A Birthright of Blood (The Dragon War, Book 2)

by Daniel Arenson

  Valien came to stand at his side, wiped sweat off his brow, and stared down into the canyon. Burrs and mud stained his garb of leather and wool. He wheezed after the trek; the wound on his neck, suffered when saving Rune's life years ago, still pained the former knight.

  "Remember," Valien said, voice a mere rasp, "Lord Cain rebelled against the Regime once. He was punished for it. His three sons were slain; Cain himself was spared, but forbidden to emerge from his canyon since. That was many years ago; you were just a babe. Cain now serves and fears the emperor. His daughter Lana is sympathetic toward the Resistance; you saw that in the capital. Lord Devin Cain himself might not hold much love for us." He stared at Rune. "We must be wary. We could find a great ally here, or we could find our deaths."

  Rune squinted down into the canyon. "Where is he? You said he commands ten thousand men. I see birds and a few lizards, that's all."

  Valien nodded. "I said he lives in a hole in the ground, didn't I? This is just a crack—far too exposed for the likes of Devin Cain." He squinted upward. "The sky is clear. We'll shift into dragons, fly down to the bottom, and walk from there in human forms. We're close."

  With that, Valien leaped from among the trees and tumbled into the darkness of the canyon. Before he could hit the bottom, he shifted into a silver dragon, filled his wings with air, and slowed his fall.

  Rune cracked his neck, hefted his pack across his shoulders, and leaped too. He dived into the canyon. The wind whipped his hair and cloak. The canyon walls rushed at his sides. With a deep breath, Rune shifted into a black dragon and stretched his wings wide. The wing caught them like sails. Rune slowed his fall and glided down.

  The two dragons, silver and black, landed upon the canyon floor and shifted back into human forms.

  A rain of cutlery clattered down around them. A fork nearly stabbed Rune in the shoulders.

  "Stars damn it!" he said. "Damn pack never did close properly."

  Valien grumbled. "Come on, we move. Quietly. This is not a safe place."

  They began to walk along the canyon floor. Rune craned his neck back and gulped. The canyon walls rose a mile high; the sky was but a thin, blue strip above. Every footstep echoed.

  As he looked at the craggy walls, Rune thought back to Ralora Cliffs at home. He remembered how Tilla and he used to walk there between the cliffs and sea. They would bang wooden swords, pretending to be old heroes. They would wrestle, whisper quietly, or just look out across the waves.

  And one night we kissed, Rune thought. And we said goodbye. And we vowed to see each other again. A lump filled his throat. And we did. We saw each other again… and we fought with swords of steel. And I lost her, maybe forever this time.

  He blinked furiously and banished those thoughts. Pining for Tilla would not help now. All he could do was keep fighting.

  I can still save you, Tilla, he thought. You are good at heart. I know it. I can still save you from the soldier they forced you to become.

  They walked for about a mile down the canyon, rounded a bend, and Rune's breath died.

  "Oh merciful stars," he whispered.

  Valien came to stand beside him and nodded. "Welcome to the Castle-in-the-Cliff, home of Lord Cain and his army."

  Rune had seen castles before. He had seen the small Castellum Acta upon the hill in Lynport. And he had seen Castra Luna, a sprawling fort in the forest. But this was different. This castle was not built of bricks and walls. Lord Cain's home was carved into the cliff itself. The living stone had been chipped away, forming a portico of columns, turrets carved with dragon reliefs, and a balcony topped with statues of winged women. The facade rose as tall and lavish as a palace.

  Or the world's largest mausoleum, Rune thought.

  A wide stairway led from the canyon floor to the castle gates. No doors filled the archway; Rune saw only shadows within. Two statues surrounded the entrance, carved of the same limestone, a hundred feet tall each. Stone helmets hid their faces, and their fists—each one large as a mule—were held to their breasts.

  "Are there no guards?" Rune said. "No doors? Do we simply walk in?"

  Valien was holding the hilt of his sword. "Careful. We don't know if we meet friend or foe here." He lowered his voice to a growl. "And remember, Lord Cain has not left this hole in years, not since losing his rebellion—and his three sons. By now, he is not what you would call sane."

  "Might take one madman to help us kill another," Rune said.

