Bitterwood (25 page)

Jandra rolled her eyes. “You’re just too scared to try to make it out of the castle alone.”

“I’m not a coward.”

“Then go.” Jandra pointed toward the door.

“No.” Pet crossed his arms. “A minute ago you said you needed my help to save Vendevorex. Just tell me what to do.”

“Fine,” Jandra said. No matter how much she loathed him at the moment, Pet was the only other person in the room. She had to take whatever help she could get. “We need to find a place to hide him.”

“How can we move him without injuring him further?”

“I don’t know,” Jandra said, looking at Vendevorex. He seemed to be sleeping restfully. His wounds had scabbed over and he no longer lost blood, but Jandra feared that moving him might injure him. “I’ve seen him heal himself before. He closed a cut on his cheek within minutes, but this . . .? I don’t know how he’s doing this. Our only hope is that it will take hours for him to heal and not days.”

“I’m not sure I see what the problem is,” Pet said. “You can turn us invisible, right?”

“If they bring ox-dogs, invisibility won’t help,” she answered, kneeling next to Vendevorex. She placed her fingers lightly on his brow. He was hot as a hearth. “Just sitting here talking won’t help anything either. Is there an armory in the castle?”

“Of course,” Pet said.

“Then we should go while the battle has paused,” she said as she stood up and wiped her hands on her dress. “The right weapons might make all the difference.”

“We’ve still got that sword,” Pet said. “And I bet the hallways are full of stuff.”

“Swords aren’t going to help. Neither of us is a match fighting a dragon hand-to-hand. But Bitterwood does well with a bow. If we were armed the same, firing from a position of invisibility, we’d stand a chance.”

“I don’t know,” Pet said. “Have you ever fired a bow? They aren’t as easy as they look. I practiced with them for a while, trying a trick where I could shoot an apple from the head of a volunteer.”

“Oh,” Jandra said, perking up. “So you know how to use one?”

Pet lowered his head, shaking it slowly. “I never had a second volunteer.”

“Dragons are bigger targets than apples.”

“True enough,” Pet nodded. “I don’t have a better idea. Let’s do it. The armory isn’t far. If we move invisibly, we can cut straight across the castle walls. We can make it there and back in five minutes.”

PET HELD JANDRA’S
hand, guiding her across the main wall. She told him they couldn’t be seen but he wasn’t so sure.
He
could still see them. But he could see himself earlier as well, when Vendevorex had cloaked them with invisibility, and that time they had passed crowds of dragons without reaction.

This trip, they met no dragons who could have reacted to their presence. Their path was strewn with dead bodies, both of the attackers and defenders of the castle. Most had died engaged in combat with one another, but here and there arrows stuck from the bodies. Pet noted that most of the dragons Bitterwood had killed were shot from behind. For a supposed hero, Bitterwood wasn’t interested in taking chances. He was looking out for his own skin. Yet when Pet displayed the same concern for his own safety, he was labeled a coward.

The night had grown exceptionally dark. The moon had crawled from the sky hours ago. Soon it would be dawn. From outside the walls he could hear the distant shouts of dragons and the crying of children, human children. He peered over the wall as they moved but all he could make out of the surrounding village was dim shadows. Had the invaders turned their attack against the village? He hoped not. He knew quite a few of the village women; indeed, there were many fair-haired children of the village he suspected were his own. He hoped they would be all right. If he had Bitterwood’s skill in combat, he’d be out there now, saving the villagers. But he was no fighter. He was an acrobat, an artist, and actor. If there were some way to save the villagers by putting on a costume and reciting a dramatic monologue, he’d be the right man for the job.

They descended from the wall through the tower, moving toward the armory. They paused as they approached the door. From inside came torchlight and the scuffles of something moving around.

“Go ahead,” Jandra whispered. “They can’t see us. See who it is.”

He crept carefully forward peeking into the door. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was a human moving inside.

But as he exhaled the man reacted, spinning around toward the noise. It was Bitterwood and he fired an arrow toward the doorway before Pet could even blink. The arrow whizzed over his shoulder, barely missing his ear.

“Hey!” Pet shouted.

“Wait! It’s only us!” Jandra shouted, and the air before Pet sparked and swirled.

