist."

Albekizan leapt from his pillows and raced toward Shandrazel. He pulled up short of his rebellious son, their eyes locked. The king's muscles tensed visibly beneath his hide. He stood frozen in rage but Shandrazel did not back down.

All the dragons in the room averted their eyes. No one wanted to witness this shameful confrontation between the king and his son. No dragon would risk the king's wrath by staring. So most heads were turned to watch events outside the hall. The edge of the storm had reached them and rain began to splatter on the marble floor. Illuminated by the still distant lightning, Bodiel could barely be seen gliding low over the treetops nearly a mile distant, searching the foliage for signs of his prey.

Then, Bodiel folded his wings back and dove into the forest, swift as an arrow racing toward its target. Lightning flashed again, now much closer, momentarily blinding Jandra. The thunder made her jump. Vendevorex hugged her more tightly. When her vision cleared, Bodiel had vanished.

"Oh!" Queen Tanthia cried. "Oh no!"

"What is it, my love?" Albekizan asked. "Is our rebellious son breaking your heart?"

"It's the shadows," Tanthia said, quivering. "The shadows in the room have grown so dark. I feel their chill in my soul."

Albekizan turned his back to Shandrazel to face Tanthia. Calmly he said, "There's nothing to fear."

Almost as if his saying it had made it so, the night fell quiet. The thunder faded and the wind shifted, silencing the rain for an instant. At this moment, a mournful, anguished howl rose from the distant forest. Lightning flashed and thunder washed away the voice. The wind twisted, whipping back into the hall with a harsh blast of cold rain, sending the torch flames dancing wildly. Tanthia gasped as one of the torches extinguished, a soul forever lost.

"He's dead!" Tanthia cried. "My son is dead!"

"No," Albekizan said, looking out into the storm. "No human could... could..."

The king fell silent then turned and rushed past his rebellious son. He leapt into the rain, catching the wind, climbing into the air. Shandrazel paused, gazing after his father, then glanced back at his mother.

"Please find him," Tanthia said. "Find him."

Shandrazel nodded. He walked to the open side of the dome then beat his wings to rise into the night.

Vendevorex took Jandra by the shoulders and whispered, "We should take our leave. The king may need my a.s.sistance. It's best that you wait back in our quarters. I will accompany you."

Jandra nodded. Vendevorex sprinkled a pinch of silvery dust in the air. The whispers of the a.s.sembled crowd let Jandra know he'd just made them invisible. As they moved quietly from the great hall, Jandra watched over her shoulder as Shandrazel faded into the rain.

SHANDRAZEL HATED FLYING in the rain. He disliked the water in his eyes and loathed the way the wind treacherously shifted and vanished beneath his wings. Yet duty drove him, duty and love. Despite their differences, he loved his father and cherished his spirited younger brother. He hoped that no harm had come to either of them. The only real danger he could imagine was if Bodiel had crashed in a sudden downdraft. But even then, he'd been so low over the trees that the crash wouldn't have been fatal. If Bodiel had been diving in pursuit of Cron, what possible harm could the slave have done? Despite his father's keenness for the sport of hunting humans, Shandrazel saw no more challenge in it than he did in his mother's appet.i.te for devouring baskets of white kittens. An unarmed human was a small-toothed, clawless thing. Certainly, Bodiel was safe. in the rain. He disliked the water in his eyes and loathed the way the wind treacherously shifted and vanished beneath his wings. Yet duty drove him, duty and love. Despite their differences, he loved his father and cherished his spirited younger brother. He hoped that no harm had come to either of them. The only real danger he could imagine was if Bodiel had crashed in a sudden downdraft. But even then, he'd been so low over the trees that the crash wouldn't have been fatal. If Bodiel had been diving in pursuit of Cron, what possible harm could the slave have done? Despite his father's keenness for the sport of hunting humans, Shandrazel saw no more challenge in it than he did in his mother's appet.i.te for devouring baskets of white kittens. An unarmed human was a small-toothed, clawless thing. Certainly, Bodiel was safe.