  He marched across the canyon toward the towering facade. He craned his neck back, admiring it from up close. The columns, balconies, and dragon reliefs soared. The two stone guardians towered thrice the height of dragons. Rune shivered. Helmets hid the statues' faces, but Rune could swear they were watching him. He raised his chin, took a deep breath, and approached the stairs that led toward the palace gateway.

  Dust rained.

  Stone creaked.

  "Rune!" rasped Valien.

  Hands grabbed Rune's shoulders and tugged. He fell several paces backward. Stone slammed down ahead of him, showering dust, and the canyon shook.

  "Bloody bollocks!" Rune cursed and scrambled several paces farther back.

  Before him, a great stone fist—taller than he was—had slammed onto the ground. As Rune watched, coughing and rubbing his eyes, one of the stone statues straightened and returned its fist to its chest.

  "Well," Valien said, still holding Rune's shoulders, "that explains why there are no guards."

  Rune nodded, legs rubbery. Looking around, he saw that cracks covered the canyon floor around the entrance. Those stone statues had slammed their fists down many times before. He wondered how many people they had crushed.

  A high voice rose ahead, echoing in the canyon.

  "We meet again, Relesar Aeternum!"

  Rune looked up.

  "Lady Lana," he whispered.

  She stood upon the palace balcony, a hundred feet above them. She held one hand to her hip, the other upon her sword's pommel. Most Vir Requis bore longswords, ancient weapons of wide, straight blades; Lady Lana, however, bore a thin, curved saber like southern sailors used to wield. Lana's hair billowed in the wind, a black mane sporting a single white streak. She leaped off the balcony and shifted into a dragon, her black scales bearing a similar streak across her spine ridge. She spread out her wings, landed before Rune, and shifted back into a woman.

  "The Stone Guardians were built to slay any strangers who try to enter," she said, her accent highborn and meticulous. "Thousands dwell within this hall, and the Guardians know every one. In five hundred years, none have entered here without their blessing." She reached out her hand. "It's good to finally see you in daylight, Relesar Aeternum. The sun agrees with you. Or should I call you Rune?"

  Rune clasped her hand and shook it.

  Back in the capital, he had seen Lady Lana masked and cloaked in shadows. Today he saw a noble face with high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, and thin, pink lips. A patch covered her left eye; the right one was gray and bright and intelligent. She looked about thirty years old, but the white stripe through her hair gave her an older, wiser look. She wore a yellow belt over a gray tunic—the colors of House Cain—and tall boots over leggings. Her cloak was dyed blue, the color of nobility, and clasped with a pin bearing the sigil of Cain: two statues guarding an archway.

  "Lady Lana," Valien said in his rasp of a whisper.

  She turned toward him, and a smile touched her lips.

  "My lord Valien." She reached out her arms, embraced him, and kissed his cheek. "Your stubble grows rougher and whiter every time we meet."

  "And you grow more beautiful," he said and kissed her hand.

  Rune raised an eyebrow. "Burn me, he's a romantic," he said. "Who knew?"

  Valien growled at him. "A romantic who still kicks your backside in sword sparring." He turned back to Lana. "My lady, we are here to see your father. Will he speak with us? Will you take us to him?"

  Her face darkened. "My father's mood has been dark and
his mind addled. He has spent too many years in the shadows. You will not find him the man he was." She clutched the hilt of her sword. "His temper flares without reason. He sees demons in every shadow. He rails against the cruelty of Frey Cadigus one day, then blesses the man the next. He is feverish with stone and stale air. In years past, I could get him to fly within this canyon and see the sky above, even if he refused to fly into the forest. Now I cannot get him to even leave his hall." She sighed. "My father has been a broken man since Frey crushed his rebellion and killed my brothers. I do not know if you can enlist him, Valien. You have my sword, always, and I've tried to soften my father to your cause. I've praised the Resistance in his ears. Whether he listened, I cannot tell; he will not speak to me of this. Maybe he will speak to you. He once greatly admired you."

  Valien nodded and sighed. "He was a good man, years ago. He was a friend. I pray that I find this same man today."

  "You will not," Lana said, "but I will take you to him. Follow." She turned and began walking between the Stone Guardians. "Do not fear them! They will not harm my guests. Just walk close to me."

