Through the Wildwood

by M. R. Mathias

  Vanx found that he couldn’t agree more, though the idea that a day of a captain’s life might be worth more than a day of his seemed absurd.

  Vanx spent the morning of the first day of the voyage reminiscing with Zeezle but after a few hours of exchanging stories, they ran out of things to say. Thirty some odd years of familiarity rendered normal conversation unnecessary. The two of them had been close friends growing up, even closer after Zeezle’s brother, Dorlan had been killed.

  Zeezle did get interested when Vanx began the tale of how he ended up in his present dilemma. Vanx switched from Azaryth to the Parydon trade tongue that he had been using for the past two years because Trevin, Darbon, Prince Russet, and a good third of the Sea Hawk’s crew, including Captain Willie had eased within ear shot. By then all of them had heard the rumors of Vanx’s relationship with Duchess Gallarain and how Duke Martin had tried to have him killed, but only Trevin and Darbon had heard the story first hand. When Vanx was done Zeezle went into the story he’d been telling everyone about how he had killed the young blue dragon whose scales he now wore as a jacket. It was an exaggeration, Vanx knew. Zeezle had just told him the truth; that the young blue had gotten wounded in a scrap with a fire breather and had crashed into the rocks. Zeezle had killed the beast, at least that part of the story was true, but out of mercy and with no resistance whatsoever. Zeezle had also told Vanx that he knew where they would find the dragon they were after.

  That was good to hear; the bad part was that it would take most of the time they had before the first moon Aur to get to the location. They would have to traverse a swampy section of jungle, and then climb a rocky ridge that’s every nook, cranny, and cave was either home to a dragon or one of the various beasts that the great wyrms fed upon. The valley beyond that ridge was where they would find their great fire wyrm. One end of it, Zeezle said, was open and rank, devoid of all but the hardiest of plant life. Half-digested skeletons of devil horned ram, the partially crunched exoskeletons of huge basal beetles and the indigestible scales of a plethora of sea creatures who swam too close to the surface decorated the decaying piles there. Some of the dung heaps were fresh and as big as cottages. Zeezle had said, “For at the other end of the valley lay the hole from which mighty Pyra crawls from her lair to do her business every other day or so.” Zeezle hadn’t went into detail about who Pyra was just yet, but Vanx knew that she had to be a formidable dragon and a fire breather by the nickname his friend had given her. Zeezle’s voice betrayed the respect and fear he held for the wyrm too.

  It was later that night, the night before they dropped anchor, that Zeezle, in the prince’s over-crowded cabin, told Vanx, Prince Russet, Sir Earlin, Trevin, and Darbon about Pyra and her valley.

  “She’s the queen of the island,” Zeezle said. “A hundred strides from tip to tail at the very least, with a wingspan as big as her attitude.” Zeezle held his arms out wide to demonstrate. “All the dragons use the valley to defecate. The ones of any size anyway. It’s something to do with the scent of the waste. That’s where we will have a chance to bleed her. Pyra though is the only one whose lair opens on the place. None of the other dragons will dare feed in her territory but they drop their scent there, especially the males. Each with hopes of catching her attention with the strength of their stench.” Zeezle caught Vanx’s eyes and laughed nonchalantly, but Vanx knew by the look that his friend wasn’t exaggerating this time. He was speaking the truth to them.

  “Once we’re in the valley we shouldn’t have to worry about being attacked so much,” Zeezle continued. “But let me tell ya, between the beach and the valley we might face half a dozen beasts, from limb lizards to hornets the size of cucumbers, to spiders and possibly even a tree orc or two.” Zeezle stopped to let that all sink in and nodded approval at the silent intensity on the faces before him. “I’ve made the trek twice now and I know the way, but I was alone, and it’s easier to stay hidden when you’re…” he looked at Vanx again. “…well when you’re Zythian and alone.”

  “We can be quiet,” Sir Earlin said showing only a slight bit of his unease and maybe a sliver of dislike for the Zythian.

  Zeezle chuckled openly at that, causing the knight’s face to bloom brightly. “I assure you sir, in your full armor you couldn’t stand still and remain quiet to my Zythian ears, and a dragon hears far better than I do.”

