Chapter 4 -- The Eight Deadly Words

Okay, let's keep going with this... and for the record, I've officially switched from reading the e-book version of this on my computer to reading it on my Kindle, which has no page numbers for whatever reason.  So I'll be eschewing page numbers when I put in quotes.  Apologies for this...

Chapter 4 is titled "Flight," which opens in the most tackily decorated war room ever:

The war room was the size of a cathedral, the towering roof supported by a forest of white columns.  High-arched windows opened onto broad balconies that overlooked the kingdom.  A rainbow of tapestries covered the walls, embroidered with scenes from Albekizan's unparalleled reign.  One tapestry portrayed a youthful Albekizan, standing in triumph on the corpse of his father.  Nearby was Albekizan in ceremonial gold armor, leading his armies to victory against the cannibal dragons of the once notorious Dismal Isles.  It had been the first in a string of triumphs against the smaller kingdoms that had once ringed the land.  While the tapestries caught the eye with their bright colors, the most arresting feature of the room was the gleaming marble floor, inlaid with colored stone, precious metals and gems into an elaborate map of the world.  Zanzeroth, Metron, and Kanst waited for the king within the vast space.

Huh... when I think of a war room, I usually think of something along these lines:

It's not weird that I can like both Dr. Strangelove and silly

movies like Wayne's World and UHF, is it?  Or at least a good weird...

Dictionary.com defines a "war room" as "a room at a military headquarters in which strategy is planned and current battle situations are monitored," or "any room of similar function."  When I think of a war room, I think of a big conference room with maps and such, but nothing enormously fancy and blinged up.  What's described in the chapter opening is NOT a war room -- it's a glorified throne room.  The only thing in this room that can be of any use is the map of the world on the floor, and even THAT is kind of useless for any actual planning function when it's made out of freaking gems and gold.

Also, inlaying the floor with gold and gemstones is a stupid move -- unless there's some sort of protective layer over them, both gemstones and soft metals like gold and silver are going to get scratched all to heck from being stepped on.  Either the dragons have more wealth than brains (possible given what we know about them so far), or the author didn't think this through.

Zanzie's crouching on the world map, "his belly covering the spot on which the palace rested" -- I have no idea if this is supposed to be symbolic of anything or not, the text doesn't elaborate on this further.  He remarks to himself that the map is inaccurate -- the only section of the world it covers is Azkaban's kingdom, and the king himself declares that no lands exist beyond his kingdom.  But Zanzie knows better, as he did a lot of exploring in his younger years and has found lands far beyond their own kingdom.

If Albekizan didn't rule a place he deemed it did not exist.  For many years Zanzeroth had thought this a harmless quirk of the king's ego.  Now he wondered if the king's blindness to reality would lead them all to doom.

Of course, because our dragons are not only evil, they're Stupid Evil.  Because why give them common sense when you can just make them horribly ignorant and villainous?

Two other dragons are talking across the room -- Metron the High Biologian and Kanst, the military leader.  Zanzie cocks his head to listen, spots one of his feather-scales that's fallen out, and starts moaning to himself about how he's getting too old and is falling apart.  He also takes a moment to judge Kanst.

Kanst was an enormous bull of a dragon, heavy and squat.  He wore steel armor polished to a mirrored finish that was unblemished by any actual blow from a weapon.  Albekizan liked Kanst, which to Zanzeroth spoke ill of the king.  Kanst was all bluster and polish.  The king had a bad habit of surrounding himself with advisors who were more show than substance.  Kanst and Vendevorex were the two best examples.

Kanst is griping about Bodiel being dead and Shandrazel not having "the thirst for blood that's necessary for victory."  Remember Shan?  The king's other son who refused to hunt for humans?  Is it me or do way too many fantasy books feel that they have to pack in Load and Loads of Characters in order to be proper "epic fantasies?"  If you don't bother to flesh any of these characters out, having lots of characters doesn't make an epic fantasy -- it makes a chore for the reader who's tasked with having to keep them all straight.  Lots of characters isn't necessarily a BAD thing, but you have to be careful with it or you can easily overpack the cast and overwhelm the reader.

Admit it, can you even name half of these?

Kanst not-so-subtly hints that Avada Kedavra needs to turn the kingdom over to someone capable of running it.  Metron tells him to shut up, but I smell a Starscream wannabe here...

Yes, any excuse to throw a Transformers image

into the spork...

Kanst insists that it's too late for Afghanistan to father another son who'll be mature enough to take the throne when he dies.  Metron counters that the king has plenty of time, but Zanzie insists that age DOES matter and that experience can't trump youth.  This conversation better serve a purpose, but I get the feeling it's been inserted here just to pad out the page count.

King Alakazam and a retinue of guards storm into the blinged-up war room at that moment, cutting off that conversation and turning the matter to Bitterwood.  Metron tells the king that he did his research and apparently Bitterwood was the leader of a human rebellion twenty years ago and "preached a vile philosophy of genocide against all dragons," but the rebels were all killed and the man they're facing must be some random nutcase taking on his name to make a statement.  Probably the wrong answer, but at least it's a logical one...

The king insists that it has to be Bitterwood because only Bitterwood fletches his arrows with dragon scales instead of bird feathers.  Um... this is kind of stupid logic.  Wouldn't a copycat be trying to mimic his hero by doing the same?  And to his credit, Metron points out the same thing, saying dragons shed their scales all the time and humans can easily pick them up to make use of them.  (Zanzie gets a paragraph of angsting over all his scales falling out here, because apparently we're supposed to find him sympathetic, I guess?  Which is useless because... um, you'll find out.)

"No," Albekizan said.  "I am certain that one being, be he man or ghost, is responsible.  I've seen him with my own eyes."

Now it was the king's words that tortured Zanzeroth as he realized he would never see anything with his eyes again.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah...

For the love of Unicorn, Zanzie, STOP.  FREAKING.  WHINING.  What is the point of this?  Are we supposed to feel sorry for the pink dragon?  Is this Maxey's way of trying to get us to sympathize with him and find him a likable character?  Let me tell you, it doesn't work.  You get the reader to like a character by actually giving them decent characterization, not by dumping tragedy on them in a desperate attempt to get the reader to feel sorry for them.  Stop with the Wangst and actually flesh these characters out!

Alabama reveals his plan for destroying Bitterwood... and it's a doozy.

"...I am not blind to the possibility that other humans assist Bitterwood," Albekizan said.  "That's why I've called you here.  Together, we will remove the stench of humans from my kingdom forever.  I've tolerated their kind far too long.  They breed like rats.  Their dung-encrusted villages spread disease.  They create nuisance by leeching off dragons as beggars and thieves.  Now their greatest crime of all:  They give shelter to Bitterwood.  We must eliminate every last safe harbor for the villain.  We can only be certain of victory over Bitterwood when all the humans are dead."

...welp.  Nice job breaking it, Bitterwood.  Your vendetta against dragons has just doomed humankind to extinction.  Way to go, buddy.  Why are you the hero again?

Zanzie, Metron, and Kanst just stare at Alakazoo at this announcement... until someone else speaks up.

"Respectfully, Sire," said a voice from the empty air Zanzeroth watched, "you've gone quite mad."

In a spot a yard away from the suspicious voice, the air began to spark and swirl.  The sparks fell away like a veil to reveal a sky-dragon, his wings pierced with diamond studs, sparkling like stars against his blue scales.  Light gleamed from his silver skullcap.  His eyes were narrowed into a scowl of disapproval.  Vendevorex, Master of the Invisible, had made his grand arrival.

