Bitterwood grimaced, then turned away. He raised the back of his hand to her and said, “This conversation is pointless. You delude yourself into thinking he’ll survive. He’s got more blood on the floor than he does in his veins. But if he does pull through, what the hell. I’ll leave him alone. Maybe one day he’ll be the last dragon on earth.”
A silence followed his words. From the outer chamber Jandra heard the curses and clashes of battle. Chakthalla’s few remaining guards must have rallied there. But they couldn’t hold out for long. Even if Pet helped her move Vendevorex, where could they run? The only doors from the room led toward the battle or out to Chakthalla’s private garden, a walled area with no exit save for flying.
The sounds of metal striking metal, of dragons crying their final cries, grew ever closer. Pet sat where Gadreel had dropped him, still looking dazed. Bitterwood busied himself cutting arrows free from the bodies of the earth-dragons he had slain. Jandra could see his quiver held only a few remaining shafts.
“Been a busy night,” Bitterwood said as he yanked an arrow free and studied the tip for damage. “Looks like I’ll run out of arrows before I run out of dragons.”
Then, from the distance, a new sound could be heard over the clash of swords. The faint wail of a trumpet was echoed by another, less distant horn, and another followed this.
“What’s that?” Pet asked.
“Curious,” said Bitterwood. “That’s the signal for retreat. The king’s army is breaking off the attack.” Indeed, the noise in the outer chamber nearly ceased as the invaders fell back. The handful of guards left alive chased after them.
“But… they were winning!” Jandra said.
“Maybe they don’t know that,” Bitterwood said. “I killed dozens of the king’s soldiers. It’s a mess out there. Smoke everywhere. If that big sun-dragon I shot up made it outside before he died, he might have panicked the forces.”
Jandra wondered how long it would be before the assault resumed. Would she have time to help Vendevorex? She needed help and she had few choices in allies.
“Bitterwood,” she said. “All you want to do is kill dragons.”
“Yes.”
“Well, all the dragons outside want to kill Vendevorex. I think we should make a deal.”
“I’m listening,” Bitterwood said.
Zeeky stirred as a hand vigorously shook her arm. Sleep was slow to release its hold on her. The sheets were warm and soft, and it had been too many days since she had slept in her bed. Then she remembered this wasn’t her bed.
She opened her eyes. Merria, the little girl, was shaking her. The worn, wearied look in her eyes made Zeeky think she hadn’t slept at all. How late was it? The room was still dark.
“They’re here,” Merria whispered.
“Who?”
“Dragons.”
Zeeky sat upright. Poocher rested at the foot of the bed, waking with a snort as she moved. From beyond the bedroom door she could hear Hodan, Merria’s father. She had difficulty making out all of his words through the wooden door but he was plainly arguing.
His words were met with the rough tones of the voice of a dragon, shouting, “Silence. You’ll come now.”
Hodan raised his voice again. There was a loud clap and his voice fell silent. Clatters and bangs, like furniture overturning, echoed throughout the room. Alanda, Merria’s mother, screamed.
“C’mon,” Zeeky said, grabbing Merria by her arm. “We have to run.”
“No!” Merria said, struggling to get loose. “I want my mommy!”
Footsteps pounded toward the door. Zeeky let go of Merria who jumped from the bed and ran toward the door. Zeeky swept Poocher into her arms and searched the darkened window next to her bed for the latch to the shutters.
She pushed the window open as lamplight spilled into the room from the opening door. Her legs were tangled up in the sheets so she leaned from the window and dropped Poocher the few feet to the ground. She then toppled forward, letting herself fall, kicking her legs free of the sheets. Just as the tangled cloth released her, the sharp-nailed claws of an earth-dragon closed around her ankle. Poocher squealed loudly as Zeeky was lifted away from him, back into the farmhouse.
“Run, Poocher!” she yelled as her attacker dragged her across the bed, then through the bedroom into the common room. The table was toppled to its side and not a single chair remained upright. She kicked her free leg wildly, striking her attacker’s arms.
The dragon who carried her showed no pain, and when he spoke he merely sounded amused. “This one shows a little more spirit.”
“Good,” a voice from outside the door of the farmhouse answered. “Bait’s better if it’s wiggling.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: ARROWS
“No,” Bitterwood answered, barely giving her proposal a second’s thought.
“But we can help you with your fight if you help us,” Jandra said.
“I’ve already agreed to spare his life. You can’t seriously expect me to help save it.”
“Fine,” Jandra said, seething with frustration. “Go. We’ll do this on our own.”
She noticed from the corner of her eye that Pet had finally cleared his head enough to stand and walk toward them. “You’ll help me, won’t you, Pet?” she said.
“Um, Mr. Bitterwood?” Pet asked, ignoring Jandra.
“What?”
“Can I go with you? At least until we can get away from the castle and to a decent-sized town somewhere?”
“No,” Bitterwood said.
“Please? I can pay you with gold and jewels and…”
Bitterwood raised his hand to silence Pet. “Look at you. You’re no villager. Everything about you screams that you’re a dragon’s companion. If you enjoy their company, seek help from them.”
“But-”
“Enough,” said Bitterwood. “There’s work to be done. The dragons within the castle are weakened and disoriented. I give you fair warning-when the dragons outside the walls strike again, they will find all the defenders dead.”
“You’re condemning us to death!” Pet cried.
Bitterwood turned and walked into the outer chamber. As he disappeared into the shadows, he said, “You feasted at the table of dragons; you slept on soft beds beneath their roof. It’s fitting that you rot among their corpses.”
“You bastard!” Pet yelled into the dark hallway. “I hope the dragons kill you! I hope they rip the arms from your sockets!”
“Shut up,” Jandra said.
“Did you hear his tone? That sanctimonious bastard thinks he’s too important to help us. If I see him again I’ll knock his teeth out.”
“I said shut up!” Jandra gave Pet her nastiest glare. “I’ve had all I can take of you. A minute ago you were willing to abandon Ven and me to save your skin. You’re a coward, Pet. Talking big just makes you look smaller.”
“Don’t talk to me that way!” Pet said.
“What are you going to do?” Jandra planted her hands on her hips. “Knock my teeth out?”
Pet threw up his hands. “You’re the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met! Women normally fall all over themselves to see me smile at them. You’re talking to me like I’m common trash.”
“Oh, I think you’re very uncommon trash. Now why don’t you just run along and find one of those women who like you so much? I need to figure out how to save Vendevorex.”
Pet started to say something and then stopped. After a pause he said, “It’s so quiet outside. Even the roar of the flames has lessened.”
“The Vengeance doesn’t burn forever. If the air is still, its own smoke eventually smothers it.”
“I’m sorry,” Pet said.
“That it doesn’t burn forever?”
Pet shook his head. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I lost my head. You’re right. This situation hasn’t brought out the best in me. But I’m calm now. I want to stay and help you.”
Jandra rolled her eyes. “You’re just too scared to try to make it out of the castle alone.”
“I’m not a coward.”
“Then go.” Jandra pointed toward the door.