Dragonforge_ A Novel Of The Dragon Age Part 11

"I didn't know you were such an expert in religion," Jandra said to Bitterwood. "Of course, almost anyone would know more about religion than I do. Vendevorex didn't teach me anything about spirituality."

"If you stay in these mountains long," the boy said, "you'll learn more than you want to know about spirits. These mountains are full of devils."

"Some people think these mountains are the home of the G.o.ddess," said Bitterwood, not so much to argue with the boy as to explain things to Jandra. "Jeremiah's people think the place is full of devils, but in the village where I was born it would have been unthinkable to mine these mountains-this was sacred ground. The G.o.ddess both lived in the earth, and was of the earth. Digging a hole this deep into her would have been like digging into her heart."

"Hmm," said Jandra. "When I get back to the library I'll have to read up on theology."

"Don't you carry the books inside your head?" asked a deep, strong voice from the growing darkness outside the cave. Bitterwood spun around, his body instinctively steeling itself for combat.

Jandra looked toward the shadows outside, and said, "I can only recall books I've actually seen. This wasn't something I studied."

The shadows at the mouth of the cave took on shape and substance as the ruby hide of a sun-dragon slinked forward. Bitterwood surveyed the room for a weapon. He'd never killed a sun-dragon barehanded. The pickaxes that lay at the entrance could do the deed.

However, the way this dragon moved gave Bitterwood a reason to relax. This dragon was no threat; he was limping, and there was a hint of freshly spilled reptilian blood in the air. Indeed, more than a hint-Hex must be bleeding freely to unleash such an odor.

As Hex moved nearer the light of the campfire, it became apparent that he wasn't limping. He was dragging something he grasped with his fore-talons, something quite heavy. From the corner of his eye, Bant saw Jandra toss a handful of silver dust into the air. Suddenly, the room was as brightly lit as if the noon sun was overhead.

The burden that Hex dragged behind him was copper colored and its body seemed to stretch on forever out of the mouth of the cave. It was studded with muscular legs ending in fearsome claws.

"I heard what you were saying about the G.o.ddess," said Hex, as if the fact he was dragging a slain beast into their presence was hardly worth mentioning. "We dragons don't believe in G.o.ds exactly, though we do believe in a life flame that endures beyond death, and we believe in spirits. These mountains are said to be haunted; perhaps the strange noise that permeates these rocks causes both men and dragons to seek supernatural explanations."

"What noise?" Bitterwood asked.

"What in the world is that?" Jandra said, walking over to the beast, ignoring Bitterwood. "I've never seen anything like it."

"I'm not sure what it is. I smelled something odd in the wind earlier. I found this thing emerging from one of the nearby caves. It attacked when it saw me; I killed it in self defense."

"Those are demons," Jeremiah said. "They live in the underworld."

"This isn't a demon," said Hex. "It's an animal, and it was being ridden by a man. Unfortunately, he escaped as I was fighting the beast."

Bitterwood nodded. "There was a man on beast I slew as well. He didn't escape. I'd never seen anything like it either. But I've heard about a lot of legendary beasts over the years, and once was told of a race of long-wyrms that lived in the mountains. This must be one of those."

Jandra ran her hands along the long-wyrm's hide as Killer, the ox-dog, drew up beside her and started to sniff. "A creature like this shouldn't exist," she said. "I've been studying biology since I was old enough to hold a book. All vertebrates are limited to four limbs. It's biological law."

"The beast must not have read the same books," said Hex. "If it can read at all. Despite its draconian head, I didn't get the feeling it was intelligent. It didn't speak during the battle, although its rider let out a string of scatological commentaries as he departed."

"Jeremiah, what else do you know about these creatures?" Jandra asked.

"Not a lot, ma'am," the boy answered. "Occasionally the menfolk of my village spot the demons when they're in the mine. The demons shy away from light. But they weren't scared of fire when they attacked Big Lick."

"Why did they attack?" Hex asked. "What provoked them?"

"I don't know," said Jeremiah. "They just came in during the night and started dragging people from their beds. I don't think they killed anyone, their riders just tied us up like hogs and carted us back to the mountain. I'm lucky to have got away. Luckier still to find Zeeky."

"And now Zeeky's gone into underworld to find your parents," said Bitterwood. "Can you lead us through the mines?"

"I... I'm afraid to, mister," the boy said. "They say these things don't just eat you... they also eat your soul."

"If you live a life of cowardice, your soul has already been chewed up," Bitterwood scolded.

The boy hung his head in shame.

Hex said, "Zeeky's footprints are easy enough to spot in the coal dust. I can smell where her pig walked. We won't need the boy to guide us."

"You're crazy to go into the mountain," Jeremiah said, directing his words at Bitterwood. "That one demon right near killed you. There were at least a dozen that came to Big Lick."

