"Dragons of Requiem!" she called. "Follow—to blood and glory!"
They howled and blew flame, and Lyana soared, rallying more dragons as she flew. Phoenixes descended upon them. Three dragons fell, turned to humans, and crashed against houses below. Fire bathed her. Lyana narrowed her eyes and flew toward the light of the Moonbeam.
Silver light covered her. The phoenixes cried, naked. She burned them. Her dragons blew flames around her. They howled for death and glory, for Requiem, for their princess. The phoenixes fell dead.
The moonlight left them, shooting to the east. Lyana snarled, spun, and followed it.
"Stay in the beam!" she shouted. "Dragons of Requiem, behind me! Burn the enemy!"
They flew among the fire and moonlight, blood raining. As Lyana sounded her roar, she looked around the battle, seeking Elethor. Where was their king?
"Elethor!" she cried over the battle, but did not hear him. She gritted her teeth. Requiem needed their king, needed Elethor to rally them around his cry—not her, not Lyana, but King Elethor Aeternum.
"Elethor! Hear me!"
Rage boiled inside her. If he was not dead, she would kill him herself. He needed to lead his people, now more than ever. Where the stars was he?
She roared her dragonfire, bathing the phoenixes. They fell dead, thudded against the Starlit Demon as he dived below, then crashed to the city ruins. Requiem trembled with fire, blood, and light.
BAYRIN
A dozen phoenixes soared toward Mori.
Flying beside the princess, Bayrin roared.
"Mori, to your left!"
She spun in the sky, pointing the Moondisk to her left. The beam caught the phoenixes and they extinguished. Bayrin swooped upon them, bathing them with fire. They crackled and fell.
"Bay!" Mori shouted above him, fear twisting her voice.
The beam of moonlight left Bayrin, sweeping to the north. He turned his head and saw ten more phoenixes surge toward Mori. They shrieked, claws outstretched. When the beam hit them, they cried and lost their fire. Wings aching and wounds blazing, Bayrin soared toward them. He roared fire and burned them down.
He spared the battle below a glance. Phoenixes fell like rain. The dragons of Requiem were flying from side to side, staying within the moonbeam. He saw his sister, a sapphire dragon blowing fire. He saw his parents—Deramon flew as a burly copper dragon, crashing into phoenixes, while Adia soared as a white dragon, leaving a wake of flame. When Mori moved her Moondisk, those dragons too slow to follow burned in phoenix fire.
"Mori, phoenixes over the temple!" Bayrin shouted. A hundred of them were roaring from the marble roof, comets of fury.
Mori nodded and moved the Moondisk upon the enemy. The phoenixes screeched and Bayrin saw dozens of dragons swarm upon them, roaring fire.
More screeches sounded above. Bayrin looked up and cursed. Ten phoenixes had managed to flank the battle, fly over the clouds, and were now swooping upon Mori from above.
"Mori, fire above!" he shouted and soared. She banked, and Bayrin crashed upward. His wings brushed her, and he slammed against the phoenixes above.
Fire engulfed him. Talons tore him. Beaks of flame ripped his flesh. He howled and lashed his claws but cut only fire.
Silver light bathed him. Below, Mori was flying upside down, pointing the moonbeam toward him. He roared fire and the phoenixes fell.
"Point the Moondisk down!" Bayrin shouted to her. Welts blazed across him. He felt ready to fall from the sky, but forced himself to keep flying. "I've got your back. Protect the dragons below."
Mori looked as hurt and wounded as Bayrin felt. The lamprey bites still bled on her shoulders. Like him, she had not slept or eaten in two days. And yet she snarled and directed the Moondisk down, catching a formation of soaring phoenixes. Bayrin showered them with fire.
Three more phoenixes swooped from the clouds above Mori. Cursing, Bayrin drove toward them.
"Keep that moonbeam pointing down!" he shouted as he soared by her.
He crashed into the firebirds above. Their flames washed him. He screamed in agony. It felt like flying into a forge. He clawed blindly.
I will protect Mori. I won't let them burn her.
