Requiem's Hope (Dawn of Dragons)

by Daniel Arenson

  Dorvin hopped toward the wrestler. "I can try to bite the ropes off."

  "Bite my backside, Dung Beetle."

  "I'd love to. Meatier than a mammoth steak."

  The two began to bang into each other, cussing and trying to bite. Alina sighed and looked away from the pair, examining the rest of the chamber. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and she gasped.

  Stars above!

  For the first time, she noticed that others were imprisoned here—all staring at her silently. She knelt, staring back, eyes wide. Thirty or forty other prisoners were here, huddled in the shadows—men, women, children. All were tied with ropes. All were thin, pale, haggard. All were Bar Luanites, short and slim, their hair pale, their faces oval and their eyes large. Yet there was something different about them. When Alina took a deep breath, she saw it around them, limning their forms, the auras she knew no others could see. Starlight. The glow filled her eyes and warmed her heart.

  "Vir Requis," she whispered.

  Her brother's voice rose louder behind her. "Stars damn it, Mammoth Arse, stop biting my heels!"

  Maev's voice rose in answer. "I'm trying to bite the ropes off, you puddle of piss. Stop moving! By the gods, your feet stink worse than a bloated dead marmot."

  The other prisoners stared with wide eyes. Alina spoke softly. "Dorvin? Maev? We're not alone."

  "Damn right we're not alone," Maev said. "The stench of your brother's feet is its own entity. Damn smell's more powerful than any totem pole. I—" She bit down on her words, finally noticing the other prisoners. "Oh soggy witch's teats."

  Dorvin too finally saw the others. He spat and his eyebrows rose. "Well, bugger me. Are these the other Vir Requis?" He groaned. "Not an impressive lot, these ones. Why is it Vir Requis are never the ones in charge, always the ones hunted, killed, or tied up in a dungeon?"

  Because we have no kingdom of our own, Alina thought, gazing at the others, and her eyes dampened. Because we are scattered, misunderstood, feared, hated. But Requiem will rise. A dawn of dragons will light the world. We will unite and we will stand, and we will escape the darkness.

  "Hello, friends." She raised her amulet, and the jewels upon it glowed, forming the shape of the Draco constellation. "Hello, children of Draco, my people."

  One among them stepped forth. He was a slim man, his cheeks gaunt, his eyes and hair black. He seemed taller than the others, darker, his face longer. He spoke in a heavy accent. "Hello."

  Alina smiled softly. "You speak our tongue."

  The man nodded. "My father is from the lands across the mountains; he was a fisherman upon the River Ranin. I know your tongue. I am Auben." He hobbled closer; his ankles and wrists were tied like all the others. "Are you too a draconian?"

  "I am." Alina bowed her head. "Though we call ourselves Vir Requis—people of Requiem. A kingdom of us rises in the east, blessed in the light of our stars—a kingdom called Requiem. We've come here to find you, friends, and to bring you home."

  The others whispered behind Auben, and he spent a moment translating Alina's words. Voices rose higher. One man spoke in anger, and one woman barked out what sounded like curses. Auben looked back at Alina, his eyes dark. "They say they are proud Bar Luanites, that this is their home. They scoff at a kingdom for our kind." He shook his head sadly. "For many generations, we lived in Bar Luan. Our ancestors built many of the pyramids above. Three generations ago, some among us fell ill. We could become dragons, take flight, roar fire. And for three generations, the people of Bar Luan blessed us, worshiped us as gods. And then a few years ago . . . it began. The tanari kar."

  The people behind shuddered at the word. Some pressed their hands together in prayer.

  Dorvin hobbled forward, frowning. "The tanner-what?"

  Auben lowered his head. "The tanari kar. It means the dream curse in your tongue." He hugged himself with thin arms. "At first, the nightmares only filled our sleep, but then we began to dream in waking hours. The leaves on Shenhavan grew blue with mourning. Bar Luan fell into disrepair. The people hid in their homes. The king refused to leave his pyramid. The gardens are not tended, the forests are not hunted, the gods are not worshiped. The people of Bar Luan needed somebody to blame, and they blamed us, the draconians, those who can become the great beasts. We turned from gods in their eyes to demons. They imprisoned us here."

