The only thing he knew to say was, “Bodiel will be avenged.”
Tanthia’s wet eyes glistened in the gloom as she fixed her gaze upon him.
“I’m convening a council of war,” Albekizan continued. “This crime shall not go unpunished. There’s no corner of the earth where the guilty may hide.”
Tanthia inhaled slowly. Softly, she asked, “This is all you have to say in comfort?”
“What more need be said?” he said. “Last night’s events demand vengeance.”
“Talk of vengeance is not the same as talk of grief,” she said, her voice trembling. “I hear no pain in your voice. Where are your tears? Come with me, my king. Come with me to the Burning Ground. By now, Bodiel lies in state. Stand by my side as I go see him.”
“No,” said Albekizan. His eyes were fixed on the ancient rock beneath his claws, polished smooth by the passage of his uncountable ancestors. Could Tanthia not feel the gravity of this place? Here, at the heart of all history, was no place for weakness. “Not yet. At nightfall, perhaps, I will go. But I’ve already seen my son dead. I’ve held his cold body. Do not lecture me about the proper way to grieve.”
“You sound angry with me,” Tanthia said.
“You hear what you want to hear,” said Albekizan, turning away. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I will go now.”
“Please,” said Tanthia. “Stay with me. Share the burden of this grief.”
“Grief cannot be my priority,” Albekizan said, not looking back. “I have summoned Kanst. I must ready the armies. The longer we hesitate, the longer Bitterwood has to work his evil on this world. I hope you understand this.”
Tanthia replied only with sobs. Albekizan sighed, stepping through the chamber door. In the hall he sensed a presence and could hear scraping against the stone around the nearby corner. Albekizan breathed deeply, catching a familiar scent in his nostrils. He knew who shadowed him.
“Bander!” he cried, summoning the captain of the palace guard.
In the time it took Albekizan to blink the earth-dragon dashed around the corner and snapped to attention.
“Sire,” Bander said. “I didn’t want to intrude but-”
“Are they ready?” Albekizan asked.
“Kanst has arrived, Sire,” said Bander. “He waits in the war room with Metron and Zanzeroth.” As he spoke, his voice wavered. The hard, beak-like face of earth-dragons gave little hint of emotion, but Albekizan could recognize a touch of fear in Bander’s eyes. “As for Vendevorex, Sire, the guards continue their search.”
Albekizan nodded. He wasn’t angered by this failure of Bander’s guards. Vendevorex possessed the power of invisibility. He would be found only when he wished to be found. “Continue the search. The wizard is vital to my plans. What of my second order?”
Bander looked relieved. “The guards are gathering the humans even now, Sire.”
“Good. I want their stench removed from this castle-”
“Please?”
Tanthia’s voice interrupted them. Albekizan turned to see his mate standing in the chamber door, the feathery scales around her eyes darkened by tears.
“I beg you,” she said, her voice raspy and weak. “Come with me to the Burning Ground.”
Albekizan narrowed his eyes with displeasure. “I consider this matter settled. No amount of tears will revive Bodiel. Go and wait at the Burning Ground until the ceremony if you must. I will see to the business of saving my kingdom.”
Upon hearing his words Tanthia collapsed, all strength gone.
“You’re so cold,” she sobbed. “So cold. The stones in the walls are warmer than your heart.”
Albekizan turned from his mate and stormed away, grinding his teeth in anger. But when he reached the end of the hall he stopped and turned to study his fallen queen, her crimson wings stretched forward across the ancient bedrock, her body heaving with sobs. Albekizan walked back and crouched beside his queen. Touching her shoulders, he helped her to rise. He brushed his talons across the delicate scales of her cheeks.
“Tanthia, my love, it pains me to see you grieve. Nonetheless, mourning is a mother’s burden, and her luxury. My duty is to avenge my son. I must go and consult with my advisors as to the swiftest path to achieve justice. Later, when the moon has risen and the day’s work is done, I will join you at the Burning Ground and watch as Metron lights the pyre. Then I will hold you and assist with the burden of grief. Go now. Wait with our fallen son, until the night comes.”
Tanthia stood, her legs still trembling, but her head held high. “Yes, my king,” she whispered, and returned once more to the nest chamber.
Albekizan turned away and saw that Bander now conferred with another guard in panicked, hushed voices.
“What is it?” Albekizan demanded.
Bander snapped back to attention. “Sire, my guards have searched every room of the castle. Vendevorex cannot be found.”
“No doubt the wizard plots some dramatic entrance,” Albekizan said. “He thinks it beneath his dignity to simply walk into a room. Call off the search. I’ll wait no longer. Come.”
VENDEVOREX, IN FACT, did not consider it beneath his dignity to simply walk into a room. Dignity played no part in his comings and goings; strategy was the key to his movements. He’d served Albekizan for close to fifteen years and he’d decided long ago that life would be more comfortable for him if he maintained his own agenda. Thus, while the night had found Albekizan and Zanzeroth in frenzied pursuit of Bitterwood, Vendevorex had chosen a different course. He’d been present in the forest at Bodiel’s murder scene, watching invisibly from a tree as Zanzeroth pointed out Cron’s and Bitterwood’s trails. As the hunting party left in pursuit of Bitterwood, Vendevorex followed Cron’s path. It wasn’t that he was unconcerned with the capture of Bitterwood. He was simply confident that the deed was within Zanzeroth’s grasp. The old tracker could follow a single snowflake through a blizzard. And when they caught up to the Bitterwood-or to the person pretending to be him-it seemed likely that that the small army accompanying the king would prevail. How dangerous could one man be, after all?
Cron’s trail led for several hundred meandering yards through the thickets of the forest. Vendevorex didn’t possess Zanzeroth’s skills as a tracker, but he didn’t need them. The king had been right. These slaves left a trail anyone could follow.
At last he found the young slave hiding behind a fallen log with a shelter of branches pulled over him. It wasn’t a horrible hiding place, except that Cron’s teeth were chattering loud enough that he sounded like some sort of nocturnal woodpecker.
From ten feet away, Vendevorex said, “I am your friend, Cron.”
Cron gasped, then clenched his jaw, silencing his chattering teeth.
“You have nothing to fear,” Vendevorex said. “Rise, I wish to help you.”
“W-who are you?” Cron whispered.
“Tonight, I am your last, best hope,” Vendevorex said. “You’re safe for the moment. But when the king finds his prey tonight, I have no doubt he’ll come looking for you. It’s best that you be long gone.”
Cron rose into a crouch, looking around the dark forest with fear in his eyes. Vendevorex chose to remain invisible. But he placed a burlap sack near the log and backed away.
“The sack before you… Do you see it?”
Cron looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. At last he looked to the ground and spotted the sack.
“I’ve brought you clothes and food,” said Vendevorex. “You’ll also find a knife within the pack.”
Cron crawled over the log toward the burlap. He reached out carefully and poked it. Then he pulled it toward him and fumbled at the chord that closed it with trembling fingers. At last he tore it open. He found a heavy cloak within which he draped over his body. In doing so, a loaf of bread fell from the bag, landing on the muddy ground. Cron snatched it up and began to hungrily devour it.
Between cramming in mouthfuls of bread, Cron said, “You sound close, why don’t I see you?”
“I wish to remain an anonymous benefactor for now,” said Vendevorex.
“You’re invisible,” said Cron. “That narrows down who you might be. Venderex, right? The wizard?”
Vendevorex remained silent.
