Requiem's Hope (Dawn of Dragons)

by Daniel Arenson

  "The gods of the dragons protect their column." Clutching his wound, he stared up at the stars and shouted hoarsely. "You will watch, weredragon of the heavens! You will watch as I slaughter all your children."

  The stars gleamed down upon him, their light soft, comforting, and he imagined that he could hear a soothing voice inside him, a voice of starlight. You are one of them, child. You are blessed with our magic. You too are a child of Requiem.

  Raem covered his ears, ignoring the words, ignoring the need inside him, the urge to shift into a dragon. He had shifted many times in the city cistern, chastising himself every time. No. No! I am not cursed. I am not a reptile. I am a pure son of Taal.

  A high whimper—not the cry of a demon—rose above from the stars. Raem looked back up and sucked in breath with a hiss.

  Dragons! Two dragons flew above, descending from the starlight!

  The demons roared and squealed and bustled.

  "Do not feed yet!" Raem shouted. "Bring the dragons to me alive."

  He licked his lips, his body crackling with energy. He felt more alive than he had since slaughtering weredragons back in Eteer. Finally—to kill again! Killing was the greatest joy there was, greater even than shifting.

  The demon army swarmed, and the two dragons cried out and tried to flee. They were too slow. The demon horde rose from the forest like flies from a disturbed carcass, grabbed the two dragons, and tugged them down. The demons slammed the scaly creatures against the marble tiles at the column's base.

  Raem stared down, eyes wide. "Children," he said in wonder. "They're no larger than horses. Mere children."

  The two dragons, both green, whimpered and flicked their tails, and their wings beat weakly against the tiles. They were trying to take flight again, but demon legs pinned them down. The creatures hulked over the two, licking their maws, their drool dripping onto the dragons. The demons panted, begging to eat.

  "Not yet!" Raem said. "Now is not the time to feed."

  He stepped closer and placed a hand against one of the dragons. It stared at him, pleading, teary.

  "Please," the dragon spoke. "Don't hurt us. We're looking for Requiem. We've heard tales."

  The other dragon, even smaller, spoke too. Her voice was the voice of a little girl. "My brother said there are other dragons in Requiem! We came here from the east." Tears rolled down her scaly cheeks. "Please, master, don't hurt us. We only came to find the others."

  Raem walked back to his mount. Several weapons—spears, bows and arrows, clubs, and two more khopeshes—hung from the saddle. Raem chose a bronze-tipped spear and approached the two dragons again.

  He drove the weapon down. Its bronze head crashed through the female dragon's soft scales. In death, her magic left her. She returned to human form—a young girl, no older than six or seven, a spear in her chest. Blood puddled around her, and Raem pulled back his spear.

  The second dragon—her brother—roared in grief. He thrashed madly, wings beating, tail flicking, unable to free himself from the demons pinning him down. Raem approached the creature, his dripping spear raised.

  "Be thankful," he told the beast. "I'm showing you a mercy. I'm killing you before the demons feed." He smirked. "My own children will not be as fortunate."

  He thrust his spear.

  The green dragon died upon it, returning to human form—a small butchered boy.

  Raem pulled the spear out and smiled. He raised his hand to the sky. "Well, my friends? Enjoy!"

  The demons plunged down with the urgency of starving dogs upon a piece of meat. Blood and gobbets of flesh flew. Within instants, the children were gone, leaving only a single heart upon the marble tiles; it lay where the little girl had died. A demon raced toward the morsel, but Raem waved it aside. He knelt, lifted the heart in his hand, and stared at the little organ—soft, pure, hot. He kissed the heart and licked his lips, savoring the blood. He stepped toward the column, slapped the heart against it, and drew a picture in blood—the sigil of Taal.

  He spoke softly. "A message for any of you who return."

  Demons gathered around him, panting, begging for the treat. Raem tossed the heart toward them.

  Before the dripping organ would reach the demons, an arrow sailed through the air, pierced the heart, and pinned it against a birch.

  The demons squealed. Raem stiffened, raised his spear, and stared into the forest whence the arrow had flown. A figure emerged from between the trees, holding a bow.

  "Hello, mighty King Raem! The whole north is speaking of you and your demon horde. I see you've arrived at fabled Requiem a little too late."

