Betrayal

Chapter Eight Thorns of the Mangrove

Maldred was examining a veritable wall of close-packed bushes, trees and flower-covered vines that stretched to the north and south as far as they could see. It rose more than a hundred feet toward the sky.

His enchanted map had led him here, when he asked it again to reveal Polagnar. He looked for the shortest route, and now he wondered if that was a mistake.

“Does your map say how far it is around .this… this…” Varek couldn’t find words to describe the barrier formed by the tight weave of plants. “Is there another way to Polagnar?” When Maldred didn’t supply an answer, the young man looked to Dhamon. “It’s been three days since they took my Riki. Is there a faster way?”

Dhamon breathed-deep. The scents here were intense and for a change pleasant—far different from the fetid odor of decaying plants and brackish ponds that had been more his experience lately. The light filtering down revealed water spreading away from the wall’s roots. He carefully stepped forward, discovering that the ground sloped sharply downward past the water’s edge and the water actually went up to his thighs. He tugged at the tightly knit branches in front of him.

“Mangrove,” Maldred pronounced, inhaling deep.

“Aye. It certainly is a mangrove, my large friend. And a strange and threatening one, if you ask me. Perhaps it’s time we gave up on Riki and—”

Maldred shot Dhamon a withering glance.

“What’s a mangrove?” Varek stared at the water.

“Something unpleasant,” Maldred answered.

“Still, I don’t know what—” Varek continued.

“A mangrove is this,” Dhamon said irritatedly, waving his hand at the plants, then the water. “It’s all of this. And it’s a bad sign to run into a mangrove, a sign that we shouldn’t be here.”

Varek looked to the south. “Then we’ll simply head around this mangrove to find my Riki and—”

“I’m certain,” Maldred cut in, “those thieves wouldn’t have bothered to take Riki around the mangrove. That would take far too much time. I’m equally certain Dhamon doesn’t have the patience to take the long way either.”

He consulted the enchanted map, noting again the location of the spawn village. He carefully replaced the map in the bone tube and thrust it in the waistband of his trousers, then stepped forward and joined Dhamon. Tugging at the smallest branches, with considerable effort he forged a path and slipped inside the living green wall.

“Wonderful,” Dhamon mused, as he went after his large friend. Varek followed at their heels. They continued to press forward, squeezing between spindly trunks and closing their eyes when fingerlike branches scratched at their faces. They came upon thick sections of sharp thorns, and Dhamon maneuvered himself past Maldred, plucking a knife from his friend’s belt as he went. He used the knife to cut away some of the branches. As he watched, the foliage instantly repaired itself and grew even thicker behind them.

“Mal, you’ve usually got some magic handy,” Dhamon suggested. “Why not use it and make this easier?” ;

The big thief gave a snort. “My magic’s more for earth and fire, Dhamon. Everything here’s too wet to burn.”

At times they slogged through water that flowed up to their armpits. Maldred held the map above his head so it wouldn’t get soaked. Just enough sunlight bled through the weave of branches to reveal tiny glints of silver fish that schooled around them curiously. At one point the fish darted away as something larger slipped through the water in pursuit, a thick green snake that had two sets of short legs near its tail.

“Did you see…?” Varek whispered.

“Yes,” Dhamon returned.

“Snakes don’t have—”

“Apparently here they do.”

In one place they had to double back, after coming up against a block of branches as solid as any dwarven-built construction. Not a leaf or twig would budge. Eventually they worked themselves around to a section of younger trees, the trunks of which Dhamon and Maldred could bend over so they could continue on their way. The water was deep here, rising to Varek’s chin, and they sloshed through it for more than an hour. Each of them fell at least once, tripping over hidden rocks and logs, tangling their feet in roots. Dhamon noticed more and more fish here, a little larger than before, and the bigger ones were feeding on the silver fingerlings. Maldred insisted they keep going, that they were making progress.

They spent a few more hours twisting their way through the dense wall of vegetation. The morning passed into the afternoon before the trunks thinned and the worst of the wall was behind them. Stretching ahead of them, the sun shone down on an immense water-filled clearing, easily a few miles across, encircled by the plant weave.

Dhamon groaned at the thought of making his way through the similar vegetation wall on the other side.

“Under other circumstances I could enjoy this,” Maldred observed. He was slowly turning in an open expanse of water that came to just below his knees. “I feel a nice breeze, and I smell the mangrove blooms. I could get drunk on them.”

The other two looked at him as though he were crazy. A grinning Maldred pointed to a pair of trees, the roots of which started well up on their trunks, looking almost like branches and angling into the water. Veils of dark red flowers hung from their highest branches and spiraled down, scenting the air with something sweet and unfamiliar and overpowering.

“I don’t care about any strange-looking trees or flowers,” Varek said. “I want to find Riki.”

