'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!'
'This really isn't a smart move on your part,' Jandra grumbled.
'I've summoned other riders,' the man said, eyeing Bitterwood, then the dragon. 'You should flee if you value your life. I'll release the girl when they arrive.'
Bitterwood raised his sword and took a step closer. 'The girl is a witch. It was only a matter of time before I killed her myself.'
'I swear I'll do it,' the rider screamed, jerking Jandra's hair back and denting her throat with the tip of the blade.
Before Bitterwood could react, Jandra grabbed the man's wrist. Though the man's arms were twice as thick as her own, she pushed the dagger away from her throat as the man struggled to regain control.
Suddenly Hex darted in, his jaws wide. He clamped down with twin rows of knife-length teeth over the man's head. The rider screamed briefly before Hex silenced him forever with a sharp twist that tore the man's neck from his torso. Hex rose, his jaws spraying blood as he crunched the man's skull into ever-smaller fragments.
Jandra turned pale as she watched Hex swallow. She scrambled away from the corpse who still had an arm around her and grabbed her helmet.
'He tasted better than his mount, at least,' said Hex, wiping blood from his jaws onto his wing. 'Why didn't you simply melt his dagger, Jandra?'
Jandra didn't look back at Hex as she pulled on her helmet.
'I need my helmet to…' her voice trailed off, as if she thought better of completing her sentence. 'It's not important.'
Her eyes caught Bitterwood's. Bitterwood could tell that this was the first time she'd ever seen a dragon devour a man. Perhaps now she could understand his hatred of the beasts. She turned away, looking ill.
Hex remained oblivious to the unspoken communication between the humans. His eyes were fixed on the back of the shaft.
'There's one more,' he said.
Bitterwood looked into the gloom. A single long-wyrm slithered forward. At first, he thought it might be the one he wounded, but he soon saw that this one was unscathed, as was the rider upon its saddle. The rider's outfit was slightly modified from that of his brethren, with a large red star above his left breast. Like the others, he wore a silver visor. Unlike the others, whose hair had been cropped short, this new rider's locks hung to his shoulders. His skin was the same pale tint, but his hair was a dark chestnut, a shade that reminded Bitterwood of his now dead wife, Recanna. He carried a crossbow, but it wasn't loaded. Bitterwood had learned to read bodies well over the years; whoever this was, he wasn't planning to attack.
'What a waste,' the new rider said, looking over the corpses of his brethren. 'This combat wasn't authorized. They betrayed the goddess by coming here on a mission of petty revenge. They've paid the ultimate price for their folly.'
'You'll not try to avenge them, then?' asked Hex.
'No,' the rider said. 'Through our visors, we may send messages to one another. They signaled that they were entering combat; I ordered them to stand down and they disobeyed my orders. I watched the battle as if through their eyes. They struck first. You fought in self defense. There is nothing to avenge.'
'Perhaps you have nothing to avenge,' said Bitterwood. 'But there's a town below that was destroyed by your riders. Why?'
'The goddess decreed it was a time of harvest,' the rider said in a matter-of-fact tone as his long-wyrm carried him to within a few yards. To be coming into the presence of a sun-dragon, the rider and his long-wyrm looked strangely unworried. 'The goddess planted them. She may reap them.'
'Planted them?' Jandra said. 'They weren't stalks of corn.'
'Are they still alive?' Hex asked.
