“Anyone who tries to follow me is dead,” he growled, then spread his wings and rushed back toward the fountain. He leapt to the rim of the fountain and flapped with all his might, taking to the air, the downbeat of this wings knocking the smaller sky-dragons from their feet. He skimmed over the crowd, rising slowly, climbing with effort among the spires. His wings felt like lead; he’d flown two hundred miles to come here.
Two hundred miles, to reach the start of a journey to which he saw no end.
Fog covered the moonlit valley as Jandra watched from the window of the log cabin. Vendevorex was asleep; the cooler clime of the mountains they’d taken refuge in these last two weeks seemed to stir an unspeakable weariness in her mentor. In the hours when Vendevorex wasn’t sleeping, he would take mysterious trips down into the valley to conduct business about which he wouldn’t discuss with her.
Jandra’s world had shrunk to the four wooden walls of the rustic cabin and a circle of a hundred yards around it that she’d been gleaning for firewood. She was bored. She’d gladly devour a book on the anatomy of mollusks if she’d had one handy; she’d even read the acknowledgements and the footnotes.
She went back to where Vendevorex lay in the corner. He was curled onto a pad of wool blankets with a patchwork quilt draped over him. His chest heaved slightly as he slumbered.
A small fire still glowed in the fireplace but cast little warmth. An iron pot hung on a hook over the fire; it held the leftovers of a stew of squirrels and some potatoes Vendevorex had smuggled from a farmer’s cellar. They’d been eating the same stew three days now. Jandra couldn’t help but think back to the feast held at the palace the night before the contest. She imagined the tables piled high with roasts and freshly harvested vegetables and crusty breads frosted with white flour. She could still taste the grilled trout she’d consumed that night; for desert she’d had fresh strawberries in syrup.
She sighed, trying not to think of it. Looking out over the moonlight fog she suddenly felt cold. To fight the chill, Jandra lay down beside Vendevorex, resting her head on his shoulder and pulling the large quilt over her as well. The quilt was musty. It had been in the cabin when they found it; there was no way to tell how old it was. The wool pads beneath her were rough and scratchy.
Resting next to Vendevorex triggered dim fragments of memory. When she’d been a mere baby he’d cradled her. His musky, reptilian scent made her feel that all was right with the world. She had no memories of her parents before Vendevorex. He’d told her they died in a fire and she alone had survived. She’d asked if she might still have surviving relatives, some distant cousin perhaps, but Vendevorex claimed that his research into the matter was fruitless. Her dead family had been migrants that had come to work Albekizan’s harvest. No one knew where they’d come from. Jandra had no idea what her birth name might be.
Most of the time, her former identity didn’t matter. Now that they were on the run, homeless and hunted, she wondered about the truth. Did she have remnants of a family out in the far reaches of Albekizan’s kingdom? Was there someone in the world she might yet turn to for help in this awful time?
Vendevorex was lucky, sleeping as he pleased. Jandra hadn’t slept soundly since they’d left the castle. Hours passed in the darkness as she alternated between dwelling on her worries and drifting through her memories.
Sometimes, in the weightless, dark void of pre-slumber, she could still smell the smoke of that long ago fire that had taken her family, and still see the blue talons reaching down into her crib to rescue her.
Then, just as sleep was taking her, Vendevorex stirred, waking her. She could tell from his breathing that he was fully awake. However he set his internal clock, an alarm had been triggered. She sat up and asked, “Is something wrong?”
“No,” he said, rising and freeing himself from the quilt. He stretched, his broad wings touching the far walls of the cabin. The diamonds that studded his wings glimmered red in the firelight. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said.
“Where are you going?”
“Gathering,” he said.
“At this hour? What? Are you going to steal more potatoes?”
“Perhaps. Or I may go and see about acquiring better quarters. I should say no more,” Vendevorex said, shaking his head. “I don’t want to raise false hope.”
“Ven, I need hope, false or not,” Jandra said. “Another day here in this cabin and I’ll go crazy. We can’t just wait here while Albekizan is killing the entire human race.”
“Then I can give you genuine hope,” said Vendevorex. “The slaughter has yet to begin, according to my sources. Albekizan killed the workers of the palace and then stopped. No broad order to kill humans was issued to the kingdom at large. Perhaps his rage has abated. More likely, I fear, he’s merely taking the time to plot a bolder strategy. If my meeting tonight is fruitful, we may soon be in a better position to gather news.”
“Meeting?” Jandra asked. “Who are you seeing? I want to come.”
“That would be unwise,” said Vendevorex. “Again, I’ve said too much.”
“Ven, you wouldn’t have said it unless you really wanted to tell me. It’s out in the open now. What’s going on?”
Vendevorex moved to the window of the cabin and looked out over the valley. He studied the scene for a moment, lost in thought.
“Very well,” he said. “Queen Tanthia had a brother who was killed by Albekizan’s brother, Blasphet. His name was Terranax; his wife was Chakthalla. She dwells in a castle about fifty miles from here. She manages these lands for Albekizan; socially, she’s well connected. More importantly, she has an affection toward humans.”
“She treats them like show dogs, you mean,” said Jandra. “I know her by reputation. She buys and sells humans based on their breeding.”
“Precisely,” said Vendevorex, sounding pleased that Jandra understood this point. “As you see, she has an economic interest in thwarting Albekizan. More, if what I’ve learned of is true and Blasphet is involved in this dirty work, then she has an emotional stake in stopping the scheme as well. She’s our best hope.”
“Fine,” said Jandra. She had little use for the sun-dragons who bred and displayed their pet humans; perhaps that was because she was only a mutt in their eyes. As a foundling, she had no noble lineage to boast of. But mutt or no, she was willing to swallow her pride if it meant getting access to an actual bed and to something to eat besides squirrel stew.
“I’ve long maintained a network of trusted contacts,” Vendevorex continued. “There’s a sky-dragon within Chakthalla’s court named Simonex who I’ve corresponded with through this network. I’m meeting him tonight, to work out the details of an alliance with Chakthalla.”
“I’m coming with you,” said Jandra.
“You’ll stay invisible,” said Vendevorex.
“Of course,” she said. She was surprised he wasn’t arguing against the idea.
“You won’t make a sound. In fact, breathe as little as you possibly can. We cannot risk spooking Simonex. He is fully aware that speaking with me could land his head on the chopping block should the king learn of it.”
“You won’t know I’m there,” said Jandra.
“Let’s go,” said Vendevorex, heading for the door.
Invisibly, the two of them headed down the winding, root-covered path that led to the river. The damp night air smelled of mushrooms and moss. The ground was slick; slimy rocks lay hidden beneath rotting leaves. Vendevorex held her hand to guide her over the most treacherous ground. She felt guilty that her presence was slowing him. He could simply have flown down the mountain if she hadn’t insisted on coming along.