“Aye,” Dhamon agreed. The sooner they had the half-elf, the sooner he and Mal would be able to go after the pirate’s treasure. He caught Maldred’s gaze. “Riki first,” reminded Maldred, reading his thoughts. “We’re getting close. Then this healer of yours.”

“Let’s move.” Varek headed away from them, striking out to the west, careful to skirt what looked like a wide, deep patch of water where larger fish swam near the surface. He turned and motioned for Dhamon and Maldred to follow. “All this saltwater,” he said, waggling his fingers just above the surface. The sunlight sent shimmering flecks of gold across its surface and illuminated the myriad of fish that swam everywhere. “Strange, isn’t it? By my reckoning we’re too far south from the coast for there to be saltwater here.”

“By my reckoning,” Dhamon snapped, “I suspect we’re well into Sable’s realm. And I’m certain the black dragon can create saltwater marshes wherever she wants.”

“It’s for food,” Maldred said, barely loud enough for them to hear. He was sloshing steadily through the water “Her spawn fish in these places for her. Spawn like fish, and so does Sable.”

Varek cocked his head. “Just how would you know that?”

“I know lots of things,” Maldred said flatly. He was looking to the trees that ringed the place. “I know there should be some animals here too. Birds or something. Something other than these fish. There were snakes dripping from the branches everywhere else. Lots of lizards in the wall. Don’t see anything now. Odd.”

“Aye,” Dhamon agreed. “There should be animals. Perhaps something scared them away.”

“Something.” Maldred peered at the distant foliage more closely. He caught a glimpse of bonewhite through the rustling leaves. It was to the southwest, shaded by cottonwood branches and willow leaves, and it piqued his curiosity. He slogged closer for a better look.

“I think there’s a statue over there. A big one. I want to get a closer look. It’s on our way.”

He gestured toward it, and Dhamon headed in that direction.

The water deepened to their thighs as Maldred and Dhamon passed through a veil of willow leaves. A few more steps, another leafy veil, and the water was past their waists again.

“Dhamon… it’s not a statue.”

“I see it, Mal. It’s dragon skulls. Lots of them.” Dhamon closed his fingers about the handle of his knife and edged closer to the thing. At the same time the scale on his leg began to grow warm, and he saw an image in the back of his mind, yellow eyes surrounded by blackness. A dragon. His head began pounding, and the blackness of the dragon’s visage became more distinct, scales as shiny as beads and sparkling like inky stars, the pupils coming into sharp focus. The great eyes blinked.

“A dragon’s coining, Mal. A black one,” he whispered so softly that Maldred couldn’t hear him.

“Dhamon, Maldred, what is it? What’s over here?” Varek was coming up behind them, brushing aside the first veil of willow leaves, gasping loudly at the sight of the skulls. The three of them gaped at the mass of dragon skulls, which were arranged in a pyramid-shaped tower. The construct was wider at the base, which was comprised of the largest skulls. It rose nearly fifty feet, bone-white but covered in places with green and gray moss to add to the hellish image. The skulls’ eyes softly glowed, as if candles were burning inside them, their colors hinting at the dragons they were in life: red, blue, black, green, white, copper, bronze, silver, brass, even gold. Most of the skulls had horns intact, and the one that crowned the top had some patches of silver scales affixed to it. A boa constrictor poured itself out the mouth of one skull near the top and slowly slithered and circled down the column.

With some effort, Dhamon thrust the image of the black dragon out of his mind and edged closer to the tower.

“Dhamon, don’t,” Maldred cautioned.

“Let’s get out of here,” Varek suggested. “This has nothing to do with finding my wife.”

“Aye, we need to get out of here,” Dhamon said. “A dragon’s nearby. But I want to take a good look at this thing first. It’s a chance not given many mortals.”

The lowest skulls were massive, perhaps coming from dragons that were well more than a hundred feet long in life. Dhamon cautiously moved his foot forward until he felt another ring of skulls under the water’s surface and wedged well into the mud. There had to be at least three dozen of the massive skulls in the totem. He stooped over to get a look inside of one, then looked into another and another. He moved as if hypnotized.

“Brains,” he whispered in awe. “The brains are intact inside the skulls. I think there are brains inside all of them!”

“It’s a dragon totem, for certain,” Maldred said. There was a tinge of awe in his voice too.

“Nobody’s ever seen one and lived to talk about it. I heard about them from Grim Kedar’s tales. This has got to be one of Sable’s totems. Souvenirs from the dragons she killed in the Dragon Purge. There’s much magical power in the collection. I can sense that without even touching it. Like insects dancing all over my skin.” He paused. “I’ve no intention of trying to find out what it can do.”