  It was a woman, young by the sound of her voice. Raem could not see her face; a bronze mask hid it, shaped as a blank face with only small holes for the eyes, nostrils, and mouth. She wore a leather tunic, long gloves that rose to her elbows, and a fur cloak. A copper dagger and a quiver of arrows hung across her hips.

  "We will find the creatures," Raem said. "Our scouts scour the land for them. Who are you?"

  She stepped closer. "A huntress. A warrior. One who will slay dragons. I wounded their king once with many arrows; now I seek to finish the job."

  He narrowed his eyes, not lowering his spear. "Who are you?" he asked again.

  "A daughter of Oldforge, a village in the shadow of the escarpment where dragons once flew." She snickered. "As a child, I even loved one, a boy named Tanin. Of course I didn't know he was a diseased reptile then." Her voice dropped. "One day, I managed to trap Tanin's father, a beast named Jeid Blacksmith, the King of Weredragons. I brought him to our village. I fired arrows into his flesh. He escaped half-dead . . . but not before blowing his fire."

  Slowly, as gingerly as one lifting a newborn babe, the woman removed her bronze mask.

  Raem's lip twitched.

  The woman's face was gone, burned away with dragonfire. She hadn't much of a mouth left, but Raem thought that she was smiling. She placed the mask back on.

  "I am Ciana," she said. "I've hunted weredragons for many years. Now I will hunt with you."

  LAIRA

  Laira stood upon the stalagmite, her fingers tingling. All around her, the tribesmen of Leatherwing chanted, their voices echoing in the craggy, torchlit innards of Two Skull Mountain.

  "Release the Beast of Bride's Blood! Release the hydragrif!"

  Laira gazed around. The vast chamber seemed to spin around her, the torches all whirring into blurred lines. Hundreds of tribesmen stood below, raising their spears, their voices thudding against her eardrums. Standing by the throne of Chieftain Oritan, she swallowed the lump in her throat.

  "A beast? I have to fight to wed you?"

  Oritan placed the ape-skull helmet back over his head, hiding his face. He stared at her through the eye sockets. "It is the custom of Leatherwing. Chieftains of our tribe may only marry the strongest women, those who can defeat a hydragrif in battle. Summon your roc, Laira Seran of Goldtusk. You will ride upon her in battle here in this cavern."

  Laira stared down from the pillar of stone she stood on. Upon the cavern floor—a hundred feet below her—men were tugging on ropes, turning winches, and opening a massive trapdoor built of the natural stone floor. The opening began to widen like a woman in labor, and in the shadowy womb below, white eyes stared, claws scratched at stone, and grunts echoed. A beast hid within that underground cavern—it seemed larger than a dragon—though she could see only its eyes and tufts of white fur.

  She stared back at Oritan. "This is wrong. This is barbaric!"

  "This is the way of our people, Laira Seran." He leaned back in his throne. "Do you want my help fighting a demon army? Prove that you yourself are a warrior."

  The creature's grunts below grew into squeals. The entrance opened wider, and claws ringed with white fur emerged into the chamber, scratching at stone. The tribesmen cheered. Laira's heart thudded, and she spun toward Jeid, hoping he'd have something to say, a way to stop this madness.

  The shaggy, bearded King of Requiem grumbled. "L
et us leave, Laira. We'll return to Requiem and defend it as best we can. With our rocs. With our dragons." He shook his head. "This is not the way."

  Laira narrowed her eyes, tilted her head, and stared at him, and she saw something in his eyes—something more than fear. What was it? Jealousy? Did Jeid object to her fighting a beast, or did he object to her marrying this chieftain?

  She took a deep breath. She looked down. The opening was wider now, and a head emerged from below. It was shaped like a great, albino eagle, but a mane of white fur—like that of a lion—encircled its neck. It stared at her with white, baleful eyes and shrieked, the sound deafening. The creature's body still lurked below. Across the cavern, a hundred pteros clung to the walls, mouths clattering open and shut, screeching down at the beast in the pit.

  I need these pteros, Laira thought. I need the hunters who ride upon them. She thought back to the demon she had slain, to the thousand others said to be flying north in search of dragons. I will not turn away this chance for victory.

  She stepped closer to Jeid, placed a hand upon his shoulder, and kissed his cheek. "I will fight for Requiem," she said. "And I will marry this man. And we will fly with this tribe to victory."

  She saw the pain those words gave him. He held her hand. "There are other ways."

