Through it all, Deathclaw’s mind was a calm spot in the storm. As was the case whenever he went into battle, time slowed down for him. His senses reported the movement around him and his mind sent signals to his limbs, moving them in precisely the action needed to clear a path to escape. Every part of him was a weapon. The claws on his hands and feet rent flesh. His tail speared. His teeth ripped.
Then a buzzing sound cut through the air. Everything came to a standstill. The man with the blood-red hair held forth a glowing scepter and every living thing in a cone shaped path away from the man was frozen in place.
Deathclaw felt his body begin to seize up in the spell and a jolt of fear shot through him. The last time he had succumbed to this spell his body had been changed forever. His mind recoiled at the memory and he fought against the magic with all he had.
The paralysis spell is a difficult one for a non-magic user to fight because it attacks the body on a minute level. It is almost impossible for a thinking being to gather the control necessary to counter it. But control was Deathclaw’s specialty. The last time he had been frozen, the spell had caught him off guard and his primitive brain had been too shocked by its effects to resist. This time it was different.
Deathclaw resisted with the control he had over every inch of his body. The spell only held him for a few moments before it shattered under his sheer will. With his pursuers still frozen, he darted away, escape the only thing on his mind. He spat as he ran. He had killed his first humans today and the taste of their flesh was not pleasing at all.
He heard breathing behind him and looked back to see the human with the blood-red hair running after him, sword drawn. A toothy grin was etched into his face. Deathclaw increased his speed, but the human kept pace. They were soon far from the other humans and the dogs that still milled about in confusion.
How was this human keeping up? It did not matter. He needed to be dealt with. Deathclaw considered stopping and killing the man right away, but the sound of dogs barking in the distance, told Deathclaw that the other humans had overcome their stupor. He would have to lead the man somewhere the others would not be able to follow.
“Why do you run?” the man yelled, his breathing rough but not ragged. Deathclaw looked back to see that the man’s eyes had turned a dingy yellow. “Do you fear me, dragon?”
Deathclaw did not understand the meaning of most of the words, but could tell it was a taunt. His year following Hamford from a distance had shown him that the humans communicated with sounds far more complex than raptoids. The few words he understood were the ones that Hamford used frequently. He had practiced some of them by himself in the darkness, but had not mastered the sounds.
They came upon a flowing stream and Deathclaw cleared it with a single leap. As he had done many times before, when escaping from the dogs, he caught the low hanging branches of a tree on the far side and leapt from tree to tree, putting the stream behind him in an attempt to see just how good of a tracker this human was. The man did not disappoint.
“So this is how you have been avoiding us! Very clever. I see why Master Vriil wants you so badly.” The voice came from the ground below him. It sounded deeper and thicker than before.
When Deathclaw was confident that the dogs would not be able to follow, he looked for a good place to battle. The sound of the human’s running was different. It sounded . . . heavier. He didn’t understand these changes in the human, but he knew this fight would be interesting.
He found the place he was looking for. A clearing filled with tall grass. It had yellowed with the chill of winter winds, but still might help to hide his movements. He leapt out of the last tree and landed in the center of the clearing, the grass waist high. The man that entered the clearing after him looked much different than the one that had been chasing him, though still smelled the same.
“So this is it, Dragon? You decide to stand here?” The man’s blood-red hair was thicker than before and continued past his head to cover most of his face. His body had grown as well and he now stood a foot taller than before; two feet taller than Deathclaw. His clothes stretched onto him like they might rip at the seams. The man lifted his shining sword and Deathclaw saw that red hair covered the back of his hands as well. “Then come on!”
Deathclaw hadn’t fought a man with a sword before, but he had watched Hamford fight and knew that he would need to stay out of the reach of the weapon. These humans and their tactics were fascinating.
He darted forward, his arms held out to the sides as if ready to pounce. The human anticipated the attack and started to swing. Deathclaw dove under the sword at the last moment and rolled to the side, sending his tail out. The barb ripped into the man’s thigh, striking bone.
The man let out a dog-like yelp of pain and swung his sword again, but Deathclaw was no longer there. He had rolled back out of reach. Blood poured out of the wound, but the man had a smile on his face.
“I see how you move now, dragon!” he roared.
Deathclaw rushed in, but the man’s swing was too low to duck under. He stopped, arching backwards to avoid the weapon, but the man leaned forward as he swung and the tip of the sword slashed across Deathclaw’s chest, sending tiny scales flying through the air. The cut was shallow but the wound felt as if it was on fire.
“Burns, doesn’t it? The sword’s name is Star. It shines brightest at night, but it really hurts during the day. Why don’t you try that agai-.”
Deathclaw was already moving. The man’s reflexes were impressive though, because he was not caught completely unawares. His swing was well timed. Deathclaw dove under the sword only by the narrowest of margins. He sent his tail out again, spearing the man’s other thigh.
The human had anticipated the attack. His hand closed about the end of Deathclaw’s tail just below the barb and pulled it out of his wound. Blood poured from both legs, but the man let out a howl of triumph.
