Elethor refused to cow. "Can you not answer?"
She whipped her head down, spraying blood. "I should kill you, mortal. I should rip your head off and chew upon it for a thousand years as you scream in my mouth. Donkeys? Dew? What riddle is this?"
He took a step toward her. Blood filled her eyes, and he stared into them levelly. "That is my riddle. My sister told me this riddle years ago, when we were children. I could not solve it then. Can you?" He shouted over her screeches. "Why don't donkeys drink dawn's delicious dew?"
The wound along her torso split wider. Bodies spilled out, teeming with maggots. Skinned and bloody and headless, the bodies writhed, still alive, fingers groping.
"I asked for a riddle, not a trick, not a cheat!" cried the sphinx. Her voice rose like a storm. "Donkeys drink no dew, mortal! Donkeys in a field? They drink water, mortal. They drink water from a bucket or a stream. What trick is this? I do not accept your riddle. You cheat."
He stood firmly, even as she screamed so loudly, he thought his eardrums would burst. The bodies from her torso convulsed around him, nearly tripping him, but he managed to stay standing, to stare at her, to shout.
"Is that your answer? That donkeys drink from buckets and streams?"
Her skin peeled back, revealing rotten flesh crawling with centipedes. Her head caught flame and ballooned, boils growing across it.
"This is no riddle! He cheats, he tricks us! What is the answer? What is the trick?"
"Elethor!" Lyana cried. "We have to fly! She's going to kill us!"
No, Elethor thought. No, he would not flee. He had fled for too long. He had solved her riddle; he would answer this one too.
"Dawn's dew," he said, "drips from drunken dragons drooling." He smiled mirthlessly. "It's not much of a riddle. But it was enough to stump you."
Her head grew grotesquely, five times its previous size. Segments burst, revealing the skull within. Still she screamed, voice so high-pitched, it tore at Elethor's ears.
"Dawn's dew drips from drunken dragons drooling!" she cried. Her voice rose like steam. "He cheats! A joke! A trick!" Her eyes burst into flame. "You will suffer, Elethor of Requiem. You will suffer for this trickery. Requiem will fall! Her columns will crack and her skeletons will litter the earth. You will watch as she burns! You will watch as your people die. This I curse you with. This I vow to you. Your land will crumble as I do!"
The sphinx burst, shattering into a thousand pieces of flesh. They fell, chunks of meat, onto the bodies, turned to liquid, and seeped into the mountain like rain into soil. The screeching echoed through the chamber, then too fell silent.
She was gone.
The Crimson Archway loomed before Elethor, unblocked.
Slowly, blood on his face, he turned to Lyana. She gaped at him, wet and red. She opened and closed her mouth three times before she could speak.
"That was incredibly, inconceivably stupid!" she said. "Woolhead!"
He nodded. "That's the beauty of it."
She howled and hopped. "How dared you not consult with me first? How could you ask her a… a stupid tongue twister, not even a riddle?"
He shrugged. "It worked, didn't it?" He grasped her arms. "Lyana, that was the idea. The sphinx would have solved any real riddle. She lived here for thousands of years. She had heard them all, and if she hadn't, she'd heard enough to figure out any new ones. But a dumb tongue twister Mori invented? There was no chance she could have answered it." He swept his arm around them. "And it worked. It blew her apart." He sighed and looked into Lyana's eyes. "I do know what I'm doing sometimes, Lyana. I'm not always a woolhead."
She sighed, looked away, and blinked silently for long moments. Finally she looked back at him, leaned up, and kissed him on the lips.
"That," she said, "is the last kiss you'll ever get from me, so I hope you enjoyed it." She grabbed his hand and pulled him. "Now let's enter this archway and wake this Starlit Demon of yours."
They walked toward the bleeding archway. Shadows and mist swirled within it. With deep breaths and drawn swords, they stepped into the darkness.
BAYRIN
They slept through the night, holding each other as rain pattered against their scales. Dawn rose cold and so misty, Bayrin could only see several feet ahead: pines behind him, a rocky beach at his sides, whispering waves ahead. When he rolled onto his side, his scales clinked and his wounds blazed.
Mori stirred, smoke rising from her nostrils like more mist. Her eyes cracked open and gleamed. Dew glimmered on her golden scales, and lamprey bites dug red and raw on her shoulder, belly, and tail.