During the confrontation with his father, Shandrazel hadn't watched where his brother flew. He had no idea where to start his search. He blinked through the rain, trying to make sense of the tangled treetops that rushed beneath him. The jagged ends of broken branches caught his eyes. There was a gap in the forest canopy. Shandrazel descended into a small clearing to find his father already there.

A slain dragon hung in the crook of a tree. It was a sky-dragon, not Bodiel. In the dim light, Shandrazel drew closer. The beetles swarming over the dragon's body gave testimony that it had hung here for hours. The body stank; the sky-dragon's bowels had loosened after death. Oddly, just beneath the stench, the air carried the unmistakable mouthwatering scent of horch.

A single arrow jutted from the dragon's jaw. Shandrazel studied the arrow, which was fletched with a red feather scale from a sun-dragon's wing; black thread wrapped around its split core fastened it to the slender shaft of ash. He then looked closer at the dragon's face. He gasped. He knew this dragon.

"His name was Dacorn," said Shandrazel. "A biologian. He taught me botany during my summer on the Isle of Horses. Who would do such a thing? He was a gentle soul. He had no enemies."

Albekizan paid no attention to Shandrazel's words. He, too, had noticed the arrow. He plucked it from the corpse to examine it. It was a tiny thing in Albekizan's talons, a fragile sliver of wood that Albekizan snapped effortlessly.

Shandrazel raised his long neck and bellowed, "Bodiel!"

"He won't be answering," said Albekizan. His father leapt up, knocking aside branches as he caught the air, rising once more to continue his search in the violent rain. Shandrazel tried to follow but the rain made it difficult to see his father, let alone keep up with him. They flew in ever widening circles, searching the trees, and soon Shandrazel had lost all trace of his father. He continued his search, hoping that finding the corpse of his former teacher was only a macabre coincidence.

At length, Shandrazel found Albekizan sitting by the riverbank with Bodiel's head clutched against his chest. Bodiel's arrow-riddled, lifeless body lay half in the water - it was possible he'd died further upriver and drifted to rest here. Shandrazel landed, feeling as if his own heart were pierced with an arrow. Never had there been a soul as bold and joyous as Bodiel's. It seemed impossible that he should be dead.

Shandrazel stepped forward, using his wings to shelter his father from the rain. He froze as Albekizan looked at him. Their gazes locked. Albekizan's eyes burned with fury, fury and something more, an emotion he'd not seen in his father's eyes for many years: pa.s.sion. Albekizan, cradling Bodiel's dead body, was filled with frightening, fiery life.

Shandrazel stumbled backward, his talons slipping in the muddy earth. The air seemed charged, ready to spark.

The king dropped Bodiel into the mud and rose to his full length. In his fore-talon he held a single arrow and he studied the bright red fletching of the arrow as if he were studying his soul. Lightning struck nearby, again and again, shaking the ground. Fire spouted from the tops of the tallest, most ancient trees. Albekizan didn't flinch. Shandrazel couldn't move. As the thunder faded from their ringing ears, Albekizan held the arrow to the sky and shouted a single, bone-chilling word.

"Bitterwood!"

CHAPTER TWO: CIRCLES.