  Maev scoffed. "That's ridiculous. The people of Bar Luan still suffer from waking nightmares. We had them ourselves up there. How can they still blame you?"

  "They believe that other draconians still live aboveground, hiding their curse. Our king believes that once we are all imprisoned here, amid the roots of Great Shenhavan, the nightmares will end."

  Alina looked around her, and her eyes widened. She had not seen it at first, but now she moved around the chamber, gazing with awe. The roots of a great tree grew all around them, framing the chamber like the bars of a cage. Of course—the roots of Shenhavan. The great tree itself imprisoned them here. She recognized the source of the power she had first felt when entering this place; it had not flowed from the prisoners but from the roots of the old tree. Only it was not a tree at all, at least not like any other tree in the world. This was a being far older than trees, a being of many planes of awareness, seeing from many eyes, its tendrils of thought digging deep. Its roots were like eyes, like thoughts themselves, always digging, seeing, hearing, sensing. Even now they sensed her, and Alina approached one root and placed her ear against it.

  She winced and cried out in pain. A shock like a bolt of lightning shook her body. She yelped and fell.

  "Alina!" Dorvin rushed forward and knelt beside her. "Alina, what in the Abyss?"

  She shook, eyes wide, tongue dry. Her legs convulsed. The pain! The fear! Tears filled her eyes. "It's hurting, Dorvin. It's sensing too much. Too much. Its nerves are exposed, raw, wounded, feeling everything. Everything." Her tears streamed. "All its filters are removed, all the stimulus is overwhelming, overflowing, eyes that cannot be closed, thoughts that never end." Her voice faded into a hoarse whisper. "It's feeling us now, feeding upon us, and it wants to stop. It cannot. They dug too deep."

  Dorvin held her and shook her. "Alina! What in the name of all gods are you talking about?"

  "She's having a nightmare," Maev said. "It's hitting her even here."

  Alina shook her head. No. No, this was no nightmare. This was too real, too raw. "Let me speak to him." She struggled to rise, still shaking. "Let me speak to Shenhavan."

  She approached one of the roots, wincing at the pain emanating from it. She braced herself and placed her forehead against it. She gasped as its presence flowed into her. She whispered into it, not whispering with her mouth but letting her thoughts flow into the root.

  Hello, Old One.

  It replied with many voices. It hurts us. We are exposed.

  I know, Old One. You hear too much.

  We hear it all! They dug too deep. They opened our nerves. The diggers. They removed our soil, our flesh. They were afraid. We heard them.

  Alina placed her hand upon a root. You dreamed of them.

  The root thrummed. No. We heard their dreams. We could no longer feed on soil. We fed on their nightmares. On the diggers. On the prisoners who followed. Their dreams became our nourishment, flowing through our trunk, turning it black, entering our leaves, turning them blue, flying in our pollen upon the wind.

  Alina gasped. Her chest constricted. The pollen. Of course. You took the nightmares of prisoners into you. You could not stop it.

  The tree seemed to weep. We could not stop it.

  Tears streamed down Alina's cheeks. The nightmares rose through you, and you expelled them into the air. You infected the others.

  We are sorry. We are sorry. Please make it end.

  Alina could no longer bear it. She pulled back from the root, and she fell onto the ground, weeping. Dorvin and Maev leaned over her, speaking to her, but she could barely hear. She whispered, her lips wet with tears. "The Vir Requi
s do cause the nightmares."

  Auben's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed. "That is a lie! We do not—"

  "By no fault of your own!" Alina said, lying in her brother's arms. "The roots of the tree. The soil was removed to create this dungeon. The roots were exposed. Lacking soil to feed upon, they fed on your dreams. Do you have nightmares in this place?"

  Auben froze. He nodded slowly.

  Alina smiled wryly. "In the shadows of a dungeon, most prisoners have nightmares. So did the first prisoners here—thieves and murderers imprisoned before you. The tree fed, and the nightmares spread through its pollen. The king blamed you. He imprisoned you here. But he only gave the roots new nightmares to drink." She rose to her feet. "We must leave this place. We must reveal the truth. We must end this tree's suffering."

  Dorvin cleared his throat. "And free everyone. That too. That's also a little important, Alina."

