Hand of Fire (The Master of the Tane) (41 page)

              The doe inched cautiously toward the base of the ominous mountains stopping often to look and listen for any signs of danger. The previous day’s rain and the approach of an early spring had left a fairly large pool of water where the deer could quench its thirst before continuing on with its search for food. Tiny sprouts of grass sprang up around the water’s edge offering an irresistible snack that was rapidly devoured. With one last scan for danger, the doe put her nose to the water and began to drink enjoying the cool, refreshing taste as it slid down her gullet washing away her thirst.

She lifted her head suddenly, as if sensing an imminent attack, and quickly checked her surroundings, every muscle tense and ready to react. The only sound to be heard was that of a small gust howling down the mountainside and retreating out over the vast prairie. The doe’s instincts screamed for her to run but she could not quite figure out from where the danger came. All was silent. The deer’s heart raced and its body shivered with the growing sense of doom that filled the area in a thick cloud of terror. She wanted to dash into a hard run and
be rid of the foe that invisibly invaded the waterhole but her muscles would not respond. She was frozen in her horror waiting for the final stroke of death that she knew came for her. Suddenly, she was ripped from the ground and raised high into the air as giant talons with razor sharp claws dug mercilessly into her flesh. She flinched once before her neck snapped, instantly ending her simple life.

             
The dragon keened in triumph as it rose higher and higher into the clear, blue sky holding fast to its morning meal so easily caught. Racing through the air it quickly reached dizzying heights extending high above the ground, becoming a mere spot of black to any who watched from below. Tucking in its leathery wings, the dragon slowed before reaching its peak and then, spreading them again, hovered gently on the strong up currents of wind. Peering down to the land below, it loosened its grip on the limp carcass and watched for a moment as the doe plummeted back towards the earth. It watched in amusement as the deer continued to fall, picking up speed as it reached to meet the land from whence it had been taken.

             
With another high-pitched cry, the dragon pushed its head down and drew in its wings. With frightening velocity, its massive body dipped and shot through the air following after the deer that had, by now, already fallen half the distance to the ground. The dragon’s wings shot out, flapping furiously, giving it even more speed while quickly closing the distance between itself and the doe.

The carcass neared the ground below and it appeared as if it might reach the soil before the dragon could close the gap. Stretching its neck and pointing its tail, the dragon’s wings increased their already blistering pace pushing even harder to reach the earth before its meal. Drool shot from the dragon’s mouth as it inched forward mere feet from its prey. The land came up quickly, threatening the dragon’s life with a massive collision of bodies when its jaws reached out like lightning and grasped the deer from the air. Thrusting its tail down and flexing back its wings and head, the dragon leveled its body and pulled out of its dive just barely scraping its claws on the soft mud below. Gliding with ease mere inches above the ground it shot across the landscape before once again lifting slowly into the cool air. The doe was quickly devoured, crushed in the dragon’s powerful jaws before, with a scream of
defiance, it raised itself into the morning sky climbing higher and higher over the approaching mountains on its journey toward the western horizon.

             
The afternoon sun was beating relentlessly against the dragon’s sleek back by the time it caught sight of its destination. Leaving the mountains behind, it circled once in the air before dipping down at a steady pace toward the ground below. Reaching a comfortable altitude where nothing in the barren region could escape its keen eyes, it leveled off its flight and lazily pushed forward. It was not too long before a lone peak lifted grimly from the desert floor reaching high into the bright sky casting a forbidding shadow across the land. This was the Raven’s Eye. High atop its peaks rested a large castle that jutted out with spires and many twisted arches that hinted at the evil that resided there.

The dragon raised its massive body higher into the air and then circled idly above the fortress as if waiting for something. Long minutes passed before it finally released a screech of contempt and then landed his gargantuan body into the castle’s courtyard filling it to capacity with its bulk. A large oak door sat at the top of a magnificent stairway where the dragon now concentrated its glowing eyes that smoldered with ire and contempt. Another high-pitched shriek escaped its throat before the door slowly opened.

Resdin casually leaned up against the doorframe and gazed at the dragon with a mocking smile. “So, I see you have finally decided to grace us with your presence – how kind.”

             
The dragon hissed growing more irritable. “Where is the old one?”

             
“Now, now,” Resdin said smoothly shaking his finger in the dragon’s face, “let’s not get impatient. After all, you seem to forget that you are the one who is late. So now, you shall have a turn at waiting.”

             
“Do not toy with me mortal,” the dragon boomed raising its head as if to strike. “You forget yourself and with whom you speak.”

             
Resdin pushed himself from the wall and stretched to his full height. “And you forget whom you serve, dragon,” he spat while a strange, blue glow surrounded his outstretched hands. The air crackled with enough tension to suffocate any unfortunate soul who might happen upon the two rivals as they clashed in a battle of iron wills. A tiny creak sounded from the door, instantly robbing the air of its thickness as an old man passed feebly onto the stairs. Resdin’s hands instantaneously lost their glow and the dragon’s head dropped quickly.