  Sir Earlin started to reply but Prince Russet stopped him with an upraised hand. “He’s right! Sir Earlin,” the prince said nodding. “Listen to him and try to keep personal feelings out of this. It’s not about you or the uncanny abilities of our FRIENDS from the Isle of Zyth. This is about saving Gallarael and nothing else.”

  “Yes, highness,” Sir Earlin said dropping his chin somewhat stone-faced. “I apologize Sir Dragon Bait, please continue.”

  “It might be better if I go to Pyra’s valley alone,” Zeezle said after a pause. “I can get in and out and save you all a lot of trouble.”

  “If we weren’t so pressed for time Zee, I would agree. But suppose something happened to you?” Vanx asked. “None of us know the way. We’d lose the edge your knowledge gives us.”

  Sir Earlin raised a hand, hoping to speak again, but didn’t open his mouth until Prince Russet gave him a nod. “We’ve got battalions worth of weapons and gear and the six of us and as many more of the ship’s crew to go ashore. We have armor, crossbow bolts tipped in poison, and blades. I don’t see how…”

  The shaking of Zeezle’s golden hair stopped the knight mid-sentence.

  “No Sir Earlin, you don’t see,” Zeezle said trying hard not to provoke the man again. “If we are set upon by a dragon, one, a young blue for instance, a beast no longer than ten paces tip to tail, if that happens, maybe two of our well-armed dozen might survive, and those two would be myself and Vanx, because of our extraordinary senses.”

  “Surely a dozen men can kill a thirty foot dragon,” Trevin spoke up.

  “The black ones spew corrosive saliva that would eat through your steel armor, then your flesh before you could take aim at the beast,” the Zythian told them, his wild eyes almost luminous in the dim cabin. “The blue wyrms spit lightning, and the green species blast at you with a hot steamy fog that’ll drop you dead in your tracks. The red scaled beasts, the one we are after, will char you to ash as they fly by overhead. You’ll die before you know they are even there.”

  Darbon shuddered at that, remembering the ashy form of the ogre he had fallen into back in the Wildwood. He suddenly came out with a chuckle then. “Sort of makes the Wildwood seem like an orchard.”

  “It does,” Vanx sniggered back. There was no real humor in their laughs though, only tension and concern.

  “The dragons can fly Sir.” Zeezle went on stressing his point to the knight. “One moment you are trudging along trying to keep your feet from sticking in the swampy muck, the next three men behind you are nothing but a half formed puddles of muck. You don’t often hear them coming. You’re the field mouse on this island full of hawks and falcons, and the birds here breathe fire, poison, and vaporized lightening.”

  Sir Earlin was quiet for a beat, his expression neutral. Then he gave a slight respectful nod of understanding toward Zeezle.

  “I’m sorry my prince, but I must invoke Liege Law on this venture,” The knight said. “My oath is to the King of the realm and it is to protect you at all costs. You’ll not set foot on Dragon Isle.”

  Prince Russet’s eyes grew large and he started to protest, but Sir Earlin set his jaw and shook his head in a way that brooked no argument.

  “It’s better this way,” Vanx said. “Zee can scribe up a map. He and I can go after the remedy, and if something happens that we don’t return, another attempt can be made.”

  “I’m going, Vanx.” Trevin stood harshly and nearly split his skull on the cabin’s low ceiling. The knock to his head seemed to only sharpen his resolve. “You’ll have to kill me to stop me!”

  “You’ll need a good archer, and Trevin’s s
word, if we run into orcs, or them spider eating snakes he told us of,” Darbon added. “And if something happens to one of us out there the rest of us can continue on.”

  “Sir Earlin will accompany you,” Prince Russet said in a voice that showed his disappointment, and something else that was a little more than heartfelt. “There’s something that Quazar didn’t tell Trevin because of his relationship with Gallarael. I…”

  “What is it?” Trevin snapped.

  “Mind your tongue when addressing the Prince of the realm.” Sir Earlin scolded.

