Bitterwood had seen a lot of creatures die, but seldom had he ever felt such loss. Killer had been a good dog. Bitterwood snarled as he flew at the rider. The rider looked up, struggling to pull his sword free from the dying canine. Bitterwood leapt and swung his blade, chopping into the man's sword arm near the elbow. The rider pulled back, a gasp of agony escaping his lips. The rider's pale face turned even whiter as he saw his arm dangling by a thread of flesh. Bitterwood spun to face the jaws of the long-wyrm as the rider slipped from his saddle. Unfortunately, the rider wasn't dead. With his good hand, he reached out as he fell and grabbed Bitterwood's cloak, jerking him backwards.
Bitterwood fought for balance as his feet slipped on the slick gore beneath him. An instant later he was flat on his back. He clenched his jaws as the first of the long-wyrm's talons dug into his right shin. With reflexes trained by years of constant battle, Bitterwood swung his blade without thinking, severing the talon at the wrist. He kicked, scooting backward, as the long-wyrm pulled back. He tried to rise, but everywhere his feet and hands fell he found the hot, stinking slime of Killer's entrails. He could get no traction. The long-wyrm recovered and rose, swaying, then flashed toward him, a bolt of serpentine lightning.
Before it reached him, a second long-wyrm came flying through the air, catching Bitterwood's attacker in mid-strike, knocking it backward.
Bitterwood rolled to his side, trying to figure out what had just happened. He saw one of the long-wyrms now lying dead and broken at the sun-dragon's feet. Two riders lay still and bloody nearby. Hex was down on all fours, the tail of the remaining long-wyrm clamped in his mouth. He spun in circles, whipping his foe through the air in dizzying arcs. This was what had saved Bitterwood-Hex's foe had collided with his. The rider of the spinning long-wyrm was still in his saddle, his feet tangled in the stirrups. His visor was gone, and he had a look of sheer terror in his eyes.
Rising to his feet, sword in hand, Bitterwood searched for the long-wyrm that had killed Killer. It was undulating toward the back of the shaft, vanishing once more into darkness. Bitterwood considered giving chase, but decided against it. The bleeding long-wyrm would leave an easy trail. Bitterwood was greatly interested in where it would lead.
With a sickening crunch, the long-wyrm in Hex's jaws smacked into the wall of the mine, its body nearly flattening with the impact. Hex let the now-dead beast drop, pinning its still living rider beneath it.
Hex looked dizzy, swaying drunkenly in the aftermath of battle. He was covered with countless cuts, though none looked serious.
Bitterwood examined the body of the rider who'd grabbed him by the belt. The man had finally died from blood loss. He looked around the room. Jeremiah was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's the boy?" he asked.
"I don't know," Jandra said, looking down at something small in her hands. "I got a little overconfident after my success at dismantling the bolts and fried this one with Vengeance of the Ancestors. I forgot that I might kill the rest of you with the poison smoke. I had to gather up all the particulate matter and compress it so it wouldn't be harmful." She held up a black ball the size of a walnut. A skin of silver flowed over it like paint as she turned it in her fingers. "I'll be more careful next time."
Hex said, "I saw Jeremiah flee from the mine. I admire his finely honed instincts for avoiding danger."
"He's only a child," said Jandra. "He's probably safer wherever he ran to than wherever we're going."
Bitterwood knelt next to Killer, placing his hands on the dog's bloodied body. The bristly fur was warm to his touch. He remembered Killer's gentleness as a mount, the look of genuine gratitude the dog conveyed whenever Bitterwood had thrown it some scrap of food. Bitterwood's leg throbbed from where the long-wyrm had dug into it, but the pain felt so distant compared to the cold fingers of grief that clamped around his heart.
"Jandra," he said softly. "Can you help him? He's… he's a good dog."
Jandra walked over and placed a hand on Bitterwood's shoulder. "I'm sorry. Most of what I do is augment a body's own healing mechanisms. I can't bring the dead back to life."
Bitterwood shuddered, feeling the icy hands inside him closing tighter. He closed his eyes, locating the core of hatred that forever burned in him, and instantly his grief washed away in a flood of outrage. These long-wyrm riders had much to pay for.
He stood and limped toward the only rider left alive, the one trapped beneath the long-wyrm. The man's face was twisted in agony as he clawed at the floor, trying to pull himself free. His pale features were now smudged with black coal dust.
Bitterwood stamped down with his full weight, using his uninjured leg to snap the man's fingers beneath his boot. The man released an agonized cry.
"I'm going to kill you," Bitterwood said, pressing down harder and giving the fingers under his heel a twist.
"Wait!" Jandra shouted, rushing up behind him. "We need him alive! We need to ask him questions."
"I'll never talk!" the rider vowed between clenched teeth. "I'd die before betraying the goddess!"
"Then die!" said Bitterwood, raising his sword.
"Stop," said Jandra, taking Bitterwood's arm and pulling him back. "He can tell us what happened to Zeeky!"
"He won't talk. He's a disciple of the goddess Ashera. I know better than anyone the blindness of faith. Let me end his pathetic life!"
"The goddess shall avenge me!" the man said, struggling to sit up. His legs were free of the long-wyrm now but they were twisted in a way that told Bitterwood he would never walk again.
"Your goddess has no power," Bitterwood said. "I've seen her temples gutted, her idols desecrated. She cannot stop these things, just as she cannot save you!"
"Blasphemer!" The rider spat the word out as if it tasted vile. "I've seen the goddess with my own eyes! If you were to gaze upon her glory, you would tear out your own tongue in penance for your foul lies!"
Hex's long face drew closer to the rider. His jaws still dripped blood. "I, for one, would like to meet this goddess. Can you take us to her?"
The man grimaced as he tried to move his broken legs. He sighed, sagging back against the long-wyrm's corpse. "It would serve you right if I were to lead you to her, dragon. She would melt the flesh from your bones with but a glance."
Jandra knelt before the rider. "I'm willing to take that chance. I have the power to heal your legs. Would you lead us to your goddess if I do?"
The man looked at her skeptically.
Jandra reached out and placed her hands on the man's foot. His boot had been lost beneath the long-wyrm, leaving his bloodied and twisted flesh exposed.
She closed her eyes as a look of concentration fell over her features.
"Compound fractures in both legs," she said. "Extensive internal bleeding. You'll die if you don't accept my help."
In answer, the man's one good hand darted out and grabbed Jandra by her hair. Her helmet flew from her head as he yanked her to his chest, pinning her with his other arm. His free hand flashed to his belt and an instant later a dagger rested against her throat.
"Stay back!" he snarled. "I'll kill her if you move so much as an inch!"