“Surround the palace at once,” Kanst ordered. “Summon the aerial guard. The wizard must not escape.”
“If he survives, I fear he could prove quite a powerful figurehead for a human resistance,” said Metron.
Albekizan shot the High Biologian an evil glance. Then he turned his focus on Zanzeroth. “Find him,” he snapped. “Do something more useful than almost killing a guard with an ill-thrown blade.”
Zanzeroth nodded. “Yes, Sire.” He wandered into the hall and yanked his knife free from the gap between the stones. As he suspected, there was a thin, wet red line along the edge. He held the blade to his nose and sniffed. The wizard’s scent was unmistakable; no other blood would smell of lightning. Perhaps a foot more to the right and this would have been over. Zanzeroth felt confident he could find the escaped wizard in short order, but on a deeper level he felt a certain satisfaction in letting the wizard go, for now. The king had created this mess by placing his trust in such a fool for so long. Let Albekizan deal with the consequences.
“The wizard won’t have long to cherish his freedom,” Albekizan snarled. “Bander, see to it that the human girl is killed. We’ll not need that traitor’s help. Once you’ve seen to her death, go at once to the dungeon. Bring me Blasphet.”
“B-B-Blasphet!” Bander said, his turtle-like beak hanging agape.
Blasphet?thought Zanzeroth, realizing for the first time that the depth of Albekizan’s hatred of Bitterwood might be greater than his own.
“Blasphet?” said Metron. “Sire, surely-”
“Silence,” growled Albekizan. “I’ve given my order. Despite his deeds I’ve kept Blasphet alive for a day such as this. No dragon that ever lived has more of a genius for killing. Bring him to me. Bring me the Murder God.”
On the western side of Albekizan’s palace, a winding maze of chambers led to a star-shaped room that was home to Vendevorex, Master of the Invisible. The room itself was a nearly impenetrable labyrinth of piled books. Lining the walls were dusty shelves filled with handblown bottles of all sizes and shapes, their murky contents gleaming in the light of the small window slits that lined the chamber. Jandra sat at a desk in the middle of the labyrinth, a massive tome cracked open before her, the pages bearing colorful detailed drawings of clams and snails. For a Master of Invisibility, sometimes her mentor could be incredibly transparent. This assignment was obviously meant to keep her out of his way while he investigated Bodiel’s murder.
The knock on the chamber door came as a relief to Jandra. While normally a devoted student, she welcomed the excuse to take a break from reading about snails. She brushed her long brown hair back from her eyes and went to the door. Vendevorex never had visitors but sometimes while he was away servants would sneak up to talk to Jandra in hopes of acquiring some minor potion or charm. She knew enough of Vendevorex’s art to help most supplicants. The salve she mixed really could heal burns, and while the love potions she provided were only colored water, they gave people confidence and courage, which often brought them the love they sought.
Unfortunately, when she opened the door she didn’t find a serving girl or a stable hand. Four earth-dragon guards awaited her, one carrying iron manacles.
“Come,” said the dragon with the manacles.
“Where?” she asked. “Why?”
“Don’t question me,” the guard snapped, reaching out to grab her arm, his claws digging into her skin.
“Ow! All right! I’m coming!” she said. She contemplated turning invisible but couldn’t see how it would help while he held her. Once he released her she would have more options.
The guard locked the manacles around her wrists. The cold steel clamped her as tightly as the earth-dragon’s scaly grip. They dragged her by her chains into the hall. In the distance she heard a woman scream.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Silence!” The guard slapped Jandra’s face.
Jandra’s head spun. The earth-dragon guards were no taller than her, but they possessed incredible strength. Earth-dragons were slow and a bit dimwitted, but still dangerous. It was safest to cooperate. She bit her lip and walked on, now pushed by the pointy end of a spear. Another cry echoed through the hall, a man this time. The guards weren’t merely after her, apparently, but after all the humans in the castle. Was this tied to Bodiel’s disappearance? If so, she could expect only the worst from Albekizan.
Where was Vendevorex? Why was he allowing this to happen?
To her surprise the guards led her not to the dungeons, but to another tower. They unlocked the manacles and shoved her into a large, comfortably furnished room, though once the heavy door shut behind her it was as secure as any dungeon cell. She moved toward the room’s single window when she heard the shouts outside. Through iron bars she looked onto a courtyard where perhaps twenty humans stood, lined before an earth-dragon wielding an axe. To her horror, a woman was being pushed down to her knees. An earth-dragon guard roughly slammed the victim’s head against the chopping block. It was Ruth!
“Stop!” Jandra cried out. Mary, next in line, looked up to the tower.
“Don’t look!” Mary shouted through tears.
“No!” Jandra screamed as the axe rose.
She turned away in helpless anger as the executioner performed his task. The wet thunk sent a chill up her spine. Mary was screaming.
Jandra slammed her fist into the stone wall and sank to the floor, sobbing. How could even Albekizan order such a thing? What did Ruth and Mary have to do with Bodiel’s death?
Mary kept screaming for what seemed like an eternity. And then she stopped.
Jandra buried her face in her knees and bit her lips. This couldn’t be happening.
There was a gust of wind from the open window, followed by a scraping sound as claws clenched stone.
“Jandra,” grunted a disembodied voice. “Stand away from the window.”
Jandra raised her head. “Ven! Where are you?”
“Uhn. I’m clinging to the wall outside. Not much to hold onto.” The iron bars shifted, rust flaking, as unseen talons grasped them. “It seems I may have made a strategic error in sending you back to our quarters.”
“What’s going on, Ven?” Jandra said, jumping back up to the window, wiping away her tears. “Those people in the courtyard, they-”
“Are being executed,” said Vendevorex. “Don’t think about it. You’re in terrible danger; my first priority is your rescue. Stand back.”
“Why is this happening?” Jandra said, grabbing the iron bars, so cold and immobile. She sought Vendevorex’s claw but couldn’t find it. Apparently, he was no longer holding the bars.
“There’s no time to answer your questions,” said Vendevorex. “I must steady myself to disintegrate the mortar holding in the stones around the window. The stones will collapse inward. Stand back. Hurry!”
Jandra let go of the window. She wiped her cheeks again as she stepped toward the middle of the room. “Do it.”
Dust trickled from beneath the window. With a crack, several large stones broke free and crashed to the floor. The iron bars landed on top with a loud clang.
“What’s going on in there?” a guard shouted through the door.
“I-I tripped,” Jandra shouted back. She grabbed a pitcher of water that had been left in the chamber and thrust her hand into it. Concentrating, she worked the water into steam, filling the room with fog.
“Hurry,” Vendevorex said, climbing through the hole in the wall and turning visible. “I’ll fly you out of here.”
Jandra dashed to his side. She paused when she spotted the long, open wound on his cheek.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.
“It’s not important. I’ll heal it when there’s time. For now, we must fly.”
“But you haven’t been able to carry me for years,” Jandra said as she heard the guard’s keys rattling at the lock. “Oh, we should have thought this through!”
“I have,” he said. “Flying with your weight isn’t so much a problem as taking off. I’ll have a forty-foot drop to build sufficient speed to carry you. Hurry!”