The Man With No Hands

by Toby Neighbors

  Shadow climbed back into the canopy and Terreek raced ahead through the branches. Feray marveled at how he moved through the trees, running, jumping, and swinging from branch to branch with grace and agility that baffled her. The elf could run through the trees faster than a human could run on the ground. As night fell, they continued following the river, trusting Shadow to warn them of danger.

  Feray felt a strong sense of tension in the air. Where the magic normally moved and swayed, it had become rigid. She wasn’t sure why, or what it meant, but it made her feel tense, as if something dangerous were approaching. There was no explanation for how the magic might know they were approaching danger, nor did she get a sense of what was causing the tension from the magic all around her. The river was brimming with magical power, the delicate yet invasive magic rose up from the rushing water much like the magic in the sacred places she’d seen in the forest. It gave her confidence that she could handle whatever they might encounter in the dark.

  It was nearly midnight when Terreek returned. He dropped to the ground in front of the travelers, landing not as gracefully as Shadow, but still hardly made a sound.

  “What did you find?” Feray asked.

  “It was hard to tell in the darkness. It looks like an avalanche buried something. I stopped at the edge of the forest. It was impossible to tell for certain, but I think there might have been a dragon there.”

  “How far are we from the mountains?” Orin asked. He was carrying Luc, who was asleep on the big man’s shoulder.

  “A couple more hours at this pace,” the elf said.

  “I think I should push on,” Feray said. “I’ll take my horse and Shadow can follow me. You stay here and make camp. Let Luc sleep and get yourself some rest.”

  Follow! Rolo barked at her.

  “No, you stay here,” she told the dog. “Keep watch while Orin sleeps.”

  Rolo whined, but didn’t argue.

  “Are you certain?” Terreek said.

  “I can follow the river easy enough. You didn’t see any sign of danger. I’ll be fine. You should all rest till morning then join me.”

  “As you wish,” the elf said.

  “I can come, I’m not tired,” Orin insisted

  “Yes you are, you’ve been carrying Luc for hours. Get some rest. If Crucifus is hurt, there isn’t anything you can do to help him.”

  “I just think splitting up is a bad idea,” he argued.

  “Except when it’s your idea?” Feray said, failing to keep her irritation out of her voice.

  “No,” he insisted. “I’ve learned from my mistake and I’m not anxious to make another one.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m not rushing off to find an evil sorcerer or pick a fight with a pack of wolves. I’m going to check on a friend.”

  “Alright, but be careful.”

  “I will be,” she assured him.

  She mounted her horse and nudged the animal into a fast trot. The night seemed alive all around her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. If Crucifus was hurt that was a bad thing, but she couldn’t be sure that her premonition was for the dragon’s safety, or her own. All she could do was keep moving and find out.

  Chapter 27

  It took Feray a little over an hour to reach the edge of the forest on horseback. To her magical eyes, the forest wasn’t a dark place. It was full of glowing magic in a variety of colors. But when she stepped out of the trees, the world was flooded with light from a full moon and a sky packed with bright stars. The Devil’s Teeth Mountains were tall silhouettes against the dark sky. Spaced almost evenly apart, the craggy mountains looked like ancient, decaying teeth and made Feray shudder slightly when she first saw them.

  Shadow jumped to the ground, making Feray’s horse shift sideways nervously and neigh. Feray could see the river winding up into the mountains. There were hills, some steep, others more gentle, between the edge of the forest and the towering mountains.

  Follow, the panther purred in a deep, rattling voice as it hurried from the trees toward the foothills. From where Feray sat on her horse, she could see the countryside, but nothing that looked like an avalanche or an injured dragon. She had to trust the big cat and coaxed her horse to follow a short way behind. They circled around a tall hill, and climbed halfway over another before Feray could see what must have been visible from the tree canopy at the edge of the forest.

  A huge mound of dirt and rock sat piled up at the bottom of a very steep-looking mountainside. Feray could see a dim glow of magic, very weak, but there, around what appeared to be a dragon’s neck and head. She kicked the horse into a gallop and raced down into the valley between the foothills and the mountain proper. When she drew near she reined the tired horse in and jumped from the saddle, leaving the horse and the panther to their own devices.

