Dragonseed
Page 16
“You and Shay are going to have to go without us,” said Zeeky. “We’re not going to Dead Skunk Hole.”
Jandra looked surprised by these words. “You won’t take us the rest of the way?”
Zeeky shook her head. “Bitterwood and I don’t have much time to save Jeremiah.”
“Save him from what? How do you know he’s in danger?”
Zeeky gave an inscrutable half smile.
“Fine,” said Jandra, sliding down from the long-wyrm. Shay dismounted as well.
Zeeky reached into her saddle bag and pulled out a pair of silver visors like the ones she and Poocher wore. She tossed them to Jandra. “We took these from the guards Bitterwood killed in Dead Skunk Mine. They let you see in the dark.”
“What about Lizard?” she asked.
“He won’t need one,” said Zeeky. “He can see in the dark just fine.”
By now, Bitterwood had drawn up another bucket of water. Since the others were focused on Zeeky and Jandra, he paused to take a sip of the cold water.
Barnstack made a choked noise, glancing back at his quartet of guards. The girls looked sheepish, as if they were aware of their failings as intimidating muscle. Barnstack opened his mouth, looking as if he were about to yell, then snapped it shut again. He turned and stomped back into his cottage. The girls followed, slamming the door.
“What a pleasant man,” said Shay.
Bitterwood nodded. “I look forward to talking to him further.”
AS SHAY AND Jandra walked away from the well, Lizard waved in a fashion that Shay found unnerving. It was slightly too human a gesture from a scaly green beast that currently had its foot long tail wrapped around Jandra’s neck. Shay wondered about the wisdom of choosing to follow Jandra on her quest into the underground kingdom. There were certainly less dangerous paths available to him to gather books.
Yet, he didn’t have to dig deep into his own thoughts to discover that he liked Jandra. It wasn’t simply that she was smart and driven; he found himself admiring her for her compassion toward Lizard. Despite her own history of mistreatment at the hands of dragons, she didn’t display the faintest sliver of hatred. This was a rare quality; it was difficult not to appreciate Jandra for it. Not that this changed his mind about Lizard. With luck, perhaps the little beast would run off as it got bigger and never bother them again.
They followed a well-trod path that wound near the creek up toward Big Lick. It was quite dark now, especially here in the shadow of the mountains. The sky above was gray with clouds.
“Once we get a little higher, there are caves everywhere. We can take shelter in one of them,” said Jandra.
Shay stumbled on a tree root in the dark and nearly lost his grip on the shotgun as he reached out and grabbed a tree trunk for balance. Visions of bright red horse bone jutting from a hide flashed into his mind. “I wouldn’t mind sleeping on the ground,” he said.
“Take this. It should make travel at night much easier.” She held out a circlet of silver metal identical to the ones Zeeky and Poocher wore. The visor was surprisingly light. For something that looked like solid metal, it weighed no more than a sheet of parchment. Curiously, despite the chill of the evening, the metal was warm to the touch.
Jandra slipped her visor over her own brow, letting it rest on her nose. The eyeless band looked more like a blindfold than an aid to sight. He slipped the band over his eyes. Instantly, the surrounding landscape was as bright as if it were noon. “Now this is magic!” .
Jandra put her hands on her hips. “You can’t go around calling everything you don’t understand magic,” she said sternly.
“Why can’t I?” Shay asked. “Why should you care how I organize my experiences?”
Jandra sighed and shook her head. Lizard shook his head slowly, as if he, too, were in the presence of a frustrating child. The little beast rolled his eyes, a gesture he’d seen Jandra perform; perhaps her visor spared him this outlet of her judgment, at least.
“It’s not fair arguing with you,” Shay said. “Lizard sits on your shoulder like he’s your second head. I feel outnumbered when I’m talking to you.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know I must come across as short tempered and intolerant. I don’t think I used to be like this.” She sounded sad now, as she gazed up the rugged mountain pathway. “I don’t know if it’s stress that’s making me so mean to you, or if Jazz’s personality is bleeding into my own more and more. She wasn’t the most patient person. I’ll try not to bite your head off from now on.”
