Tasha sniffed, clutching the ring, her tears falling. She nodded silently, unable to speak.
The Father Elk then turned to look at Cade, his smile soft. "Cade, savior of Dream, our great hero. I have thought long of what gift to grant you. A sprig from our earth? A flower from our gardens? A gem from our caves?" The Father Elk looked upon Princess Moonmist, then back at Cade, and his eyes twinkled. "Then I found our greatest, most beautiful treasure. The princess Moonmist will return with you to your world, and she is more precious than any gift. Forever in Dream shall you be known and welcomed, forever shall Cade and Moonmist be loved."
Below in the valley, all the beings and gods of Dream cheered before Cade, Tasha, and Moonmist. Cade stood, looking down upon Dream. He could see the waterfall in the distance, raising a cloud of mist. Beyond rolled the endless forests and plains. He thought of all he had done here, the horrors he had seen, and the wonders. The horrors of Nightmare would forever haunt him, but so would this beauty.
"Goodbye, Dream," he whispered. "Goodbye, Starlight and Harmony. Ayendey, Eloria. Na ley ta."
He turned to Moonmist, took her hands in his, and smiled at her. Queen Alandria placed her hands on their shoulders.
"Are you ready?" the goddess whispered.
Before Cade could speak, a cry came from below.
"No! Wait! Not yet!"
With a flutter of butterfly wings, Harmony flew off the cliff, toward the Birthstone, and crashed into Cade with a hug. She wept against his shirt.
"Don't leave, Cade and Tasha!" she sobbed. "Not before I hug you."
Tasha on his shoulder, Cade held Harmony and kissed her head. "Of course not, Harmony."
"Hey, don't forget me too!" came a second cry, and Starlight flew and crashed into him with another embrace. Tears filled her eyes. Cade kissed her soft, black fur covered with sparkles like stars.
"Starlight," he said through his smile, and he felt tears fill his eyes.
"Na ley ta, Cade and Tasha," Harmony whispered, and Starlight repeated the words. "I love you. We'll miss you."
"Na ley ta lom, Harmony and Starlight." When the pegacats landed on the ground, he knelt before them. They looked up at him with huge, devastated, tearful eyes. He smiled. "I'll be seeing you in my dreams."
He stood up and took Moonmist's hands again. Alandria smiled a smile of such warmth and love, that Cade felt joy overflowing him. She raised her hands above them, and golden powder sparkled, filling his eyes, until all the world became glistening gold.
"Farewell, Cade and Tasha, prince and princess of the wilderness," came the queen's voice. "Ayendey."
* * * * *
Tasha lay on her bed, looking up at the stars she had glued on the ceiling, as if she were still a girl, as if stars could have lit her nights. She thought back to the day. Her day. The day she had fled so many times, running into Dream.
From outside came the sounds of the city, distant cars, a dog barking, white noise rolling between skyscrapers and concrete canyons. Tasha looked at her wrists, the scars she bore there, like the scars of war on her brother. So many times she had wished to die, prayed to die, cut herself to die. So many times she had lain here in this bed, the despair claiming her, twisting her into a weeping ball.
Is this my life now, again? she thought, gazing up at those stars. Will that pain reclaim me now?
She opened her palm. The wooden ring lay there, the ring blessed with laceleaf magic, the ring which cured Cloverfoot. A ring to cure all hurt. Tasha remembered Yor's words. We will be with you. Remember that, our beloved child. We will be with you always, even in your darkest hours.
Tasha stood up and looked at her bedroom mirror. Her hair was long, black, tousled. Her eyes were tired, haunted. Human again. Just a girl again. Tasha took a deep breath. The road would be a long one, she knew, with many ups and downs, but the hard part was behind her.
I journeyed into the heart of Nightmare and survived. I trapped the God of Nightmare himself in a bottle. I overcame more demons than anyone, aside from Cade, would ever know--the demons of Nightmare, the demons of my own soul. I can do this. She tightened her lips, tears just stinging at the corners of her eyes, and clutched the ring in her palm.
I can do this.
* * * * *
Cade woke up slowly, sunlight upon him. He rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. The morning light fell in beams from his blinds, glistening like faery powder over his statuettes of sea turtles. He looked at his clock radio. 8:15 in the morning. Cade blinked, stretched in his bed, and rubbed his eyes.
"Man, what a dream."
A mumble came from beside him, and Cade turned his head to see a girl sleeping in his bed, golden feathers growing from her head instead of hair.
"It wasn't a dream, was it?" Cade whispered.
Moonmist shifted beside him. She opened her eyes and looked up in wonder, the sunlight upon her face, sparkling in her eyes.
"Is this the world?" she whispered.
Cade nodded. "This is my home." He smiled and sighed. "We're back."
He led Moonmist out of his room, into the kitchen to find breakfast. She stood at the window, gasping at the city ahead, the skyscrapers spreading into the distance. "Beautiful," she whispered, and Cade was surprised to find himself agreeing. He had never thought this place beautiful, only gray and sad, but as he looked upon the city now, and at Moonnmist who stood by him, the beauty of birds between glinting steel towers astounded him.
Moonmist looked at him. "I think I'll be happy here," she said.
