James Maxey: Bitterwood

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.

“A deadfall,” he muttered. “The killer has booby-trapped his escape route. Cunning, for a human.”

“This is Bitterwood,” said Albekizan. “The predator. He’s no mere human.”

Zanzeroth nodded then took the remaining dog by the leash and led him back over the stone line to the other side of the short tunnel. The dog found the scent once more as the earth-dragons at last caught up. Zanzeroth wrapped the leash tightly around his talon so that the dog couldn’t run too far ahead. Gadreel followed, growing ever more nervous. They were walking along the diamond. All the winged dragons were familiar with the place for it could be seen from the air for miles: four gigantic stone circles surrounded by an even larger diamond of stone. There were several of these constructs throughout the kingdom, in places where the mystery lines crossed in elaborate networks of ramps and bridges. The last remnants, perhaps, of a long-vanished culture. These places were much feared, for four circles were the symbol of death.

To Gadreel’s relief, the ox-dog veered away from the edges of the diamond and led them to a large field of broken stone. In the midst of the field sat an ancient, low building formed of vine-covered brick. The sky brightened with the approach of dawn, giving Gadreel some comfort.

As he allowed himself to relax slightly, a whistling noise cut through the air. With a sickening wet thunk, an arrow lodged deep between the eyes of the ox-dog. The huge beast sighed then slumped forward, all life gone.

Zanzeroth leapt before the king, spreading his wings wide to shield him. “He’s in yonder structure. Take cover, Sire!”

“Never!” Albekizan cried. “If Bitterwood is here, no force on earth shall stop me from ordering my soldiers into that building to drag him out, that I may have my vengeance!” He pointed to the captain, then thundered, “Go!”

The captain raised his shield and charged forward, his men following at a tail’s length. One by one, they vanished into the dark doorway. Silence followed.

“He’s fled deeper,” said Zanzeroth. “Or perhaps-”

His words were cut short as a dragon cried out from the darkness, his voice followed by a thunderous rumble. The doorway glowed suddenly with a light to rival the rising sun. A ball of flame rolled forward, led by a blast of searing, turpentine-scented air that threw Gadreel from his feet.

“No!” the king cried. “A suicide trap! How dare he deny me justice!”

“I doubt suicide,” Zanzeroth said, flapping his wings in the still turbulent air. He climbed several dozen feet before shouting, “There!”

Gadreel and Albekizan rose to join him and quickly spotted a cloaked man carrying a longbow, perhaps a hundred yards away, running across the stony field. The light of the burning building gave him a reddish, devilish cast. As Zanzeroth dove toward him, the man dropped his bow and fell to his knees. He struggled to lift a rusty iron disk almost two feet across that was set in the stone. As Zanzeroth stretched his talons toward his prey the disk came free, revealing a gaping hole. Grabbing his bow, the man dropped into the dark circle a half-second before Zanzeroth snatched the air where his head had been.

Zanzeroth looped around to land. Albekizan dropped behind the hole and spun around, his eyes burning red with reflected flame. “So close! So close!”

“He’s not free yet,” Zanzeroth said, rushing forward, his longest spear in his grip. He jabbed the shaft into the dark hole. Without warning an arrow flashed upward to meet the spear thrust. Zanzeroth jerked backward as the arrow slashed his right cheek and tore open his eye. He stumbled back from the opening in the earth, cursing.

Gadreel gazed at the hole, as black as a starless night, a perfect circle. Albekizan fell to his belly before the dark ring, thrusting his fore-claws into it, grasping blindly, his need to capture Bodiel’s killer blotting out all caution. The hole was much too small for a sun-dragon to enter.

Gadreel swallowed hard and stepped forward. If ever there was a moment where he might prove himself worthy of greater esteem than a slave, this was that moment.

“I’ll go,” he said.

“Hurry,” Albekizan said, rising. Gadreel lowered himself tailfirst into the darkness. He entered a tunnel barely eight feet in diameter and found it half filled with rushing water. He heard echoes from up ahead and inched forward in pursuit, holding his wings as high as he could to keep them from becoming waterlogged. His eyes adjusted to the dim light that filtered in from the opening behind him. He saw no sign of the human.

The light behind him faded as he crept forward but was replaced by a dim glow far ahead. When he reached the new light, he found another metal disk still in place above him, perforated by four holes. The glow of dawn seeped through and he felt exposed. He reached up to try to lift the rusted disk, but couldn’t budge it.

Taking a deep, calming breath, he moved further into the gloom. As darkness engulfed him once more, he felt something swirl around his legs, entangling them. He tried to kick himself free but lost his balance in the rushing water. He fell, dragged beneath the chill current, tossed and scraped against the rough walls. He flailed, unable to tell which way was up. He swallowed foul, brackish water and felt his heart freeze within him. The flame of his life began to flicker.