Bitterwood smiled grimly. "I've faced stiffer odds. I only fared badly because I was already injured. If Jandra can make me a bow and some arrows using her-" he stopped suddenly. Killer had lifted his head with a jerk, and turned to face the back of the cave. He let out a low growl toward the darkness.

"What is it, boy?" Jeremiah asked.

"I hear something," Jandra said, looking in the same direction. "Something's moving back there."

Hex dropped to all fours and strained his neck forward, sniffing the air. "Another long-wyrm," he said. "More than one, in fact."

Bitterwood's eyes searched the darkness. The back of the cave was a tangle of rock and shadows, and the light Jandra had created only made it more difficult for him to see what was approaching. Then, at the edge of his vision, a patch of shadow moved closer, until its eyes caught the light and flashed golden.

"Jeremiah," Bitterwood said, as a second pair of eyes joined the first. "Now would be a good time to run."

Jeremiah darted toward the entrance of the cave and, having barely traveled twenty feet, skidded to halt. Bitterwood glanced back. Three more long-wyrms and their riders were at the entrance of the cave. This brought the total number they faced to five, plus the riders.

The middle long-wyrm at the front of the mine had two riders. "That's him," the hindmost rider said, pointing toward Hex. "He killed my mount."

The long-wyrms crept closer, eyeing the sun-dragon. Their riders carried loaded crossbows. All possessed the same pale skin of the earlier rider, and all wore the same shimmering white tunics and strange visors. Though Bitterwood couldn't see their eyes, it was apparent from the tilt of their heads that the riders were focused on Hex.

Jandra said firmly, "Don't come any closer. I'm sorry we killed your mount. There's no need for further violence."

"The h.e.l.l there isn't," growled the rider whose mount had been slain. "The G.o.ddess was furious when Fondmar and his wyrm were killed. I'll not face her without bringing the head of the dragon who killed my mount."

"Why did you attack the town of Big Lick?" Jandra asked. "What have you done with its people?"

Bitterwood noticed that as she spoke, Jandra had dipped her hand into the pouch on her belt and was now allowing the fine silver dust to trickle through her fingers and vanish into the air. The atmosphere around Bitterwood began to faintly hum. What was she doing? There was already enough light to see by. Too much light for his taste. He fought better in the shadows.

Of course, in a second, it would no longer matter. In unison, all the wyrm-riders lifted their crossbows. Everyone aimed their weapons at Hex.

Bitterwood tensed, waiting for the triggers to be pulled, so he could spring into action before they reloaded. In his head, he was already mapping out the path he would follow, which wyrm he would attack first. He could have one long-wyrm dead in twenty seconds; a second would fall half a minute later. Beyond that, the situation had too many variables to plan. Hopefully, his attack would be enough of a distraction for Jandra to turn invisible and get Jeremiah to safety. He wished he had a second to share his plan. He would have to trust her instincts.

The time for planning abruptly ended as the vengeful rider shouted, "Fire!" The crossbow strings sang out with a single deadly note.

Chapter Ten:.

The Battle of Dead Skunk Hole .

Bitterwood charged as the bolts whistled through the air. A flash of light caught his eyes. The bolts flared, lit by an internal fire. Three feet from Hex's hide the missiles vanished in puffs of smoke. the bolts whistled through the air. A flash of light caught his eyes. The bolts flared, lit by an internal fire. Three feet from Hex's hide the missiles vanished in puffs of smoke.

"Yes!" shouted Jandra, sounding pleased. "Finally!"

Hex looked puzzled by the dusty cloud wafting around him. Then he grimaced, as if in pain, before unleashing a sneeze that echoed through the cave like thunder.

With all eyes on Hex, Bitterwood grabbed a shovel that leaned against a mine cart as he closed in on the nearest long-wyrm. He jumped atop a crate and threw himself at the beast. The long-wyrm whipped toward him, drawn by the sudden movement. Bitterwood planted a hand on the dragon's snout and somersaulted over its toothy maw. He landed on the beast's back, two yards from the rider, who dropped his crossbow and hastily drew his sword. As the weapon cleared its scabbard Bitterwood swung. The wooden handle cracked as the iron blade of the shovel connected with the man's head. The rider tumbled from his saddle, his sword flying from his fingers. Bitterwood dropped the shovel and s.n.a.t.c.hed the sword as he leapt from the beast. He landed on the stone floor, crouching, his cloak concealing the blade. The shadows on the floor revealed the long-wyrm snaking back toward him. Bitterwood spun around, burying the blade in the underside of the beast's jaw. Hot spittle flecked his cheeks as the long-wyrm's mouth slammed shut. The upper six inches of the sword jutted from the creature's snout like a b.l.o.o.d.y horn.