Varek cleared his throat. “Good. Now, let’s get out of here. Dhamon says there’s a dragon nearby, though how he can tell…”

Dhamon had turned away from the totem now and was pointing to a few glimmering specks in the sky. So graceful in their flight, at first they looked like gulls. Within a few seconds they became larger and more distinct and brought a snarl to his angular face. “Sivaks. Three of them.”

There has to be a dragon nearby, too, he added to himself. The vision of a black dragon still haunted the recesses of his mind, and the scale on his leg was warming. The three companions tensed as the draconians dropped from the sky, claws outstretched and muscular bodies angled like arrows. Dhamon waded forward almost eagerly, leaping and slashing at the lead one. Blood and silvery scales flew, and he swept the knife in a wide arc again and again, biting deep into the creature’s leg. It retreated into the sky. Its two companions dived at him, teeth bared, claws shining like polished steel in the late afternoon sun. The first dropped beneath Dhamon’s swing, managing to skim the water and slash at his side as it glided past. Its wings beat hard, sending a spray of water in its wake and carrying it swiftly toward the advancing Maldred.

Maldred swept his greatsword at the creature and cleaved its left arm. The stump spurted blood in an arc that stung his face, blinding him. Unseeing, he continued to swing hard as he spun, miraculously landing another blow and slaying the creature. Maldred furiously wiped and pawed at his face with his sleeve, blinking to clear his vision.

The other draconian clawed at Dhamon. “I need a sword!” Dhamon shouted as he shifted the grip on the knife. “This damn pig-sticker is useless.”

“Minell do!” Maldred said as he charged forward. In the next instant, Dhamon dropped in a crouch beneath the thing’s claws as Maldred swung and connected, slicing off a piece of the draconian’s wing. It careened into the water. Varek shouldered his staff and headed toward the floundering creature.

“Dhamon, one’s dropping!”

The last one now streaked toward them, claws outstretched, wings pulled close to its body.

“Foolish thing should get out of here while it’s still alive. Foolish thing should… together now!”

Dhamon and Maldred struck it simultaneously, the latter’s greatsword cutting deep into the creature’s thigh. Dhamon drove his knife into the sivak’s chest and tugged it free. He watched the draconian fall backward, sending a shower of water and blood away from its corpse. Before Dhamon could catch his breath, the image of the black dragon swelled in his mind and paralyzed him for an instant. He sensed that the dragon was close, diving, streaking like a bolt of midnight through the lush green canopy of the swamp. Dhamon backed away, toward the nearest wall of plants. He looked up, searching the sky, expecting to see the dragon descending on the clearing.

“Nothing,” he whispered. “Where is the dragon?” Suddenly he felt something brush against his leg. He dropped his gaze to see what appeared to be his own corpse floating on its back in the shallow water. There were gaping wounds on his abdomen and thigh. He stared at it incredulously, then quickly realized what it was—the sivak he’d killed. There were corpses of Maldred and Varek, too—the draconians in death imitating the forms of their slayers.

“Dhamon! By my breath, look! Look!”

Dhamon twisted, spotting Varek. The young man’s mouth was open wide and his face was the color of bleached parchment. His trembling fingers released his quarterstaff. “By the blessed memory of Steel Brightblade, look at that!”

Dhamon had been expecting the black dragon to fly over the clearing, waiting for its shadow to block out the sun, perhaps accompanied by a flurry of sivaks. Instead, the creature rose slowly, ponderously, magnificently, from the deep part of the marsh.

The dragon was hideous and beautiful. Its wet scales glimmered like a star-filled sky, and its bright yellow eyes glowed like twin suns. Its head was horse-shaped, with a combination of sharp and smooth angles everywhere and a jagged ridge that ran from between its eyes to the tip of its wide nostrils. Its mouth opened, revealing stark white teeth that were so straight and perfect they looked sculpted. An incredible wash of fetid air escaped.

The three humans stood mesmerized, terrified.

A long black tongue snaked out to tease the barbels that hung from the bottom of the dragon’s jaw, then retreated into the recesses of its cavelike mouth. Its serpentine neck cleared the surface of the marsh. It shook its head, spraying water everywhere. Its wings cleared the water, batlike and massive, beating against the marsh and then the air as it rose until it hovered just above the surface. Its body looked thin compared to the rest of it, its legs oddly long and thick for its form. Its dangling claws brushed the water. Its tail swished back and forth, stirring waves, then it inhaled sharply.

“Sable!” Varek shouted. “We’re dead. All of us.”

“Duck!” Dhamon and Maldred shouted practically in unison. All three dropped beneath the water’s surface, just as the beast breathed, a fan-shaped gout of crystal-clear acid racing toward them. With the acid came the strong stench of sulfur belched by the beast’s furnace stomach.

“It’s not Sable,” Dhamon gasped, as, after long moments, he surfaced and started running toward the plant wall. “It’s a big one, but it’s not anywhere near big enough to be a dragon overlord. Move, Mal! Varek!”