  Feray held up her hands as she approached the dragon, channeling magic between her hands that cast a steady, glowing, white light onto the fallen beast. It was Crucifus, that much was certain, but what had happened to the dragon was impossible to tell. If not for the adrenaline pumping through her body Feray would have noticed that she was tired. Sleep had been hard to come by in the Wilderness, and when she did get to rest she was rarely in the best of circumstances. She had been awake since dawn the previous morning and only a few hours of darkness remained in the night. Still, she wouldn’t have let herself sleep while someone she considered to be a friend needed her aid.

  Drawing strength from the river running down from the mountains and the power resonating up from the earth, she began levitating the rocks and dirt that covered the big, red dragon. The excavation work took an hour, but when she finished she could see Crucifus from head to tail. Dirt was still piled up on either side of the dragon, but not enough to hold the big creature down. And Feray thought the dragon was breathing easier.

  She felt lightheaded, but began funneling magic into the dragon at once, disregarding her own fatigue. The power raced into the fallen beast and she did her best to control it. The magical power was so strong, so captivating, that she didn’t notice herself slipping away. Shadow roared as Feray toppled to the ground, her task only barely begun, but her body couldn’t continue. She dropped to the ground, gasping for breath, feeling like a failure for one agonizing second, and then she fainted.

  “Wake up!” Orin said, he was leaning over her, and shaking her shoulders. “Feray, please! Wake up!”

  “What?”

  “Oh, thank the gods,” Orin said. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” she said in a croaking voice that sounded twice her age.

  “Mama! Mama!” Luc shouted as he ran to her. His chubby legs pumping hard and Rolo running beside him from where Terreek had been trying to hold the boy back.

  “Were you attacked?” Orin said, looking around.

  “No,” Feray replied. “I need some water.”

  Terreek brought water and wine and fruit. All of which Feray took with gratitude. She could see Crucifus was still alive, but far from well. Wanting to help she tried to get to her feet but she couldn’t, her legs were too weak.

  “What’s wrong, mama?” Luc asked.

  “She’s okay, Luc, she just needs some rest,” Orin said. “You’ve pushed it too hard. You know that working magic is taxing.”

  “But Crucifus needs help.”

  “It seems you’ve already helped,” Orin said. “You uncovered him, and that’s enough for now. You have to rest or you’ll be worse than he is and there’ll be no one to help either of you.”

  Feray didn’t like to admit it, but she knew Orin was right. She sipped wine and ate some salted beef while Orin erected a shelter. The storm clouds had finally passed and the day was bright. He draped a blanket over a few tree limbs he found in the forest and drove into the ground like stakes to make a shelter where Feray could sleep. She sat back gratefully, as Luc and Terreek looked after the horses and Shadow returned to the forest to hunt.

  “You should sleep. A
few hours will have you back up and ready to finish what you started,” Orin said.

  “But what if…”

  “The dragon is made of sturdy stuff,” Orin said. “I told you, it takes time to build your strength. Everything is okay and you are safe. Luc is safe. You can rest.”

  “I feel like I’m slowing everyone down,” she said.

  “We’re not in a hurry here. Just get some rest and then we’ll help Crucifus. I’ll walk around him and see what types of injuries he might have. You rest.”

  She felt pressured to sleep, but she knew she needed it. The persistent feeling that something terrible was about to happen wouldn’t go away, but the bright sunlight and cool mountain air made her feel as if she were simply being paranoid. She laid back, closing her eyes. It felt so good to just relax. The ground wasn’t a feather mattress, but there were no roots digging into her back and she could feel the elemental power of the earth rising up to rejuvenate her strength. The hills between the forest and the mountains were covered in thick grass and it wasn’t difficult to let her muscles relax as she reclined back in the shade.

  ***

  Rarely in Orin’s life had he felt such a strong compulsion. He did his best to hide it from Feray. She was tired and weak, so pushing her to sleep wasn’t odd. It was the right thing to do, he told himself, even though he knew his motivation was wrong. He felt terrible, his conscience battling against his strange, alien desire, but he couldn’t resist it. It took all his strength to wait until Feray was asleep.