Bitterwood braced himself. He'd missed the long-wyrm's brain. The beast recoiled in pain. Bitterwood held onto the blade with both hands as he was jerked him from his feet. With a slurp the blade pulled free, and Bitterwood dropped back to the stone. The creature shook its head back and forth in agony. Bitterwood aimed carefully and thrust upward, his feet braced for maximum leverage. The tip of the sword found the spot he wanted, nearer the back of the jaw. This time, the blade broke into the beast's skull with a gratifying crunch. A spasm ran the length of the long-wyrm, all its claws clenching in sequence. Bitterwood pulled the blade loose as the beast slackened. He jumped free of the collapsing serpent, his eyes searching for the next target.

None of the long-wyrms even looked his way. Two of the remaining beasts were fighting Hex, one was locked in combat with Killer, and the last creature and its rider were engulfed in flames. Jandra was focused on their writhing bodies; her hands grabbed at the air. It looked as if she was gathering the smoke that rose from her victims into a tight ball.

Satisfied that Jandra was in no immediate danger, Bitterwood sprinted across the room toward the long-wyrm that fought Killer. In a replay of the earlier battle, the ox-dog had buried his teeth into the creature's throat. Unlike the earlier battle, Killer's new wounds were more than just scratches. The wyrm had coiled around it and was digging deep gouges in the giant dog's underbelly. A pool of gore grew beneath them as the creature's copper claws pulled out bluish-red loops of intestine. Killer's jaws went slack. A noise, part howl and part sigh, came from somewhere deep inside him. The rider, still in his saddle, leaned forward with his silver blade and buried the tip of the weapon between the dog's eyes.

Bitterwood had seen a lot of creatures die, but seldom had he ever felt such loss. Killer had been a good dog. Bitterwood snarled as he flew at the rider. The rider looked up, struggling to pull his sword free from the dying canine. Bitterwood leapt and swung his blade, chopping into the man's sword arm near the elbow. The rider pulled back, a gasp of agony escaping his lips. The rider's pale face turned even whiter as he saw his arm dangling by a thread of flesh. Bitterwood spun to face the jaws of the long-wyrm as the rider slipped from his saddle. Unfortunately, the rider wasn't dead. With his good hand, he reached out as he fell and grabbed Bitterwood's cloak, jerking him backwards.

Bitterwood fought for balance as his feet slipped on the slick gore beneath him. An instant later he was flat on his back. He clenched his jaws as the first of the long-wyrm's talons dug into his right shin. With reflexes trained by years of constant battle, Bitterwood swung his blade without thinking, severing the talon at the wrist. He kicked, scooting backward, as the long-wyrm pulled back. He tried to rise, but everywhere his feet and hands fell he found the hot, stinking slime of Killer's entrails. He could get no traction. The long-wyrm recovered and rose, swaying, then flashed toward him, a bolt of serpentine lightning.

Before it reached him, a second long-wyrm came flying through the air, catching Bitterwood's attacker in mid-strike, knocking it backward.

Bitterwood rolled to his side, trying to figure out what had just happened. He saw one of the long-wyrms now lying dead and broken at the sun-dragon's feet. Two riders lay still and b.l.o.o.d.y nearby. Hex was down on all fours, the tail of the remaining long-wyrm clamped in his mouth. He spun in circles, whipping his foe through the air in dizzying arcs. This was what had saved Bitterwood-Hex's foe had collided with his. The rider of the spinning long-wyrm was still in his saddle, his feet tangled in the stirrups. His visor was gone, and he had a look of sheer terror in his eyes.

Rising to his feet, sword in hand, Bitterwood searched for the long-wyrm that had killed Killer. It was undulating toward the back of the shaft, vanishing once more into darkness. Bitterwood considered giving chase, but decided against it. The bleeding long-wyrm would leave an easy trail. Bitterwood was greatly interested in where it would lead.

With a sickening crunch, the long-wyrm in Hex's jaws smacked into the wall of the mine, its body nearly flattening with the impact. Hex let the now-dead beast drop, pinning its still living rider beneath it.

Hex looked dizzy, swaying drunkenly in the aftermath of battle. He was covered with countless cuts, though none looked serious.

Bitterwood examined the body of the rider who'd grabbed him by the belt. The man had finally died from blood loss. He looked around the room. Jeremiah was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's the boy?" he asked.

"I don't know," Jandra said, looking down at something small in her hands. "I got a little overconfident after my success at dismantling the bolts and fried this one with Vengeance of the Ancestors. I forgot that I might kill the rest of you with the poison smoke. I had to gather up all the particulate matter and compress it so it wouldn't be harmful." She held up a black ball the size of a walnut. A skin of silver flowed over it like paint as she turned it in her fingers. "I'll be more careful next time."