Moonlight bathed him. He roared fire. The phoenixes fell.
More flew at Mori's left. He drove forward and crashed into their fire. When she lit them with moonlight and he burned them, more flew from the right. Bayrin howled, scales blazing, and crashed into them.
Protect the princess. Don't let them burn her. Don't…
Fire washed him.
Talons ripped him.
Bayrin howled and blew flame, and his world was nothing but heat, screams, and pain.
ELETHOR
He flew toward the tunnel, shifted into human form, and rolled into the darkness. He leaped to his feet while drawing his sword. When his eyes adjusted to the shadows, his stomach churned. The sight was as sickening as anything from the Abyss.
Dead children covered the tunnel floor, cut with blades. One girl's face was slashed. A boy was missing his arm. A second boy lay in the corner, disemboweled. The sight and stench nearly made Elethor gag. He gritted his teeth and raised his sword.
Ahead in the darkness, before a crowd of weeping children, stood Solina.
Elethor's heart thudded. His head spun.
Solina. Flame of his life. Light of his soul. The woman he had loved with heat like dragonfire. Blood covered her armor, face, and blades. She stared at him, and he saw the same emotion swirl in her eyes. She gave him a sad, crooked smile.
"Elethor," she said softly.
He walked deeper into the tunnel, stepping over strewn limbs and corpses, his boots sloshing through blood. His eyes narrowed, he could barely breathe, and for a moment he only managed to shake his head and whisper.
"Solina… how could you do this?"
A snarl fled her lips, sounding almost like a sob. A shaky, toothy grin twisted her face; Elethor couldn't decide if she grinned like a wolf or a madwoman.
"They are vermin, Elethor," she said. "They are nothing but lizards. You saw how they taunted me." Her eyes blazed, narrowing to blue slits. "You saw how they would fly above me, mock me, roar fire down on me. They burned me." She took a step toward him. "I won't let them come between us again. I will kill every weredragon between you and me until you're mine again."
"I am one of them!" Elethor shouted. His eyes stung. "Solina, you have gone mad. You have lost your mind. This is not the woman I knew, that I loved. You were good once, Solina. You were—"
"I was weak!" she screamed. "I was scared." Tears fled her eyes. "I was an orphan, Elethor. Your father murdered my parents, slaughtered my brothers like animals, and made me live here, a prisoner, a cripple." She took another step toward him, tears rolling. She let one sabre clang to the ground and reached out to him. "But you made it bearable, Elethor. You loved me, even though I could not become a dragon, even as everyone else in this land loathed me, saw me as less than human. But they are less than human. They are creatures. They are dead now; I killed them. I burned them. I did this for us, Elethor. Don't you understand? For me and you."
He shook his head, looking at the blood that covered the tunnel. "Killing children?" His voice was barely a whisper. "Stars, Solina, how could you think this would bring us together?"
"Because I know that you still love me." She stared into his eyes. "Because I remember. I remember your kisses. Your whispers. I remember how we would come here, to this very tunnel, and speak of our dreams. We would speak about how cruel your father was to me, how one day we would fly away and be together in some faraway land." Her eyes shone. "That day has come, Elethor! I brought it here. I made it happen so our dream could come true." Her body shook. "Don't you see?" She clutched his shoulder. "We can be together now like we always wanted, like we knew would always happen. We'll fly to Tiranor, you a dragon and I a phoenix. I've built a palace where we will reign, king and queen of a desert land. It's that magical place we've always dreamed
of, Elethor. It's what we've always wanted."
"I did not want this!" he shouted. His pulse pounded in his ears, and his head spun. "You will not cast this blood on me. You've gone mad in your southern land, with this… this Sun God who corrupted your mind." He swept his arms around him. "Dreams? Magical kingdoms? Love? You drenched the world in blood! You slaughtered children!"
"For you!" she shouted hoarsely. "For us!"
"Not for me!" His eyes burned. "I did not ask for this. You—"
A child tore free from the group of survivors behind Solina. He ran forward, skirted around Solina, and made toward the tunnel exit, maybe hoping to fly outside. Solina cut him down. Her blade flashed and sliced his leg, then swung down onto his shoulder, cleaving him. The child fell, gurgled, and died.