  She returned to the roots that enveloped the chamber, placed her forehead against one of the ropey strands, and closed her eyes. She whispered, head lowered, "You can answer prayers. You are good in your core. Free us, Shenhavan. Free us from our bonds and we will refill this cavern with soil."

  For a long moment, nothing happened. Alina tugged at her bonds, but the ropes would not loosen. Alina's belly curdled. For many years, she had been able to speak to the stars, to sense warmth and guidance from them. Was her power, the insight of a druid, limited to the stars?

  "Please, Shenhavan." Her eyes stung. "Free us."

  Silence filled the cavern. Alina lowered her head.

  I have failed.

  Her eyes stung, and she thought of Requiem and her people—of Jeid, of Laira, of all the others waiting for them. The demon army would reach them, and she would perish underground, bringing no aid to her people. She—

  She frowned.

  She gasped.

  The walls of the chamber were shaking around them.

  I have no power over matter, child of starlight, spoke a voice in her head. Only thought. Only dreams. And not only the minds of men.

  Soil fell from the walls, and rustling rose all around. A hundred holes broke open in the dirt walls between the roots. Noses and whiskers twitched. A hundred mice scurried into the chamber.

  Dorvin squealed like a little girl. "Stars damn it! Get them away from me!" He began to hop around, sweat on his brow, as the mice raced around his feet. "Get them away, get them away!"

  Maev rolled her eyes and snorted. "Bloody bollocks, Dung Beetle. Is the brave warrior scared of mice?"

  The dark-haired young man grimaced and hopped around. "They're climbing me! Mammoth Arse, bite them off!"

  The mice were not climbing only Dorvin; the rodents were scurrying up everyone's legs. Alina laughed as their fur tickled her, and she smiled because she knew that there were greater powers in this world, powers large and small that looked after her even in the darkness. Little teeth worked at the ropes binding her. All across the chamber, the mice chewed, and the bonds fell to the ground.

  "Thank you, Shenhavan," she whispered, touching the roots of the tree, and she felt the warmth against her palm. She turned toward the other prisoners, their limbs free. "Stand back, friends. Stand against the wall. Make room."

  The prisoners obeyed. Maev had to guide Dorvin backward; he was still slapping at his clothes, shuddering, and muttering about still feeling whiskers against him. Once they were all pressed against the opposite wall, Alina summoned her magic. Her body grew, unencumbered by the ropes. Her scales clanked. Fire filled her mouth. A lavender dragon, she raised her claws and began to dig.

  She carved a tunnel, reaching far into the soil, digging through the earth, and the prisoners followed behind her.

  She dug for a long time, letting the starlight inside her guide her, until she rose and emerged into a dark forest. Cold air flowed into her lungs, and the moon shone above between the branches. When Alina climbed out of the tunnel, she could see Bar Luan behind her; she had dug their way out of the city, and its pyramids and walls rose silver beyond the dark trees. She released her magic, returning to human form, and the others emerged into the night and stood around her. Alina raised her staff, and the starlight shone into its crystal and grew, a beacon for the others to circle, a light to guide her flock.

  She climbed onto a fallen log and gazed upon her people. She spoke softly in the night.

  "I am Alina, a daughter of Requiem, a priestess of the Draco constellation. I do not deign to lead you, for you are now free souls. But I would offer to guide you. As I've guided you to freedom, I would guide you to a revival of starlight. Requiem lies in the east beyond the rivers and mountains, and she is a kingdom of dragons, of our kind. Three generations ago, the holy stars bequeathed a blessing unto the world, gifting their magic to only a few scattered souls. For three generations, we were hunted, imprisoned, feared—here in Bar Luan, in the eastern forests, even south in the seafaring realm of Eteer. For a hundred years, we thought we are alone, but we have found one another, and we rise." Tears filled her eyes. "Join me, my friends. Follow my light, the staff that glows with starlight. Follow me to a land of scales, wings, and fire—a land of dragons. Follow me to King's Column and to King Aeternum, and Requiem will shine with our all lights. You were born in Bar Luan, a land that imprisoned you; follow me across the wilderness to Requiem and find your pride and freedom."

