Bitterwood (40 page)

Hearing this, Jandra decided the time had come for her to make her presence known. She pushed open the door and said, “So. Now you plan to fight.”

“Jandra,” Vendevorex said, looking startled. It gave her a slight tinge of satisfaction to realize that he wasn’t ready to speak to her yet. “I apologize for not keeping our voices down,” he said. “We shouldn’t have disturbed your rest. You’ve suffered serious trauma. Even with the treatment I’ve given, I recommend allowing several hours to heal completely.”

“It’s funny how you pretend to care,” Jandra said. “Why did you come here, Ven? Not to apologize, I hope.”

“Yes,” he said, sounding sad. “I am here to apologize, whether or not you’ll accept. I’ve made horrible mistakes, Jandra. I’d be foolish to think that things can go back to the way they were.”

“That
would
be foolish,” she agreed.

“I’m hoping that the last fifteen years of my life count for something. I’ve tried to be the family you never had.”

She crossed her arms. “You did a poor job.”

“Yes. I can’t deny it. But if I can’t win your favor with my past deeds, I still hope I may influence your opinion with what I’m doing now. I’ve decided to fulfill your wishes and go to war against Albekizan.”

“Don’t do it because you want to earn my forgiveness. You won’t receive it,” she said. She was surprised to realize how deeply she meant it. She had practiced the words often enough in her mind in recent days. Now that she’d said them, the truth sank in. She would never forgive him.

“For what it’s worth, it’s not only your forgiveness that has led to my reassessment of my actions. I’ve gained new information since we parted which makes me believe a revolution can now be successful.”

“Oh?”

“I saw little hope in revolution before. If Albekizan fell, the candidates for the throne were unattractive. Now, Shandrazel has returned. He’s perfect for the job. I feel that placing him on the throne will return peace and stability to the kingdom. Assuming, of course, I can change his mind.”

“Whose mind?Shandrazel’s? About what?”

“Shandrazel is perhaps a bit too idealistic and kind for my purposes. The prince doesn’t want to rule, nor does he want his father killed. I’m not sure that can be avoided, however.”

“You would know about killing fathers,” said Jandra.

Vendevorex turned his face away from her. Jandra knew her words had stung him.

Bitterwood, who had listened intently to the conversation, suddenly stiffened. He said to Vendevorex, “You killed her father?”

“Yes,” the wizard answered.

He turned to Jandra, “Why did you beg me to spare him?”

“He’s… I didn’t know then, but even so, I want you to spare him. Let him live with his guilt.”

Bitterwood approached her. “If you’ve lost your father to a dragon, then you must understand how I feel. I lost my whole family to dragons. For years I thought them dead—”

“I suppose, in that light, you’re almost happy to learn they were sold into slavery,” she said. She almost instantly regretted the words. They sounded so callous. Like something Ven might have said.

Bitterwood didn’t look as if he took offense, however. “The possibility that my family is alive is something I can’t ignore. If only Hezekiah hadn’t killed my only lead. I don’t know where or how to search for them.”

“I might be of use,” said Vendevorex. “If your family was sold as slaves during Albekizan’s reign, there will be written records. By law, all transactions are documented for taxation.”

“But it was twenty years ago,” Bitterwood said.

“That won’t matter,” said Vendevorex. “Albekizan never destroys any records. The king built his vast empire with blood, cunning, and paperwork.”

“Where would these records be?” Bitterwood asked.

“In the castle.In the library. You’ll probably need a biologian to navigate the maze, unfortunately.”

Jandra realized this was a chance to hurt Vendevorex once more. She said, “I can take you there. I’ve spent enough time studying in the libraries. I know where those records are kept.”

“Very well. We can all go there,” Vendevorex said, “after I’ve changed Hezekiah’s mind.”

“We’ll go alone,” Jandra said. “I don’t want your help.”

“No, but you’ll need it,” Vendevorex said. “The castle’s too dangerous. Suppose you run into Zanzeroth?”

“Suppose we do? How will you being there help? Bitterwood and I both run while Zanzeroth guts you again?”

“I’m only saying your invisibility will be no defense. I’ve learned that.”

