Cringing slightly as he clambered off his sore knees, Skreet picked up the fan light he had propped on the smooth surface of the RV and headed back across the ship. He wasn’t ready to fire her up and wouldn’t do so until all the rest of the repairs had been accomplished. Experience told him that making any unnecessary noise in the place like the Great Eastern Forest could potentially attract unwanted attention, and he had been on enough tours with Blake to know what kind of attention that might be. No. He could run diagnostics from the cockpit to test the veracity of everything he had done so far. Only when he had finished all that was necessary would he risk a test run.
Holding the lamp up high to keep from tripping on any of the score marks made by the wyverns, Skreet approached the elevator hatch. He wondered if there was any chance to get some sleep in this strange, unnerving place. Birdsong had quietened over the last hour or so, and the buzz and peep of insects was beginning to take over. The promise of night was far from a comforting prospect despite the spaceship being camouflaged and surrounded by trip wires and guns. Skreet knew all too well how perilous Terevell could be. That’s what so many who were desperate to visit the place didn’t understand. This was a primal world, an old world. Aye, Skreet knew his own home planet of Morgh had its dangers too. Goblin-kind could be a war-like, treacherous race, and there were plenty of monstrous, terrifying creatures that shared the vast cave systems and gloomy mountain reaches that goblins preferred. Yet Terevell was different. The planet was said to be the first world to have supported life in the System. Ancient, knowing life. And never more so than in the shape of the World Tree. Here, after all, was an organism so vast it entwined an entire globe, and perhaps even listened intently to every little thing that crawled or grew across its surface. That was an unnerving prospect. So, once again Skreet found himself pausing before he reached the elevator to lift his large, shining eyes into the gathering shadows of the forest beyond the perimeter. There it was again: that sense of being watched. It brought pimples up on his green skin and caused his pulse to quicken.
Of course, it could just be his imagination. For if there was anything out there in the darkness, the trips would find it, lighting this whole place up with pulse fire.
“Ye perfectly safe is what ye are, boy,” Skreet muttered under his breath. “Now, get inside and run them diagnostics. And if ye very good, there’s them dried leach slugs ye brought with ye as a treat for all ye hard work.”
He licked his lips, dropping his eyes back to the elevator, and unchained the gate. Taking his mind off his immediate predicament was probably the best course of action. And he was just about to step onto the platform when his large, sensitive ears picked up the faintest of sounds.
Skreet swung about in alarm. He was sure it was the crackling of branches: a change in the forest around him causing him to jerk his chin up, his eyes searching the darkening canopy. A few leaves drifted down and landed on the smooth surface of the ship. It was the slightest of warnings. Enough for Skreet to feel his heart lurch as he turned sharply back to the elevator again, snatching for the lever with a curse.
He was not quick enough.
Before he could even rattle onto the platform, a fleeting, glinting shard of brilliance flashed out of the shadows and struck him in the shoulder. A nasty, piercing sting made Skreet shout out, despite all the warnings he had made to himself to keep quiet, and dumbly he looked down to where the pain was fading to find a thin, leaf-shaped blade, beautifully fashioned and no larger than his thumb, buried through the thick folds of his shirt. Then another flash struck him, this time in his throat, although this one was hardly as painfully as the first. In fact, as Skreet plucked at this second dart out of his flesh, dropping it at his feet with a distant ringing, he became aware of a tingling sensation overtaking his body, prickling to his fingertips. Soon the forest around him began to darken. Did night really fall so rapidly upon this land? Then his legs gave out from underneath him, and before he sprawled across the smooth, cool shield tiles, unconsciousness had already taken hold.
2
It was almost dark by the time Nyara identified a suitable place to make camp. A hollow, twisted with old roots and littered with black rocks, formed a large enough clearing for a campfire. Blake thought so too, although he would have liked to have reached the river before nightfall where they would not have been surrounded by trees. Still, it was better to take some rest where they could rather than tramping blindly through the darkness. Too many creatures, like the dryads, had far superior night vision.