The creature was a hundred feet from nose to tail tip. A fairly young dragon, but one nonetheless formidable in size. Her jet-black claws clacked together menacingly, as her head swiveled and she caught Dhamon’s eyes. He watched the dragon’s eyes narrow to needlelike slits.

“Spread out!” he called. “Spread out!”

They were the same words spoken months ago by his friend and second-in-command Gauderic. He and Gauderic had led a force of elves and humans deep into the Qualinesti forest in search of a hateful young green dragon. They found a green dragon—though quite a bit larger than the one they’d been searching for. Dhamon recalled the incident too clearly. The men had panicked. Gauderic had shouted for them to run. “Spread out!” Gauderic had cried. Dhamon had countermanded the order. As the ranking officer, he ordered them instead to plow forward and face the creature together, as a combined force. Yet when he felt the dragon-fear, Dhamon ran from that battle, feeling the scale on his leg burning, his mind filled with frightening images of the green dragon, all the sensations overwhelming him and rendering him useless. He and Gauderic were the only two to survive that day. He had fled, and the dragon had left Gauderic alive to tell the day’s deeds—until Dhamon killed Gauderic in a drunken tavern brawl.

“Spread out!” Dhamon shouted again, as the dragon suddenly switched its attention to Varek. Dhamon angled away from the wall of plants and backed toward the tower of dragon skulls. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Varek reach the treeline, pausing and glancing Dhamon’s way.

“Run! Varek, run!”

Terror was etched deep on the young man’s face, as he was caught by the powerful aura of fear exuded by the dragon. His feet were rooted to the spot.

Maldred was nowhere to be seen.

The dragon turned and buffeted Dhamon with its wings, sending a gust of water and wind his way. He wove and stumbled, fighting to stay on his feet, scrambling all the way to the tower of bones and leaning against it for support. He heard the dragon inhale again, and in that moment he stabbed his knife into one of the skull’s eyesockets, puncturing the brain inside. The dragon roared defiantly, a noise so loud it was agonizing to human ears. As the sound died the dragon roared louder still.

No? Dhamon wondered. Did the dragon scream the word no?

The beast roared again, buffeting the marsh, bending small trees with the force of the wind it had created and sending water everywhere. Again and again it roared. Dhamon locked his arm around a bony horn and plunged his knife into another socket.

“Dhamon!” Suddenly Maldred was slogging toward him, leading with his greatsword, his eyes nervously darting around.

“Dragon!” Dhamon shouted, his voice barely able to be heard above the beating of the creature’s wings. “Leave us or I’ll destroy more!”

There was a great commotion, a horrible, sloshing sound, as the dragon crept closer, catlike, its eyes opening wide.

“Come no closer!” Dhamon held the blade in front of another socket.

“What are you doing?” Maldred said in a hush.

“You said this tower was magical,” Dhamon shot back. “I’m betting the dragon doesn’t want it destroyed—by my knife or its acid breath.” To the dragon, he repeated, “No closer!”

Incredibly, the dragon paused, lips turned up in a feral sneer, acid spilling out into the marsh water, hissing and raising a curl of steam.

“I am listening, human,” the dragon said after a lengthy silence. Its voice was gruff and grating, the words drawn out.

Maldred took a turn, leveling his greatsword at an eye socket. “We want safe passage from hers, dragon,” he stated. “If you promise…”

The black’s eyes narrowed.

“Safe passage,” Maldred repeated. “Out of this salt marsh and well beyond it.” He edged the sword tip in.

“Given,” the dragon replied.

“Don’t trust the dragon,” Dhamon warned.

“We don’t have much choice, do we?”

The dragon made a noise that sounded like a cackle, but it was loud and unnerving, sending shivers down their backs.

“Sable has other totems,” came the reply. “Destroying this will not diminish her strength.”

“Well, then…” Dhamon cleared his throat and thrust the blade deep into a socket. The pale blue glow that had emanated from the skull died when he pierced the brain. “Safe passage,” he said sternly. “Or I’ll wager I can put out quite a few more of these lights before you can kill me.”

“Done.”

Dhamon stared at the black dragon, watching as it turned and rose from the water, beating its wings and gliding across the marsh surface, then rising as it banked west and cleared the plant wall.

“Now, let’s get out of here,” Maldred said, backing away from the totem and toward where Varek waited, “before it comes back. Let’s find Riki and get out of this damn swamp.”

Dhamon lingered for a moment, sensing in his mind the dragon retreating, feeling the warmth of the scale on his leg diminish but sensing also that the dragon was still nearby. Perhaps it was keeping its part of the bargain and was waiting to see if they would leave the tower alone. Was the tower that important to the overlord?

“Dhamon… joining us?” Maldred was standing impatiently at the weave. Dhamon followed his companions through the thick wall of wood that surrounded the saltwater marsh.