"Are we… are we on the island?" she whispered. "Or was it a dream?"
Bayrin struggled onto his feet, wincing as the bites across him burned. He unfurled his wings, flapped once, and tossed his head. His neck creaked. He was a lanky dragon, bones longer than most. And yet the island's pines dwarfed him; they must have stood two hundred feet tall, maybe more, as tall as Requiem's palace. Birds chirped, hooted, and cawed within them, and mist floated between the branches like ghosts. The piny scent filled the air, thick and heady. He breathed it deeply.
Mori rose to her feet, craned her neck back, and gasped. Her eyes lit up.
"Look at the size of them!" she whispered. "I've never seen trees so large." She turned to Bayrin, a smile showing her teeth. "These must be Mist Pines. Luna the Traveler wrote about them in her books. She said they're the largest trees in the world, and some are ancient, five thousand years old; that's older than Requiem itself."
Bayrin looked around at the mist. "How are we going to find the Moondisk here? Would it just be lying on the ground, hidden in a cave, stuck in a tree?" He snorted smoke. "Did Luna the Traveler write about that?"
Mori shook her head, scattering raindrops. "No. All I know is what I read in the book Artifacts of Wizardry and Power." She quoted from it, chin raised. "In the Days of Mist, the Children of the Moon sailed upon ships to the Crescent Isle, built rings of stones among the pines, and danced in the moonlight. A Moondisk they forged of bronze inlaid with gold, and upon it the moon turns, and the Three Sisters glow, and its light can extinguish all sunfire, so that the Sun God may never burn them."
Bayrin watched a snowy owl glide between the trees. He flapped his wings, rose in the air, and tried to grab it for breakfast, but it hooted and flew away. He landed back on the shore, claws digging ruts into the pebbly sand.
"So, we look for rings of stone," he said. "And we look for these Children of the Moon, whoever they are. That seems like a good start. Flying won't help us; the whole place is cloaked in mist and treetops." With a deep breath, he shifted into human form. When he stood upon his human feet, the trees seemed even larger, towering monoliths. "Let's walk and explore and find these Children of the Moon, if they're still around."
Mori shifted back into human form too. Her dress was tattered and damp, and tangles filled her hair. Her cheeks were pink and crusted with salt from the sea. Her eyes, however, still shone with hope, and Bayrin felt a jolt run through him, like a shot of strong rye on a cold night.
Stars, she's so beautiful when she's happy, he thought, and the thought surprised him. Mori—beautiful? How could Elethor's baby sister, a frightened girl who'd cry and run from him in childhood, seem so fair and kind and gentle?
He noticed that he was staring and looked away toward the trees.
"Let's go," he said and began to walk, leaving the beach and entering the forest. Mori walked at his side, head tilted back, gaping at the distant treetops.
They walked for a long time, though Bayrin could not judge how long. He couldn't see the sun; when he looked up, he saw only mist, branches, and leaves. His stomach twisted with hunger, but he found no food in this forest; birds hooted and cawed but remained hidden, and he saw no other animals. He rummaged through his pack, but found only moldy cheese and a soggy bread roll. As they walked, he scraped off the mold and shared the paltry meal with Mori.
A glimmer of white flashed between the trees.
<
br /> "Bayrin, look!" Mori whispered.
He narrowed his eyes and stared. "I saw it."
Whatever it was, it was gone. Only mist remained between the branches, undisturbed. Bayrin cocked his head, listening, but heard only the distant sea, the wind in the pines, and the hooting owls.
"What was it?" Mori whispered. "Did you get a look? I saw only something white and flowing, like a silk scarf."
Bayrin sighed. "That's all I saw too. It was just another owl."
She shook her head. "No, it was larger than an owl. Let's go look for it."
They walked across a carpet of leaves, trunks rising around them. A stream gurgled ahead between mossy boulders. Across the stream, a boulder rose white and sharp upon a knoll, drenched in a sunbeam. On its craggy surface glowed a rune of three stars around a crescent moon. The moon glowed soft blue, while the stars glowed golden.
Bayrin and Mori approached the boulder silently, boots sinking into pine needles and crumbly earth. When Bayrin touched the stone, it felt unnaturally warm, like touching a mug of mulled wine.