“How will you get away now?” the man shouted and yanked Deathclaw’s tail with considerable strength, pulling the dragon off of the ground. The man swung him over his head and tried to slam him to the ground, but Deathclaw contorted his body in mid air and landed on his hands and feet.
“You are a quick one! Master wants you alive, but let’s see how well you move without a leg!” The man yanked Deathclaw closer and swung the sword again.
Deathclaw sent a mental command down his spine and with a pop, the end of his tail came off in the man’s hand. Deathclaw dodged the sword again, but immediately changed course, darting under the sword arm and leapt up onto the man. His left hand closed on the man’s bicep, his claws tearing through muscle and tendon, keeping the man from using the sword again. The claws on his feet ripped into the man’s belly, while his right hand closed on his throat.
Deathclaw pulled himself closer until his eyes were level with the man’s. His lips pulled back and he said one of the few words he knew, “De-ad.”
“You too,” the man spat and with his free hand swung the end of Deathclaw’s tail. The barb sank deep into the raptoid’s side. Deathclaw screeched in agony and tore the man’s throat out.
He stood over the dying man and ripped the barb out of his side. Deathclaw hissed in triumph as he threw it to the ground. The pain would pass as his body healed. It always did. In a few days, the end of his tail would grow back and there would be no trace of the hole in his side. This man, however . . .
The man’s body shrunk as if slowly deflating. The hair fell off of his face and his eyes went from yellow back to brown. He was a normal man once again, tattered and torn. Deathclaw wondered if this is what would happen if he died. Would his body sag and return to its original state? There was something oddly comforting in that thought.
The triumph in Deathclaw’s heart went sour. The man had been formidable, the battle fierce, but the victory was empty. The man was not food. The fight had not brought him any closer to finding his sister.
Deathclaw cocked his head. Then again . . . Like himself, the man had been
changed by the wizard. Perhaps the man’s death could be used for another purpose. His eyes moved to the sword gleaming in the grass.
His musing was interrupted by the sound of barking from the other side of the stream. Deathclaw hissed again. He needed to do something about those dogs.
Chapter Thirty Two
“Today, my dear Elise, we go out into the countryside. We have spent far too much time inside in the last two days don't you think? We have a lot to see, you and I. Yes, yes we do.” Ewzad Vriil leaned close, one finger tracing the curve of the princess’s ear. “I would need to take you through a portal, but there is a secluded waterfall in the hills that is quite beautiful. I am aching to show it to you.”
Elise shuddered. “Yes, well I am sure that I will enjoy the view, Ewzad. But, as a favor, might I ask that you . . . well, take your rings off during our trip?” She saw the ripple of anger that moved across the duke's thin features and was quick to add, “It's just that I miss the looks of the man that I had always so admired. I-I was hoping to see him again.”
Ewzad frowned as he looked into her hopeful eyes. He knew that she was appealing to his vanity. It was a smart ploy, but she was miscalculating the pull of the artifact. It was true that in the past, he had been a vain person, and when he had first put the rings on, he had been dismayed at his change in appearance. Not anymore
The changes to his appearance were but a small thing when compared to the power the artifact gave him. The power was so delicious that it caused him physical pain to take them off. The only reason that he gave her request any consideration was the look of hope in her eyes. When she looked that way, it made her even more desirable than before.
“But of course, my dear. I am afraid that I have been far too busy to take them off since you have arrived. This afternoon I promise to make the time.”
“Thank you, my Duke.” She managed to look both relieved and nervous at the same time.
Ewzad noted the look. He realized that he had pushed her too hard with his magic when convincing her to come to his castle. Elise was a very strong willed woman and was not used to such compulsion. It frightened her.
He decided to keep his word and take the rings off while around her as much as he could. He would do it despite the headaches, despite the aching in his hands whenever the rings were removed. It would all be worth it once she was his bride.
Elise had always been key to his plans of power. Ewzad Vriil had wanted Andre Muldroomon's sister ever since she had reached womanhood. Elise's father had seen the minor noble’s infatuation grow and was repulsed by the idea of his daughter with someone he considered unsavory. Despite the king's dislike and eventual banishment of the future duke, Ewzad had kept in touch with the princess and together they had succeeded in many power plays.
Ewzad chuckled and leaned back into his throne as she excused herself and walked away. She would be his. Elise was resisting now and it was slowing down the process, but it was inevitable. She had been his ever since joining him in that first plot.
“Ooooh.” The duke was watching the fetching curve of her hips as she walked away when he was interrupted.
“Master?” It was Kenn Dollie. The man had a habit of sniveling and crawling like a whipped cur at Ewzad’s feet every time he was near. Normally, the wizard enjoyed the subservience but at the moment it irritated him.
“What is it, Dungeon Keeper? And don’t slouch so. Yes-yes, why I could trip over you and then I would have to leave you in the cage with my mountain slugs again. Oh yes. We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”
“Sorry, Master.” Kenn straightened his posture hesitantly. “Rudfen came to get me. He said it was time for my report.”
