"You have no business here, stranger," Rorg said, eyeing the iron-clad dragon.
The new dragon came to a clanging halt a few feet from the fire-pit. "I'm no stranger, Rorg," said the visitor. "My father knew you well. While he never adopted your foolish beastialism, he always admired your brutality. He thought that, of all the abodes in his kingdom, you had the best approach to handling the humans who lived on his land."
"His kingdom?" asked Rorg. "The only king I've ever served is Albekizan. He's dead, and has no sons."
Bitterwood knew that Rorg's statement wasn't quite true. There was one surviving son.
"My name is Hexilizan," said Hex, using his formal name. He drew up to his full height. The light from the fire pit gleamed on his polished breast plate. "You know me, Rorg."
A light slowly flickered in the fat dragon's dull eyes. "Ah," he said. "The disgraced son. Castrated, shamed, sent to live as little more than a slave. Now you come here wrapped in your armor, showing you fear the natural weaponry of the true dragons! Bow before me, Hexilizan, and I may let you leave this cavern with your life."
Hex shook his head, the chain mail on his neck jingling. "Your recitation of my history is correct. I've lived much of my life as another dragon's servant. I found the experience distasteful. The age of kings has reached its end, Rorg, as has the age of slaves."
"You sound like your spineless brother, Shandrazel." Rorg pushed the name from his mouth as if it were a turd he'd found upon his tongue.
"My brother foolishly believed in the equality of all beings," Hex said. "My belief is different: I stand for nothing more or less than freedom. I'm grateful you've called this gathering, Rorg. It makes it convenient for me to address you all. You must all free your slaves. This should be compatible with your philosophy, after all. You call yourselves beasts. Where in nature has slavery ever been found outside of dragonkind? No other creature on this world has ever adopted the practice of slavery."
"Humans are useful parasites," said Rorg. "Without them, who will muck our caves?"
"Even earth-dragons have embraced plumbing," Hex said. "It's time for you to evolve."
"Who are you to come here issuing commands? You're not king!"
"No," said Hex. "I'm not a king. I collect no tax; no patch of the earth is my property. I'm merely a philosopher who sees the myriad injustices of this world. Unlike my pacifist brother, I'm also a warrior. I regard violence as an acceptable argument for convincing others to see things my way."
Bitterwood had seen Hex in action. Bitterwood liked him better as a warrior than a philosopher. Not that he liked him overly much as either.
"You're outnumbered sixty to one!" Rorg snarled as he rose once more to his hind legs. "You're in no position to threaten violence!"
Rorg's fellow beastialists formed a tight circle around the fire pit. Hex was surrounded.
Bitterwood took aim at Rorg. From here, he had a clear shot at the sun-dragon's throat. It would be a simple matter to sever the main artery supplying his brain. The beastialist would be dead within seconds.
His eyes drifted from Rorg to Hex. In his armor, the only vulnerable spots were the narrow eye-slits in the helmet. It would be a more challenging shot. Given the angle of attack, there was also the risk he would merely blind Hex without a clean kill.
Bitterwood contemplated the matter for half a second. He'd been waiting to put an arrow into Hex since the moment he'd met him.
His breath crossed his lips in a slow, calm stream as he let his arrow fly.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
BLOOD-HUNGRY AVENGER
The living arrow flew from Bitterwood's bowstring with a loud zzzmmm. The note sang musically in the narrow stone alcove. Hex turned his head barely an inch in reaction to the noise. It saved his life. The arrow hit the edge of his helmet's eye slit and bounced off. The ricocheting arrow sliced across the face of a sun-dragon beyond. That dragon howled in outrage as Bitterwood drew another arrow. The other dragons began to snarl. The awareness that they were under attack spread through the assembly like a wave. Yet, an arrow was a tiny thing, nearly invisible in the firelight. None of Rorg's brethren turned their eyes toward Bitterwood. Instead, they focused upon Hex as their muscles coiled, ready to pounce.
Bitterwood suspected if he did nothing but sit and watch, Hex would be dead inside a minute, given the odds he faced. Still, the opportunity to put an arrow into the brain of Albekizan's only surviving son was something he couldn't pass up. Bitterwood placed the fresh arrow on his bowstring and searched for an opening.
Hex didn't provide the opening. Instead, he tossed the cow stomach into the air above the fire and hacked at it with his steel axe. The bulging sack burst, spraying oil over the fire pit. Bitterwood felt the heat on his cheeks as the oil ignited in a violent conflagration. He turned his face, closing his eyes to protect them from the sudden burst of light.
When Bitterwood opened his eyes, he saw three of the beastialists pounce upon Hex. Bitterwood watched with grudging admiration as Hex made short work of them. The sun-dragon buried the axe into the breast of his first foe, a blow that was almost certainly fatal. With the blade affixed to his tail, Hex sliced across the throat of the attacker at his rear. From the spray of blood, Bitterwood concluded the attack had hit an artery. He wondered if it was only luck, or if Hex was a better fighter than he'd given him credit for. The final attacker was a young, aggressive sun-dragon who charged forward with no hint of caution. Hex opened his jaws wide and caught his foe's smaller head between his teeth. There was a sickening crunch as the dragon's skull split under the force of Hex's crushing bite.
A thick blue smoke rose from the fire. Through the haze, Bitterwood saw a shot as Hex spat the young dragon's head away. Despite his armor, Hex's open mouth was a vulnerable spot. An arrow straight down his gullet would bury itself in the sun-dragon's brain-stem. He let the arrow fly.
Hex snapped his jaw shut as the arrow reached his mouth, tilting his head so that the arrow was deflected by his armored snout. Bitterwood cursed the dragon's luck. Or was it luck? Hex turned his gaze toward the ledge where Bitterwood stood. The other dragons might not be aware of him, but Hex plainly was.
Before Bitterwood could fire again, Thak, Rorg's eldest son, plunged into battle. He blindsided Hex, knocking the armored dragon from his hind-talons. The two crashed against the stone floor. Hex's armor clanged like an alarm meant to wake the gods. The two dragons rolled, necks and tails entwining, as Thak used his powerful claws to peel back part of the armored plate covering Hex's belly.
Traces of the blue-tinged smoke reached Bitterwood. His nose twitched at the stench of burning peanuts. He recognized the odor, having smelled it when Blasphet attacked the Nest. The smoke was a paralyzing poison that affected all manner of dragons.
Around the cavern, sun-dragons were starting to sway drunkenly. They stared at random shadows, glassy-eyed, oblivious to Thak and Hex's furious tussle. The two rolling dragons toppled the nearest beastialists as if they were huge, red bowling pins. A few tried to stagger from the cavern but none made it to the exit, as their eyes rolled back into their heads and they collapsed.
Bitterwood remained focused on Hex's armored form. The excitement of combat was sparing Thak the soporific effects of the smoke so far, so the motions of the two dragons as they wrestled prevented Bitterwood from finding a good opening.
It was increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that there were nearly three score sun-dragons lying immobile, stupefied by the poison smoke. Here was an opportunity to rid the world of an entire clan of sun-dragons. His hatred of all dragons burned in his throat like thirst and he could no longer resist spilling blood. His bow sang out in the alcove in a steady rhythm as he targeted the immobile forms of dragon after dragon. He emptied his quiver faster than his living arrows could grow back. He studied his handiwork as his heart pounded in his ears. The floor was red and glistening. He'd killed more sun-dragons in a moment than he'd managed to kill in most years. It wasn't enough.