BY THE TIME Gadreel returned to the clearing the only sound in the night forest was the constant staccato of water dripping from leaves. His master, Zanzeroth, -an old sun-dragon who rivaled even the king in size and the finest tracker in the land- still studied the scene. Zanzeroth's golden eyes glowed in the trickles of moonlight seeping through the breaking clouds. Albekizan stood nearby, watching the aged hunter step gingerly over the muddy ground. Albekizan ignored Gadreel. Gadreel hoped the king's snub was due to his fascination with Zanzeroth's methods. The patch of ground they stood on seemed unremarkable to Gadreel, but Zanzeroth had instantly proclaimed it as the site of Bodiel's death, three miles upriver from where his body was discovered. Gadreel suspected, however, that the king ignored him due to his status. It was a simple matter to treat a human as a slave. The notion of a sky-dragon such as himself forced into servitude made some uncomfortable. Gadreel returned to the clearing the only sound in the night forest was the constant staccato of water dripping from leaves. His master, Zanzeroth, -an old sun-dragon who rivaled even the king in size and the finest tracker in the land- still studied the scene. Zanzeroth's golden eyes glowed in the trickles of moonlight seeping through the breaking clouds. Albekizan stood nearby, watching the aged hunter step gingerly over the muddy ground. Albekizan ignored Gadreel. Gadreel hoped the king's snub was due to his fascination with Zanzeroth's methods. The patch of ground they stood on seemed unremarkable to Gadreel, but Zanzeroth had instantly proclaimed it as the site of Bodiel's death, three miles upriver from where his body was discovered. Gadreel suspected, however, that the king ignored him due to his status. It was a simple matter to treat a human as a slave. The notion of a sky-dragon such as himself forced into servitude made some uncomfortable.

"How much longer?" Zanzeroth asked.

"A few minutes, at most," Gadreel answered. As he spoke the distant baying of ox-dogs confirmed his words.

"Good," Zanzeroth said. "The sooner we start, the better. The ground here has told me all it can."

"If you have knowledge," Albekizan said, "give it to me."

"Of course, Sire," Zanzeroth said, straightening his stooped form and approaching the king. Next to Albekizan, Zanzeroth's extra years were apparent. The king's hide glistened on his muscular body like red paint. Zanzeroth's scales were faded from years under the sun, almost pink along the back. His scales had fallen away at his joints, revealing black hide beneath. His scarred skin sagged over his skeleton, under which his slender, wiry muscles moved like thick ropes. Zanzeroth asked, "Shouldn't we wait for Shandrazel to join us? I'm sure he wants to help find his brother's killer."

"Do not speak that shameful name," Albekizan said, his eyes narrow. "I've placed that traitor under guard for now. His final fate will be left for the morning. We will not discuss this further. For now, Bitterwood is our only goal."

Zanzeroth nodded. He waved his fore-talons toward a patch of mud that seemed to Gadreel no different than any other.

"Here is where the slave, Cron, skidded to a halt as Bodiel dropped from the sky. See, the handprint here?" Zanzeroth paused to allow Albekizan time to discern what was being shown to him. Gadreel stared at the chaotic mud and, to his surprise, found he could see the handprint, or at least the heel of a human palm.

Zanzeroth continued: "The human fell and had difficulty regaining his footing." Zanzeroth moved his claw to direct the king's view to a patch of broken ground several yards away. "That is where Bodiel dropped from the sky. Cron's footprints then reappear several feet behind where he stopped-he's jumped away out of fear of Bodiel. There are signs that Bodiel toyed with the human, blocking his moves, prolonging the moment before the kill. And then..." Zanzeroth trailed off, his gaze flickering over the mud, studying it as one might study a book. "And then Bodiel staggered backward. See the marks? Cron fled, pa.s.sing through the brush... here."

As he said this, Zanzeroth parted a thicket with several bent branches and revealed a man's muddy footprints beyond.

"We could follow Cron with ease but he's not the one who killed Bodiel."

"I know that," Albekizan said. "Bitterwood's to blame. The Ghost Who Kills haunts these woods tonight."

"Perhaps," Zanzeroth said. "But I've yet to see a ghost leave tracks. The murderer of your son was merely a man."

"He's more than a man," Albekizan said. "You'd do well to remember that."

"Yes, Sire," said Zanzeroth. He walked to the bush beside Gadreel and touched a torn leaf above his head. "Man or ghost, the a.s.sailant struck from behind. Here is where the first arrow pa.s.sed. That branch, there, is where he wrapped the reins of his horse. He stood on the large branch in yonder tree to take his first shot."