“You really haven’t been all that mean to me." Shay felt bad that she felt bad. “I was a slave. I’m used to being lashed when I displease others. It really isn’t an unbearable burden to have you scold me from time to time.”
“The world has enough conflict without me adding to the total. If you want to think the visors are magic, I don’t see why that should bother me. It’s not your fault you don’t have the training to understand the science behind them.”
Her apology slipped in the realm of insult. Was she dismissing his ability to learn?
Jandra tapped her visor. “These things are more than just fancy glasses,” she said, sounding happy to change the conversation. “The long-wyrm riders could communicate with them over long distances. I wonder if I can figure out how to use them for that?”
“Actually,” said an unseen voice, “you’re already on an open channel. I can hear you fine.”
Jandra startled, looking around for the source of the ghostly voice. Shay spun in a circle, trying to spot the speaker, his shotgun at the ready.
“Adam?” Jandra asked.
“Who’s Adam?” whispered Shay.
“Adam Bitterwood. He’s Bant’s son. He was captain of the long-wyrm riders.”
“Yes, it’s Adam,” said the disembodied voice. “Is this Jandra? Who’s with you?”
“This is Lizard,” she said, raising a hand to stroke the earth-dragon’s paw. “Oh, do you mean the other voice you heard? That’s my new friend Shay. Where are you?”
“I’m in the temple in Winding Rock. Look to your left.”
Half a mile distant on the edge of Winding Rock sat a temple of the goddess. These places of worship were stone platforms ringed by trees planted closely together to form living walls.
Jandra motioned for Shay to follow. As they neared the temple, a tall, long-haired man appeared on the stone steps. He was dressed in a long robe woven from green thread. A braided honeysuckle vine sat upon his brow like a crown; even though it was mid-winter, the vine was fresh and green, studded with soft yellow flowers. Magic.
Shay caught himself. He needed to think critically about the wonders he encountered. The biologians at the College of Spires maintained greenhouses. It didn’t require magic to keep a plant green in winter.
“Adam,” said Jandra. “I wondered what had happened to you.”
Adam walked down the steps, holding his arms wide open. “It’s good to see you,” he said, embracing her. The hug lasted several seconds. Shay wondered if there was something more to Jandra’s and Adam’s relationship than he was aware of. Or was this hug only a greeting? And why should it matter to him?
Adam released Jandra. “Welcome, brother,” he said, and wrapped his arms around Shay. “You’re an honored guest here.”
The hug lasted for a few seconds longer than Shay felt it needed to. Within the temple, he could see a life-sized statue of a nude woman carved from mahogany. The goddess, he supposed. Chapelion had never educated him much in the various human faiths, but he’d picked up some knowledge from his fellow slaves.
Adam finally released Shay from his embrace. “What brings you back to these mountains?”
“I’m returning to Jazz’s kingdom,” said Jandra.
Adam frowned. “For what purpose?”
Jandra started to speak, then stopped. She finally said, “I think Hex might be going back underground to find the goddess heart. I have to stop him. I could use your help.”
“I won’t go back into the underworld," said Adam. "My days as a warrior are behind me. After seeing the scars my father bore upon his soul after a lifetime of fighting, I’ve taken a vow of non-violence. I intend to serve the goddess in more benign ways. It is a path, I pray, that will spare me my father’s fate.”
“The goddess is dead,” Jandra said. “You watched us bury what little remained of her. How can you serve a dead goddess?”
Adam waved toward the town of Winding Rock and the valley beyond. “Winter has gripped this valley. The fields are brown and barren. Yet is the earth dead? Spring will awaken the sleeping land. So, too, shall the goddess wake from her slumber.”
“Bitterwood stabbed her in the heart with Gabriel’s flaming sword,” said Jandra. “She was burned to ash. I don’t think she’s waking up, Adam.”
“My father slew only an aspect of the goddess. You’ll see. She’ll rise again.”
“Speaking of your father, he’s down in Winding Rock. Do you want me to let him know you’re here?”
“No,” said Adam. “My father and I have said all we need to say to one another. In the years we were apart, I dreamed of reuniting with him. I imagined him as a hero, and imbued his dream with all the best qualities of humanity. The man I met was a cruel monster who was only happy when he was fighting. Perhaps I’m to blame as well. No doubt our reunion was poisoned by my own idealism. No flesh and blood man could have ever lived up to my vision.”