Ewzad looked past the Dungeon Keeper to see the large scarred man standing in the shadows.
“Ah yes, I had requested that, didn’t I? Very well. Very well then. Wait,” He looked around the throne room. “Where is Hamford? He is supposed to report on the status of the bandham egg my men are bringing me.”
“The men bringing the egg contacted us through the mirror rune this morning,” Rudfen said. “They have been delayed in a snowstorm and will arrive a few days late.”
The duke's face turned red. “Well, that's not acceptable, is it? No-no, it's not! The blankets I sent will only heat the egg for another day!” Veins bulged on his temples and he pointed one wavy finger at the big guard. “Tomorrow you and I will go and retrieve it ourselves. They will be lucky if I don't flay the flesh from their bones!”
Ewzad swayed and grasped the throne for support. He raised one shaking hand to his head and his writhing fingers caressed the pulsing veins as if attempting to comfort him. Slowly, the redness left his face and he took the hand down. “Now, where was I? Oh yes. Where is Hamford? Why isn't he here?”
Rudfen seemed unshaken by his master's strange behavior. The large man stood still and emotionless. “He is still out stalking your missing dragon, Master. This morning, he went out to feed the hunting dogs and found them all slaughtered in their kennels. It looks like the dragon killed them in the night.”
“I see. Poor, poor Hamford. He was so attached to them.” A cackle burst from Ewzad’s lips. “Oh I love this beast! Yes-yes! He is even more clever than sweet Talon. She couldn’t have eluded my men for this long, could she? No, no she couldn’t.” He chewed on the nail of one writhing finger thoughtfully.
“That isn’t all, Master.” The big man dragged a heavy cloth bundle over to the throne. It was shaped just right for a corpse. “We found this with the dogs.”
“Ooh!” The wizard clapped his hands and leaned over to peer at the bundle. “What else did my dragon do?”
Rudfen opened the wrappings to reveal the body of Ewzad’s red-haired hunter.
“Comby. Oh my, he killed Comby? What a bother. I was so sure that my alterations would give him the upper hand. Ah well, I shall have to do better next time, shan’t I?”
“This is what I wanted to show you, Master.” Rudfen lifted the man’s hand. The fingers had been broken in many places and twisted into a gruesome caricature of the wizard’s own hands. “It seems that it wanted to send you a message.”
“Oh, how delightful,” Ewzad said, but his voice didn’t sound delighted.
When he had learned that the other changed dragon had followed Hamford to his castle, Ewzad had been elated. But he also felt a sense of unease. Why had it come all this way? He knew that it couldn’t be Hamford that the beast was after. It could have killed him long ago.
That left only two other conclusions in Ewzad’s mind. Either the beast was after Talon, or it was after himself, the wizard that had changed it. As a result, Ewzad didn't dare to leave the safety of his castle without a group of men to guard him and he always had a spell prepared to freeze the dragon if he saw it. But after what he had just seen, even that wasn’t a comfort.
Ewzad pushed the uneasiness away. “My patience is wearing thin, though. Yes-yes, and my dear sweet Talon is getting so restless in her cage.” Ewzad hadn’t sent Talon out since he had learned of the dragon’s presence. He didn’t know how she would react to seeing the other dragon that he had changed. “I may have to take this matter into my own hands. But that would be a waste of my time and energies, don’t you think, Rudfen? Yes, especially when I have large, strong men like you and Hamford to take care of it for me. After all, I have put you two in charge of capturing this beast for me. If I have to do this myself that would mean that you had failed and it would be a pity if I had to punish you two, wouldn’t it?”
“Indeed, Master,” Rudfen said, though no emotion pierced his scarred features.
“Very well, I shall forgive Hamford’s absence this one time. This is quite kind of me, don’t you think? Yes, but let him know that I will not tolerate this behavior in the future. Oh no. No-no.” He looked to Kenn. “Report to me then, my Dungeon Keeper. Are there any situations I need to be informed of?”
Kenn jumped as if startled, still staring at the twisted fingers on Comby’s
corpse. “Well, Master, the dungeon is still overcrowded. Uh, especially the deeper levels. I have had to chain many prisoners in the corridors because the cells are full.”
“Hmm, well-well. I shall have to think on that, won’t I?” the wizard mused. “What about my special prisoners? I'm afraid that I haven't had the time to visit them.”
Ewzad's special prisoners were men that he had personal vendettas with. In all other parts of the dungeon, Kenn was given full responsibility over the prisoner’s punishments, but when it came to the duke’s special prisoners, he was only to follow the duke’s specific instructions. Disobeying this rule had gotten Kenn in trouble several times since he had been given the position of Dungeon Keeper. The punishments had been harsh.
“Yes, about that.” Kenn cleared his throat. “There have been some problems.”
“Have there? My-my.” Ewzad raised his eyebrows.
Kenn cringed. “Nothing major, Master. It's just some small things.”
Messenger of the Dark Prophet (The Bowl of Souls: Book Two) Page 35