  As they followed Lady Lana, Rune glanced up nervously at the stone statues, ready to leap back should they move again. Yet they remained frozen, stone heads raised, fists still clutched to their chests. Lana led them between the statues, up a wide staircase, and toward the gates of the Castle-in-the-Cliff.

  Shadows loomed before them. The gateway rose taller than dragons, carved into the living rock of the cliff. More than a gateway, this was an ornate cave. Cold air blew from within, chilling Rune, and mist swirled. As he stepped through the archway, the sound of wind and distant birds faded. He entered a realm of shadows and fog.

  When he blinked, he saw a great hall, larger than any he'd ever seen. Rows of columns stretched into the shadows. Upon each burned an oil lamp, the light barely piercing the darkness. A mosaic of dragons battling griffins covered the floor. Shadows hid the ceiling. Rune had walked a hundred yards before he even realized that guards stood between the columns, cloaked in gray and armed with sabers; the shadows nearly drowned them.

  "Father!" Lana called out, and her voice echoed across the chamber. "Guests are here to see you. Will you speak with them, Father?"

  As they walked deeper down the hall, Rune saw a throne ahead; it too seemed carved from the raw stone of the cliff. When they walked closer, Rune saw that a man sat there.

  "Stars," he whispered.

  Rune had always thought Valien—with his shaggy hair, leathery face, and grizzled stubble—looked rough and weathered. Yet the man upon this throne made Valien seem as well-groomed as a prince.

  Lord Cain wore shaggy gray robes lined with fur. His walrus mustache bristled beneath a bulbous, veined nose. His face was as red and wrinkled as a dried apple. His hair was even redder, wild and tangled and streaked with white. Yet despite the snow invading his hair and the grooves lining his skin, he did not seem frail. His shoulders were still wide, his body stocky beneath his robes. His hands were large and strong, clutching the armrests of his throne. A curved blade hung at his side, its pommel shaped as a roaring dragon's head. When he looked up, his eyes blazed under bushy brows—black, deep, and shrewd.

  "So, Lord Valien Eleison!" he called out, voice booming; it pealed across the hall. "You've come at last to grovel and beg for my aid."

  The haggard lord rose from his throne. He was a large man, as tall and wide as Valien. He drew his sword and held it aloft. His forearms were wide and crisscrossed with scars. In his youth, he must have been a great warrior; he still stood with the pride of one.

  Valien kept walking forward, not slowing down. Rune and Lana walked at his sides.

  "I've not come here to grovel," he rasped. "Nor to beg. I come to see a man who was once great. I come to see if greatness can still be found within him, or whether he's become but a ghost, a withered puppet for a stronger lord."

  Lord Cain cackled; it sounded less like a laugh and more like a man gagging. Spittle flew from beneath his bushy mustache.

  "Aye, you've still got a way with words, you bastard!" Lord Cain said. He barked a laugh. "You always were the poetic one, weren't you? Reading your books like a woman." He snorted. "True men have no use for books, Valien, nor for your fancy words. We deal with blood, blades, and dragonfire."

  "You will have the glory of all three," Valien said, "if you join our cause."

  They reached the throne. Lana went to stand by her father's side. Rune and Valien remained standing before him. All around, the columns rose into shadows, and the guards stood still and dark between them. The lamps burned, casting flickering light.

  Lord Cain turned to stare at Rune. Those dark, shrewd eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him.

  "Is this your boy, Valien?" the entombed lord asked and grunted. "Is this pup the so-called heir you've been trumpeting around? He looks more like a girl to me. Ha! This one is prettier than my daughter. My arse is hairier than his cheeks." He thrust out his chin at Rune. "Do you talk, little girl? Or do you merely drag around behind your lord as a trophy?"

  Rune felt his temper flare. He grabbed his sword.

  "You know Shari Cadigus, daughter of the emperor?" he said to Cain. "You know of her missing wing? My teeth tore it off."

  Cain snorted. "So you fought another woman, and you couldn't even kill her. And you think you can fight men in battle? You think you can slay Frey Cadigus?" He hacked a laugh. "And you want me to help you! I wager you need help to wipe your own backside."