  She shook her head. "Not for me. Not for the kingdom we are building." She turned back toward Oritan. "I will fight. But not upon Neiva. I will risk my life, not that of my roc. I will fight as a dragon."

  With that, she leaped into the air and shifted. Her wings burst out from her back. Flames roared from her mouth and crashed against the ceiling. Across the chamber, tribesmen stared and roared. Their voices echoed.

  "Release the Beast of Bride's Blood!"

  Finally the stone doors fully opened below, a craggy cervix birthing a beast. Laira flew above, hissing out smoke. She had never seen a hydragrif before, and the creature shot bolts of fear through her. It emerged shrieking into the cavern, lashing its claws, a massive beast twice her size. Its body was that of a dragon, covered in white scales. Tufts of white fur rose across it like patches of crabgrass, and its tail whipped, spiked and cruel. Its wings were not leathery but instead covered with white feathers, and they ended with claws longer than swords. Strangest of all, three necks grew from the creature's body, each supporting the head of a pale eagle. The three beaks opened wide, and cries emerged from them, and six eyes blazed as they stared at her.

  The creature soared through the cavern, beaks clattering.

  Laira roared down her flames.

  The fire streamed over the creature. Its tufts of white fur ignited, but the fire flowed harmlessly across its scales. It kept soaring, reached her, and snapped its beaks. Laira yowled as one beak closed around her shoulder, cracking scales, trying to reach her flesh. Another beak closed around her tail.

  "Fight it, Laira!" Jeid's voice rose from below.

  Her blood dripped. Her wings beat against the ceiling. Pain fueled her, and she thrust her claws into the head that bit her shoulder. The claws drove through flesh, and the beak opened, releasing her.

  I defeated Zerra. I can defeat this creature.

  She grabbed a neck between her jaws, bit and twisted, and tore off the eagle head. It tumbled down to the sound of cheers, leaving a severed stalk.

  The other two heads still bit at her scales, struggling to reach the flesh. One beak grabbed her tail, and the other clutched her leg. The creature's wings beat madly, holding it aloft, pinning Laira to the chamber ceiling. Far below on the cavern floor, the tribesmen waved their spears and roared. Laira blasted more fire, baking the hydragrif. It released her tail, and she swung that tail, driving the spikes into the beast's neck. With another bite, she tore off a second head. Spurting blood, the head tumbled down.

  Only one head remained, gnawing on Laira's foot. Its bite worked through her scales, and her blood dripped. She thrust her claws, tore through its muscles and tendons, and ripped off the last head. She tossed it down.

  The creature hovered below her, wings beating. It flew in circles, headless.

  Laira breathed out in relief.

  "I beat it!" she cried out. "I defeated the hydragrif! I—"

  She bit down on her words. She stared in horror.

  Three new heads sprouted from the severed necks.

  Healed, the hydragrif flew back toward her, its three new beaks clattering.

  "Oh bloody mammoth shite," Laira cursed, shocked at her words; she must have picked up a thing or two from Dorvin. She winced, beat her wings, and skittered across the ceiling. The hydragrif slammed into the stone, cracking a mural of racing bison. Bits of painted stone fell into the pit.

  Laira flew toward one of the cavern walls, spun around, and reared in the air. When the hydragrif charged toward her, she bathed the beast with fire. The flames raced over it harmlessly. All around the pteros shrieked, clinging to the walls like bats, and below hundreds of voices rang out.

  The creature passed through the flames, its three beaks snapping, and barreled into Laira. Hydragrif and dragon flew backward. Pteros shrieked and scattered, and Laira slammed into the wall. Torches blazed against her back. She yowled, beating her wings, flailing her tail. The creature's beak drove into her chest, blood spurted, and she screamed. The pain knocked the magic out of her. She returned to human form.

  A fraction of her previous size, she tumbled down the wall, momentarily free from the hydragrif's grip. The cavern floor rushed up to meet her. She glimpsed the pillar of stone rising ahead; both Jeid and Oritan still stood upon it, shouting. Tribesmen scattered below, awaiting her crash. The hydragrif swooped from above, beaks opening wide.

  An instant before Laira could slam into the floor, she summoned her magic again.

  She flew, roaring fire, and skimmed along the cavern floor. Tribesmen fled from her, and she soared higher, rising along the pillar of stone. She shot past Jeid and Oritan on its crest, spun around, and charged toward the hydragrif.