"Bay!" Mori whispered and pointed.
He whipped his head around and saw the white flash again. It glowed a hundred yards away; it indeed looked like a silk scarf. In an instant, it was gone between the trees. Bayrin began to run, boots kicking up needles. Mori ran at his side.
"Come back here!" he called. "We're friends. Show yourself!"
He heard no reply, and after long moments of running, he stopped and breathed heavily. Mori panted at his side.
"I saw it!" she said. "It looked like an animal, a deer or a horse." Her eyes shone.
Bayrin rubbed his belly. "I could use a deer. I'd settle for a horse too."
He sighed and sat down heavily. His feet and back ached, and hunger gnawed at his belly. The lamprey bites had shrunk when he shifted into human form, but still burned. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but how could he? It had been long days since they left Requiem. The survivors back home needed him, if they still lived. He placed his head in his hands.
"Bayrin, are you all right?" Mori sat down beside him and touched his shoulder.
He looked up at her soft, pale face, her gray eyes that melted with concern, her smooth brown hair full of leaves and salt. Could she be the last Vir Requis other than him? Were they doomed to be lone survivors from the slaughter?
"I don't know, Mori," he said and held her hand. "I don't know if we can find the Moondisk, or if it even exists. I don't know if anyone is alive back in Requiem. What if they're all dead already?"
A moon ago, he thought, Mori would have shivered and wept to hear his words. Today she stared back steadily, chin raised.
"Then they are dead," she said softly, "and we're the last ones. But I don't believe that, Bayrin. I can't believe it. Not yet." Her hand tightened around his. "When I was a child, I read stories of the great heroines who fought Dies Irae. I would dream of being brave like them—like wise Queen Lacrimosa, or like the warrior Gloriae the Gilded, or like the great Agnus Dei who burned her enemies with fire. I… I always felt so scared and weak compared to them. They were great fighters, and I… I was just a girl in a library, reading adventures to escape the world." A tear rolled down her cheek. "But now we face a war, Bayrin. We must be like those great warriors of old. It is our time to be brave, to believe, to fight for Requiem, to defeat the Sun God who burns us. Those heroes in the old stories… they never gave up. Even when things seemed hopeless, even when everyone died around them, they kept going. This is what courage means: to keep fighting even in the darkness, even when all but a sliver of hope is lost. An enemy can take your treasure, your land, even your life, but one thing he cannot take: your choice to fight back." She sniffed, tears in her eyes. "And I will fight back, Bayrin. I won't give up. Ever. Not so long as any of our people live, even if only you and I are left."
She trembled, and her tears fell, and when Bayrin reached out to wipe those tears, he found himself embracing her. Her eyelashes fluttered against his cheek, and his lips touched her forehead, and without knowing how, he was kissing her. Her lips were soft, warm, salty with her tears but sweet too. He cupped her cheek and kissed her for long moments, as if melting into her; he knew nothing but her softness, her scent, her hair around his fingers, and her body trembling against his.
Suddenly she gasped, pulled back, and gaped over his shoulder. A white figure, like a snowy animal, reflected in her eyes. Bayrin spun his head around and saw it there. The breath left his lungs.
It was no deer or horse, but a great white lion. Its mane seemed woven of moonlight, long and white, and its eyes shone silver, narrowed like two crescent moons. Its breath plumed and its tongue lolled, blood red. It met his gaze and held it for long moments, then turned and began loping away.
"It wants us to follow," Mori whispered. She rose to her feet and pulled Bayrin up too.
"She's scared of spiders," he muttered, "but vicious predators with dagger-like teeth? Those we follow."
They walked through the mist, following the white lion along palisades of pines. Its mane glowed like a beacon. When they fell behind, it would turn its head, stare, and wait. They followed for what seemed like leagues—over a cliff that overlooked the sea, along a fallen log that bridged a river, and into a valley like a bowl of mist. Dusk fell. Fireflies emerged to float through the mist, little moons behind clouds. The lion glowed ahead, and Bayrin and Mori followed in the shadows, crickets chirping around them.