Vortex, you drama queen...

Vortex, like Metron, tries to interject some logic into the discussion.  He points out that humans do the vast majority of the labor for the kingdom, as they're kept as servants and slaves everywhere, and no dragon is going to want to tend his own crops or clean his own castle.  Alalala-whatever retorts that "Bitterwood could hide among them for years" but "if all die, he dies."  Yeesh, kind of overkill, don't you think, buddy?

Vortex further points out that killing off all humans will stir up rebellion among the dragons who keep them as pets or depend on them for slave labor.  Alligator replies that he plans to unite the dragons by... convincing them that they evolved as the master race, while human religions teach that they were created separately from other species, and that if humans aren't part of natural law, they should be treated like parasites.  Um... what?

This is kind of weird logic, and I doubt it's going to convince many dragons to give up their human servants and pets.  And it's just weird in the book.  Is Maxey making some kind of dig against organized religion?  Is he pointing out that dragons disdain human religion and so are evil?  What is even going on here?

Vortex further insists that humans vastly outnumber dragons, and if the king sets out to destroy them, they can easily unite against the dragons and wipe them out -- as he puts it, "you will face an army of Bitterwoods."  Logical enough... but then, our good friend Alabaster isn't really proving himself willing to listen to logic.

Alakazam tells Vortex that his job will be to find a way to wipe out the humans without bloodshed, such as a plague or a poison.  Vortex refuses, and tries to appeal to the others, asking them to "stand for truth."  Zanzie speaks up at this point.

"Sire, let me be blunt.  I don't believe Bitterwood to be beyond our grasp.  You called off the hunt too early.  His trail may yet be warm.  This genocide you dream of is unnecessary.  That said, what do I care if humans are slaughtered?  I've killed so many for sport, I can hardly object on moral grounds.  If it is to be war, Sire, I stand beside you."

Aaaaaaaaaaand if we were supposed to sympathize with Zanzie here, Maxey just failed.  Also, Zanzie's reasoning for joining the war against humans is pretty weak -- "oh, I've killed humans already, so there's no point in trying not to anymore."  Geez...

Vortex insists he wants no part of this.  The king tells him he's sent his guards to lock up Jandra, his human apprentice, and Vortex has a choice of assisting the king or letting her die with the rest of the humans in the castle.  Vortex screams that the king'll regret this, and the king orders his guards to chain him up.  Um... is trying to arrest a wizard by mundane means really that good an idea?

Evidently not -- Vortex turns the guards' weapons to ash, and the guards try to dogpile him.  Zanzie throws a knife, but it just hits the wall... and when the guards stand up, it turns out they've just torn apart one of their own number and Vortex has disappeared.  The king orders him found, and Metron drops a piece of foreshadowing so blatant it almost counts as a spoiler alert:

"If he survives, I fear he could prove quite a powerful figurehead for a human resistance," said Metron.

Foreshadowing is a good tool for hinting at future events and ramping up suspense, and can be done very cleverly in fiction... but if handled poorly, it can result in clumsy writing and even give away major plot points way too early.  This line was a bad example of foreshadowing, in my opinion, and doesn't so much hint at future events but pounds them into the reader with the force of a sledgehammer.  

Zanzie picks up his blade and sniffs it... and smells blood.  He knows it has to be Vortex's because "no other blood would smell of lightning."  Dos lightning even have a smell?  I have no idea...

Obligatory dragon picture

Zanzeroth felt confident he could find the escaped wizard in short order, but on a deeper level he felt a certain satisfaction in letting the wizard go, for now.  The king had created this mess by placing his trust in such a fool for so long.  Let Albekizan deal with the consequences.

So much for loyalty to the king, eh?  This was probably tossed in to, again, make us slightly sympathetic toward Zanzie, but it's really not working for me...

Atchoo orders Jandra killed... then orders the guards to go to the dungeons and bring him someone called Blasphet.  Everyone gapes at him, and Metron even tries to protest this move, but Avada-Kedavra's insistent.

"I've given my order.  Despite his deeds I've kept Blasphet alive for a day such as this.  No dragon that ever lived has more of a genius for killing.  Bring him to me.  Bring me the Murder God."

Seems appropriate

After THAT Name To Run Away From Really Fast, we get a page break.  I guess we'll find out more about Blasphet later...

We cut to a "star-shaped room," which seems like a really impractical shape for a room but whatever, dragon architecture makes no sense anymore.  Jandra's reading a book on snails, knowing that Vortex just assigned it to her to keep her busy and out of trouble, but there's a knock on the door and she goes to answer it, figuring it's a human servant wanting some kind of potion or charm.  As you probably expect by now, it's not.

Four earth-dragon guards grab Jandra and haul her off.  She hears human screams and figures the guards are rounding everyone up for some reason, but makes no move to escape.  Um... you're a wizard's apprentice, girl?  At least try for SOME spot of self-preservation here?

She's shoved into a cell in another tower and the guards lock her in.  She goes to the barred window and sees a courtyard where all the human servants are being gathered up... and a chopping block where Ruth, her servant friend from earlier, is about to be beheaded.  Uh-oh...

(A brief break from the horror here -- what's up with the human names in this book?  The dragon names range from okay to just plain silly, but the humans seem split between silly names like Recanna and Bant and Tulk, and normal names like Ruth and Mary.  Why do some humans get perfectly ordinary names and others get names that sound like cavemen?)

Jandra screams for the executioner to stop, but Mary shouts at her to look away.  So Jandra gets to hear but not see her two best friends get the ax.  Just to hammer home how horribly EVUHL our dragons are...

Jandra starts to cry... but stops when she hears scraping.  Vortex has gone invisible and is climbing up the wall to get to her cell.  Dude, you have wings, why can't you just fly up?

Vortex uses his magic to blow a hole in the wall, Jandra uses her own magic to fill the room with fog to distract the guards, then she hops onto his back and they fly away.  Jandra fusses over a wound in Vortex's cheek, but he insists they'll tend to it when they get to safety.

There's something of an action sequence where they're being chased by sky-dragon guards and crash-land in the forest -- it's not terribly exciting, except it does point out that apparently it's very difficult to fly and be invisible at the same time.  Which at least explains why Vortex didn't just fly up to her window to rescue her, I guess.  We do get this lovely bit, however, when they land and a guard follows them down...

From the thin air before her came a muffled cry of pain and the sickening smell of burning flesh...  Vendevorex allowed his circle of invisibility to break apart.  He stood ten feet away with the body of the aerial guard at his feet.  The guard clawed helplessly at his jaws, emitting small, muffled grunts through his flared nostrils.  The skin around his mouth was melted together.  Large talon-shaped holes had been burned into his wings; he would never fly again.

Holy freak, Vortex...

"When your brothers find you and cut your mouth open, I want you to give them a message for me," Vendevorex growled.  His eyes glowed as if lit by an internal sun.  "My decision to run should not be interpreted as a sign that I am weak or defenseless.  Anyone who attempts pursuit will face a fate much worse than yours.  If I didn't want you to tell your brothers this, I would have killed you already.  You live only because you retain this slight usefulness to me."

The guard rolled to his back on the rocky bank, still clawing at his immobile mouth.  Jandra turned away, feeling sick.

Yeah, I don't freaking blame you, girl!  I was starting to like Vortex here, but geez... this was sadistic.  It's like we can't have ANY dragons who are slightly sympathetic.  Because if Vortex is this brutal to a fellow dragon, who's to say he won't do something similar to a human?