  “No, it’s alright,” the prince said. “He loves her and I understand. She is with child, though. Even if you get the blood and we sail with Nepton’s full blessing behind us, the whole way back, it might not be soon enough to save them.”

  Trevin was as pale as a freshly scrubbed sheet.

  “Quazar also told me that his staying spell barely took and that he couldn’t risk re-casting it for fear that the poison would take her in the time between.” The prince sighed and rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. It wasn’t clear whether it was a move to hide a tear or just to release some of the emotion he was feeling. “She’s barely alive. They’re barely alive, and we’ve one chance to get this right. I suggest that you all listen to the Zythian and then figure out the approach which will yield the absolute best chance of success.”

  Vanx regarded the prince for a long moment. Russet would be a good, if not great, king one day. It made Vanx feel proud to be half-human, a feeling that he’d never felt before in his whole life.

  “If that’s the case, then the knight may be right,” Zeezle said. “A large well-armed group could get us to the valley quickly and safely. Once there we can see what challenges the Goddess presents us with and deal with them as they come.”

  Chapter Five

  The group watched on in stunned silence as the Sea Hawk pulled her anchor and sped away from the island by way of a powerful magical gust of wind. Dragons had circled at first and then swooped on the ship, but when the summoned wind snapped the sails taut, the winged beasts darted away from her. Their attention quickly returned to the beached long boat and the foot trails pounded into the sand between it and the tree line. One of the dragons, a mid-sized black wyrm, as dark as onyx with a glittery sheen, and a bright pink maw full of dagger-long teeth, landed near the small boat.

  The black dragon strutted on hind legs, with outstretched wings, as it came down. It took three slowing strides then fell forward on all four of its wicked clawed legs. With wings folded back its upraised neck shot forward like a striking snake. At the same time its long tail extended backwards for balance.

  The wyrm was easily forty paces from head to tail and its elongated form left no doubt as to why earlier generations had nicknamed the creatures wyrms.

  A long forked tongue shot forth tasting the air around the long boat. Vanx was amazed at how pink the tongue was until the creatures head turned, its gaze following the trail. Its luminous amber eyes met Vanx’s and all his curiosity melted away like a snow ball in a forest fire. He only knew one thing in that moment, one emotion overcame him so completely that he nearly lost control of his bodily functions. The fear was so complete and intense that a weaker mind might not have been able to recover from it.

  Dark vertical slits scanned the tree line and then shiny black lids shot up from the bottom of those narrowed orbs as the dragon blinked. The slits turned to slivers as it found and focused on the group. Its head was wide like a viper, but long and snouted like that of a horse. Bony platelets formed brows and cheeks. It had no ears that Vanx could see, but a pair of sharp horns jutted up and back in their place. A few tendrils of thick ropy hair dangled from its chin like a beard and a row of sharp triangular protrusions ran down its spine.

  Vanx felt a sensation a kin to that of being in close proximity of working magic. Oddly, it was a clean sort of magic, similar to Quazar’s, all natural and pure. Vanx sniffed searching for that ozonish quality that usually accompanies the hair raising sensation and regretted it immediately. Apparently one or more of the men with them had lost control of their bowls. A long hissing intake of breath from the dragon showed that it smelled the stench too.

  Before Vanx could even think the dragon started forward like a scrabbling mongoose. It was fast, as fast as lightening as it came across the beach its body was too big for it to charge all the way into the trees, but that realization didn’t stop a few of the men from pushing away from the trunks they were hiding behind in order to flee. There was a gasping chorus from the men when the dragons head struck into the forest like a snake. Then came a muffled scream.

  Vanx wanted to look away but couldn’t. The dragon took a step back from the tree line raised up its long neck, and chugged down a good portion of one of the seamen it had snatched. He couldn’t help but gawk at the steadily shrinking lump that moved down the dragons neck toward its body.

  The wyrm leapt forward then like a frisky hound, unfurling its wings as it went. By the second leap it was in the air and a series of deep thumps carried it away from sight. As Vanx watched it go, he shuttered when he realized it was only one of the score of wyrms circling like buzzards in the sky.

