'I cannot be blamed for the actions my brother,' said Gabriel. 'Jazz gave us life centuries ago. I was to bring worshipers to the fold of the goddess; Hezekiah was to spread the old faith, and denounce the goddess as the devil.'
'Why would she want a competing religion?' Hex asked, puzzled.
'To keep humans divided,' said Jandra, tapping into Jazz's memories. 'To ensure that they would never unite to reclaim their former glory.'
'Correct. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm in need of new skin,' said Gabriel. With a flash of golden wings, he jumped through the rainbow and was gone.
'Should we follow him?' Hex asked.
'Not yet,' said Jandra. 'The battle may be over, but the work isn't. There may be wounded dragons I can assist. One of us should go after Bitterwood. See if he needs any help with Blasphet.'
'I need no one's help.' Bitterwood grumbled as he stepped into the Thread Room once more. His clothes were covered in blood. He was carrying a big gray lump of torn meat in his left hand. Jandra's stomach turned and she looked away from the gory sight.
'What on earth are you carrying?' she asked, wrinkling her nose.
'Dinner,' said Bitterwood. 'I cut out his tongue.'
'By the bones,' Jandra said, unable to look at him. 'Why would you do something so barbaric?'
'Tongues are easy meat,' Bitterwood said. 'No bones, no fur. A bit chewy, but I've developed an appetite for them.'
Jandra remembered the shock she'd felt watching Hex devour a human's head. Somehow, realizing that Bitterwood ate the tongues of his victims seemed far more disturbing.
'You defeated Blasphet?' Hex asked.
'Yes. Yet another of your relatives. You and Shandrazel are the only blood kin of Albekizan remaining.'
'Why are you taunting him?' Jandra snapped.
'Because you told me I couldn't kill him,' said Bitterwood, coolly. 'I'm going back to the cavern now. I'm going to rescue Zeeky.'
'Wait and we'll come with you,' said Jandra. 'I have a surprise in store for the goddess when I see her again.'
'I don't need either of you to help,' Bitterwood said. 'I've already killed one god today.'
With this, Bitterwood stepped into the rainbow gate and vanished.
'Are all your friends this charming?' Hex asked.
'I'm not certain I have any friends,' said Jandra. Her shoulders sagged. For all her powers, all her control over matter and light, the simplest human connections continued to elude her. Jazz's earlier accusation that she was only a confused and lonely little girl now lay heavy on her heart.
Hex's demeanor changed. His eyes softened as he reached out a fore-talon and placed it on her shoulder. 'I hope I'm not being presumptuous in saying this, but I consider myself your friend. I haven't known you long, but I admire your bravery, your intelligence, and your decency. I said what I said in anger. Please understand: I don't trust Bitterwood. I believe he's deranged. But if you wish to go after him, I'll stand by your side.'
Jandra nodded, feeling choked. She swallowed to regain control of her voice. 'Thank you, Hex. I do need to go back; not to help him, but to help Zeeky. Jazz is too dangerous to-'
'Who's Jazz?' Hex asked.
'Oh. That's the real name of the goddess. Only, she's not a goddess. She's just a human like me, using many of the same tricks I use. She's just better at them. But I'm learning fast.'
'Earlier, when the wyrm-rider knocked your helmet free, you seemed to lose your powers,' said Hex. 'I'd assumed you needed it to use your magic, but I see you no longer wear it.'
'Actually, I still have it,' Jandra said, lifting the hair at the back of her neck. 'Jazz reconfigured it to make it less obvious. Which makes me think she's probably wearing something similar. It's called a genie. If we can take her genie away, Jazz will be powerless.'
'If you plan to fight this goddess, I shall stand by your side.'
'Thank you,' she said, wrapping her fingers around Hex's talon and giving it a squeeze 'Before we go back, though, we should make sure we've done all we can do here. We need to make sure Adam's okay, then get him down here before I set his mount loose.'