Footsteps came from the hallway, and Tasha stepped up to them. She was human again, still wearing her pajamas, her hair tousled. The wooden ring from Dream hung on a chain around her neck.
She smiled. Cade had not seen her smile so warmly in years.
"Me too," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "Me too."
NOVELS BY DANIEL ARENSON
Standalones:
Firefly Island (2007)
The Gods of Dream (2010)
Flaming Dove (2010)
Eye of the Wizard (2011)
Song of Dragons:
Blood of Requiem (2011)
Tears of Requiem (forthcoming)
Light of Requiem (forthcoming)
KEEP IN TOUCH
www.DanielArenson.com
[email protected]
Facebook.com/DanielArenson
Twitter.com/DanielArenson.com
Acknowledgements
I'd like to thank a few people for their help with The Gods of Dream.
For editing and beta-reading the manuscript, thank you Anita, Elvira, Janelle, Jason, Mark, and Ori.
Thank you Elena for your beautiful cover art.
For help getting the opening chapter just right, thank you Andrew, Brian, David, Joanna, Josh, Lawrence, Phil, Rob, Terry, and Vivian.
Thank you to everyone in the IAM for good advice and better company.
APPENDIX
The Mythology of Dream and Nightmare
The Courts of Nightmare
Phobetor, the Banished One, son of Winived and Galgev, King of Nightmare
Eliven, a demon of red clay and fire, wife of Phobetor, Queen of Nightmare and Phobetor's second in command
Winived, a mysterious ghost woman, Phobetor's mother, Queen Mother of Nightmare
Loor, half-brother of Phobetor, son of Maninav and Galgev, known as the Furless Fox, Prince of Nightmare, Phobetor's third in command
The Sisters, goddesses of the underground
The Silkworms, movers of trains
Leviathan, known as the Consumer, Whale of Phobetor
The Incubi, knights of Kar:
Baelish, known as the Wolf of Kar, chief of the Incubi, a foul wolf the size of a horse
The Silent Man, a demon of hooks and horns, a scout and spy
Feesrog, known as the Crunge, a beast of fur and fangs
Cuanbet, the One-Eyed, a putrid tiger with the head of a one-eyed shark
Golgamath and Kelra, Mother and Father of
Terror, wingless dragons
Candlelit, a servant girl, a slave from the Begemmed City
The Pantheon And Dwellers of Dream
Yor, a great stag from Hidden Valley Ridge, known as the Twig Eater or the Father Elk, known as Ælor in Nightmare, Lord of Eloria, King of Dream
Alandria, of Caterpillar Meadow, a luminous sylvan of the woods, known as the Mother of Eloria, wife of Yor and Queen of Dream
Niv, the goddess of Butterfly Valley, her lower half shaped as an elk, her upper half shaped as a woman, daughter of Yor and Alandria, third in command of Eloria, Princess of Dream
Starlight and Harmony, the pegacats, sister goddesses of the Enchanted Waterfall, created by Yor to be pets to Niv
Galgev, of the Enchanted Garden, known as the fox god, created by Yor to be a teacher and guardian to Niv, father of Loor and Phobetor, husband of Maninav
Maninav, of the Tropical Canopy, a goddess woven of flower and petal, a healer, created by Alandria to be Galgev's wife, mother to Loor
Tam, of the Crystal Caves, god of music and art, writer of the Dreamsong, son of Niv and the Enchanted Waterfall
Windwhisper, known as the Eyes of Eloria, a hawk, created by Yor to watch over Dream, a god of the skies
Panda, a mute and ancient god of Autumn Forest
The White Lioness, of unknown name and age, a goddess of boulders and trees
Redfur, a great wolf of the forest
The Lor Ya, known as the River Horses, dwellers of the Riverlands
The Lightdragons, singers of the Dreamsong
At the Begemmed City:
Yarel, King of the Begemmed City
Moonglow, his wife, Queen
Moonmist, their daughter
Onana and Lynk, her handmaidens
Sir Grendel, her guardsman
The Dreamblades
Forged by Tam in the Crystal Caves:
Sunclaw, borne by Cade of Earth. The blade is clear crystal, three feet long. The silver pommel is shaped as a hawk's head, the handguards are shaped as elk antlers, and the grip is carved of white marble shaped as apple blossoms.
Whisper, borne by Niv. The blade is white crystal, thin, three feet long. The pommel and handguards are golden.
Dawnstone, borne by Moonmist. The blade is light blue, three feet long. The pommel and handguards are platinum set with amethysts.
Starshard, borne by Tam. The blade is silvery-blue, three feet long. The pommel and handguards are carved of gold inlaid with silver stars.
Treelife, borne by Galgev. The blade is green crystal, four feet long. The pommel and handguards are carved of cherry wood inlaid with silver chasings.
Silverstream, borne by Yarel, king of the Begemmed City. The blade is silvery crystal, the pommel and handguards carved of silver and studded with sapphires.
Forged by Phobetor from the crystals of Nightmare:
Kar Elien, borne by Phobetor. The blade is golden crystal, five feet long. The pommel and handguards are platinum, studded with firegems.