  “You’ve my apologies for ever doubting your word, Zeezle,” Sir Earlin said after a long silence. “Never in all my life have I seen a thing of such size and power.”

  “Where’s the other sailor gone?” Zeezle asked Yandi who was still bear hugging the trunk of the tree between him and the beach.

  “You didn’t see what happened?” this was from Trevin and in a voice that seemed fairly steady considering what had just taken place.

  “Not that one,” Zeezle said as he peered back into the swampy jungle. “One of them ran past me into the marsh.” For a long moment no one even tried to respond.

  “We’ve no time to waste on absconders.” Trevin said harshly. “What supplies do we have among us?”

  “We have enough food and most of the weapons,” Sir Earlin said from the pile of gear he was going through. “My good armor and the climbing gear is still on the long boat though.”

  “Are they gonna come back?” Darbon asked.

  “The dragons never left lad,” Sir Earlin said. “There still out there circling so we have to move.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Darbon shook his head. He was pale and trembling, but otherwise recovering from his fear. “The ship, Prince Russet, are they coming back? Or are we stranded here?”

  “They’re coming back, Darby,” Vanx forced a laugh. “They just had to clear away from the shore.”

  “If the beasts fired the sails or killed the crew, then we would be trapped here,” Trevin said. “They just moved out of harms way.”

  “Oh,” Darbon managed then reached for a bow. After he strung it, he took two quivers of arrows and hooked them to his belt. Then he grabbed a dirk and a short sword as well.

  “Our tents, and the vat of poison are still on the long boat,” Trevin said from Sir Earlin’s side. “But we’ve a bundle of torches here, two lanterns, and a flask of lantern oil.”

  “We’ve no water skins here, and only two of the watered wine,” Sir Earlin gave the tally.

  “There’s fresh, clean water available on our way,” said Zeezle. “At dusk I will venture out and get us some more bladder skins from the long boat.

  “We’re not waiting here until dark Zeezle,” Vanx said flatly. “I have a flask and I know the sailors do as well, those and the two skins will keep our thirst quenched if we are frugle.”

  “So be it,” Zeezle nodded his agreement. “I guess we should get this gear sorted and get moving then.” He looked up, judging the position of the sun through the almost solid canopy overhead. “We can get across and out of the mire before full dark.”

  “This doesn’t look much like a swamp,” Darbon told Yandi who had recovered from his terror enough to begin loading a shoulder pack to carry. The other remaining crewmen joined him.

  “That’s beca
use we’re not in the marshes just yet. The tide is out,” Zeezle explained. Then he cupped his hands to his mouth and started to yell. He stopped himself long enough to ask Yandi what the fled seamen’s name was.

  “We’re moving inland, Bernald. You’re to stay here and watch the long boat. Don’t go near it, save for dusk and dawn.”

  “Don’t be thinking about creeping out of here without us either,” Yandi managed to yell without his voice faltering. “Them dragons will pluck you right off the sea iffen you aint got no heathens aboard to repel them.”

  Vanx looked at Yandi and nodded with a grin of approval showing on his face. He knew there was nothing in the world as superstitious and suspicious as a seaman. If Bernald thought that it was Vanx or Zeezle’s presence that had kept the dragons at bay as they rode to shore earlier, all the better. It wouldn’t do to risk their lives on the island to get the dragons blood only to return and find an empty beach.

  “I’ll not be going out of this forest.” Bernald called from some distance. “With or without ye, sand will never take the print of my boot again.”

  “We’ll leave you some food,” Sir Earlin barked. “But if you want a drink you’ll have to go get one of those skins from the long boat.”

  “I’ll drink me own piss before I go out yonder.” Bernald’s voice returned, it hadn’t grown any closer.

  “That’s up to you man,” Sir Earlin replied more to himself than anyone else.

  “I have three to one odds that he’s passed out drunk on those wine skins that are still out there when we get back, Reen,” Yandi said to his man.

  “I’ll put a silver on that,” Reen said shakily. “Iffen he saw what happened to Oskey he’ll not leave the forest like he said.”

  “It’s a bet then,” Yandi handed him the pack he’d been loading and started loading another. “Let’s just hope we live to settle it.”