Requiem's Hope (Dawn of Dragons)

by Daniel Arenson

  She raised her eyebrows. "I could kill more demons than you there too."

  He spat, shifted back into a dragon, and took flight. "Come on, girls!" He blasted smoke down onto them. "Enough dallying. We've got to fly west and find more Vir Requis, and hopefully not dull ones like you two."

  He beat his wings, flying again, until he caught an air current and glided. The girls flew alongside, and Dorvin ignored them, not singing or joking for once. For the rest of the day, his thoughts kept returning to the battle—to Maev wrestling him, patting his cheek, mussing his hair. He knew he should hate her. He did hate her. So why in the Abyss's name did he keep looking her way, keep thinking of how her body had pressed against his?

  "Damn rhinoceros snot," he muttered.

  They flew on, moving farther west than Dorvin had ever flown, crossing mountains and heading into lush woods of secrets and shadows and hidden hope.

  ISSARI

  They walked through the gates, entering a ruined city, and Issari shed tears for her home.

  "Eteer," she whispered, pressing a hand against a stone column. "Poets have sung of your towers and gardens. Soldiers have wept at the sight of your banners and walls. You were a city of light and now you lie in darkness. I am Issari. I am your daughter. I have returned home."

  At that moment, staring upon Eteer, she was more a child of this kingdom than of Requiem across the sea.

  Tanin took her hand in his. "We will rebuild. We will bring back the light."

  They walked down the street, hand in hand, moving slowly and silently, solemn as if walking through a graveyard. And much like a graveyard Eteer was. Skeletons of animals and humans lay discarded in street corners, the bones shattered. Windows and doors were boarded up on some houses; other houses had fallen into heaps of bricks. No more peddlers, priests, and buskers lined the streets. No markets bustled with shoppers. Eyes peered through cracks in boarded windows, and the only living creature to cross their path was a scrawny, feral cat. Aerhein Tower, once the tallest structure in the city, stood no more. The palace still rose upon the hill, its columns blue and crested with gold, but no more gardens grew atop its balcony and roof; they had burned in the great battle when Issari had fought Angel, when the amulet had fused with her flesh.

  She raised her hand and gazed at her palm. The amulet of Taal, her mother's amulet, gleamed there.

  "This was the amulet of a queen." She caressed it. "Now I will be Queen of Eteer. King Raem's throne must be mine."

  She thought words she would not speak. You died in the north, Mother. You have fallen, Sena, my dear brother. But you still look down upon me from Requiem's stars. I will make you proud. I will save both our kingdoms—the kingdom of our birth and the kingdom of our constellation.

  "All the demons have flown north." Tanin walked with a drawn dagger. He glanced around nervously. "We can take this city easily if the generals accept your leadership."

  She nodded. "All have left but Angel. She still lurks in the palace, warming the throne as my father is away. And she frightens me more than an army of demons."

  Tanin shuddered and said no more. They kept moving through the city, climbing over a fallen column, skirting a shattered statue, and walking down a boulevard where blood still stained the flagstones. Banners hung from roofs. Some showed the god Taal, a slender man with open palms, while others showed the god Kur-Paz, a winged bull. Other banners were more lurid; some were mere sheets stained with blood, and others showed crude images of broken men, of red eyes surrounded with teeth, and of a winged woman of fire. Demon banners.

  "My father perhaps is still king by name," Issari said. "But it seems that Angel governs here now."

  They were walking by the canal when they saw the first pregnant woman.

  She sat on the docks, leaning against a lantern pole, her face ashen. She gazed at Issari with sunken, vacant eyes—the eyes of a soldier who had seen too much, of the sole survivor of a slain family, of one so ill that only the grave could offer comfort. Her belly was grossly distended—twice the size of any pregnant belly Issari had ever seen. It bulged out from her tunic, the skin so stretched it looks ready to tear, and strange figures moved behind that skin, kicking, scratching, tracing the symbols of demons. A rustle rose from within the woman like the buzz of cockroaches, and Issari knew: She is gravid with a demon child.

  As they kept walking, they saw more of these poor souls, their bellies large, their eyes glassy, their lips whispering prayers. Dozens seemed to fill the city, maybe hundreds—lying on streets, too weak to rise, demon spawn scuttling inside them, shoving at the skin, begging to emerge. Issari whispered prayers to all she passed, knowing she had no way to heal them, knowing all she could do was claim the throne and banish the horror back into the Abyss.