  Her tail lashed. Her claws slashed. Her jaws bit.

  A hydragrif head tumbled down.

  Burn it! screamed a voice inside her. Burn it like you burned the octopus!

  She spun back toward the creature, wings churning smoke. It reared before her, its two remaining heads shrieking. The stalk of its left neck was red and dripping. Already a nub was sprouting; soon it would turn into a new head.

  Bleeding, so weak she could barely cling to her magic, Laira blasted out her flames. The fire crashed into the creature, cauterizing the stump of its neck. The creature bucked, scratched the air, and wailed in pain.

  I hurt it, Laira thought, panting. It can be hurt.

  The head would not grow back, and Laira charged, new vigor filling her, and slammed into the creature. They tumbled through the air, dipped, and crashed into the stone pillar. Cracks raced across it. The hydragrif shrieked in pain, trying to bite, to scratch, to knock her off. Laira wouldn't release it. She grabbed another neck, tugged the animal down, and slammed it against the cavern floor.

  The chamber shook. The hydragrif whimpered. Blasting smoke through her nostrils, Laira grabbed the creature's foot and dragged the beast across the floor. Tribesmen fled. When she reached the pit whence the hydragrif had emerged, she gave a mighty tug, tossing the creature down into the shadows. It tumbled into the chasm, slammed against a shadowy floor far below, and let out a miserable wail. When it tried to rise again, Laira blasted flames into the pit, and it twisted and fell back down.

  A deep voice rose from above. "Slay it! Slay the beast!"

  Still in dragon form, Laira raised her eyes. She saw Chieftain Oritan still standing upon his tower, staring down at her.

  She shook her head. "I defeated it! I tamed the creature. I will not slay it."

  A hundred feet above her, Oritan placed his fingers in his mouth and gave a short, loud whistle. His ptero—the great beast with the painted horn—detached from a wall and flew toward the chieftain. Oritan leaped into the saddle, and man and pter
o swooped. They landed on the cave floor before Laira. The ptero stretched its wings wide and hissed, tongue extended. The chieftain stared down from the confines of his ape helm.

  "Prove yourself strong," the chieftain said. "Kill it now, and you'll prove yourself worthy to be my bride."

  Again Laira shook her head, scattering smoke. "Strength is not measured by killing an enemy but by showing that enemy mercy." She released her magic and stood at the edge of the pit, a human again. "I proved this strength to you here. Now honor your word. Join our tribes together." She took a step closer to him. "Fight with us."

  The chieftain dismounted his ptero, approached her, and stared at her with hard eyes, judging, scrutinizing. He towered above her; her head didn't even reach his shoulders. Armor of bones, copper plates, and clay covered his chest, and the bronze tips of his weapons gleamed in the torchlight. With gruff fingers, he touched her cheek.

  "You are strong, Laira of Goldtusk, Laira of Eteer . . . Laira of Requiem." To her surprise, he knelt before her and clasped her hand in his. "We will be wed. Our tribes will unite. And then, Laira . . ." Fire burned in his eyes. "Then we will slay demons together."

  She took a deep, shuddering breath, and for the first time in many days, hope kindled inside her. A shadow stirred ahead, and she looked over Oritan's shoulder. Jeid stood there, staring at her, and no hope filled his eyes, only cold, haunting hardness.

  MAEV

  "So where the Abyss is this place, Alina?" Gliding on an air current, Maev spat out flame. "We've been flying for days now, and I see no damn dragons. Are you leading us on a wild mammoth hunt?"

  The lavender dragon flew beside her. A drizzle fell, and drops shone upon her scales. The druid stared ahead into the misty distance. Forests rolled under the rain into a green haze, and the blue-and-gray sky roiled above like a sea. "The stars are veiled but their whispers still guide my way. Other Vir Requis live in the west. We will find them."

  Maev twisted her jaw, not as sure. They had seen no signs of humans, dragons, or any other intelligent life for days now. Past the mountains, which they had crossed two days ago, rolled a forest that seemed endless, lusher than the woods back in Requiem. The canopy was so thick Maev couldn't see through it, and only a silver stream broke the green carpet, coiling across the land like a great dragon's tail. Birds flew below and distant thunder rolled. No villages. No wandering tribes that Maev could see. And certainly no dragons.