  She had finally closed her eyes, and Terreek was seeing to the horses. Luc was playing with Rolo and no one seemed to be paying him the slightest attention. He went to his pack where he had a camp knife stowed away. It wasn’t anything special, certainly not elegant like the leaf-shaped sword that Feray’s husband had forged. It had a straight spine that sloped down to a sharp point. The belly of the blade was curved slightly and at the handle was a simple brass bolster. He had used the knife to cut wood, skin animals, butcher them, and shave bark off of trees for medicinal uses. It was a simple tool to Orin, yet he had never been able to wrap his fingers around the plain wooden handle when he only had a triangular flipper where his right hand should have been. It felt different to hold the knife in his hand. He felt stronger than ever before in his life as he gripped the camp knife and that strength made him almost giddy.

  It wasn’t a mystery where his secret desire sprang from, or why he felt the compulsion to do the heinous deed, but he felt at that moment that it was worth it. He had hands, fingers, strength to hold a weapon, and he felt whole. In his mind he was certain that he was feeling exactly the way a man was meant to feel at that moment, despite the gnawing temptation to do something he knew was evil.

  He made his way over to the dragon. It was lying on its side with its back to him. He walked down the long spine toward the tail. He saw the claw marks some terrible beast had made. The wing that covered the dragon’s body was ripped to shreds, the leathery skin laid in tatters on the dirt-covered hide. Orin jumped over the tail and moved around to the other side of the huge beast. His mind was filled with the dragon, and the desire to do his vile task was like a bonfire in his brain. Moving around the hind legs that were as thick as tree trunks, and avoiding the talons that were as long as daggers, he saw the damp clump of dirt clinging to the dragon’s belly. It was the wound the eagle had left when it attacked Crucifus above the Dragon Tree in Braa’dun. Orin hadn’t known that the dragon was injured, only that it’s under belly was probably its weakest point.

  He remembered when his javelin had slashed into the dragon’s body, almost in the same spot where he bent low at that moment, brushing away the dirt to reveal the wound. It was small, several claw marks around a larger rend in the dragon’s scales. A section of flesh was missing, about the size of a man’s hand from fingertip to palm. That thought made Orin chuckle. He had never before measured anything by the size of a hand, since he hadn’t had them before Allric had worked his powerful magic on Orin.

  The wound in the dragon’s stomach would make his work much easier. He raised his knife and stabbed it swiftly into the beast’s unprotected flank. The blade barely penetrated, but Orin didn’t give up. He sawed and hacked, pounding the hilt of the knife to cut through the dragon’s hide. It was working, although it wasn’t easy. Orin fell into a feverish frenzy as he cut more and more from the dragon’s stomach, a long, ghastly laceration. He couldn’t skin the entire dragon, it wasn’t even dead yet, and blood covered his hands and arms. It splashed over his body and legs. Sweat ran down his face and made his hair cling to his forehead. He had to rip and cut for a long time to free the big section of skin and tissue from the dragon’s body, but he got it. Nothing seemed important until he had as much of the dragon’s flesh in his possession as possible. Standing up, he began to fold the dragon’ hide. Part of him wanted to continue cutting, but another part of him was humming with the need to get the dragon flesh back to Allric. The elf needed it and Orin’s desire to deliver his prize was starting to make him incredibly anxious.

  “Rolo!” Luc cried. “Where are you?”

  The words somehow broke through Orin’s fevered mind and for an instant he felt pity for the little boy. Where had Rolo run off to, Orin wondered, just before he heard the savage growl from behind. He turned just as Rolo jumped at him. Instinct drove Orin’s empty left hand toward the dog. He was holding the dragon’s skin tight against his body with his right, the bloody camp knife tucked into his belt.