“I understand," said Jandra. "I always wanted to find my human family. I longed for relatives more than anything else in the world. Now, I’ve finally met my brother. His name is Ragnar. He’s a wild-eyed, naked, long-haired prophet of the Lord who wants to burn me at the stake. It’s really made me miss Vendevorex. I wish I’d understood how important he was to me while he was still alive.”
“The kindest thing my father ever did for me was spare my life after he’d slaughtered my companions and my mount,” Adam said. “Contrast this with the compassion of the goddess in taking me in as an orphan and giving me a life filled with wonders. It’s not mere blood that defines a family.”
Jandra's hand dipped into her coat pocket and pulled out a square of folded paper and a pencil. She circled something on the paper.
“What are you writing?” Shay asked.
“This is something I’ve started doing to organize my thoughts,” said Jandra. “I’m keeping lists of all the things I need to do. To be honest, I think this was one of Jazz’s habits—she called these ‘to do lists’. All this talk about Vendevorex reminded me that I still have to find his stolen body.”
She unfolded the paper. There were at least two dozen items on her list. “Find Ven’s body” was now circled. Two slots above it, “Get back genie!” was underlined several times. Near the bottom of the page was written “Find Atlantis.” This had three question marks off to the side. Lizard leaned down to study the paper. Of course, earth-dragons couldn’t read. Could they?
“The evening is growing cold,” said Adam.
“It looks like snow,” Shay said, glancing toward the clouds.
“It won’t snow,” said Adam, with a curious certainty. “Still, I have a small cabin not far from here. You can spend the night there. Tomorrow I’ll send you on your journey with fresh provisions and my best wishes.”
“Thank you,” said Jandra. “I appreciate your hospitality.” She smiled. “You really didn’t turn out a thing like your father.”
“That means a lot to me,” said Adam.
AS DAWN CAME to the village of Winding Rock, Zeeky waited patiently on the edge of the well. Skitter was curled around the stone structure. He snored as he slumbered, a sound like gravel pouring from a wheelbarrow. The poor thing needed his rest. They’d really put him through his paces over the last few days. Poocher was already awake. He was snuffling around in the flower beds, pushing away the mulch and dirt, digging up the bulbs he found and wolfing them down. He didn’t offer any to Zeeky.
“I don’t know why you’ve been acting so bratty lately,” she said. Poocher looked up. It was harder to read his expressions while he wore his visor. She couldn’t see his eyes. Still, his overall posture conveyed offense at being called a brat.
“You used to be sweet,” she said.
He snuffed, then thrust his face back into the dirt, declaring the conversation over.
She turned her gaze toward the cottage. The curtains in the window moved slightly for the tenth time since daybreak. The smoke rising from the chimney carried the scent of baking biscuits. Her stomach grumbled. Those would really taste good.
She waited patiently as the sun rose higher into the sky. Poocher finished digging up the last flower bed. Looking content, he climbed up onto his saddle. He did so with gentle, sure-footed movements. Even though he was now quite portly, Poocher still possessed a certain gracefulness. Skitter didn’t even stir.
Long after the smell of biscuits had faded, the curtains pushed aside for one more peek. When they fell, she heard muffled voices from inside.
Here and there around the village, there were signs of life as the other houses woke. A few heads poked from doorways from time to time to stare at the well and the snoring long-wyrm. From the backs of the houses, Zeeky could hear doors opening. She caught glimpses of old men and young children as they tiptoed to reach the outhouses by the creek. The doors were swiftly pulled shut behind them.
At last, the rear door to Barnstack’s cottage creaked open. From where she sat, she could see Barnstack’s outhouse if she leaned a bit to the left. She saw the old man skulking toward it. He glanced back over his shoulder. Seeing that she could see him, he broke into a jog. He yanked open the privy door.
A man’s arm reached out from the darkness of the outhouse and grabbed Barnstack by his collar, yanking him from his feet. The door slammed shut and Barnstack shrieked. His high-pitched cries lasted for several minutes. Around the village, dogs began to bay. Skitter lifted his head at the sound of the dogs. He let loose a low growl and bared his teeth. Instantly, all the village dogs fell silent.