He announces to Jandra they're going to Richmond -- um, maybe announce that AFTER you're out of the guard's earshot? -- and they run off.  And end chapter. 

So we've established that all our dragons are evil, sadistic, idiots, or some mix of both, and our humans are either not any better than the dragons or are complete wet blankets.  This book is a shining example of the Eight Deadly Words -- the point in certain media where you just look up and say "I don't care what happens to these people."  When a writer either makes everyone involved a despicable character or doesn't bother to develop characters at all, it makes it very hard to stay invested in the writing.  And at this point I find myself not caring for Bitterwood, Jandra, Vortex, or anyone involved.  So why do I keep reading this?

Oh yeah, because I'm riffing on it.  I hope people are at least laughing a little bit, or if nothing else suffering along with me...

Bitterwood Chapter 3 -- Sympathy For the Devil... I Mean Dragons

On we go... Chapter 3, titled "Stone."

King Abracadabra has given orders to the earth-dragon in charge of the guards (why not just say "captain of the guard" instead?) and is now basking in the sun on top of his palace.  We're told his kingdom stretches about three hundred miles wide from the "impassible mountains" to the "endless oceans," and north to south from the "Ghostlands" to the swamps.  I have no idea what Ghostlands are either...

It was said that Albekizan owned the earth and was master of all who flew above it and all who crawled upon it.  In over a half century of rule, he had bent the world to his will and had assured that there was no destiny other than his destiny.  He woke each day secure in the knowledge that if he desired a thing, nothing and no one could deny him.

Until this morning.

Beloved Bodiel was dead.  He'd trade his wealth and power, even his own life, to undo this horrible truth.  But there was no one with whom he could demand such a trade. -- p. 58-59

...I'm confused here.  Maxey seems bound and determined to make his dragons as evil as possible, yet both Bitterwood's savagery in killing dragons and scenes like this seem to paint them as sympathetic creatures.  Perhaps this is Maxey's attempt to make his villains a little more complex?  To show that they can have feelings as well?  I can appreciate the effort, but it comes across as a little muddled here.

King Uzbekistan decides to jump off the roof and fly, soaring up into the sun and... chasing it?  He DOES know that the sun is millions of miles away from Earth, right?  There's a line at the end of his chase saying "there were some things even above a king," so I guess this is supposed to be a metaphor, but it comes across as making the king look like an idiot.

Making the comic extra-large so that the text is readable.  Also I googled 

"it's a metaphor" looking for a specific image but got a lot of

"The Fault In Our Stars" memes instead... 

We get a lovely description of Alakazam's palace as well -- "a vast mound of stone heaped upon stone" that's been under construction for a thousand years, now a complex maze of tunnels and chambers and courtyards so that the old chambers are buried and nearly closed off from the newer parts of the palace.  This seems rather counter-productive -- so many rooms and tunnels are just freaking hard to keep track of and patrol, and seem like it'd make it all the easier for an assassin or saboteur to sneak in and hide while they prepare to do their dirty work.  But James Maxey wants his villains to have a secret-passage-filled labyrinthine lair, so that's what they're going to get, logic be damned.

At least tell me THIS is at the center...

Albekizan landed on the highest rooftop with the lightness of a leaf.  Indeed, as he touched down, the wind of his passage sent a dried leaf skittering across the polished stone before him.  Albekizan took the presence of the dry, dead thing as a sign.  Autumn lay close.  Cold days were coming to the kingdom. -- p. 60-61

Hey Maxey, your readers aren't idiots.  Most of us know what falling leaves mean, even readers from more tropical climes that don't see a traditional autumn.

Azkaban looks out over the fields and spots earth-dragons piling up wood, and realizes they're building his son's funeral pyre.  He has to take a moment to regain his composure before going into the palace so he'll "betray no emotion unbefitting a king."  Seriously, who's supposed to be the sympathetic character here?

At the very heart of the palace, underneath all those extra passages and rooms, is the nest chamber where all the dragon kings and princes have hatched over the years.  I'd think you'd want this room to be a tiny bit more accessible, but still protected, but what do I know?

This was his birthplace.  More, it was the place where he had first gazed upon Bodiel, damp from birth.  He'd licked away the thick, salty fluid that had covered his son's still-closed eyes.  The taste once again lingered on his tongue. -- p. 61

Welp... good thing I haven't eaten yet today.  This book does seem obsessed with all sorts of bodily fluids, and while I know they have their place in fiction and in real life, I really don't want to read about someone licking said fluids up, or reminiscing about how they taste.

Afghanistan isn't alone in the nesting chamber -- his queen, Tanthia, is there as well.  He tells her "Bodiel will be avenged" and expects that to comfort her.  But she's not having any of it.

Tanthia inhaled slowly.  Softly, she asked, "This is all you have to say in comfort?"

"What more need be said?" he said.  "Last night's events demand vengeance."

"Talk of vengeance is not the same as talk of grief," she said, her voice trembling.  "I hear no pain in your voice.  Where are your tears?  Come with me, my king.  Come with me to the Burning Ground.  By now, Bodiel lies in state.  Stand by my side as I go see him."

"No," said Albekizan.  His eyes were fixed on the ancient rock beneath his claws, polished smooth by the passage of his uncountable ancestors.  Could Tanthia not feel the gravity of this place?  Here, at the heart of all history, was no place for weakness.  "Not yet.  At nightfall, perhaps, I will go.  But I've already seen my son dead.  I've held his cold body.  Do not lecture me about the proper way to grieve."  -- p. 62-63

I'm going to be fair to Maxey here and point out what he did right in this scene.  He's shown that his villains, for all their cartoonishly-evil actions, do have some emotional depth to them.  He's shown that different people (or dragons, in this case) grieve in different ways, and that they're still capable of feeling genuine emotion and grief.  And when too many writers seem to want to make their villains one-dimensional and uninteresting, this is a welcome breath of fresh air.

It still doesn't entirely make up for the fact that his dragons are painted so cartoonishly villainous that they set up needlessly bloody and complicated rituals for deciding an heir and FREAKING EAT KITTENS AS SNACKS.  But it's a start.

Also, there was an awful lot of the word "said" there.  There are more ways to indicate conversation than "said," people.  Use some variety.

Azkaban insists that a king can't show signs of weakness, and grief can't be his priority.  He's convened his war council and intends to ready his armies and be rid of Bitterwood once and for all.  Armies?  War Council?  For one dude?  Can we say overkill?

Bander, the commander of the royal guard, shows up as Afghan is leaving the nesting chamber, and announces that everyone's convening in the war room except Vortex, who's still in hiding.  He orders Bander to continue the search, despite knowing that Vortex can go invisible and "he would be found only when he wished to be found."  Also, they're rounding up all the castle's human slaves... uh-oh, this can't be good...

Tanthia comes out of the nesting chamber one more time to beg Alakazoo to come to the Burning Ground with her, and when he tells her no she collapses on the floor crying.  This is probably meant to make her more sympathetic, but to me it just makes her come across as whiny and clingy.

"You're so cold," she sobbed.  "So cold.  The stones in the walls are warmer than your heart." -- p. 65

Obligatory dragon picture in the dragon-book sporking...

dang, there are some pretty ice-dragon pics out there

Alakazam storms away, angry, but then goes back and tries to comfort Tanthia.