As he walked, Bayrin touched his lips, still feeling Mori's kiss. Though Requiem burned in the south, and an island of magic rolled around him, he couldn't stop thinking of her lips against his, the softness of her hair, how her body had trembled against him. Bayrin had kissed girls before—Tiana, the kitchen maid in Requiem's palace, and Piri, the daughter of a winemaker, and a third girl who'd visited from the east and whose name he never learned. But none of them had felt so delicate in his arms, a flower he wanted to protect from the frost. He glanced at Mori as he walked, and when he saw her soft smile, again he felt it, that warm melting of his heart, like butter over fresh bread.
Mori… the girl he used to taunt, whose braids he would tug, whose tears he would mock. The girl who'd always tag along when he'd go hunting with Elethor, then cry whenever he caught a deer. The girl he'd scare at nights by squawking and pretending to be a griffin. How could he now feel this way toward her, the way he felt toward Tiana or Piri, but a hundred times stronger?
He realized that the lion had stopped walking, and Bayrin stopped too and looked ahead. In the darkness, a mountain rose from the pines, black against the stars. The lion stood at its feet, gazing up toward the peak, then turned toward him and Mori. Fireflies haloed around its head. Owls hooted in the darkness, crickets chirped, and wind rustled the trees, a night music like soft pipes in the temples of Requiem.
"Child of the Moon," Mori whispered, silver in the night's glow. She approached the lion and touched its head, gingerly at first, then warmly. She stroked it with a soft smile. "I am Mori Aeternum of Requiem, a child of starlight. I come seeking your help."
The lion's glow blazed, like a moon emerging from clouds. Mori pulled her hand back and gasped. The light coiled around the lion, a hundred fairies of silver, and it stood upon its back legs. Its back straightened, its front legs became arms, and soon it stood as a man. His skin was milky, his beard long and white. A broach, shaped as a crescent moon, glowed upon his silver robes. He seemed ageless, his face unlined, his eyes wise.
"You… you're a shapeshifter too!" Mori said, her breath catching. "Are you related to us Vir Requis?"
The man nodded and spoke with a deep, soft voice like waves and mist and the sound of light. "I am Aeras of the Crescent Isle, a child of moonlight." He smiled softly. "We have heard of Requiem, our sister land, whose children dance in the light of stars. We watched you fly over our sea, then become a man and woman upon our shore." He reached out his hands. "Welcome to our land, friends of the night."
Bayrin too
k a step forward, frowning. "If you saw us fly, why didn't you help us? Why did you wait and only show yourself now, when you knew we were hurt?" He looked around him, but saw only shadows. "And where are the rest of you?"
Aeras bowed his head. "We did not know if you were friends or foes; we have never met the children of Requiem's stars. Our only knowledge of your people comes from old songs and older whispers." His face darkened. "When we heard you speak of fighting the Sun God, we knew that we share a foe. Once our people covered many islands, but the cruel deity of sunfire burned us." He sighed and his eyes softened. "As for the others, you will meet them. We will give you food and healing herbs."
Bayrin had many questions. He wanted to ask about the Moondisk, and how many other lions lived here, and how they had managed to survive the Sun God's attacks. But before he could ask, Aeras turned and walked into the mist, robes gliding around him.
Mori took his hand. "Come, Bay, let's follow him." She smiled. "He'll help us."
They walked in darkness over fallen pine needles until they reached a gateway cut into the mountainside. Two statues flanked the opening, twenty feet tall, carved as owls. Their silver wings spread above them, forming a lintel. Aeras led the two Vir Requis under the wings and into a tunnel carved into the mountain.
Silver arches supported the tunnel, carved with runes of moons and stars. Jars of fireflies glowed in alcoves, lighting the way, and the air smelled of soil, deep water, and pines. They walked for long moments. Mori tilted her head back, gaping at the silver columns, the fireflies, and the glowing runes. A soft smile touched her lips, and on a whim, Bayrin reached out and held her hand. She squeezed his palm.
I used to mock her hand for its extra finger, he remembered. Now the feel of her hand in his felt warmer than mulled wine.
The tunnel began to widen, and cold air flowed from ahead, scented of wine and fur. Silver light fell upon them, like moonlight between summer clouds. A few more steps, and the tunnel opened into a vast, glittering chamber.
A Dawn of Dragonfire (Dragonlore, Book 1) Page 22