Barnstack’s screams faded. They were followed by incoherent sobbing as a gruff voice shouted out questions. The occasional brief, sharp, shriek of pain caused Skitter to jerk nervously. He uncoiled from the well and looked at Zeeky with anxious eyes.
Poocher stood up in his saddle. The bristles on the back of his neck stood on end. He glanced at Zeeky with a look that said, “Say the word. I’m ready for action.”
“Patience,” she counseled.
Several long minutes passed where no sounds at all came from the outhouse. Finally, the door swung open and Bitterwood stepped out. He marched to the cottage, disappearing from sight. Skitter flinched as a loud WHAM erupted from behind the house.
“It’s okay,” said Zeeky, stroking his neck. “He just kicked in the door.”
Ten minutes went by without a sound coming from the cottage. At last, Bitterwood stepped out, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the morning sun. His knuckles were bloody. He carried a wicker basket with a bright yellow towel draped over it.
“Got some biscuits and boiled eggs,” he said. “Took a crock of jam and some flour. A block of salt. Couple of onions. Some dried beans we can fix up later. A big slab of salt pork, though I guess you and Poocher won’t want any of that.”
“Toss me one of them biscuits.”
Bitterwood pulled back the towel and tossed her a hard, brown, lumpy disk of bread. Zeeky snatched it from the air. It felt heavy as a rock. She bit into it; it was almost as hard as a rock as well. It sucked all moisture from her mouth as she chewed. After her first swallow, she took a long drink from the well bucket. “I’m going to need some of that jam,” she said.
“Eat as we ride,” Bitterwood said, tossing her the basket and hopping up onto his saddle. Skitter swayed to compensate for the sudden weight. Unli
ke Poocher, Bitterwood didn’t mount the long-wyrm with any hint of gentleness.
Zeeky climbed onto her own saddle. “Which way?”
“North,” said Bitterwood. “You were right. Jeremiah did come here. Barnstack found him hiding in one of the empty houses and sold him to a slave-trader nine days ago.”
Zeeky clenched her jaw. No wonder the voices in the crystal ball had hidden this from her. “Did you break any of his bones?” she asked.
“Probably,” Bitterwood said. “Four, maybe, not counting fingers.” The number brought her grim satisfaction.
“The slave-trader is a tatterwing called Nub-tail. He works the whole valley. Prices are high for healthy slaves at the moment. The south is half-empty due to Albekizan’s carting off folks to the Free City, and apparently there’s a big yellow-mouth outbreak up north. I’ve a hunch we’ll find Jeremiah in Rorg’s cavern. Beastialists go through a lot of slaves. Jeremiah is too small for field labor, and too skinny to be purchased as food. He’ll probably wind up as a mucker. Let’s get going.”
Zeeky gently nudged Skitter with her heels. The giant beast slithered forward on its many claws. As they crossed the stream, Zeeky looked toward Barnstack’s outhouse. The water beneath it was pink, and dark red drops plinked down from the wooden floor. It wasn’t something she wanted to think about any more, so she wouldn’t. She instead lifted up the yellow towel and found the crock of jam.
In the saddle bag by her left leg, from inside the clear orb, she could hear the distant murmurs coming from a place that was not a place. She couldn’t make out the words, but the mood of the voices struck her as angry. This too, she didn’t want to think about. She uncapped the crock of jam, filling the air with the scent of blackberries.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
DRAGONSEED
SWEAT POURED OFF Burke’s face as he shoveled coal through the iron door beneath the boiler. The glow of flames painted the confined space hellish red. Burke closed the furnace, darkening the interior, but he still felt like he was sitting in an oven. He was working in the belly of a low, squat wagon, with iron walls and an iron roof. He’d salvaged the wagon’s oak platform, the boiler, and the steel treads on which the whole device rolled from Big Chief, the war machine that had helped repel Shandrazel’s army. Big Chief had served its purpose, but had obvious shortcomings as a practical engine of war. It had been too tall to be armored properly and still roll without toppling. The consequence of skimping on armor came back to him as he reached down to scratch the itch on his right knee and found his fingers touching air.