Uldo set out a circle of rocks to contain the fire, which he did with dwarfish precision. Nyara put a perimeter of laser trips around the hollow to alert them of any unwanted encroachments from the wildlife. Blake collected some dried wood while Maddox unpacked the rations, and, thanks to Cid lighting the fire with a blue flame from his fingertip, they soon had a cheerful blaze going. It was a relief to finally settle down after the drama of the day, all but Cid using their packs to rest against. The golem simply hunkered against the roots and stared with his one eye, almost longingly, into the flames.
“What a day,” Uldo Rorg breathed with undisguised satisfaction. “There’s nothing quite like a game trail to keep you on your toes, eh?”
“Wait until we find the dragon,” Blake murmured as he unscrewed his flask.
The dwarf grinned. “So says the great dragon slayer. You know, for a man who has such an esteemed reputation in the hunting world, you don’t seem to have much enthusiasm for it.”
“I don’t.” Blake took a pull from his flask, glad of the warmth the whisky provided. “I take no pleasure in hunting for sport. For me it was only ever a means to an end.”
“So for the credits I suppose?”
“Not when I was last here. It was just so I could move onto the next kill.”
“To the next dragon, you mean,” said Nyara.
Blake glanced at the elf. She was watching him with that unflinching gaze again. Blake looked back to Uldo. “It was a long time ago. I did what I had to do and got out.”
“That’s not exactly what I heard,” said the dwarf. “I heard you were forced out. When the Purges came.”
“What does it matter?” Blake muttered.
“It matters because it sounds like you didn’t do everything you wanted to on Terevell. Unfinished business.”
Blake said nothing. Just like Maddox, the dwarf was suggesting his motivation was revenge.
“Hey! McCord!” Uldo peered at Blake expectantly. “You hear what I said?”
“Yeah. I heard you. And if you think I’m here to settle some old score, I told Maddox, that’s not how it is. I just need to pay off some debts. As far as I’m concerned, it’s just another hunt.”
“Except, it’s not just another hunt, is it?” said the dwarf. “This dragon…this Crimson Wyrm…is a Red Matriarch. It’s even got its own name. What is it again?”
“Rygorath,” Nyara said softly.
“That’s it! The Red Death. Don’t tell me you haven’t dreamed about killing it.”
“No,” Blake said. “My only dreams about dragons are full of fear, fire, and pain. And if you’d actually confronted one, you’d know what I mean.”
“Alright,” Uldo smirked, “then perhaps you’d care to educate me, Dragon Slayer. You said these Red Matriarchs are the most dangerous of all the dragons. Why’s that?”
“They’re all dangerous,” said Blake. “Like I said before.”
“Still, the Red Matriarch is special for all that, right?”
Blake realised Uldo wasn’t going to let this drop, so he said, “Yes. I suppose.”
“Like how?” the dwarf pressed. “I mean, we should all know what we’re up against, don’t you think?”
That was true, at least. Blake had reckoned on giving a more intimate portrait of the kind of threat they faced when they closed in on the target. But with the lair only a couple of days’ hike away, perhaps now was as good a time as any.
“Well,” he sa
id, letting his eyes drift to the flames in the campfire again. “They’re certainly the biggest, that’s for sure. At least, since the Golden Emperor Wyrms went extinct. Females are much bigger than the males too. Maybe twice as big. And they often kill males after mating to make sure they don’t come back and raid the nest for the eggs.”
“Sounds harsh,” said Uldo with a lopsided grin, glancing at Cid as if the golem might share in his joke.
“Yeah, well, dragons are unsentimental like that. There’s nothing that they care about. Not even their young once they can fly. I’ve found pup carcasses amongst the other bones too. But you have to understand, it’s not just because they’re animals and don’t know any better. It’s not just instinct. It’s more than that.”
“How do you mean?” said the dwarf.
“I think they just like it. I think they enjoy killing.”