“No dragon within the castle walls is a threat to me,” Bitterwood said, picking up the slain guard’s sword. He moved toward the door and looked back at Vendevorex as he said, “I’ve waited long enough. As for you, wizard, if you plan to make Hezekiah your ally, you can count me among your enemies. I want nothing more to do with this demon.”

“I’m ready,” said Jandra, walking to join him in the doorway.

Vendevorex sighed. “Please reconsider. I’ve come a long way to find you, Jandra. I don’t want you placing yourself in further danger.”

“I don’t care what you want,” she said. “I can take care of myself. Let’s go, Bitterwood.”

“Please,” Vendevorex said, but Jandra paid no mind. She placed her hand on Bitterwood’s arm, both to show her solidarity with the dragonslayer and to steady herself, for the wound to her head hurt worse than she dared reveal. They stepped outside. Vendevorex came to the door and said, “You’re being very unreasonable.”

And reason’s all you know,
she thought, but held her tongue, knowing that silence hurt him more. The pain in Jandra’s head paled next to the pain in her heart. Vendevorex would never understand her, and she would never understand him. Bitterwood was right. Men and dragons could never share the world.

Bitterwood led her away. She glanced back over her shoulder, hoping to see the look on Vendevorex’s face. But her mentor didn’t follow and now turned back inside. As Jandra watched his deep-blue tail vanish into the shadows of the building, a chill ran through her. This might be the last time she ever saw her former mentor.

“Are you okay?” Bitterwood asked, noticing her shudder.

“I’m fine,” Jandra said. “‘But I just thought… What about Zeeky? We never found her.”

“We’ll have to hope she’s okay,” Bitterwood said. “She’s a tough girl.”

“True. And it’s not like we could take her with us. So. Any ideas on how we get out of here?”

“Follow me,” Bitterwood said. “I’ve found a rope and hidden it. I know of several places on the wall where we can climb up then use the rope to rappel down. We’ll need to wait for night before we can move safely, though.”

Jandra looked at the sun high in the sky, the bright light making her head throb even more. “It’s several hours until sunset. Why don’t we scale the walls now? We can cross invisibly then make our way to the castle. By the time we get inside it will be nightfall. That will give us all night to search the records while the biologians sleep.”

“Invisible?” said Bitterwood, sounding disdainful. “I dislike relying on your witchcraft.”

“Would you stop that? I’m not a witch. I just happen to have fancier tools than most people. Trust me on this, okay?”

Bitterwood looked into her eyes for a long moment. “Very well. If I must. Follow me.”

Bitterwood led her behind one of the empty buildings. He pushed aside a half-filled rain barrel, then pulled up a loose wallboard that the barrel had pinned down. He reached inside the wall and retrieved a long coil of hemp rope.

Jandra splashed some of the water from the rain barrel onto her face. The cool water helped greatly. Taking a deep breath, she felt strong and calm enough to make them invisible—but for how long? She tore a strip of cloth from her dress and wetted it to dab her brow as she needed it.

“You sure you’re okay?” Bitterwood asked.

“I’m feeling better,” Jandra said, trying to make herself believe it. “I just need to keep moving.”

“If you’re certain. We can go up the wall here,” he said. The alley they were in ran along the outer wall of the city.

“Let me get ready,” Jandra said, reaching into her pouch. “We’ll still be able to see each other, but we need to stay close if you don’t want others to see you.”

Bitterwood nodded, then turned the rain barrel over and placed it against the wall. He hopped on and extended his hand to help Jandra up. Jandra activated the invisibility as she stood next to him. But now what? The wall stood twenty feet high, made of logs driven into the ground.

Bitterwood didn’t share her hesitation. He placed his hands and feet between the gaps in the logs and scaled the wall as quickly as if he were walking across flat ground.

“Wait!” she said. “You’re out of range!”

Bitterwood didn’t stop. He placed his hand on the top of the wall and pulled himself up. He straddled the wall and turned around, looking down at her. He cocked his head.

“You really are invisible,” he muttered.

“Yes,” she said. “But you’re not. Someone will see you.”

“Then we should make haste,” Bitterwood said, tossing one end of the rope toward the sound of her voice. “Don’t even try to climb. I’ll lift you.”

Jandra wrapped the rope around her hand and arm and Bitterwood began to pull her up. She helped him by using her feet to climb the wider cracks when possible.

“I see you now,” he said as she neared the top of the wall.