Bitterwood’s eyes grew wide. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he said. “You take a foolish gamble creeping up on me.”

“Don’t you bother to look where you’re shooting?” Pet said.

“I don’t always have that luxury,” Bitterwood said. “I’ve saved my life many times over by firing blindly.” Bitterwood shook his head , then leaned against the wall for support. “You should be grateful it’s been such a long night. Were I not so tired… Were I ten years younger… I wouldn’t have missed.”

“It doesn’t look like you miss often,” Jandra said. “It looks like you’ve killed all the dragons… on
our
side. Now that you’ve killed our defenders, would it be asking too much to kill some of the dragons attacking the castle?”

“There won’t be time,” Bitterwood said. “It will be morning soon. I strike at night.”

“Easier to hide when it’s dark, isn’t it, ‘hero?’” Pet said.

“Yes,” Bitterwood said. “Precisely.” He then returned to the work he’d been doing when they’d interrupted. The armory was in shambles, ransacked by the invaders, but some weapons remained. Bitterwood was gathering what arrows he could find from the clutter. Pet wondered if he should mention the arrows that had fallen from Bitterwood’s own quiver that still lay beneath the window in Chakthalla’s throne room.

“The legends say you only use arrows you make yourself,” Jandra said.

“Some legends also say I can fly,” Bitterwood said. “Fletching my arrows with dragon scales gives my attacks a greater psychological impact. Still, an arrow guided by a goose feather can do the job just as well.”

“Leave some arrows for us,” Pet said, finding a longbow leaning against the wall. “Lucky they didn’t take this. This is a good bow.”

“Not that lucky. Dragons are mediocre with bows, at best,” Bitterwood said. “The red and blue ones prefer to fight when flying, using a long spear held with their hind claws. The green ones sometimes use bows but they can’t hit the broadside of a barn. They’re only effective in mass attacks, not in attacking an individual target. I don’t think an earth-dragon can focus on distant objects as well as we can.” He handed Pet a handful of arrows. “If you have the guts to fight a dragon, a bow’s a good choice. Pick your target and don’t panic, and you can kill them before they ever get close.”

“I have the guts, old man,” Pet said.

“I doubt it,” Bitterwood said. “But I guess you’ll find out.”

Bitterwood placed the rest of the arrows he’d gathered into his quiver and walked past Pet and Jandra with no further word.

“Bastard,” Pet snarled as the archer vanished around the corner.

“I noticed he escaped with his teeth,” Jandra said.

Pet shrugged. “He’s an old guy a foot shorter than me. It wouldn’t be fair to fight him.”

“Not fair to you, maybe.”

“Would you stop taunting me? I’m not a—”

“We’d better get back,” Jandra said, cutting him off. “It can’t be long before morning.”

Almost as if it had heard her words, a cock began to crow in the distance.

After Jandra again made them invisible, Pet led her back up the tower to cross the wall leading to the throne room. The sky had brightened in the east since they had passed by minutes before. In the fields below he could see the enemy army, gathered together in a huge circle, and within the circle stood the villagers.

“What are they doing?” he asked, stopping to study the scene.

“I don’t know,” Jandra said. “But it doesn’t look as if they’re getting ready to attack. Maybe Vendevorex will have time to heal.”

In the middle of the circle, Pet could see three flat-bedded wagons, drawn together to make a large platform. A huge sun-dragon stood on the platform with metal armor gleaming on his chest.

“Damn,” said Jandra. “That’s Kanst. He answers directly to Albekizan.”

“What’s he up to? Why has he gathered the villagers?”

“Who knows?” Jandra said. “Let’s get back.”

“Not yet,” Pet said. “I want to find out what’s going on. I know many of these people.” Although from this distance, he couldn’t recognize anyone.

“There’s not time for this,” Jandra said, tugging his arm. “Vendevorex has been alone too long already.”

Pet held his ground. “This is something important. I can feel it.”

“Maybe Kanst is just going to lay down the law for the locals. Tell them they have new bosses now.”

Pet was annoyed by Jandra’s dismissive tone. “What will it take to make you take me seriously for once? I want to watch this. We need to know what the enemy is up to if we want to get out of here alive, right?”

Jandra grimaced. “Okay. Fine. Stay here. I’m going back.”