"Tanthia, my love, it pains me to see you grieve.  Nonetheless, mourning is a mother's burden, and her luxury.  My duty is to avenge my son.  I must go and consult with my advisors as to the swiftest path to achieve justice.  Later, when the moon has risen and the day's work is done, I will join you at the Burning Ground and watch as Metron lights the pyre.  Then I will hold you and assist with the burden of grief.  Go now.  Wait with our fallen son, until the night comes." -- p. 65

...if a book is making me sympathize with its villain far more than its hero, it's failing at its freaking job.  Seriously...

The queen leaves, mollified for now, and the guards report that they still can't find Vortex.  The king mutters something about how "the wizard plots some dramatic entrance" and orders the council to convene without him, and then we get a page break.

And of course the next bit is from Vortex's point of view.  And of COURSE, because this is a bog-standard fantasy book, Vortex is pretty much The Starscream, the royal adviser/vizier with his own secret agenda.  He was even present at the scene where Azeroth and Zanzie were studying the scene of Bodiel's death, just invisible.  Could we have gotten some hint about this?  Because right now it just feels dropped in.

Vortex doesn't follow the rest of the crew to find Bitterwood, though -- he follow's Cron's trail instead, and gives the slave a bag of food, clothes, and a knife.  He also advises Cron to make for the river and find a boat where the other slave, Tulk, will be waiting for them.  Um... why is he helping the slaves escape?  The book gives no motivation.  Maybe it's to establish that Vortex is one of the "good guy" dragons... but Maxey's established that LOTS of these dragons are sympathetic characters, so it's not like Vortex is special in this respect.

Oh, and we get THIS lovely bit where Cron figures out that Vortex is the king's wizard, despite Vortex being invisible at the moment, and runs his mouth:

"What I want to know is what a person has to do to get to be a dragon's pet.  It seems like a pretty soft life."

"I don't believe the girl you speak of is a pet," Vendevorex said.

"She was dressed like a dragon, all those feathers," said Cron.  "What I'm wondering is, is there, you know, sex involved?  Do dragons find humans attractive?  I know some girls get hot over dragons.  I have a sister who--" -- p. 68

Do.  Not.  Want.

What IS it with these books I keep picking up to spork and bestiality?  Didn't we get enough of that in Revealing Eden?  Seriously...

Page break, and then we get Vortex flying back to the palace after having helped both slaves escape.  He's looking for Jandra, his apprentice, but she's not in their rooms, so he examines the wooden shacks at the base of the palace where the human servants live.  It's... not pretty.

Vendevorex landed on the muddy pathway that wound among the shacks, wrinkling his nose.  The shantytown smelled of rotting garbage and excrement.  Within the palace an elaborate and ancient system of aqueducts and pipes carried fresh water to all corners of the edifice, and flushed away waste.  Here, open, stinking ditches served the same purpose.  Filthy children in rags played in the muck, laughing, seemingly unaware of their squalor. -- p. 69

Maxey, what is it with you and your loving descriptions of excrement and filth?

It's in this shantytown that he finds Jandra, talking with Ruth and Mary, two of the human servants.  Oh hey, finally, normal names in this book!  Names that don't sound like caveman names or like they're the result of letting the cat walk across the keyboard.  Too bad they're used on what I'm sure on throwaway characters...

Jandra and the girls are gossiping about Bodiel's death, and Mary points out that Albus-Dumbledore will probably have the slaves' families killed in retaliation.

"But it won't be their fault," said Jandra.

"Do you think that matters to Albekizan?  I've heard that in villages where they can't pay the tax, he takes the babies and devours them as their parents watch."

"That's nonsense.  The king isn't... isn't cruel or unjust," said Jandra, not sounding at all like she believed it. -- p. 71

Okay, so Alakazababa-whatever-his-name-is is only cartoonishly evil to anything not a dragon.  Good to know.  Also, is Jandra really this naive?  Could she have lived among dragons for so long and NOT seen how they mistreat humans?  Or is she just of the camp that "if it's not me or anyone I'm close to, it's okay"?

One of the girls calls Jandra "the wizard's pet," and Jandra retorts that she's not, and goes into a spiel about how she doesn't do everything "the old goat" says.  Cue Vortex going visible right behind Jandra and pulling a Right Behind Me on her, complete with a sarcastic goat noise.  Okay, that was a little funny, I admit...

It may be a cliche trope but it's still amusing to me

Vortex drags Jandra away, saying she's to stay in her room until further notice.  He also confirms that Bodiel is dead and Bitterwood's the killer, and that he's needed in the war room... and of course he needs to prepare a dramatic entrance.  At least Azkaban knows his underling that much...

And end chapter.  If Maxey is aiming to make us hate the dragons and see them as the villains, he's not doing a very good job of it here.  At the moment they're far more sympathetic than Bitterwood...

Bitterwood Chapter 2 -- Be Vewwy Vewwy Quiet, We're Hunting Humans!

So... something comes up in this chapter that hints at this book's twist later on.  More I won't spoil yet, but much like certain revelations in Revealing Eden, I suppose only time will tell if it's a good twist, a bad one, or a potentially good one spoiled by bad writing.

Chapter 2, "Circles," opens with Gadreel heading into a clearing in the forest...

 

I know, I know, yet another named character to keep track of.  Lots of writers seem to believe that it's not an epic fantasy book without Loads and Loads of Characters.  The problem with packing a ton of characters into a book, though, is that each one has to serve a purpose to the story.  Putting in extra named characters -- especially POV characters, characters who get parts of the story told from their point of view -- can be detrimental to the story, as it can make it hard for readers to keep track of who's who (especially if names are similar) and detract from the actually important characters.

Anyhow... Gadreel is heading into a clearing to meet with his master, "the finest tracker in the land."  Maybe we can get some proof of this before the text declares him "the finest tracker?"  Also, the tracker's name is Zanzeroth, because we are still in the Land of Silly Fantasy Names here...

Gadreel, Azkaban, and Zanzie are all in this clearing three miles from where Bodriel's body was found because Zanzie has declared it's where the prince died.  Also, Gadreel is apparently a slave.  What?

Gadreel suspected, however, that the king ignored him due to his status.  It was a simple matter to treat a human as a slave.  The notion of a sky-dragon such as himself forced into servitude made some uncomfortable. -- p. 41

Understandable, I suppose... and yes, we do get an explanation as to why a dragon is a slave.  And yes, it's stupid.

Also Zanzie -- who's apparently pink instead of red due to his age, something that makes me giggle uncontrollably -- turns out to be a Scarily Competent Tracker.

"Here is where the slave, Cron, skidded to a halt as Bodiel dropped from the sky.  See, the handprint here?... The human fell and had difficulty regaining his footing."  Zanzeroth moved his claw to direct the king's view to a patch of broken ground several yards away.  "That is where Bodiel dropped from the sky.  Cron's footprints then reappear several feet behind where he stopped -- he's jumped away out of fear of Bodiel.  There are signs that Bodiel toyed with the human, blocking his moves, prolonging the moment before the kill.  And then..."  Zanzeroth trailed off, his gaze flickering over the mud, studying it as one might study a book.  "And then Bodiel staggered backward.  See the marks?  Cron fled, passing through the brush... here." -- p. 42-43

I'd complain about this, but TV Tropes' page on Scarily Competent Trackers points out that there are real-life trackers who can not only tell the approximate age, sex, and health of their quarry, but see through their prey's efforts to disguise their path.  So I suppose this level of skill has some precedent, especially in a species that's a natural predator.  It still makes for somewhat boring reading.  It might have been nice to actually see this scene take place instead of hearing it secondhand through Zanzie the Pink Dragon.  