  Rune growled. "I flew to battle. I fought Frey's men. You haven't left this cavern in years! And you call me a—"

  "Rune!" Valien said, voice rough, and his eyes blazed. "We've not come here to argue with Cain, but to seek an alliance."

  Cain's laughter boomed and echoed across the palace. He clutched his belly. "Ha! This boy who would be king cannot even talk without his lord lecturing him. What sort of king allows a knight to interrupt his words?" He sat back upon his throne. "Be gone, boy, before I send word to the capital that you hide in my hall."

  "Me, hide in your hall!" Rune said and snorted. "You've been rotting here for too long, old man. Will you not emerge to fight? Will you leave your army here in the shadows to collect dust, or will you emerge into the sky as a dragon?"

  All mirth left Cain's eyes. His face darkened, and his lips peeled back in a snarl.

  "Emerge into the sky? A sky full of imperial dragons bearing Frey's sigil? Fly in a sky another man rules? No, boy. Am I not a man? Am I not a lord?" He spat on the floor. "I will not fly over another man's fields, forests, or forts. I am Lord Cain! I march and fly above earth that I own."

  "You own nothing but a hole in a wall," Rune said, disgusted.

  "Aye, little girl, and wouldn't you love to rule this hole in a wall? Wouldn't you love to command the army that dwells here? They are true warriors. They are true men, tested in battle, not babes fresh off the teat like you."

  Rune took a step forward. "You want lands? You want skies to call your own? You want to see sunlight again, old man? I will give you land and sky if you join my cause. Fight with me, Cain, and I will give you what you desire."

  Cain snorted. "Will you now, boy? You will give me lands, is that so? I will take what lands are mine, not have a whore's daughter give me a treat like a dog." He spat on Rune's boot. "If Frey should fall, I will command all the south of Requiem—from Castra Luna in the north, down to Ralora Cliffs in the south, and east across the plains of Osanna to the port of Altus Mare."

  Rune's eyes widened and he guffawed. "But that's half the kingdom!"

  "Aye," said Lord Cain and cackled. "Would you rather rule half a kingdom or all of nothing?"

  Valien stepped forward, face red beneath his beard. "Enough, Cain! Enough of this bantering. Are you two leaders or fishwives?" He took another step forward and clutched Cain's shoulder. "Cain. We are old friends, you are I. We are both warriors. Now fight with us. Let us swing swords and blow fire together. Cadigus has you hiding in a hole l
ike a rat. Join us, dethrone the man, and you will have the lands you crave."

  Cain grumbled under his breath. He gave Valien a long look, then turned his eyes toward Rune; his tufted eyebrows turned with his stare like shutters.

  "Does he know how to fight?" he said. "The boy is too soft and too young. Can he kill?"

  Rune nodded, thinking back to Castra Luna, and ice filled his belly. "I've killed before. I fought at Castra Luna."

  Cain barked a laugh. "Ha! Luna? You fought green recruits there, not hardened men. Can you fight a true warrior? When you fly to meet Frey and the Axehand Order, will you slay them, or will you fly away with your tail between your legs?"

  Rune clutched his sword and drew a foot of steel. "I will fight. I will not run and hide."

  Hide like you, he wanted to add, but bit down on the words.

  "We shall see," said Cain. "Very well! I will fight with you. I will give you an army. But first, boy, you must prove your words. You must prove that you can indeed fight as you boast—fight a true warrior." He raised his voice to a shout. "Doog! Doog, here boy. Here!"

  Footsteps thudded. Grunts rose from the shadows. Rune turned toward the sound and felt the blood leave his face.

  Oh bloody Abyss, he thought.

  A lumbering troll of a man came lolloping from the shadows. He towered seven feet tall, his shoulders wide as an ox, his belly flabby but his arms rippling with muscles. His feet were bare, the toenails yellow, and he wore only a tattered tunic. Iron rings circled his neck and ankles, as if he'd just been unchained from a dungeon. He grunted and chortled and drooled as he approached. But worst of all was not his size. The man had no face.

  A great scar rifted his head from his right ear, across where his nose should be, and down to his left jowls. The wound drove into his head, two inches thick, leaving the man one eye and just the hint of a mouth.