The dwarf narrowed his eyes. “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever seen or heard of a beast like that,” he admitted.
“Apart from all of us, you mean?” said Maddox, the first thing he’d said since they settled down.
“You speak for yourself, Mr Maddox,” said Nyara stiffly. “For an elf there is no pleasure in taking life. Although sometimes it is necessary for the greater good.”
Uldo snorted. “Yeah. Don’t believe a word of that. Elves act all high and mighty, but I’ve heard plenty of stories of their viciousness.”
“You don’t need to convince me,” said Blake, still focusing on the flames.
“So glad you two could find common ground at last,” Nyara said, folding her arms.
“My point is,” said Blake, “We can’t just treat a dragon like any other creature. It’s intelligent. Canny. Malevolent.”
“And I hear it’s got strange powers too,” Maddox put in. After the ordeal of the day, he was still subdued, and when Blake looked up from the fire, he noted a faint shadow of apprehension on the man’s face.
“If you mean that they sense things, then yeah,” Blake nodded. “It can be difficult get close. Matriarchs are said to be one of the most sensitive of all the dragon breeds. There’s some research to suggest they can anticipate a threat from miles away.”
“What?” Uldo scoffed. “Like they’re psychic or something?”
But it was Nyara who answered: “Maybe they are.”
Uldo’s smile dropped a little. “You’re not serious.”
“The dragons are very ancient, Master Rorg. And those that live the longest on this world are said to be the most attuned to the World Tree.”
Uldo shifted slightly, offering an uneasy glance into the forest around him. “That damned tree again. It’s not as if it’s difficult enough killing dragons without the forest looking out for them.”
Then Maddox said to Nyara: “So you think the dragon already knows we’re coming?”
“That’s hard to say,” she replied. “Hopefully not.”
“Hopefully!” Uldo grumbled. Some of his ebullience seemed to have left him. “That’s not something a hunter needs to hear.”
Only for Blake to shake his head. “I doubt it does,” he said. “We’re a small party. We’re approaching on its blind side. And once we get down to the river, the less likely the dragon will detect us. The problem with a lot of those other hunting parties was they thought that numbers would offer them advantage. A dead dragon is a valuable prospect. Even if there are twelve or twenty in a party, killing one dragon is a good haul. But the bigger the splash, the more chance a predator can sense the ripples. Besides, we also have this…” and Blake pointed to the lance he had strapped to his pack.
“What difference does that make?” said Uldo.
“But of course!” Nyara said. “Cold Iron!”
“Cold Iron?” said Maddox. “What has that got to do with anything?”
“It’s a disruptor,” Nyara explained, “to the subtle signals that flow through the World Tree. That’s why the dwarfs were so keen to mine the metal in the beginning. Cold Iron is anathema to elven magic.”
“The same magic that a dragon might employ to give it a heads up,” said Blake. “If you believe in such things. Anyway, that’s another reason this lance is valuable. It will help us get close.”
Now Uldo was grinning again. “Well! Finally! Some good news!” And the dwarf turned about to grub for a canteen from his pack. “That’s worth a toast, I think. Brakiki moonshine, huh? Puts hairs on your chin!” And he proffered the bottle to Nyara. “What do you say, elf?”
“You sure drinking is such a good idea, Master Rorg?” Nyara glanced at Blake for a moment. “Isn’t it prudent we all have a clear head?”
“Clear head? Pah! A sip or two of Brakiki never hurt me before a hunt. Isn’t that so, Cid?”
The golem swivelled his eye. “You almost cut your foot off after drinking too much.”
Uldo flapped a dismissive hand at the golem. “Oh, don’t listen to him. What does he know?” He took a swig and held the bottle to Blake. “What about you, Dragon Slayer?”
“I’ll stick with what I have, thanks.”
“By the Gods! Will no one drink with me?”
“I will,” said Maddox. “Just a taste.”
“Finally! Someone with a sense of adventure.” The dwarf leaned forward, and Maddox accepted the canteen with a weak smile.