Suddenly this character is much less

threatening-sounding...

"We could follow Cron with ease but he's not the one who killed Bodiel."

"I know that" Albekizan said.  "Bitterwood's to blame.  The Ghost Who Kills haunts these woods tonight."

"Perhaps," Zanzeroth said.  "But I've yet to see a ghost leave tracks.  The murder of your son was merely a man." -- p. 43-44

Zanzie doesn't seem to understand nicknames or metaphor very well...

Zanzie continues, pointing out where Bitterwood tied his horse and where he took a shot from a tree branch.  He was apparently shot five times in the back, shoulder and throat, with the fifth and last arrow being the fatal one, but apparently Bitterwood wasn't satisfied with just killing him.

"The prince struggles to rise, unwilling to accept his fate.  He crawls toward the water, seeking relief.  Still the arrows come.  The archer knows Bodiel has mere moments to live but wants him to suffer.  The shots that follow aren't meant to hasten death, but to increase agony.  The arrows fall upon the tender flesh of the wings and tail.  Bodiel at last collapses, his left wing in the river.  Slowly, the speeding current drags him from the bank." -- p. 45

Okay, now I'm questioning Zanzie's tracking skills -- how is he going to know in what order the arrows hit Bodiel?  Also, how are we supposed to sympathize with Bitterwood at the moment?  He already proved with the dead sky-dragon last chapter that he knows where to hit a dragon to kill it instantly... yet here he's plainly tortured another dragon to death.  Not only is turning Bodiel into a scaly pincushion a waste of arrows (archers will tell you that making and fletching arrows is a pain in the butt, so conserve and save them wherever you can), but not exactly conducive to making Bitterwood a sympathetic, likable, or relatable protagonist.

And yes, I get it, it's possible for a character to be an anti-hero... but in my opinion, anti-heroes are boring and unpleasant to read about.  And somehow I get the feeling that we're supposed to be siding with Bitterwood here...

Zanzie slips in the mud, and Gadreel goes to help him up, but Zanzie gets up on his own and splatters Gadreel with mud "that smelled faintly of dung."  Again, fair warning, Maxey is obsessed with poop in this novel, and this is probably the mildest incident involving refuse that crops up.

Not posting an actual picture of poop... you get

this meme again.  I have some standards.

Zanzie declares that Bitterwood fled on horseback, just as a group of earth-dragons show up with two "ox-dogs" -- basically ox-sized dogs like the one that showed up in the "prolog," though whenever the name "ox-dog" crops up I can't help but think of an actual horned dog.

To be fair, this totally looks like the kind

of dog a dragon would own...

Earth-dragons were solid and squat, no taller than humans but twice as broad, with thick muscular arms instead of wings, and powerful shoulders to support their thick-boned tortoise-like heads.  They were strong as mules but their strength did little to slow the powerful dogs. -- p. 46

So basically they're the lizard-people that some conspiracy theorists like to claim are in control of human society?  Is Maxey a Reptilian theorist?  

The hounds find the scent -- though wouldn't they need a sample of Bitterwood's scent first? -- and Zanzie looses them to find their prey.  As the chase goes on Gadreel follows, and we get an info-dump regarding Gadreel's past... which probably should have been saved for a quieter moment instead of a tense chase scene.  Here it just breaks up the flow of the story.

Apparently three years ago Azeroth imposed a new tax... one that had to be paid in slaves instead of money or goods.  The sky-dragons held a Council of Colleges -- a meeting of dragons representing various schools and libraries throughout the kingdom -- and decide they don't want to part with any human slaves because they feel the menial labor of "cooking their own food or emptying their own chamber pots" is beneath them.  So instead they decide to pay using sky-dragon students who are failing at their studies.  I guess that's one way to give students incentive to improve their grades?

I dunno... this reasoning just seems stupid to me.  Why demand a tax of slaves when you can just raise gold taxes and buy them yourself?  And won't turning dragons into slaves just increase the unrest in your kingdom?  It feels like this bit was just thrown in to make the dragons EXTRA EVIL instead of for any logical purpose.

Anyhow... so Gadreel served as a messenger for awhile before King Azkaban lost him in a bet to Zanzie, and now Gadreel's hoping to impress the king enough to win his freedom.  Good luck with that, Gaddie...

More of the dogs sniffing around, and then they emerge from the forest and spot a riderless horse in a grassy field.  Zanzie kills it and realizes they've all been had

"Where is he?" Albekizan said as he touched down nearby.  "Where's Bitterwood?"

"We've been tricked, Sire."  Zanzeroth said.  "This is the horse we've been following.  I can smell it.  But Bitterwood must have dismounted early in the chase.  I saw no sign.  Perhaps he clung to an overhead branch."

"Damn your incompetent hide," the king shouted.  "If we've lost my son's murderer due to your carelessness, I'll have your head!" -- p. 49

Hey, Zanzie's actually been pretty dang competent as a tracker.  Also, Maxey, maybe you should have corrected that typo instead of playing the retcon game during your revisions...

Zanzie crawls along the ground, sniffing the hoofprints -- though if dragons have a keen enough sense of smell to pick up scents, what do they need dogs for?  Finally they get back to the stream, and he decides that Bitterwood dismounted in the water and ran through it to lose his scent.  They run a dog along either bank to find the spot where he stepped out of the water, which I admit is pretty dang clever.

Then everyone skids to a halt, and we get our first sign that this is no ordinary fantasy -- something someone merely calls "the lines."

Straining his neck to see around Zanzeroth, Gadreel could see that whoever had spoken had been correct.  They had reached one of the bleached, cracked stone lines that stretched endless miles through the kingdom.  Some scholars claimed the lines were only ancient roads, built by a long-vanished race of giants.  A more common belief was that the barren, flat stone marked a web of evil energy that ran through the earth.  In the presence of this cursed ground, the night was unnaturally quiet. -- p. 51

Okay, so remnants of an ancient civilization are fairly commonplace, if somewhat cliche, in fantasy... so what makes this one so different?  Read on...

The sun-dragons and Gadreel are unnerved enough by the "haunted stone" line to continue the chase from the air, while the earth-dragons and ox-dogs go on foot.  (Yes, Maxey's in love with his hyphens...)  The road passes through a tunnel, and the dogs go in... but there's a yelp and only one comes out.

Zanzeroth peered into the dark opening.  Gadreel strained to see and spotted the first ox-dog, dead, its head crushed by a heavy stone.  Zanzeroth took a spear from his quiver, pushed the shaft along the floor, then lifted it to reveal a loop of thin rope.

"A deadfall," he muttered.  "The killer has booby-trapped his escape route.  Cunning, for a human." -- p. 52

Okay, just how much of a head start did these guys give Bitterwood anyhow?  If they waited long enough to give him time to booby-trap his escape route, they're freaking incompetent.  Though I feel sorry for that dog... it didn't do anything wrong, just its job...

Here, have some cute Rottweiler pups

to make up for it

The chase continues with the last dog... and we get Sign #2 that something fishy's going on...

Gadreel followed, growing ever more nervous.  They were walking along the diamond.  All the winged dragons were familiar with the place for it could be seen from the air for miles: four gigantic stone circles surrounded by an even larger diamond of stone.  There were several of these constructs throughout the kingdom, in places where the mystery lines crossed in elaborate networks of ramps and bridges.  The last remnants, perhaps, of a long-vanished culture.  These places were much feared, for four circles were the symbol of death. -- p 53

Wondering what this thing is?  Here's a hint:

That's a cloverleaf interchange, usually used when two freeways or otherwise busy roads cross and allows cars to move more easily between them.  They're pretty much exclusive to roads with motor vehicle traffic... so what's one doing in our bog-standard fantasy novel?  