“I won’t be invisible if you leave.”

“Nobody’s left to bother you.” Jandra waved her hands toward the corpse of a fallen guard. “Stay low on the wall. They can’t see you from down there. Don’t be such a crybaby.”

“Arg!” Pet cried in frustration. Then, worried that he’d been loud enough to be heard below, he hunched lower to the wall and whispered, “Will you stop that? What is it going to take to make you stop thinking I’m a coward? I attacked a dragon with a spear three times too big for me to use properly. I’ve stuck by your side to help you save your master when I could have just ran. What does it take to impress you? Do I have to go down there and fight them all by myself?”

“Aw. Have I hurt your feelings?” Jandra asked.

“Yes!” Pet hissed. “I don’t think I deserve this constant ridicule.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll try to space it out more.”

Pet threw his hands in the air. “Fine!” he said. “I’ll stay here alone. Get back to your master.”

“I told you not to call him my master,” said Jandra. “I’m his apprentice, not his slave.”

“There are some chains you don’t even know you’re wearing.”

Before Jandra could respond, a booming voice from below shouted out a name.

“Bitterwood!”

The word echoed through the stone walls. Pet could make out a large, armored sun-dragon standing on a platform, using a wooden cone to amplify his voice.

“That’s Kanst,” whispered Jandra. “He’s Albekizan’s—”

Kanst’s shouts drowned her out. “We know you are defending the castle, Bitterwood! These villagers are special to you, I think. Maybe you have family among them. You’ve tried to save them by picking us off one by one. A good strategy, if you had the time.”

Kanst motioned with his claw and an earth-dragon dragged a young boy onto the platform, his arms and legs bound, his screams nearly drowning out the words that followed.

“Time is up, Bitterwood.”

The green dragon held the boy up by his blond hair, his toes just off the platform. Kanst drew his sword, slowly, ceremoniously, from the scabbard. The deliberateness of the action only added to the shock of what followed. Savagely, the sword flashed through the air in a silver arc. The body toppled sideways. The earth-dragon held the boy’s head toward the castle walls.

The villagers erupted in noise, men cursing, women weeping, children crying. The dragons that surrounded them rushed in, shouting for them to be silent, enforcing their orders with blows from the blunt ends of their spears.

After order was beaten into the crowd, Kanst continued: “That boy can be the last to die today, Bitterwood. You can save the rest by coming forward now. We give you a quarter hour to show yourself. Then they die, minute by minute, one by one. The children first, as they may be your own blood. Then the women, as one of them may be your mate. Then the men, brothers, perhaps, or fathers. Should they by chance, all be strangers, so be it. Perhaps you’ll have the stomach for the slaughter being carried out in your honor.”

Kanst looked toward the castle walls and waited as the body of the boy was carried away and a little girl was selected from the crowd.

BITTERWOOD DIDN’T LOOK
back. He couldn’t. He heard the words but he wouldn’t feel them, couldn’t feel them unless he looked. The fight would continue on another battlefield. No matter what the cost.

His path carried him toward a barn where he hoped to find a good horse. All the dragons would be in the fields by the castle. Their stunt only assisted him in his escape by focusing their forces to control the crowd.

As Bitterwood reached the door, he heard a snuffling noise. Looking to his side he saw a piglet, free from the other animals, looking at him with big black eyes.

Bitterwood knew this pig.

“Damn,” he sighed.

He remembered his promise to Zeeky. He remembered the promises he’d broken in the past. If he abandoned her, it would haunt him, but he was already haunted. What was one more ghost?

He sat down on a bale of hay, his body leaden. He’d never felt so tired in all his life.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the ghosts.

 
“HE HAS TO!”
Jandra said as she raced for the throne room.

“He won’t,” Pet answered as he chased her.

Jandra rushed through the doors, expecting to find the scene just as she left it. But something was missing. Vendevorex was gone.

“Vendevorex!” she yelled.

“I-I am here,” he answered weakly. The air glittered, revealing him. He lay near where he’d fallen but was now propped against the wall. Many of his wounds had closed but fresh blood seeped from the larger wounds that remained. “Do you have… any water? I tried… to condense some from the air. Didn’t have… the s-strength.”

“Pet! Where can I find water?”