Doomwyte

Veeku, leader of the carrion crows, perched near the rim of the boiling lake in the sulphurous atmosphere of the large cavern. He preferred it there of late; every bird or reptile in the domain beneath the tree-clad hill did also. Everybeast was avoiding Korvus Skurr. The Tyrant Lord of the Doomwytes held them all in disfavour. He remained in the darker, cooler rear cavern, brooding by the cold, bottomless pond, with only the huge, loathsome Welzz for company.

It was a futile exercise. The giant fish would not communicate with Korvus, no matter how much he fed it with live frogs, toads, newts and lizards. The longer Korvus Skurr stayed in isolation, dwelling on the disloyalty of his followers, the more dangerous he became.

His pact with Baliss was now common knowledge to all. He knew he had made a grave mistake by hiring the legendary slayer, but Korvus could not allow himself to lose face by admitting it. Accordingly, the situation got worse. Now no creature dared approach him, fearing his towering rages, and sudden fits of violence. Even his smoothsnake, Sicariss, had taken refuge in the noxious fumes of the main cavern. His once-faithful Wytes joined the crows, magpies and choughs, who mostly camped outside by the stream now.

It was close to evening when several crows, who had been out in the woodlands scavenging, came to perch in the downy birch outside.

Veeku was called from the bubbling lake—the crows had something to report. Winging out into the open, he perched on the topmost boughs of the birch, looking down on his minions. Veeku closed his eyes, waiting until one of the birds began.

“Kraaaak! My brothers and I have seen!”

The leader’s eyes flashed open, transfixing the speaker with a sharp, inquisitive stare. “Kiiirrrraaaah! So, ye have seen?” It was the carrion manner of giving an underling permission to carry on; the crow launched right into his report.

“Kark! We saw the mighty poisonteeth Baliss. In the woodlands, south and west of here. Yarraaa! He is acting strangely, battering himself against trees and rocks, tearing up the earth, writhing and hissing. We think he has taken an injury.”

Veeku switched his attention to another of the carrion for confirmation, snapping at him, “Grrakk! An injury, how did you know this?”

The second crow shuffled along the branch, spreading both wings expressively. “Korra! The head of Baliss is grown bigger, swollen, with many scars and sores upon it. By the way he hurls his body about, he looks to be driven mad!”

Veeku closed his eyes again, giving the matter much thought. When he had arrived at a decision, he clacked his beak at the two crows who had reported. “Korvus Skurr must hear of this. Yakkar! Follow me, you will tell him what you have seen!”

It was a frightening interview. Korvus menaced the three crows, pressing them for every scrap of information, hovering over them with his lethal beak ready to strike at eye or throat. They told him everything, the demeanour of Baliss, the extent of his wounds and the location where they had seen him. Korvus stood silent awhile, watching the shivering carrion, as his murderous, shining eyes bored into them. Then he spoke.

“Harrah! Leave me now. Veeku, tell my Wytes I would speak with them. Say it is my command that Sicariss attends me also!”

The tyrant raven was a clever schemer, he began planning. This news could restore his prestige, renew his power as ruler of the subterranean realm.

Sicariss coiled beneath a heap of reeking bones, which were piled against the slime-coated wall of the main cave. She had been listening at the entrance to the second cave, hearing all that went on. Sicariss did not trust the raven anymore, so she stayed hidden. Let Korvus Skurr do his own thinking from now on, see how far that got him, without the wisdom and counsel of his former oracle!

Out in the tranquil evening depths of Mossflower woodlands, the great adder Baliss lay on the bank of a shaded stream. The agony of his wounds had subsided to a mercifully bearable level. This had been achieved by immersing his head in the cold, clear streamwater. Gradually the flow cooled his hot, sightless eyes, seeping through his mouth, around the forked tongue and deadly fangs. Like most reptiles, the snake could hold its breath for long periods.

Baliss remained with his entire head submerged until a pleasant numbness engulfed him, relieving temporarily the unbearable pains. He repeated the operation several times, prolonging each period under water. At one point, Baliss was letting the water run through his mouth, lying there, with his jaws loose, feeling the current soothing his forked tongue, when he felt a tickle. It was a small lamprey, which had drifted in, and was attempting to attach its suckerlike mouth to the inside of Baliss’s jaw. The serpent’s fangs closed upon the unfortunate fish, he drew it out onto the bank, and devoured it, slowly, with great relish.