Tearfall, borne by Loor. The blade is black and jagged, over four feet long. The pommel and handguards are carved of jet and studded with firegems.
Bonerazor, borne by Eliven, the first Dreamblade made. The blade is black and spiked, four feet long. The pommel is shaped as a skull, the handguards as bones.
Wraith, borne by Winived. The blade is transparent, of unknown shape and size. The pommel, handguards, and grips are carved of bleached bones.
BLOOD OF REQUIEM
SONG OF DREAMS, BOOK ONE
by
Daniel Arenson
Song of Dragons, a new fantasy series by Daniel Arenson, tells a story of blood, steel, and dragonfire.
BOOK ONE: BLOOD OF REQUIEM
Long ago stood the kingdom of Requiem, a land of men who could grow wings and scales, breathe fire, and take flight as dragons. Requiem ruled the sky.
But Dies Irae, a tyrant leading an army of griffins, hunted Requiem's people, burned their forests, and shattered their temples. Requiem fell. This ancient land now lies in ruin, its halls crumbled, its cries silenced, its skeletons littering the burned earth.
In the wilderness, a scattering of survivors lives in hiding. The griffins still hunt them, and every day promises death. Will Requiem's last children perish in exile... or once more become dragons and fly to war?
Here's an excerpt from Blood of Requiem:
War.
War rolled over the world with fire and wings.
The Vir Requis marched. Men. Women. Children. Their clothes were tattered, their faces ashy, their bellies tight. As their cities burned behind them, they marched with cold eyes. All had come to fight this day: the young and the old, the strong and the wounded, the brave and the frightened. They were five thousand. They had no more places to hide.
The dying sun blazed red against them. The wind keened. Five thousand. The last of their race.
We will stand, we will fly, we will perish with fire and tooth, Benedictus thought, jaw clenched. Men will say: Requiem did not fade with a whimper, but fell with a thunder that shook the mountains.
And so he marched, and behind him his people followed, banners red and gold, thudding in the wind. Last stand of Requiem.
It was strange, he thought, that five thousand should move together so silently. Benedictus heard only thumping boots. No whispers. No sobs. No whimpers even from the children who marched, their eyes too large in their gaunt faces. The Vir Requis were silent today, silent for the million of their kin already dead, for this day when their race would perish, enter the realm of memory, then legend, then myth. Nothing but thudding boots, a keening wind, and a grumbling sky. Silence before the roar of fire.
Then Benedictus saw the enemy ahead.
The scourge of Requiem. Their end.
Benedictus let out his breath slowly. Here was his death. The death of these hunted, haunted remains of his kind, the Vir Requis who had once covered the world and now stood, still and silent, behind him.
A tear streamed down Benedictus's cheek. He tasted it on his lips—salty, ashy.
His brother's host dwarfed his own. Fifty thousand men stood ahead: swordsmen, horsemen, archers, all bedecked in the white and gold that Dies Irae took for his colors. They carried torches, thousands of fires that raised smoky pillars. Countless griffins flew over these soldiers, shrieking, their wings churning the clouds. The army shimmered like a foul tapestry woven with images of the Abyss.
Benedictus smiled grimly. They burned our forests. They toppled our cities. They chased us to every corner of the earth. If they force us to fight here, then we will die fighting well.
He clenched his fists.
War.
War crashed with blood and screams and smoke.
Benedictus, King of Requiem, drew his magic with a howl. Black wings sprouted from his back, unfurling and creaking. Black scales rippled across him, glinting red in the firelight. Fangs sprang from his mouth, dripping drool, and talons grew from his fingers. Soon he was fifty feet long, a black dragon breathing fire. Requiem's magic filled him, the magic of wings and scales and flame, the magic that Dies Irae lacked and loathed. Benedictus took flight, claws tearing the earth. His roar shook the battlefield.
Let them see me. Let them see Benedictus the Black, for one final time under the sky, spreading wings and roaring flame.
Behind him, the Vir Requis he led changed form too. The solemn men, women, and children drew the ancient magic of their race, grew wings, scales, and claws. They too became dragons, as cruel and beautiful as the true dragons of old. Some became elder beasts missing scales, their fangs long fallen. Others were young, supple, their scales still soft, barely old enough to fly. A few were green, others blue, and some blazed red. A handful, like Benedictus, bore the rare black scales of old noble blood. Once the different colors, the different families and noble lines, would fight one another, would mistrust and kill and hate. Today they banded here, joined to fight Dies Irae—the young, the old, the noble and the com
mon.
This night they fought with one roar.
The last Vir Requis, Benedictus thought. Not humans. Not dragons. Weredragons, the humans call us. Shunned. Today is our last flight.
War. With steel and flame.
Arrows pelted Benedictus, jabs of agony. Most shattered against his scales, but some sank into his flesh. Their tips were serrated, coated with poison that burned through his veins. He roared and blew fire at the men below, the soldiers his brother tricked or forced into battle today. They screamed, cursed him, feared him; the Vir Requis were monsters to them. Benedictus swooped, lifted several soldiers in his claws, and tossed them onto their comrades. Spears flew. Flaming arrows whistled. Everywhere was blood, fire, and screaming.
War. With poison and pain.
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