Book 4 - Chapter 16 - The Dragon (1/2)

The sound had come from a small clash. By the time Cloudhawk arrived at the scene, it had already finished.

He crouched up in the boughs of the giant trees with the ghost-faced mask pressed against his face. Peering through the leaves, he peeked at the scene before him.

Scar marks and bullet holes could be seen in the bark. Smaller shrubs and undergrowth had been trampled by something big. Corpses littered the grassy floor, some dressed as Elysians and some as wastelanders. But the wounds that had taken their lives were strange.

It wasn’t bullets or explosions that’d killed them, nor Skycloud arrows. He ruled out relics, too, based on the results he saw. The bodies were badly mangled by tooth and claw. Heads were cracked open like coconuts and their contents were conspicuously missing.

By the look of things, they were killed by some sort of terrible monster. The fight hadn’t lasted long, either. Whatever it was killed its prey quick, then consumed their brains.

When he was sure the coast was clear, Cloudhawk dropped down to inspect the battlefield more closely. Picking through the bodies, he recognized them as elite soldiers from both Skycloud and the wasteland. One of them wore badly damaged red robes.

Cloudhawk carefully followed the tracks and signs. He determined that the creature had snuck up on the expeditionary force in battle with the wastelander, and had attacked the Conclave priest first. The demonhunter was probably dead before he even knew what was happening. From there, the monster killed two more in quick succession. When the others saw what had happened they tried to fall back, but the beast gave chase and killed three more. Following the trails of blood, Cloudhawk found the rest half-eaten and buried in the underbrush a few meters away, killed before they could run very far.

Whatever this thing was, it was strong. It was somewhere close. He turned around and motioned for silence. Leaving Azura in a safe place, Cloudhawk then had Oddball scout around. With the stench of gore in its nostrils the little bird began its search.

Their target was big enough that its tracks were easily followed, especially for the bird’s keen eye. It followed the signs to an ancient cemetery, where a root system close to the surface had knotted together into a burrow. Inside was a strange, twisted thing.

Its entire body was green, and covered in scales. They were beautiful in their own way, like interlocking green gems. A long, serpentine body crouched on powerful legs, streamline and supple. Its head was crowned with a pair of short horns, and wings sprouted from the middle of its back that were large enough to give it the power of flight.

Cloudhawk murmured to himself. “What is a beast like this doing in Woodland Vale...”

It didn’t look mutated. The wastelands had big creatures of its own, but those were changed after a thousand years of alteration a harsh environment. Whatever cataclysm had ended the world, it had also compressed tens of thousands of years of evolution into a much shorter period.

There was a rule for the development of all living things – haste makes waste. Animals were no exception. Mutated creatures emerged with extra organs or physical structures, but the forced evolution caused flaws as well. Strange redundancies, unhelpful additions, and other negative changes. One could tell a mutated thing at a glance because it didn’t have the harmonious symmetry of a natural thing.

It was different here. Woodland Vale was isolated from the devastation that the rest of the world had suffered, and its creatures were not forced to rapidly adapt to a deadly atmosphere. What’s more, nothing about this creature looked out of sorts. The monster, in quiet repose within its lair, was obviously the product of continued evolutionary perfection over time. It was almost intuitive, completely separate from the beings of the wastes.

Cloudhawk was reminded of the reason Autumn left her perfect home. She had told him the Vale was under attack by a ferocious beast, one which was murdering her peaceful and defenseless people. With so many dead already, she’d been forced to seek answers out in the poisoned world beyond the stone door.

He’d seen what it had done to a group of hardened warriors. There was no doubt the monster was strong. He now had more than enough reason to believe Autumn’s story. This creature, with its powerful body and six-meter wingspan, had to be the monster she meant.

But it was strange. The Vale was closed off from the outside. How had a threat like this appeared only now?

The winged lizard sensed something. A pair of burning viridian eyes opened and immediately fixed on the little yellow bird flapping around its home. A thorny tongue, sharp as a rapier, shot from its maw to try and skewer the creature that had disturbed its slumber.

Oddball was taken by surprise. It hastily avoided the monster’s tongue and fled back toward Cloudhawk.

The brief interaction only proved that the monster was quick to anger. A sound somewhere between a hiss and a growl rattled from its throat like a hungry predator as it leaped from its burrow. Powerful wings beat once, twice, lifting it into the air with a speed to match Oddball’s.

“Blue, stay here. Stay as still as possible.”

Cloudhawk turned in the direction of the encroaching creature. He pulled Basilisk off his back, drew back its string, and released an arrow of energy through the forest.

Where it passed, leaves and branches withered and crumbled. They made gentle thuds as they hit the ground, completely petrified. The gray arrow brushed passed Oddball, toward the angry beast that was quickly gaining from behind.

But the creature was perceptive, and alert. It sensed the danger approaching.

Instinct forced its wings to beat harder and lifted the monster high, but the arrow still glanced off its back. The scales stopped the arrow from finding purchase, but their emerald hue turned into a rotten grayish-white.

Thud!

The beast hit the ground, writhing in pain. Its back was already turning to stone.

Oddball returned safely to perch on its masters shoulder while Cloudhawk watched the beast suffer from a safe distance. It was a monster of explosive power, good at stealth, and was conveniently protected by a body encased in scales. No wonder it was so easily suppressing the human population here. It was no surprise how it had killed so many.

But Basilisk was deadly to any living thing. No flesh or organ could survive petrification.

Cloudhawk’s victory over the creature was more confusing to him than joyful. It was easily within the ability of Gabby or the others to put the thing down. Hell, Cloudhawk couldn’t take the old drunkard in a fight, so why hadn’t he handled this thing?

Azura cried out. “Careful, it isn’t dead!”

He hesitated, feeling the danger press in on him just as she gave her warning.