  The Vir Requis of Bar Luan conferred amongst themselves. Alina could not understand their words, but she could guess at their meaning. She had spoken the same words to Dorvin when they had left their tribe. All those who had made it to Requiem had left their homes with heartbreak and fear, but they had all chosen the path of the stars. So did these people. Auben detached himself from the others, approached Alina, and nodded.

  "We fly with you."

  Alina smiled. "We will fly. But not before we heal a friend."

  She returned to Bar Luan then, holding her lit staff before her, and the others followed, her light guiding them. In the city they found the people in a daze, whispering, rubbing their eyes, finally woken from the nightmares that had plagued them for so long.

  "There is no more fear underground," Alina said when the King of Bar Luan approached her, riding upon a palanquin. "The roots of Shenhavan no longer feed upon the nightmares of prisoners, no longer spread those nightmares in the pollen. We will fill the dungeon with soil, and we will let Shenhavan flourish again."

  The old king, tears in his eyes, watched in wonder as his people crowded around, finally free of their long fever dream.

  Alina became a dragon again in the night, and this time she did not dig but filled holes, giving soil and peace to the exposed roots of an ancient god. She felt the tree in her mind, thanking her, its pain waning, like an injured man drinking soothing silverleaf. When her work was done, Alina stood before the tree, still in dragon form, and she watched as its leaves turned green again, as its trunk brightened, as life and goodness returned to the deity. The people of Bar Luan circled the tree in a great torrent, singing and chanting. Bar Luan was healed.

  Alina flapped her wings and took flight, soaring toward the stars. The Draco constellation shone above, and the people of Bar Luan whirled below around their tree, and the moonlight lit the pyramids, walls, and statues of this ancient city. The others, her own people, summoned their magic. They rose as dragons in the night, forty strong, light in their eyes and fire in their mouths. The dragons of Requiem flew into the east, leaving the city of stone. They flew under the stars. They flew to Requiem. They flew to war and to hope and to a new dream.

  ISSARI

  Issari stood in the ravaged throne room, eyes wide, watching the Demon Queen give birth.

  The creature emerged from the womb, still wrapped in the caul. It twisted inside the wet sack, claws tearing at the membranes, teeth biting, cutting free. It rose from the red wetness, unfurling with creaking joints, already the size of a full-grown man. It stood in the muck and stared into Issari's eyes.

  All she cou
ld do was stare back.

  "My brother," she whispered.

  It regarded her, dripping wet, its skin gray and stony. It almost seemed to Issari that the creature recognized her, knew her to be its sister. Its jaw was long and pointed, its face hideously deformed, far too long to be human. Wings grew from its back, veined and translucent. But Issari could see her features in it. Her half brother, the son of Raem and the demon Angel, had the eyes of the Seran family—her eyes. Large. Green. Not the red, lustful eyes of a demon but the eyes of a mortal.

  "My brother," she whispered again, taking a step closer. Across the hall, the surviving soldiers stared with her, hesitating, their swords still raised. Issari kept approaching, and her eyes dampened. "My brother, you're safe here. I will look after you. I—"

  The creature opened its mouth wide, revealing rows of sharp fangs. The mouth opened from ear to ear, the jaw dislocating to drop halfway down its chest like a python about to devour a boar. The nephil—a creature born of man and demon—tossed back its head and shrieked. The sound shook the hall. It turned toward its mother. Angel still lay on the floor, her belly deflating, and her son crawled onto her chest and began to suck at the breast, drinking a foul milk of lava and liquid sulfur. Nursing her son, Angel raised her eyes and stared at Issari.

  "Behold the heir of Eteer," Angel said. "Behold the future king. Behold—"

  "As Queen of Eteer, I command you!" Issari shouted, amulet raised. "Return to the Abyss! Summon your demons to retreat after you. I have seized control of this throne, and—"

  Angel laughed. She plucked the feeding creature off her breast and pointed toward the fallen throne of Eteer. Lips smoking, the child leaped, bounded over Issari, and landed upon the seat. He lashed his claws, tearing the throne apart, scattering shards of wood and gold. He looked up from the mess, nostrils steaming, green eyes blazing.

  "I do believe that my son has just challenged your claim," said the Demon Queen. "I name him Ishnafel, Fallen One. Eteer will be his prize. Your reign has lasted only a few heartbeats, Issari, Queen of Filth." She barked a laugh. "You should have exiled me while you could."