“You be careful of that stuff, Maddox,” Blake warned. “It can make you go blind.”
“Nonsense!” Uldo barked. “At least, no dwarf has ever gone blind. Maybe it’s different for humans.”
Maddox risked it anyway, taking a gulp, and immediately started coughing sharply. This seemed to please Uldo who laughed and said, “There! What did I tell you? Good stuff, huh?”
“It has…a certain character…” Maddox wheezed, and handed the canteen back.
“Character he says! I like it!” Uldo Rorg laughed, and he took another long swig, smacking his lips with satisfaction. “Now. Time for some food, I think. Who’s in charge of the rations?”
3
It was an unnerving experience trekking through the dark. Despite all the training Gemini had had at the Academy, and the few stellar years’ experience as a fully-fledged ranger, her knowledge of the Great Eastern Forest was relatively limited. A two-week field trip during her final academic year had brought her to the fringes of the northern slopes. But even the instructors had been wary enough to make sure they had armoured flip-tents while being tracked by a ranger drop vessel. Besides, the northern slopes were said to be far more benign than the Deep Forest, and the prevailing advice had always been never to travel on foot at night through this vast, crowded, ancient territory. There were creatures that emerged at night, so the manual went, considered to be the stuff of nightmares. And they would be only too pleased to find the gift of a lightly armed ranger blundering through the brush on their own.
Not that I have much choice, Gemini reminded herself, coming to a halt and checking her tracker again. The hike from the Chaser had taken longer than expected, even though she had moved as quickly and efficiently as possible. The problem was that wooded terrain always took longer to negotiate than most anywhere else. With its sudden undulations and hidden obstacles every other footstep seemed to bring Gemini up short. And then there were the distant warning animal calls that echoed through the vast trunks that urged even more hesitation. Despite her best efforts, a brisk pace had been halved and the light had slowly faded.
Now she had to rely on the night vision glasses to negotiate her way forward. These offered some clarity, at least, as they were able to penetrate even the furthest reaches of the darkness. But twice now she had also picked out large shambling shapes hastening into the foliage ahead of her, the sound of their retreat as unnerving as any far-flung unseen howl or wail. Her only consolation seemed to be that she wasn’t too far from her destination.
Gemini slowed her footsteps. According to her tracker, there was a faint heat pulse ahead of her. It barely registered. Still, at least she had a bearing. And after pi
cking her way for another hour or so, she was rewarded for her efforts when she saw a fallen tree ahead, half-cradled by the branches of others, and clearly freshly felled. This forced her to be even more cautious. If the interlopers had survived the crash and had any sense, they would have set up a perimeter. Which seemed to be the case, for as she closed in on the broken foliage, she saw three thin skeins of brilliance beyond, picked up by her glasses. Laser beams marked the edge of the kill zone. And as she swivelled her eyes up and down the invisible barrier, she saw motion-controlled gun towers hunkered in the dark. If she broke the line, the area would be lit up with a blaze of deadly fire, cutting anything that moved in half.
Coming to a halt just a few feet from the lasers, Gemini now considered what was beyond it. She was surprised to find no attempts had been made to disguise the ship that was listing on its side and in plain view, at least to her night vision glasses. Usually even the most pedestrian of crafts had cloaking tech these days, and considering the secretive nature of the mission, it would have been even more important to employ. Not so here. There the craft was, as bold as brass, although silent and unlit, as if it had been abandoned.
Maybe it has, Gemini thought. Maybe the crash was irreparable, and the crew headed off into the forest to try and avoid detection.
Then why set a perimeter? And wouldn’t it be safer to stay in the ship rather than head into the forest where there were more unpredictable and potentially deadly dangers awaiting?
Unless they’re hiding in the dark, Gem. Unless they’ve detected you and are just waiting for you to board?
Gemini couldn’t see how. If they had motion sensors that could pick her up beyond the perimeter, why not just employ the guns to do their dirty work?
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