  "Taal looks over you, my children," Issari said as she passed, holding up the amulet embedded into her palm. "His light shines upon you. I am Issari Seran and I am home. I will look after you."

  They couldn't reply, only stare with anguished eyes, the creatures kicking within their bellies. Tears in her eyes, knowing there was no more she could do, Issari walked on. Tanin walked at her side, eyes dry but haunted, his blade raised.

  The noon sun was blazing overhead when they rounded a charred garden, its palm trees blackened and its cobblestones cracked, and saw the city fortress ahead. The complex rose upon a hill, watching over Eteer. Walls snaked around the hill in a ring, topped with battlements and turrets. Beyond, upon the hilltop, rose several buildings: a columned temple to Sharash, the god of war; squat armories, silos, and smithies; and a towering round barracks, nearly the size of the city palace, holding the city garrison. Once cypress trees had grown beneath the walls, and once a gilded statue of Sharash had stood upon the hill. The trees were now burnt, and demons had severed the statue's head, replacing it with a metal mockery, a demon head with a lurid tongue and hollow eyes. But soldiers still guarded this place; Issari could see them on the ramparts, spears in their hands, helmets on their heads. Eteer's army still stood.

  Issari walked uphill, moving along a pebbly path between burnt trees. Tanin walked close behind. The wind stung Issari's face, hot and scented of ash. A skeleton lay on the hillside to her left, bite marks in the bones, the skull stuffed into the ribcage. A single banner thudded above from the citadel's wall, the only movement she saw. The soldiers stared down, still as statues.

  When she reached the gates, she looked up and called out, "I am Issari Seran, Daughter of Raem, Heiress to Eteer!" She was only the youngest princess, but with Laira outcast and Sena fallen, she supposed that left her the heiress. "I've come to shine the light of Taal and cleanse this city of darkness." She raised her palm, and the amulet blazed with light. "Allow me entrance and I will speak with your lord."

  She stared at the doors, thick oak banded with copper. The marks of demon claws marred them, and black blood stained the path below her feet. Slowly, creaking on their hinges, the doors opened.

  Issari glanced at Tanin. He gave her a slight nod. They entered together.

  They found themselves in a cobbled courtyard surrounded with columns. The statue of Sharash rose ahead upon a pedestal, fifty feet tall, its new demon head leering down at them. Stairs rose between charred cypress trees, leading to the barracks. Several soldiers stood in the complex, their bronze breastplates and shields dulled with ash. Still no sound rose, only the single banner that rose and fell with thuds, hiding and revealing the sigil of the city, a winged bull. Issari and Tanin climbed the staircase, stepped between columns and onto a portico, and finally walked through an archway into the city barracks.

  They found a vaulted hall, larger even than the palace throne room. Statues of Sharash—a soldier with a raised spear and a beard of serpents—stood between columns that lined the chamber. Many living soldiers stood here too, clad in bronze and holding true spears. All eyes turned toward Issari and Tanin, a princess and her companion from the north.

  How must we look to them? Issari thought. She no longer w
ore her fine cotton tunic hemmed with gold, and her old headdress of lapis lazuli had been lost in the war. She wore the fur and leather of the north now, and gone was the innocent softness of her old life; she knew her cheeks were gaunter now, her eyes harder. At her side, Tanin looked out of place, like a dragonfly among bees—a tall young man, his brown hair mussed and dusty, his cloak made of rich fur, a northerner that must seem like a barbarian to these southern soldiers.

  "Hear me!" Issari stepped forward and raised her amulet. "I am Issari Seran. I have come to rededicate Eteer, to reclaim our kingdom and banish the demons who infect it. My father, Raem Seran, is a killer of kings; he slew his own father, the wise Nir-Ur. My father, Raem Seran, lies with demons. He must fall! I claim dominion of Eteer." The light blasted out from her amulet. "Follow me, soldiers of Taal! March with me to the palace. We will banish Angel from the throne, and I will be your queen. We will banish these demons back into the Abyss."

  She stood, panting, waiting for a reaction.