I'll let you, my good readers, ponder over the implications of this for awhile.  Because it's our first hint as to the weird and troubling twist that comes later on in the nove.

I will also point out here that I wish Gadreel had explained WHY four circles are a symbol of death.  Symbols are meant to represent an idea, but there's usually a reason why a particular symbol is used to represent a particular idea.  Just announcing "4 sirkls iz DEATH" isn't enough.

The dog ends up veering away from the interchange toward a "large field of broken stone" and an ancient brick building.  But then the dog gets an arrow through the eye and dies.  Geez, Maxey what have you got against dogs?

Here, have more puppies

King Avada Kedavra sends the earth-dragon soldiers into the building to flush Bitterwood out.. but evidently Bitterwood's been very busy while they've been chasing him.

"He's fled deeper," said Zanzeroth.  "Or perhaps-"

His words were cut short as a dragon cried out from the darkness, his voice followed by a thunderous rumble.  The doorway glowed suddenly with a light to rival the rising sun.  A ball of flame rolled forward. led by a blast of searing, turpentine-scented air that threw Gadreel from his feet. -- p. 54 

Just how much of a head start DID they give this guy?

While the earth-dragons get fried alive (how ironic), Bitterwood runs off across the field.  Zanzie dives to grab him, but he pries up a "rusty iron disk" and jumps down a hole.  Here's a hint as to what exactly this convenient mystery-hole is:

I'm pretty sure most of you have already guessed the big twist by now... but let's let it simmer a little longer.  Because Maxey manages to make the big reveal of the twist even stupider than you think it is.

Zanzie stabs into the hole with a spear, only to get an arrow slicing open his face and delivering a healthy dose of Eye Scream for his trouble.  Ouch!  Albus-Dumbledore gets down on his belly and starts pawing around inside the hole, though you'd think his hunter losing an eye just seconds ago would be a sign that that's not a good idea.  Is every dragon in this book a raging idiot?

Gadreel sees his chance to prove himself and earn his freedom, and volunteers to go in after Bitterwood.  See above note about dragons and idiocy... He enters the Absurdly Spacious Sewer and goes a little ways, only for something to tangle up his legs and trip him up, washing him back to where he started.  Said "something" isn't a net or some sort of fancy snare -- it's just Bitterwood's cloak.  

How did these dragons manage to conquer humanity?  They're portrayed as so incompetent that they couldn't take over a McDonald's.  Seriously, how are these creatures so threatening again?

The king hauls Gadreel out of the sewer and asks if he found him.  Gadreel considers lying and telling him he fought the killer, but confesses that he got away.  I half-expected Afghanistan to start beating Gadreel or at least chewing him out for his failure, given how one-dimensional Maxey's made his villains so far, but surprisingly he just tells him "you did your best.  Be grateful to have escaped with your life."  Wow... does the king have a spot of decency after all?

Zanzie's tending to his wounded eye with a bloody bundle of leaves.  There's an aside that no one knows more about medicinal plants than Zanzie and "the entire world was his pharmacy," but fresh leaves don't exactly make an absorbent bandage...

"We'll head back to the castle for more earth-dragons and fresh dogs [said Zanzeroth].  The hunt will continue.  In daylight our prey no longer has the advantage of shadows."

"No," Albekizan said.  "I admire your spirit, old friend, but we need not chase this demon into further traps.  There's a solution to this problem, an obvious one.  We've paid a horrible price this night.  I vow this -- the debt of Bitterwood will be repaid in blood." -- p. 57

Seemed appropriate

I was sorely tempted to just lay out the entire twist in this chapter, especially since I figure it's really obvious at this point, but I'll give it a little more time.  Maybe wait for more hints to be dropped.  I'm just dying for a chance to use the "what a twist!" GIF from Robot Chicken again...

Bitterwood Chapter 1 -- If You're So Evil, Eat This Kitten

For those wondering if there was a glitch and we started sporking the wrong book by accident, don't worry -- the dragons actually show up in this chapter.  Whether that improves things or makes them worse I'll leave up to you, gentle reader...

Chatper One, "Lightning," opens in the year 1099 DA (Dragon Age), in Year 68 of Albekizan's reign -- twenty-nine years since Preacher Man slaughtered half a village and forcibly converted our protagonist and his girlfriend/forced wife to God.  After that promising start, you'd think there'd be nowhere for this book to go but up, huh?

And because the name Alba-whatever is even more unwieldy than Eragon's villainous name Galbatorix, I can promise you I'm going to bungle it up every time I type it.  You decide if it's accidental or I'm just doing it on purpose to amuse my readers further...

Or a blog full of people eager for a

little schadenfreude

The sad little fire gave out more smoke than warmth.  The hunter crouched before it, turning a chunk of ash-flecked meat on the flat stone he'd placed amidst the coals.  The movement of the stone stirred more smoke.  The hunter coughed and wiped soot from his eyes.  He stretched his bony, knotted fingers above the embers, fighting off the chill.  He was a thin man, hair shoulder-length and grey, the deep lines of his leathery face forming a permanent frown.  He pulled his heavy cloak more tightly around him.

In the tree above him hung the body of a dragon, blood dripping from its mouth. -- p. 25

Aw man, the first dragon we meet and it's dead.  Curses.  Also the author packs a LOT of separate actions into that opening paragraph, which just makes it feel overly busy.  If all the actions were connected in some way, a logical chain of actions (reach out, check the food, flip it over, put it back), it wouldn't be such a big deal.  As it is, it feels choppy.

The dragon is apparently a sky-dragon, which seems pretty redundant -- most people picture dragons as flying creatures, even the wingless Chinese l'ung that are technically not dragons but get called that anyhow for lack of a better translation.  Apparently sky-dragons get called that for their pretty blue color.  Imaginative...

The text also makes it a point to say that the sky-dragons are the smallest species of dragon and aren't particularly dangerous despite having claws and "saw-like" teeth, and indeed are highly civilized and "fancied themselves as artists, poets, and scholars."  So when the text also brags that the hunter's killed plenty of sky-dragons over the years, it really doesn't make him seem more badass or awesome -- just that he likes to target the weakest dragons possible.

The hunter had brought the sky-dragon down with a single arrow, expertly placed on the underside of the jaw, the iron tip coming to rest dead center in the dragon's brain.  The beast had fallen from the air like a suddenly dead thing, catching in the crook of a tree.  -- p. 26

Maybe because it IS a "suddenly dead thing?"  Similes don't exactly work when the thing in question is Shaped Like Itself.  According to Dictionary.com, a simile is "a figure of speech in which two unlike things are explicitly compared."  (Emphasis my own.)  Saying that the dead dragon fell from the sky like a suddenly dead thing is like saying "a rose is like a rose" or "a bad fantasy novel is like a bad fantasy novel."  It doesn't work except for humor purposes (like the famous "that snorkel's been just like a snorkel to me!" in Weird Al Yankovic's "Albuquerque"), and I really doubt that's what Maxey was going for here.

Also, I think this scene would have worked much better if the chapter had actually opened with our hunter shooting down the dragon instead of skipping directly to the aftermath.  Show, don't tell, folks.

The hunter stole the dragon's satchel, stared at its head and decided it reminded him of a goat's head, and cut out its tongue, which is the source of the meat now cooking on the fire.  He roots through the satchel, finding a bottle of wine, bread, apples, jerky, and something called "horch" which is a paste made of fermented fish guts and chilies.  Ew...