  Rolo bit down on Orin’s hand as he stumbled back onto the dragon’s body. Pain erupted from the injured hand and Rolo’s powerful body jerked back and forth as the dog ripped at the exposed limb. Orin screamed as he fell to the ground, but Rolo didn’t relent. He had a solid bite on Orin’s hand, his big canine fangs had sunk into the tendons and around the bones. Orin thought the dog might rip his arm from its socket as he jerked and twisted, growling viciously.

  With one swift move Orin drew the camp knife from his belt and slashed it across Rolo’s left front leg. He felt the blade sink deep. It ripped across the leg, severing veins, muscle, and tendons before sticking fast in the bone. Rolo yelped and jumped away, collapsing onto the ground and whimpering in pain, unable to remove the camp knife.

  Orin staggered to his feet, his own red blood mixing with the dragon’s green blood. He staggered forward, shock making his mind numb as the pain of his injured hand radiated through his brain like the peels of a giant brass bell. Then his eyes focused on Feray, who was on her feet, staring at him. Orin felt a pang of regret, then he turned and ran away as fast as his big, powerful legs would carry him.

  Chapter 28

  Feray’s eyes popped open and her heart was pounding. The terrible scream that had roused her still echoed back from the Devil’s Teeth. The sky was clear, the day seemed idyllic, but something was very, very, wrong. She got to her feet, shaking off the fatigue that clung to her like the moss in the nearby forest clung to the trees. She was moving toward the sound of the scream, but searching the valley for Luc. She saw him, alone on a hillside away from Crucifus and the blood-curdling wail. Terreek was near the horses, but she couldn’t see Orin.

  Rolo’s yelps of pain made her sprint around the dragon’s massive head. She knew something was wrong. Her fears were being realized, even though she didn’t know what was happening yet. The tension and pressure in the air was so great it seemed to slow her down, like she was running through deep water. The shock of what she saw hit her like a physical blow. Orin stood, his left hand a mangled, bloody mess. He was covered in green dragon blood, and under his right arm was a bundle of dragon skin. She could also see the wound he’d inflicted on the helpless dragon. It seemed impossible. He was her protector. The steady, comforting presence she’d come to rely on so much. The pain of his betrayal was worse than a physical wound, and tears filled her eyes as he turned and ran away.

  She watched him running for a moment, then Rolo’s weakened whimper drew her attention. The f
aithful dog was on the ground, crawling, blood pumping from where a knife was stuck into his foreleg. Anger shot through her and without really thinking she reached out, the magic from earth, sun, and river coming together to form a solid barrier that sprang up directly in Orin’s path. He hit the barrier and was knocked backward, the dragon skin flying from his hand, his body hitting the ground and rolling over. He slumped down and didn’t move.

  “What’s happening?” Terreek said, his voice almost a squeak as he ran around Crucifus’ head staring at Feray.

  “Get some rope,” she ordered him. “Tie Orin up. Make it tight.”

  “Yes, my lady,” the elf responded.

  “Rolo!” Luc shouted as he came running toward Feray.

  She joined him in rushing to the dog’s side.

  Hurt, he whined.

  “Yes, we’re going to help,” Feray told him. “This will hurt. I’m sorry.”

  She took hold of the knife, which was covered in slick, green blood. Her stomach seemed to flip inside her, and she was afraid she was going to be sick, but she knew she would have to get the knife free. She held the foreleg down with one hand, and let the strength from the earth fill her as she pulled on the knife. Rolo yelped and Luc cried, but the knife came out of the bone where it had stuck fast.

  More blood, hot and thick, was pouring from the wound. Feray clamped her hand on the dog’s leg and used all her strength to funnel magic into the dog. She felt like she was holding her breath underwater and soon nearly every part of her being longed for her to stop, but she refused. Rolo was her son’s dog, a beloved family member, and she wouldn’t let him die. The magic did its healing work, and Rolo stopped whining. For a moment Feray thought her own heart might burst. It was pumping in her chest like a galloping stallion, but after several deep breaths it slowed and she knew she would be okay.

  “Mama, is Rolo still hurt? Will he die, mama? Don’t let him die,” Luc begged.

  “No,” Feray said. “Rolo isn’t going to die. He needs some rest, but he’s going to be just fine.”