  The soldiers only stared.

  From the shadowy back of the room rose mirthless laughter. Issari stiffened and her lip curled up. At her side, Tanin raised his dagger. The shadows stirred and a soldier stepped forth, his smile cruel and his eyes hard.

  "General Gateris," Issari said, her voice cold.

  He walked toward her, a hint of swagger to his step. A grin split his face, revealing a wide space between his front teeth. Wrinkles crinkled the corners of his eyes, and lines marred his forehead, but he still stood tall and strong, and his hair was still jet-black. A bronze breastplate covered his chest, and a khopesh—the traditional sword of Eteer, shaped as a sickle—hung at his side. Issari had always feared this man. Once, as a child, she had run into the barracks while chasing a butterfly. Gateris had grabbed her, twisted her arm, and sent her fleeing with a slap—but not before grabbing the butterfly in his hand, crushing it, and wiping the mess against her shirt. Since then she had cowered whenever she encountered him, trying to ignore the lustful looks he gave her growing body.

  But today I will not fear him. Today I will be his queen.

  "General Gateris!" She stared at him, the amulet thrumming on her palm. "Follow me with your troops to the palace. We have a demon to tame."

  His grin widened, cruel and taunting. The same malicious mirth filled his eyes. "And so, the wayward pup returns home. Or should I say . . . the wayward weredragon?" He drew his sword, pointed the blade at her, and raised his voice to a shout. "I have seen this wretch shift into a dragon! I watched her fly across the city. I will have no reptile ruling over me." He spat at her feet. "Raem Seran is my king. Raem Seran is—"

  "A weredragon himself!" Issari said. She turned toward the soldiers. "I've seen my father shift in the city cistern. He himself carries this magic; all in our family do. My siblings, Laira and Sena. My late mother, Queen Anai. And my father. Dragon magic is not a curse; it's a blessing of starlight. This city is cursed—with a demon infestation, with a cruel king who aligned himself with the Abyss. I've come to purify Eteer—with Lord Gateris or without him."

  The soldiers stood still, but she saw their eyes darting from one to another. She saw the doubt in them. Tanin stepped up closer to her, dagger raised, as if his small blade could do these armored swordsmen any harm.

  "March with me to the palace, soldiers of Eteer!" she said. "Accept me as your queen, and we will—"

  Laughing and shaking his head, Gateris swung his sword at her.

  Issari hissed and leaped back. The sickle-shaped blade sliced the air.

  "You want control of this army?" Gateris said, grin wide. "Fight me for it." He grabbed a sword from one of his soldiers and tossed her the blade, hilt first. She caught it. "Fight me, Princess of Dragons." He brandished his blade, spinning the khopesh with skill more elaborate than the greatest juggler. "Slay me and this host will be yours to comma—"

  Issari shifted into a dragon, blew her fire, and roasted the man.

  Gateris fell, burning and screaming. A white dragon, Issari stomped upon him, driving her claws through his armor and into his flesh. He lay still.

  She released her magic, stood above the burning corpse, and stared at the soldiers around her. A few had drawn their blades, but they froze under her glare. She spun around slowly, staring at them man by man. Her amulet buzzed on her palm, its light blazing.

  "Soldiers of Eteer!" She raised her chin. "Follow me to the palace. Follow me to dethrone the Demon Queen. We will reclaim Eteer!"

  For a moment, the men were silent. Issari wondered if they too would attack her. She could not defeat so many, not even as a dragon; dozens stood in this hall, and hundreds more filled the citadel. She took deep breaths, refusing to lower her gaze.

  Finally one soldier, a young man with green eyes, raised his spear high. "For Issari!" he cried. "For a new queen!"

  The floodgates broke. Dozens of spears rose, and dozens of voices shouted out, echoing in the hall. "For Issari! For a new queen!"

  She took a shaky breath and her eyes stung. She spoke softly. "For Eteer."

  At her side, Tanin blew out his breath. "Bloody stars, I was almost worried there for a moment."

  Issari turned and marched out of the hall, stepping into the sunlight. Behind her, the soldiers streamed out in a sea of bronze. From buildings across this hilltop citadel, more soldiers emerged into the sunlight, and their voices rang. "For Issari! For a new queen!"