I gotta ask, though -- why is a dragon carting around this kind of food?  The jerky is understandable, but apples and bread?  The dragon was described as having crocodile-like jaws and teeth, which indicates a meat-eater that's not really built for being omnivorous.  Wouldn't it make more sense for this dragon to be packing meat instead of human-style food?  I think Maxey wanted the human-style food to be a convenient find for his hunter and didn't think of the logistics...

There's a few other items in the bag, including a silk blanket and a jar of ink "made from vinegar and walnut husks."  I don't know why that's important enough to be emphasized.  There's also quills made from the dragon's own feather-like wing-scales (neat, but not sure how that's important either) and a leather-bound book full of sketches and notes about flowers.  Poor dragon, he just wanted to study flowers before getting shot down...

Rendered in dark walnut ink, the flowers had a life and beauty.  The blossoms swelled on the page seductively enough to tempt bees.

The hunter ripped out the drawings and fed them to the crackling fire.  The paper writhed as if alive, curling, crumbling into large black leaves that wafted upward with the smoke, the inky designs still faintly visible until they vanished in the dark sky. -- p. 27

I find that quite a few writers will try to spice up their writing by including random "flowery" bits like the above -- sections of description that stand out against the plain-ness of the rest of the story, Purple Prose against Beige Prose.  Not only does the inconsistency stand out, but extra description like this should really be saved for important details, not random bits.

The hunter used his knife to retrieve the roasted tongue and sat back against the tree, oblivious to the blood soaking the trunk.  As he chewed his meal, he stared at the ink bottle.  It stirred memories.  Memories for the hunter were never a good thing. -- p. 28

See what I mean?  The step up in descriptive writing would have served this paragraph much better than the previous one of randomly burning paper.  It's the more important passage, and thus needed the extra emphasis, not the Beige Prose.

The hunter picks up the book, doodles on a page with one of the quills, and then writes his ABCs until "it all came back to him."  I'm going to guess Maxey means his writing skills, though he's unclear here and could be referring to anything, really.

Also the paper's apparently "white like an apple blossom.  White like a young bride's skin."  Again, know where it's appropriate to insert random ornate description, people...

The hunter starts writing a letter to Recanna.  It's probably obvious who our hunter is by this point -- our "hero," Bant Bitterwood.  At this point are we going to learn what happened to him and his wife and their homicidal teacher since we last met them?  

Nope -- Bant quits writing the letter halfway through and tosses the book on the fire, saying "this was not a night to lose himself in memory and melancholy."  So much for fleshing out our hero a little more... or answering any questions...

Page break, and we get drums, a choir of sky-dragons, a royal chamber, and a brand new character!  Aren't you excited?

Jandra shivered with excitement as the ceremony began.  She was sixteen now, and this was the first time she'd persuaded Vendevorex to allow her to attend the contest.  For centuries the sun-dragons had used this ritual as the first step toward the enthronement of a new ruler.  She would be the first human to ever witness the ceremony.

More precisely, she reminded herself, she would be the first human to ever witness the ceremony and survive.  She looked at the two human slaves in their cages across the room.  She knew her sympathy should lie with them.  Alas, it was difficult to feel any connection to the brutish, wild-eyed men in the cages.  Wearing her blue satin gown with an elaborate peacock headdress, Jandra felt more kinship with the dragons that surrounded her. -- p. 29

Vendevorex?  Maxey's names for his dragons aren't QUITE on the level of "decide your fantasy names by letting your cat walk across the keyboard," but they're still ridiculous.  I hereby dub Vendevorex Vortex, because I can.

And because it amuses me to picture a

Decepticon hanging out with dragons as I

spork this book

Vortex is the king's personal wizard, and the king puts up with his quirks -- including having raised Jandra from infancy as his apprentice -- because he's supposedly "the most clever dragon in the kingdom."  If the dragons are as harsh as Maxey will have us believe later on in the book, I can't see them allowing a human to be trained as a wizard's apprentice.  Kept as a pet maybe (and we will meet human pets later on in the book), but not treated as an equal.  

There seem to be three kinds of dragons in attendance at this ceremony -- "brutish, thick-muscled" earth dragons, "elite, scholarly" sky-dragons, and sun-dragons (named for their red-and-orange coloring, apparently) who are apparently the nobility of the dragon clans.  

Twice the size of sky-dragons, they ruled the world with their heads held high in the regal air that came so naturally to them.  -- p. 30

Please tell me I'm not the only one who finds that phrase awkward...

The info-dumping on the types of dragons is interrupted by two sun-dragons flying in -- King Azkaban and Queen Tanthia (hey, a name that's actually halfway not-ridiculous!).  Then we get another infodump describing the ceremonial hall, a circle "hundreds of yards in diameter" half covered with a dome and half open to the sky.  Sounds like a Super Bowl stadium to me...

Also, dragons are apparently bipedal and walk like "toothy, scaly chickens."  Which kind of ruins any attempt at giving us a sense of grandeur at these creatures...

The king and queen sit down on mounds of cushions on a dais as golden doors open to admit the High Biologian, an old sky-dragon named Metron.  How come some characters have names that are halfway reasonable and others get silly ones?  Also, High Biologian?  Why not High Wizard?  I have no idea right now...

Then two more dragons fly in, landing with "downy grace" in the center of the hall.  Downy grace?  Downy is defined as "fluffy or soft" or "covered in down."  I can see these dragons landing with "gentle" grace or even "soft" grace (though that last one is a stretch), but "downy?"  Don't just pick the first word in the thesaurus, people -- make sure it actually fits what you're describing!

Not sorry for abusing this meme

These dragons are apparently named Bodiel and Shandrazel.  Someone's really in love with their silly names...

Bodiel was radiant.  The crimson of his open wings blended with the sunset behind him as if all the sky were part of his being.  The wind ruffled his feathery scales, making the mane of his long, serpentine neck flicker like flame.  Light played on the rings of gold that pierced his wings.  He stretched and relaxed the long, powerful talons at the mid-joint of each wing, displaying sharp claws painted with powdered emerald.  The crowd nodded with silent approval at the display.  Jandra's heart fluttered at Bodiel's beauty. -- p. 31

Dear Primus, no, please not a dragon/human romance.  We just got our overdose of borderline-bestiality from the last book we sporked...

Shandra-whozit doesn't get such a vivid description -- he just scowls and stares at the floor.  Guess which one of these two is going to be the one that gets offed and kicks off the plot proper...

Metron gives a long and flowery speech about Alakazam's two mighty sons, and how each his his pride and promise.  Then we finally get an explanation of how the rite of succession works for dragons... and boy, is it a doozy.

Apparently these aren't King Alakazoo's oldest sons -- he's had several before.  But tradition decrees that the heir to the throne is banished from the kingdom, then must return and kill the king in order to claim the throne.  So... the dragons are essentially the Sith?

Sorry, but this just seems wasteful.  What happens if none of the king's sons are able -- or willing -- to kill him and take the throne by force?  What happens if the king ends up killing off all his offspring and dies without an heir?  And doesn't this kind of succession just breed hostility in the royal family instead of a strong line that'll, I dunno, actually rule effectively instead of constantly worrying about being stabbed in the back Starscream-style?  I mean, it works for the Sith, because anger and hostility and treachery fuel the Dark Side, but in this case it just seems counter-productive.