Zanzeroth stalked back to the center of the clearing, placing his hind-talons in a pair of long, smeared trenches. "Your son stood in this spot. The arrow strikes Bodiel low in the back. In pain, Bodiel spins," Zanzeroth twisted around suddenly, fixing his gaze above Gadreel, "to see another arrow fly forth, burying deep in his shoulder. Bodiel hears Cron running and turns, reflexively fearing the loss of his prize, then catches himself. This is the first instant where he understands his own life is in danger."

Zanzeroth held his wings wide for balance as his talons skittered in the mud, duplicating Bodiel's actions.

"Bodiel leaps but never reaches the bush. His foe is already running through the woods, flanking him, and the third arrow comes from there." The hunter pulled a long spear from the quiver slung on his back and used the shaft to point to a narrow gap in the trees. Sundragons used such spears to kill prey from above; Zanzeroth was so skilled he could drop a spear from five hundred yards above a field to pierce a bounding rabbit. Now, he used the tip of the spear to gently push a leaf torn by an arrow's flight. "The fourth arrow follows swiftly, puncturing Bodiel's lung."

Zanzeroth crouched, spreading his wings over the mud, "Finally, the prince falls. He's alive but in terrible agony. He screams only for an instant as the fifth arrow lodges in his throat. The prince struggles to rise, unwilling to accept his fate. He crawls toward the water, seeking relief. Still the arrows come. The archer knows Bodiel has mere moments to live but wants him to suffer. The shots that follow aren't meant to hasten death, but to increase agony. The arrows fall upon the tender flesh of the wings and tail. Bodiel at last collapses, his left wing in the river. Slowly, the speeding current drags him from the bank."

Zanzeroth started to rise but slipped in the mud. Gadreel hurried to his side, extending a claw for the hunter to steady himself. Zanzeroth spurned him by digging his hind-talons deeper in the muck and pulling his wings free from the ground with a wet slurp slurp. He shook his wings to clean them, spattering Gadreel with mud that smelled faintly of dung.

"And Bitterwood?" Albekizan said, studying the trees surrounding them. "What became of him?"

"He fled, of course," said Zanzeroth, placing his spear back in its quiver. "On horseback. He's miles away but we'll find him. Even after a hard rain the ox-dogs can follow a horse's scent."

As Zanzeroth spoke, the brush behind him shuddered and then parted as two ma.s.sive ox-dogs lumbered into the clearing, dragging their earth-dragon handlers behind them. Earth-dragons were solid and squat, no taller than humans but twice as broad, with thick muscular arms instead of wings, and powerful shoulders to support their thick-boned tortoise-like heads. They were strong as mules but their strength did little to slow the powerful dogs. The dogs dragged their handlers to Zanzeroth's side. Their rank breath steamed in the rain-cooled night. Moments later a squad of a dozen earth-dragons, the finest the palace guard had to offer, emerged from the brush.

Zanzeroth took the leashes of the dogs and led them to the spot where the horse had stood. The dogs sniffed and snuffed, rooting through the damp debris of the forest. Suddenly, one froze. The second rushed to the same spot and pushed its nose to the ground. They lifted their barrel-sized heads and bayed with excitement.

"They've found the scent," said Zanzeroth.

The dogs trotted back into the clearing, following the hoofprints through the mud. Zanzeroth unwrapped the leather leashes from his wrist and loosed the dogs. They charged past the king and smashed into the undergrowth, panting with excitement.

The hunt was on. The ox-dogs moved forward in fits and starts, racing when they had the scent, then stopping suddenly to sniff the wet ground where the trail was diluted by washouts. Zanzeroth and Albekizan followed with the soldiers rushing ahead of the king to chop away growth that might slow his progress.

Gadreel was half the size of the sun-dragons, but he still found the dense vegetation suffocating. He wished he could take to the sky to follow from above. As long as Zanzeroth remained earthbound, he must also. Walking through the forest like a common earth-dragon didn't sit well with him.