  RAEM

  After scouring the barbarous hinterlands for days, Raem finally saw the Weredragon Column rising ahead from the forest. Flying upon Anai, his deformed bat of the underworld, Raem spat sideways and snickered.

  "So here is their kingdom!" he cried for his thousand demons to hear. "Here is the fabled Requiem, the land of dragons—a single bone rising from the wilderness."

  He laughed and his demons laughed with him. Their chortles filled the sky. Raem twisted in his saddle, looked over his shoulder, and admired them. They were beautiful. They were the most beautiful things in the world. Great balls of fat dripped ooze, their tongues thrusting out between folds of skin. Cadaverous creatures beat insect wings, leering, their teeth longer than human arms. Twisted clusters of limbs and torsos rolled in the sky, stitched together, flapping wings of skin stretched over bones. Naked moles the size of dragons. Naked men with beards of snakes and wings of bats. Creatures of fire, of stone, of rot. All flew here, seeking the meals they craved, the meat of dragons.

  "Where are you, my children?" Raem whispered. "Where are you, Jeid the so-called King of Dragons?"

  They flew closer. Soon Raem could see details on the column; it rose taller than the tallest tree, even taller than his palace back in Eteer. Its capital was shaped as rearing dragons. No other structures seemed to stand here, just a single pillar. He tugged the reins and his mount descended, the wind shrieking around them. A circle of marble tiles lay around the pillar, and Raem landed upon them, his demon's claws clattering against the stone. The rest of his demons circled above, screeching and sniffing. Raem could see none of the weredragons he sought. His demon's nose twitched.

  "Do you smell them, Anai?" He stroked her wispy hair. "Where are they?

  He dismounted. A few of his demons landed too, and they scuttled around on clawed feet, slithered and left trails of slime, and clattered on centipede legs. Most of the creatures still flew above, sniffing, snorting, seeking their enemy. Raem frowned, gazing at the place.

  "This is no kingdom," he said softly. "This is nothing but a dream I will crush."

  All of Requiem, it seemed, was this pillar of stone, these marble tiles, and a wooden hut between the birches. The footprints of dragons covered the forest floor beyond the tiles, but he could see none of the beasts; if any were here, the cowards hid. Holding his khopesh, he walked between the birches, leaving the column and approaching the hut. He kicked the door open to reveal an empty room. Inside he found five piles of straw topped with fur blankets, a brazier full of cold embers, a few bowls, and a clay tablet bearing t
he cuneiform writing of Eteer. When Raem lifted and examined the tablet, he recognized the words—it was a tale of the god Sharash and his journeys, a tale Sena used to enjoy.

  "Did you engrave these words, Sena, after fleeing me as a coward?" Raem tossed down the tablet; it shattered on the floor.

  Snorts sounded from the doorway, and he turned to see Anai gazing into the room. The demon's bloated, vaguely human head sniffed, and her distended body rose behind her, too large to enter.

  "The weredragons lived here," Raem said to her. "They fled."

  He was walking back toward the door when his boot hit something. He knelt and lifted a wooden doll. Upon it appeared more Eteerian letters, markings that would be meaningless to anyone born in the north. "Mustardseed." It was the doll's name, perhaps.

  "Laira's old doll." He caressed its wooden cheek, then snapped off its head. He tossed the broken toy aside and stepped back outside.

  He stood before the column, tilted back his head, and coned his palm around his mouth. He shouted for all his demons to hear. "Crush the column! Tear it down."

  The creatures descended like insects upon a fallen morsel. They bit at the marble. They clawed. They kicked it, drove horns against it, gnashed their teeth, rubbed hooks and jagged scales.

  Not a scratch appeared upon the marble.

  "Pathetic weaklings!" Raem shouted. "Topple it!"

  The demons howled. They slammed against the column again and again, ten at a time, storming around it, shoving, scratching and biting, yet still it stood. Light fell upon the creatures, and when the clouds parted, Raem saw it above. Even in the blue sky of day, it shone—the Draco constellation, the stars the dragons claimed blessed them.

  The demons mewled, covered their eyes, and cowered between the trees.

  Raem spat in disgust, walked toward the column, and swung his khopesh.

  The blade shattered against the marble. A shard scratched along his hand, and Raem spat and cursed.