Pictured -- not the best person to give advice

on how to get ahead in politics

Also, whoever wins this contest will be the son banished from the kingdom to plot his taking of the throne, while the other will be castrated and sent to the libraries to serve Metron for the rest of his days.  Again, not effective.  Wouldn't you want some kind of backup ready to take the throne in case Abracadabra kills off the rest of his progeny and kicks the bucket without an heir?  You're essentially sterilizing half the family tree just to keep up a stupid tradition.

And while I'm all for Maxey giving these dragons their own culture and traditions, they have to make sense.  Most traditions in the real world have some basis, whether it's religious or flat-out common sense.  Here it feels inserted just to ensure the dragons are especially barbaric, when in reality a tradition like this would wipe out the royal line within a couple generations.

As the sun set, few in the great hall doubted that before dawn Bodiel would defeat his brother... Jandra saw no reason to doubt the consensus of the crowd.  She believed that one day Bodiel would return and vanquish his father to seize the kingdom.  She hoped he would be a fair and wise ruler. -- p. 33

Yup, Bodiel's gonna die... 

The contest itself involves releasing the two human slaves -- Cron and Tulk, which sound more like cave men than anything else -- and having the dragon princes hunt down their assigned slave and kill it.  So the future of the kingdom rests on who can best squish a human.  Lovely.  I get that these ARE predators, and they'd probably want the ultimate predator on their throne... but here it just feels like Maxey's doing everything possible to make his dragons EVIL and bloodthirsty and entirely against humans.

The humans are released and run away.  Albatross grumps that "humans these days are worthless" and why can't they find any more good prey.  Metron points out that they've always culled the best men from the human villages for hunts, so it only makes sense that humanity's in decline.  I have a feeling I might actually like Metron -- it sounds like he may be one of the few logical characters in the book.

Vortex suggests banning the sport of human-hunting to let "the human stock" recover, but Albus blows him off and accuses him of being soft.  He says they make "fine pets and adequate game" but he hates how their stench sullies his kingdom, even though Vortex points out that humans provide dragonkind with food and gold.  Can we make these dragons any more Obviously Evil?

Albeedo declares that the hunt can begin, and Bodiel flies off.  Shandrazel stays where he is, though, and refuses to join in the ceremony.

"Father," Shandrazel said, then paused to take a breath.  After a moment he looked up, facing the king squarely.  He said in a firm but respectful tone, "You know my feelings.  I do not desire your throne.  I will not hunt Tulk.  This ceremony is archaic and cruel.  There is no need for blood to be shed.  Simply appoint Bodiel as your successor.  Your word is law." -- p. 35

Looks like we have our token sympathetic dragon here.  I predict that at some point he runs into Bant and forces Bant to overcome his prejudice against dragons to make an alliance of some kind with him.  (This is not a spoiler -- it's legitimately been so long since I read this book the first time that much of the plot is foggy to me...)

Afghanistan rages at Shandrazel, spit flying -- you know a character is the bad guy when they go into a literal spitting rage.  But while the king's distracted yelling at his son, lightning flashes and Bodiel can be seen diving into the trees beyond the hall... and the queen screams.

"Oh!" Queen Tanthia cried.  "Oh no!"

"What is it, my love?" Albekizan asked.  "Is our rebellious son breaking your heart?"

"It's the shadows," Tanthia said, quivering.  "The shadows in the room have grown so dark.  I feel their chill in my soul." -- p. 36

First off, while dramatic lightning is cool, it is a bit of an overused trope.  Second of all, unless it's been established that the queen is clairvoyant, having the cliched premonition of doom is tiring and a bad way to foreshadow something bad happening.  Just my thought.

At that moment, a mournful, anguished howl rose from the distant forest.  Lightning flashed and thunder washed away the voice.  The wind twisted, whipping back into the hall with a harsh blast of cold rain, sending the torch flames dancing wildly.  Tanthia gasped as one of the torches extinguished, a soul forever lost.

"He's dead!" Tanthia cried.  "My son is dead!" -- p. 37

Okay, it was NOT established that the torches are linked to the dragon's lives at all.  Why would a torch going out be proof that Bodiel's dead?  I get that it's a clumsy attempt at being symbolic and all, but it just feels melodramatic and cliche here.

The king and the other prince stop fighting and fly off to go find Bodiel.  Vortex tells Jandra they should go and sprinkles some silver dust that apparently makes them invisible, then leads her away... and another page break.

THIS section is from Shandrazel's point of view, and here the author hammers home how he's one of the few good dragons in a species of complete villainy.

Shandrazel hated flying in the rain... yet duty drove him, duty and love.  Despite their differences, he loved his father and cherished his spirited younger brother.  He hoped that no harm had come to either of them.  -- p. 38

Because no other dragon can be capable of love, am I right?  But wait, there's more... and we get THIS doozy of a line.

Despite his father's keenness for the sport of hunting humans, Shandrazel saw no more challenge in it than he did in his mother's appetite for devouring baskets of white kittens. -- p. 38

Delicious and nutritious, taste just like chicken!*

BWAHAHAHAHAAH seriously?  It's not enough that the dragons hunt and oppress humans -- Maxey literally has to make them so evil that they eat kittens!  This is so cartoonishly evil that it ceases to be at all believable.  Maxey is obviously not interested in making compelling, complex villains.  He just wants to take the shortcuts to make his characters as obviously, cartoonishly evil as possible.  Even if kittens have to be sacrificed to ensure it.

Sorry... I'm a firm believer that villains can be complex and even sympathetic, and it drives me nuts when writers don't even bother to develop their villains beyond "hahaha, look at me, I'm EVIL!"

Shan (just gonna call him Shan from here on out) spots a dead dragon in a tree, but it's the sky-dragon Bant killed much earlier.  Also, the corpse stinks because "the sky-dragons bowels had loosened after death."  Fair warning -- Maxey is obsessed with poop.  It'll come up quite a bit in this novel...

"His name was Dacorn," said Shandrazel.  "A biologian.  He taught me botany during my summer on the Isle of Horses.  Who would do such a thing?  He was a gentle soul.  He had no enemies." -- p. 39

Who is Shan talking to?  I know people talk out loud to themselves on occasion, but I think musings like this work better as private thoughts.  Also, having the dead dragon be a "gentle soul" doesn't exactly endear Bant to me any more...

When Shan finally finds his father, he's holding the "arrow-riddled" body of Bodiel to his chest.  Called it...

The king dropped Bodiel into the mud and rose to his full length.  In his fore-talon he held a single arrow and he studied the bright red fletching of the arrow as if he were studying his soul. Lightning struck nearby, again and again, shaking the ground.  Fire spouted from the tops of the tallest, most ancient trees.  Albekizan didn't flinch.  Shandrazel couldn't move.  As the thunder faded from their ringing ears, Albekizan held the arrow to the sky and shouted a single, bone-chilling word.

"Bitterwood!" -- p. 41

Skyward Scream?  Check.  Say My Name?  Check.  Dramatic Thunder and Empathic Environment, complete with Partly Cloudy with a Chance of Death?  Check, check, and mate.  Maxey evidently leaves no cliche unturned when creating a dramatic death scene.

So far we've gotten a handful of characters, but none that are terribly sympathetic or developed at the moment.  And the few moments of worldbuilding we've gotten have been cliche or don't make a lot of sense.  Not a promising start...

*The author of this spork does not condone the actual consumption of kittens and makes no guarantees as to their taste and nutritional value.  The author claims no responsibility or liability for anyone who attempts to eat kittens.