'If we're going to fight the goddess, should we be helping Adam?' Hex asked.
Jandra ran her fingers through her hair. 'Good question. But, Adam hasn't done anything hostile toward us yet. My gut instinct is to treat him fairly for now. Who knows? Perhaps he'll turn out to be a friend after all.'
Blasphet opened his eyes. His body felt distant. Someone was standing before him, carrying a lantern, but his eyes wouldn't focus. His wing fell limp as the mysterious blurred shape pulled free the arrow that pierced it. The being then moved closer to his head. Blasphet could now see it was one of the sisters. Colobi?
She pulled free the arrow that pierced Blasphet's cheek. Blasphet slumped, and the woman caught his head on her shoulders.
'Your ruse worked, O Murder God,' she said. 'You trusted me with the knowledge that, should you ever face execution, you would simulate death by dosing yourself with your own poison. Your faith in me was not in vain. I found you in time to administer the antidote.'
'Uuuuuhh,' Blasphet groaned, feeling a haunting absence in his mouth.
'Bitterwood would have done far worse to you if he'd thought you were still alive,' Colobi said. 'You'll survive this, my Lord. I'll restore you to health. For now, we must flee. The invasion of the Nest wasn't completely successful. It's only a matter of time before the valkyries search these tunnels.'
Blasphet nodded. He could barely feel his hind-talons as Colobi helped him rise. She handed him a valkyrie spear to use as a staff so that he could support himself on his injured hamstring. Colobi stayed beneath his wing as she guided him further down the dark tunnel. Together, they limped away from the Nest.
Blasphet's throat ached as his lungs sucked in the damp air. He could hear his heart pounding with the effort of motion, feel his pulse pressing against the back of his eyes. He'd never felt such misery. Every step reminded him he'd escaped the embrace of death to once more endure the agony of being alive.
Alive.
He chuckled at the thought. His tongueless laugh was an eerie sound that caused Colobi to shudder beneath his wing.
Alive.
Oh, Bitterwood, he mused, his first fully conscious thought since waking. What a pathway to glory you have opened.
After he left Burke, Pet had run into a pair of earth-dragons fleeing Dragon Forge. Pet had killed them, but in the heat of battle he'd lost his bearings. After running more than a mile away from the fortress, he'd finally reoriented himself on a tall hill. Now, he raced through the maze of rusting ruins surrounding Dragon Forge toward the southern gate. A small canal ran along the southern road to the nearby river, the outflow of the fortress gutters and sewers. In the smoky moonlight, Pet couldn't help but notice that the water in the canal ran dark red.
The southern gate was wide open and undefended. If any earth-dragons wanted to escape via this route, Pet saw nothing to stop them. Hopefully, anyone fleeing the fort would run into Frost and his men. Pet ran through the gates and quickly discovered that escape simply hadn't been an option for most residents. Everywhere he looked, he saw slain earth-dragons. More than a few of Ragnar's men were among the dead as well. In the distance, toward the center of town, he could still hear the shouts of combat. He ran toward the noise, his bow at the ready.
At last, he reached the battle. Here at the heart of Dragon Forge, beside a large building belching smoke into the sky from its great chimney, the toughest warriors of the earth-dragons had rallied. A hundred heavily-armored earth-dragons had circled, swinging battle axes that sent human limbs flying with each chop. The hundred dragons were better armed, better armored, and better trained than the men they faced. The only strategy of the humans was to charge the earth-dragons in waves. The dragons were killing five men for every dragon that fell, but the dragons were outnumbered ten to one. Pet climbed atop a rain barrel to see over the heads of his fellow humans and began to let his arrows fly into the center of the circled dragons. Amidst the chaotic action, he wasn't certain if his shots were finding any weak points in the dragons' armor, but still he fired. Through sheer overwhelming force the dragons were falling; one hundred became ninety, became eighty, became fifty, and at last a tipping point was