He looked to the nearest earth-dragon and shuddered. The creature was as tall as a human male, broad-shouldered and muscle-bound, with a thick tail like an alligator's that dragged the ground as it waddled forward on stocky hind legs. The creature was green as moss and dull-eyed. Yet, as a soldier, the earth-dragon had higher status than Gadreel, a slave. Not for the first time, he silently cursed the biologians that had betrayed him.

Gadreel knew better than to voice his indignation. He'd learned his lesson about showing weakness. Three years past he'd been ill and failed to attend the Council of Colleges, an annual gathering of sky-dragons representing the various accademies and libraries scattered about the kingdom. Albekizan had recently imposed a new tax that was to have been paid with human slaves. The elder sky-dragons had balked at the idea of parting with the slaves. Humans performed all the menial labor required to keep the colleges functioning on a day-to-day basis. The scholarly sky-dragons were too busy with their research and studies to be bothered by such things as cooking their own food or emptying their own chamber pots. However, there were always the occasional young sky-dragons at every college whose research was judged to be derivative or shallow. Thus, the elders had approached Metron to ask the king if, perhaps, the tax could be paid with sky-dragons instead. Metron's powers of persuasion had led to Gadreel's ill fate.

Most of the sky-dragons enslaved had been entrusted to the king's aerial guard, an air-borne force that supported the king's ground troops. Other's had been pressed into duty as messengers. Gadreel had served as a messenger for a few weeks, and slowly begun to reconcile himself to his fate. Then, Zanzeroth, the only dragon who dared best the king on a hunt, had won a bet to be paid in slaves, and Gadreel had discovered that the king regarded him as his most expendable property. Yet in his humiliation, Gadreel could also see opportunity. As Zanzeroth was the king's loyal companion, he found himself almost daily in the presence of Albekizan. One day, he vowed, he would impress the king so greatly that he would be rewarded with freedom.

The ox-dogs paused on the far side of a stream swollen with rain. Gadreel could tell they had lost the scent. Zanzeroth followed the muddy bank, his eyes shining in the darkness as he read the ground.

"Here," Zanzeroth said, at last. The old dragon grabbed an ox-dog by its collar and tugged the beast back across the stream, shoving its head down to mossy stone. Zanzeroth's great strength allowed him to move the giant dog as if it were no more than a puppy. The ox-dog sniffed and growled at the stone. In seconds the dog once more had the scent and bounded off into the forest with its brother quickly following. The dragons chased the dogs and moments later the forest gave way to a cornfield. Gadreel felt relieved to see open sky once more, with bright moonlight illuminating the few faint wisps of cloud. Free from the trees Albekizan beat his wings and took to the air. Zanzeroth followed, and Gadreel accompanied him at a respectful distance. It took considerable effort not to overtake the larger dragons. Sun-dragons, with their great bulk, weren't particularly swift.

Moments later Zanzeroth veered and Gadreel could see a riderless horse at the edge of the gra.s.sy field. Zanzeroth dove, his rear claws extended. The horse broke into a gallop as the dragon's shadow fell upon it but to no avail. Zanzeroth caught the fleeing horse by the neck, killing it instantly with a vicious twist.

"d.a.m.n," the old hunter said as he landed.

"Where is he?" Albekizan said as he touched down nearby. "Where's Bitterwood?"

"We've been tricked, Sire." Zanzeroth said. "This is the horse we've been following. I can smell it. But Bitterwood must have dismounted early in the chase. I saw no sign. Perhaps he clung to an overhead branch."

"d.a.m.n your incompetent hide," the king shouted. "If we've lost my son's murderer due to your carelessness, I'll have your head!"

Gadreel flinched but his master seemed unperturbed.

"Of course, Sire," said Zanzeroth with a slight bow. "The hunt's more interesting if the stakes are high."

By now the earth-dragons had caught up. The handlers grabbed the leashes of the ox-dogs and tugged them away from the steaming carca.s.s of the horse.

Zanzeroth pulled the three spears from his quiver and handed them to Gadreel. "These are only going to get in my way," he said. Gadreel struggled to hold the giant wooden shafts with their gleaming steel heads. Only sun-dragons could ever hope to use such ma.s.sive weapons effectively.