Hex said, "I saw Jeremiah flee from the mine. I admire his finely honed instincts for avoiding danger."

"He's only a child," said Jandra. "He's probably safer wherever he ran to than wherever we're going."

Bitterwood knelt next to Killer, placing his hands on the dog's bloodied body. The bristly fur was warm to his touch. He remembered Killer's gentleness as a mount, the look of genuine grat.i.tude the dog conveyed whenever Bitterwood had thrown it some sc.r.a.p of food. Bitterwood's leg throbbed from where the long-wyrm had dug into it, but the pain felt so distant compared to the cold fingers of grief that clamped around his heart.

"Jandra," he said softly. "Can you help him? He's... he's a good dog."

Jandra walked over and placed a hand on Bitterwood's shoulder. "I'm sorry. Most of what I do is augment a body's own healing mechanisms. I can't bring the dead back to life."

Bitterwood shuddered, feeling the icy hands inside him closing tighter. He closed his eyes, locating the core of hatred that forever burned in him, and instantly his grief washed away in a flood of outrage. These long-wyrm riders had much to pay for.

He stood and limped toward the only rider left alive, the one trapped beneath the long-wyrm. The man's face was twisted in agony as he clawed at the floor, trying to pull himself free. His pale features were now smudged with black coal dust.

Bitterwood stamped down with his full weight, using his uninjured leg to snap the man's fingers beneath his boot. The man released an agonized cry.

"I'm going to kill you," Bitterwood said, pressing down harder and giving the fingers under his heel a twist.

"Wait!" Jandra shouted, rushing up behind him. "We need him alive! We need to ask him questions."

"I'll never talk!" the rider vowed between clenched teeth. "I'd die before betraying the G.o.ddess!"

"Then die!" said Bitterwood, raising his sword.

"Stop," said Jandra, taking Bitterwood's arm and pulling him back. "He can tell us what happened to Zeeky!"

"He won't talk. He's a disciple of the G.o.ddess Ashera. I know better than anyone the blindness of faith. Let me end his pathetic life!"

"The G.o.ddess shall avenge me!" the man said, struggling to sit up. His legs were free of the long-wyrm now but they were twisted in a way that told Bitterwood he would never walk again.

"Your G.o.ddess has no power," Bitterwood said. "I've seen her temples gutted, her idols desecrated. She cannot stop these things, just as she cannot save you!"

"Blasphemer!" The rider spat the word out as if it tasted vile. "I've seen the G.o.ddess with my own eyes! If you were to gaze upon her glory, you would tear out your own tongue in penance for your foul lies!"

Hex's long face drew closer to the rider. His jaws still dripped blood. "I, for one, would like to meet this G.o.ddess. Can you take us to her?"

The man grimaced as he tried to move his broken legs. He sighed, sagging back against the long-wyrm's corpse. "It would serve you right if I were to lead you to her, dragon. She would melt the flesh from your bones with but a glance."

Jandra knelt before the rider. "I'm willing to take that chance. I have the power to heal your legs. Would you lead us to your G.o.ddess if I do?"

The man looked at her skeptically.

Jandra reached out and placed her hands on the man's foot. His boot had been lost beneath the long-wyrm, leaving his bloodied and twisted flesh exposed.

She closed her eyes as a look of concentration fell over her features.

"Compound fractures in both legs," she said. "Extensive internal bleeding. You'll die if you don't accept my help."

In answer, the man's one good hand darted out and grabbed Jandra by her hair. Her helmet flew from her head as he yanked her to his chest, pinning her with his other arm. His free hand flashed to his belt and an instant later a dagger rested against her throat.

"Stay back!" he snarled. "I'll kill her if you move so much as an inch!"

"This really isn't a smart move on your part," Jandra grumbled.

"I've summoned other riders," the man said, eyeing Bitterwood, then the dragon. "You should flee if you value your life. I'll release the girl when they arrive."

Bitterwood raised his sword and took a step closer. "The girl is a witch. It was only a matter of time before I killed her myself."

"I swear I'll do it," the rider screamed, jerking Jandra's hair back and denting her throat with the tip of the blade.

Before Bitterwood could react, Jandra grabbed the man's wrist. Though the man's arms were twice as thick as her own, she pushed the dagger away from her throat as the man struggled to regain control.

Suddenly Hex darted in, his jaws wide. He clamped down with twin rows of knife-length teeth over the man's head. The rider screamed briefly before Hex silenced him forever with a sharp twist that tore the man's neck from his torso. Hex rose, his jaws spraying blood as he crunched the man's skull into ever-smaller fragments.

Jandra turned pale as she watched Hex swallow. She scrambled away from the corpse who still had an arm around her and grabbed her helmet.