He reached down and took her hand and lifted her the rest of the way. Jandra looked around for guards and noticed a nearby guard tower, but the guards within weren’t looking in their direction. Instead, the guards watched the sky. Jandra looked up and gasped. Sun-dragons!

“I see them,” Bitterwood said. “I don’t think they’ve seen us.”

Jandra soon realized this was true. She’d gotten him into the invisibility field just in time. The dragons weren’t headed directly toward them. They weren’t even looking in this direction. They seemed to be heading toward the center of the Free City, to the square.

Albekizan himself led the way. It had been months since Jandra had seen him. The king was breathtaking in flight, with broad, crimson wings driven by a deep, well-muscled breast. He flew with powerful, precise movements, showing his mastery of the air. Tanthia followed. The queen was smaller than the king, sleeker, and her wings trailed yellow silk ribbons that flashed in the sunlight. If anything, she looked even more graceful in the air than Albekizan. In contrast to the elegant royal couple, Kanst followed behind in his slow, jerky motion. Weighed down by his heavy armor, the great bull dragon beat the air mightily, raising himself higher one flap at a time before holding his wings stiff and gliding down, losing the height he’d gained. He didn’t so much fly as climb and fall through the sky. Zanzeroth lagged even further behind, the stiff movements of his wings betraying his half-healed wounds. Another dragon would have stayed in bed with such injuries, Jandra suspected, but the tough old hunter was too proud ever to admit to weakness. A single sky-dragon completed the procession, Pertalon. Despite his youth and strength, Pertalon trailed behind Zanzeroth, for he carried a burden, a cocoon of white cloth wrapped around what looked to be the body of a man.

Could it be Pet? Could it not be? She should have freed Pet when she had the chance. Now that Vendevorex was going to fight the king, there was no need for Pet to sacrifice himself. As much as she hated Vendevorex she respected his abilities, and knew that if he was intent on overthrowing the king, he would. The white bundle struggled as the dragons banked. She felt heartened that Pet was still alive. Jandra would help Bitterwood for now. When she found the information he needed, she would make him return the favor and rescue Pet.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: MYTH

METRON WATCHED ALBEKIZAN’S
party fly from the grand hall toward the Free City. He’d received an invitation to join the king but had politely declined, stating that he was feeling under the weather. Metron had suspected the king wouldn’t take no for an answer, and had been anticipating the appearance of a few guards. Knowing the king proceeded without him was humbling. Apparently, he wasn’t essential to the running of the kingdom.

Despite learning that he wasn’t as vital to the king’s court as he sometimes fancied, he was also relieved. Whatever the king had planned, the timing couldn’t have been worse. The note passed to Metron moments before he’d been summoned made it vital he stay; Androkom, the biologian who boasted of knowing the secret of life, had arrived. The scholar and his equipment were waiting below in Metron’s personal study.

Metron hurried through the stone corridors and stairwells that led to the maze of books below. When he arrived at his study he found the door ajar. It locked with a secret key that only another initiated biologian would possess.

“Androkom?” he said, peering into the dark chamber.

“I’m here,” his fellow biologian said. In the darkness, there was a creak as the shutter of an oil lamp was opened. The light revealed Androkom sitting at the table in the center of the room, his pale blue form half-hidden behind a stack of books. A well-worn leather satchel rested on the table before him. Androkom clutched the strap of the satchel tightly in his ink-stained fore-talons as he nodded in silent greeting. Metron stepped into the room, pushing the door shut behind him. He gasped as the closing door revealed that they were not alone. The rich scarlet scales of a sun-dragon’s breast filled his vision. A familiar face loomed over him.

“Shandrazel!” he cried.

“Please,” Shandrazel said in a loud whisper. “Lower your voice.”

“Sneaking back into the castle with a dragon of Shandrazel’s stature wasn’t easy,” Androkom said. “You’ll understand that we’d rather not be discovered.”

“What’s the meaning of this?” Metron asked, pointing his walking staff toward Androkom. “Are you assisting the prince? This is treason! He’s duty-bound to kill the king!”

“Nonsense,” Shandrazel said. “I never felt any obligations to the old ways. I feel even less now that I know how artificial the so-called ‘ancient traditions’ truly are. Androkom has told me much about the ways of the biologians.”