All stood silently as Zanzeroth crouched down on all fours, his belly touching the wet gra.s.s. Though their normal stance was bipedal, both sun-dragons and sky-dragons had claws at the middle joints of their wings that could support their weight if they wished to crawl. The aged dragon moved over the ground with slow, sinuous, reptilian movements, pausing to study each hoofprint. He sniffed the ground carefully, tilted his head, then crawled forward, paused, and sniffed again. He continued his methodical examination, moving back toward the forest, taking nearly an hour to reach the stream where the trail had been momentarily lost. Gadreel's muscles burned from the effort of lugging Zanzeroth's spears all this time.

Zanzeroth stared at the tracks on each side of the stream with quiet intensity. Gadreel wondered how much sense his master could make of ground that had now been trampled by ox-dogs and a small army of dragons.

Zanzeroth rose, stretching his shoulders until his sinews popped. "The horse was a simple ruse, but effective," he said. "Our quarry dismounted in the water, no doubt keeping to the streambed for some distance. If we run an ox-dog along each side we can discover the point where he leaves the water. We'll have him yet."

"Find him," said the king. "I grow impatient."

Zanzeroth s.n.a.t.c.hed his spears back from Gadreel, placing them once more in his quiver. He took each ox-dog by the leash and led them upstream, wading in the water. He cast his watchful eyes on each branch that hung overhead. After a few hundred yards the ox-dog to his left stopped, sniffed the ground, and let out a low growl. Zanzeroth crouched to study the bank.

"Clever," he said, looking back at the king. "But not clever enough. I have the trail once more."

He loosed the ox-dogs and motioned for all to follow as he raced into the dark woods.

Gadreel's breath came in gasps as he chased his untiring master through the rain-slick forest. The trees were thick here, and the darkness was such that their prey could have been merely a wing's length away and still have been invisible. Ahead, Gadreel could see shafts of moonlight and hoped they were again near the forest's edge. Zanzeroth stopped abruptly and Gadreel nearly collided with him.

The earth-dragons skidded to a halt behind them. One muttered, "The lines." Gadreel looked over his shoulder but couldn't tell which earth-dragon had spoken.

Straining his neck to see around Zanzeroth, Gadreel could see that whoever had spoken had been correct. They had reached one of the bleached, cracked stone lines that stretched endless miles through the kingdom. Some scholars claimed the lines were only ancient roads, built by a long-vanished race of giants. A more common belief was that the barren, flat stone marked a web of evil energy that ran through the earth. In the presence of this cursed ground, the night was unnaturally quiet.

"So, hunter," Albekizan whispered. "You still believe it's only a man we chase? No man alive would dare to walk the ghost lines."

"He will if he's desperate," said Zanzeroth. "Our prey thinks we won't follow because of the curse. You've known me long enough to know that I've never placed stock in such foolishness. This is merely old rock. We have nothing to fear. The dogs have already run ahead. We'll catch him yet."

"We shall give chase from the air," said Albekizan. "The soldiers shall run along the line."

"Sire?" the captain of the earth-dragons said. The light yellow scales on his throat trembled.

"You heard the order," Albekizan said, leaping into the air, his feet never touching the haunted stone.

Zanzeroth followed and Gadreel, too. The earth-dragons hesitantly stepped onto the crumbling stone line then turned their eyes heavenward and chased their king.

Gadreel was glad to be in the air once more but he had no time to enjoy it. Barely a quarter mile ahead the ox-dogs turned from the line, loping down a steep, vine-covered bank. They turned and entered a small tunnel that ran beneath the broad highway of stone.

As Gadreel landed, one of the dogs yelped. The second dog scurried backward from the tunnel.

Zanzeroth peered into the dark opening. Gadreel strained to see and spotted the first ox-dog, dead, its head crushed by a heavy stone. Zanzeroth took a spear from his quiver, pushed the shaft along the floor, then lifted it to reveal a loop of thin rope.