Elethor sucked in his breath. Head spinning and heart pounding, barely able to see through the sting of tears, he swung his sword at Solina.
She stood only three feet away, but it seemed the longest distance his sword had ever swung. It seemed the longest instant of his life. He was cutting the roots of that life, the old memories and meaning that had forever filled him, driven him, defined him. In that instant that lasted hours, he realized how much Solina had shaped him—he had grown up in her light, in her arms, almost a part of her. Without her, who was he?
A king, a voice whispered inside him. A betrothed to Lyana. A leader of dragons.
A whole man—no longer a boy in his brother's shadow, no longer a sculptor who shied away from the court his fathers had built. If he cut her down, he would cut himself free—free to become this man of his own right, to sit upon the throne with a whole heart.
He had always felt like half a soul; a night to Solina's day, starlight to her fire. Now he became one.
The instant passed. His sword reached her. Her blade rose and parried, and steel clanged.
She thrust her sabre at him, snarling, a wild animal, no longer human. He parried. He thrust again. And they danced.
It was a dance like they used to love—of passion and rage and hope. Her sword bit his shoulder, like her teeth would as they made love in this tunnel. He bled and thrust again, slamming his blade against her armor. Her sword flew at him, he parried, swung again.
He felt no rage. No more sadness. When he looked upon her, he no longer saw the old Solina—the girl of golden hair, of bright eyes, of secrets only he knew. He saw only the rot inside her, and he slammed at her until he cut her down. His blade shattered hers, and she fell. His sword slammed against her armor, denting it, and she gasped.
She knelt before him, head tossed back. Blood poured from a crack in her breastplate. Her mouth opened and closed.
"El," she whispered. "El…"
He stood above her, his sword raised. He could stab her now. He could slice her neck. He could—
"El," she whispered, "do you remember the wooden turtle?"
Blackness clutched him. He could not help but lower his head, close his eyes, and feel the breath leave him. She spoke with a trembling voice; she sounded so much like the Solina who would hold him years ago. Her every word shot arrows through him.
"El, you carved it for me. I remember… I said how I wanted a pet, a friend in Requiem, and you made me a wooden turtle. Remember how we'd imagine that, in the magical kingdom we would find, our turtle would come alive? How—"
Pain blazed on his thigh, not the throb of memory, but searing agony. Elethor gasped. His eyes snapped open to see Solina twisting a dagger in his leg.
Blood spurted and Solina leaped. She drove her fist into Elethor's chin, and his head snapped back, and he saw nothing but light and blood and stone. He fell, stars floating before his eyes. Solina pounced atop him, baring her teeth.
"I will spare your life this night," she hissed, "so you may see the death I bring to your land. But I will give you this first."
She pulled the dagger from his thigh. He raised his arms, but could not block her strength. She drove her blade down his face. Pain exploded. Blood filled his eyes and mouth.
"I will kill them all, Elethor!" she screamed. "I will burn them all with my fire. You will watch! And then you will crawl to me and beg to be mine!"
She leaped past him, tossed herself outside, and shifted into a phoenix. Her flames crackled, and when Elethor turned his head, he saw her soar into the night. Her scream carried on the wind, high-pitched, a storm of rage.
"You will beg, Elethor! You will beg!"
He struggled to his feet. Blood washed his face and leg. He made to leap after her, but his thigh twisted, and he fell. His elbows banged against the tunnel floor. He crawled to the exit, stared up, and saw the Moondisk bathe the world with light.
He tried to shift into a dragon. He let the magic fill him. Light and agony flooded him, his eyes closed, and his head fell.
BAYRIN
Time swirled like stars.
Darkness clutched him, pulling him into slumber, and Bayrin dreamed. In his dreams, he lay in human form upon bloody earth. Mori was kneeling above, also a human, cradling him in her arms.
