His whole body was a mass of interesting scars. Why did this wound haunt him so? He’d had close calls before. Indeed, one of the three ancient blades had once cut a foot-long gash in his belly that provided him with the enthralling opportunity to gaze upon his own intestines. Why did this fresh wound so remind him of his mortality? He was old, true, but still healthy, still in command of his wits. But for how much longer?
He bundled up the three blades in an old bear hide and tossed them from the cave. On a whim he decided to take the whip as well.
He slithered back out into the open air. Now, to find Cron. This wasn’t a particular challenge since he’d found Cron’s trail earlier at Bodiel’s murder scene. Following it was as easy as following a hallway. Broken branches, torn leaves, footprints in the mud: all led to a thicket a quarter mile away from where Bodiel had fallen. Zanzeroth found the impression of Cron’s body in the forest debris behind a fallen log. The slave had apparently hidden there for some time before rising again. More interesting than the impression of Cron’s body, however, were the many breadcrumbs and the discarded apple core. Cron did have an accomplice after all. Bitterwood? Zanzeroth searched for a second set of human footprints and instead found the hind-talon marks of a sky-dragon. He bent low to catch the scent, an all too familiar one. Vendevorex. He should have known the wizard had been involved in this. The wizard’s fondness for humans was well known.
And yet… Why would Vendevorex have plotted against Bodiel? Helping Cron survive may have fit within the wizard’s quirks, but working to harm Bodiel seemed too… active. There was more to this story than footprints alone were going to tell. Perhaps Cron himself would be more talkative.
“Wait here,” said Vendevorex, peering through the branches toward the town beyond.
Jandra stepped forward for a closer look. She was glad they were hidden by the trees and not relying on her maintaining the invisibility shield. It left her free to use the same technique she’d used in the tower to turn the water into mist to gently dry out her clothes and hair, still damp from her plunge into the river.
They were hidden within a small grove of trees on the outskirts of Richmond, a human town several miles upriver from Albekizan’s palace. Richmond was a thriving place, built beside a long stretch of rapids. A canal running through the town connected the broad, deep river below the town with the swifter, yet still navigable river that wound up into the mountains. A gateway between the ocean and the mountains, Richmond bustled with activity as the wealth of the kingdom flowed through it. Vendevorex and Jandra watched the nearby river docks. A few dozen people could be seen going about their business.
“Where are you going?” Jandra asked.
“I think our best course at this point will be to take a boat,” Vendevorex said. “We can save our strength rather than exhausting ourselves on foot.”
“When you say take a boat, do you mean steal a boat?” Jandra asked.
Vendevorex turned his long, narrow face to her. His face was back to normal. He’d taken ten minutes to concentrate on the cut to his cheek, and now there was little sign of the wound, only a thin, pale line of blue scales that were fresher than the others.
“Yes,” he said flatly. “I mean steal.”
“But-”
Vendevorex raised his talon to his mouth in a gesture of silence.
Jandra clenched her jaw at the dismissive signal. She understood, of course, the danger they were in. But it always bothered her the way that dragons treated human property as their own. “People need-”
“These people are all dead,” Vendevorex said. “You saw the slaughter in the courtyard. It’s only a matter of time before the king’s troops descend on this place. Albekizan means to kill every last human in his kingdom. These people have much greater things to worry about than a missing boat.”
Jandra could hardly breathe. She had thought that the king was slaughtering only the palace workers in retribution for Bodiel’s death.
“Did… did you say…” she could barely think the thought, let alone speak it.
“Every last human,” said Vendevorex.
“We have to stop him!” Jandra said. “We have to go back!”
“We would return to our deaths,” Vendevorex said. “We escaped due to the haste with which I acted. We had the element of surprise. I turn invisible, not invulnerable. You of all people know how many of my magics are based on illusions. In a direct, violent confrontation with Albekizan, I could possibly best him, but then what? If I kill him, we’ll wind up with anarchy, or worse, under the rule of a buffoon such as Kanst. I see no immediate good options.”
“B-but, you’re his advisor. You can reason with the king, can’t you?”
“Albekizan’s notion of reason was to lock you in a cell to blackmail me into assisting him. I defied him, Jandra, for your sake. I won’t throw away our lives by returning to the castle.”
“Then, what? We sit idly by while all of humanity is slaughtered?”
Vendevorex shook his head slowly. “I… I need time to think. Let me secure a boat. There may be allies we can contact. Albekizan’s decision to wipe out the human race will meet with opposition from other sun-dragons, I’m sure of this.”
“We should at least warn the people of Richmond,” Jandra said. “Give them time to flee.”
“We’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Vendevorex. “We must be careful to leave no clues of having passed this way. I’m certain Albekizan’s troops are searching for us. Worse still, he may put Zanzeroth on our trail. We can’t be careless.”
“I can’t believe you,” Jandra said. She was thinking about the cries from the courtyard. She remembered the wet sound the axe made as it fell. Perhaps Vendevorex was content to allow these people to die, but she would have no part of it.
Without another word, she ran. Vendevorex reached to grab her but she slipped past his grasp and dashed from the trees, heading for the docks.
“Run!” she shouted. “Run! Albekizan wants to kill you!”
Instead of running, the men working on the docks merely looked up, bewildered. As she drew closer and her shouts grew more urgent, more people emerged from boats and buildings to see what the commotion was.
She reached a gray-bearded man who stood coiling rope at one of the nearest boats.
“Calm down, girl,” the man said. His eyes twinkled with bemusement against this leathery, tanned face. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re all in terrible danger,” she said. “You need to run. Albekizan plans to kill everyone.”
The old man chuckled. “Is that right?”
More men approached.
“What’s wrong?” a young man shouted as he strolled up.
“This girl says the king wants to kill us!” the old man said, sounding amused.
“He’s doing a good job of it,” another man shouted. “Takes half my wages in taxes, he does. That wicked old beast is starving my family.”
“Let the king try something,” another man shouted, brandishing a large, dangerous-looking hook. “He shows his scaly hide around here, I’ll give him what for.”
Jandra was out of breath. She bent forward, resting her hands on her knees, and said, “Please. This isn’t a joke. He’s killing people right now in the palace.”