             
“So,” the old man said softly with a voice that crackled like a fire, “I see you have finally come. Now,” he continued, his tone becoming tight and his eyes flashing with anger, “why don’t you take your human form so you can tell me your news. You are two days past the time you were told to return!”

             
The dragon dipped its head as if it were a child being punished and its gigantic body began to shrink. Its wings rolled up into arms and its tail disappeared while its neck retracted into its body replaced by a human head. A dark figure now stood before them covered completely in black, from his boots to his cloak, which he wore with the cowl pulled up to hide his face.

             
“That’s better,” the old man said calmly as if his veins had not boiled with wrath only moments before. “Now, Craklor, what news do you bring?”

             
“As you have commanded, Master,” Craklor started softly, “I have been to the trolls in the Shadow Mountains and they now gather. Soon they will fall on their ugly faces at the base of The Raven’s Eye and worship your name.”

             
“That is good my dear friend,” the old man said with a slight smile. “You have done well.”

             
“There is one more thing, Master, that I am sure you will find of interest.”

             
“Oh?” the old man returned raising his eyebrows as if to challenge Craklor’s statement. “And what might that be?”

             
“The trolls carry with them two Chufa; a male child and a female child.”

             
“What?” the old man breathed incredulously. “Chufa? Are you sure?”

             
“Yes, Master. I saw the woman child myself and heard tell of the man child by others.”

             
Resdin let out a loud laugh drawing the dragon-turned-human’s fierce eyes toward him. “Come now, Craklor,” he said mockingly. “You can’t be serious. The Chufa are nothing but old legends told by old women. Tell me,” he added feigning a serious tone, “you’re not hiding gray hair and sagging breasts under that cloak are you?”

             
Craklor’s body trembled in rage at the insolent manner in which such a puny human dare speak to him. This human would die, he promised, and very painfully. The old man held up his hand silencing them both before turning his hardened glare on Resdin. “And what would you say, dear boy, if I told you that I have seen many Chufa in my days?”

             
Resdin took a step back pressing his body hard against the stonework behind him. “I meant no offense, Master,” he stuttered, unaware of the smile that danced joyfully over Craklor’s lips. “I was just having a joke with Craklor, nothing else.”

             
The old man turned away, focusing his attention once more on his messenger, leaving Resdin in a state of uncertain panic. “So,” he said pensively as if his confrontation with Resdin had never occurred, “the legends of the past have been brought back to life? Are there more? There must be more than just two.”

             
Craklor snorted, unable to control his delight at seeing Resdin still cowering in the corner. “The trolls say there is a village on the far side of the Shadow Mountains which they have raided for centuries.” Then, in a silky voice, he added, “They say the meat is very tender, even better than human flesh.” A small streak of drool slid from Craklor’s lips as he looked ominously at Resdin.
And one day I will taste your flesh, human
.

             
“And you will taste both soon enough,” the old man said as if reading his thoughts. “For now, we will continue on as planned. The Chufa will keep until later. Make sure the two are brought to me alive and relatively undamaged.” The old man’s eyes glossed over for a moment as his mind drifted off, to a time long past and a place far away. Then with a whisper as if only for his own ears to hear, he added, “I would be interested in learning more about these demons come to life.”

Resdin and Craklor watched him silently as a tiny breeze attempted to invade the castle bulwarks without notice. Suddenly, the old man turned towards the door knocking Resdin out of the way but then stopped just before he entered. Returning his attention to the reforming dragon his eyes took on a mad look and a smile creased his parchment-like lips. “Soon, your brothers and sisters with bring their flocks to me and then will the time be ripe to strike.” His voice rose to a pitch seeming too high for his meager frame as he shouted to the wind. “Then all will tremble at the sound of my name. All will cower in fear at the name, BEDLER!”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

             
A large hawk floated calmly on the wind searching the snow covered ground far below for what would hopefully be its next meal. A slight movement near a passing tree called its sharp eyes to full attention and it circled back for a closer look. A dark figure loomed ominously behind the tree’s gnarled trunk instantly revealing itself to the hawk as a man animal looking for prey. The bird swung its graceful body up towards the sky and reached for the relative safety found at higher altitudes away from any threat of arrow fire. Knowing it would no longer be able to hunt in that immediate area, the hawk let out a loud screech of warning before turning toward the afternoon sun and flying away.

             
At the sudden sound, Thane looked up from his hiding place and caught a glimpse of the hawk just as it disappeared over the next peak. He was sure the bird had seen him given his inability to remain still for any extended period of time. Jack had loaned him HuMan clothes to wear and, although quite warm, they rubbed terribly against his skin making him itch all over. The boots he wore pinched tightly on his feet making it difficult to walk, let alone with any amount of silence. He scratched his leg again trying to relieve the itching so prevalent under the new leather pants and cursed himself for letting Jack talk him into wearing them. The shirt he wore was made from cotton and was not so foreign to his skin, but the wool cloak clasped like two hands around his throat and was almost unbearable. He felt confined in his new apparel but Jack insisted he wear it, afraid that he may grow sick again in the cold.
He’s worse than my own mother
, he thought moving the cloak to get a better shot at the itch on his backside.