"Bay!" she cried and shook him. "Bay, please…"
He dreamed of his sister there too, weeping over him, and his mother praying, and soldiers bearing him on a litter into a temple of marble and candles.
"Mori," he whispered. "I have to protect her… I have to fly…."
His voice died and he slept.
He felt like he slept for years.
When his eyes finally fluttered open, he thought he was dead. Soft light bathed him, and marble columns rose around him. He lay in a bed, a white blanket pulled over him. It was supposed to be night, but dawn's light fell from the windows.
"Mori?" he whispered, voice hoarse. He raised his arm and saw that bandages covered it.
"Do I look like Mori?" a voice answered him. "Bay, if I look like my sister, you look like a phoenix. Actually, for a while up there, you did look like one."
Bayrin pushed himself up in bed, pain blazing. He winced. A figure sat at his bedside, silhouetted in the dawn's light. Bayrin squinted, bringing the figure into focus. His breath caught.
"Elethor?" he whispered.
His friend nodded, smiling softly, though his eyes were sad.
"El!" Bayrin cried. He tried to leap up, to hug his friend, but his head spun, and he fell back into bed. Everything hurt; he felt like he'd been dipped into a bath of coals.
"Take it easy, Bay!" Elethor said and squeezed his shoulder. "You got banged up pretty badly there."
In a flash, Bayrin remembered. The phoenixes! They had swooped toward Mori, and…
He pushed himself back up, panting. "I have to save her, El. The battle! Mori is…"
"Mori is fine, Bay!" Elethor said. "Lie down, for stars' sake, or I'll tie you down." His voice softened. "You saved her life up there. You saved all of us."
Elethor himself was wounded, Bayrin saw. Bandages covered his shoulder and leg. Fresh stitches ran along his face, from forehead to chin. The young king looked like he'd been to the Abyss and back—which, Bayrin supposed, he had been. He couldn't help but laugh.
"Look at us, El—a pair of beaten up patients." Suddenly he found that tears filled his eyes. "Stars, Elethor, I missed you. What happened? Is the battle…?"
"The battle is over." Elethor sighed and lowered his head. "Solina fled. So have those phoenixes who survived. Not many of them did, but some managed to flee into the south. After the Starlit Demon ate his fill, he vanished back underground; I imagine he'll sleep for a good long while to digest his meal." He winced. "It was bad, Bay. Many Vir Requis died. Too many." His voice dropped to a pained whisper. "Thousands are gone."
Bayrin's breath caught and horror clumped in his throat. "Is… my sister? My parents?"
"They're alive. Your father looks like he was dropped into a nest of weasels, and your mother has seen better days. Lyana is bashed up like an old leather ball after a thousand kicks, but she wouldn't admit it." He smiled softly. "They're here in the temple, wounds tended to."
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Relief swept over Bayrin, but grief too. Many Vir Requis died. Too many.
Eyes stinging, he looked outside the window. He watched the morning light fall upon ruins. Clear skies rolled outside, blue without a tinge of smoke. A lump filled his throat, and he swallowed.
"Where…" His voice caught, and he blinked for a moment, unable to speak. "Where is Mori? I want to see her."
Elethor helped him up. Bayrin slung his arm across the king's shoulder, and they walked slowly. Step by step, they left the chamber and moved down a hallway. Wounded filled the hall, lying on makeshift beds. When they passed by chambers, Bayrin saw more wounded inside. Healers rushed back and forth, robes swishing. Many were hurt themselves, faces and limbs bandaged, but they still bustled about, carrying herbs and bandages.
Most of the wounded were Vir Requis, Bayrin saw, but some were Tirans with platinum hair and pained blue eyes. For a moment rage filled Bayrin. Why should they tend to wounded Tirans, the men who had tried to slaughter them? But he only sighed, his rage soon dissipating. Let the bastards live. Let them see the mercy and goodness of those they thought mere reptiles.
Finally they reached a narrow hallway, its wall smashed and its floor strewn with bricks. Two guards in breastplates stood before a doorway, clutching spears. They bowed to Elethor and pulled the door open.
"Go and see her," Elethor said softly. "I'm needed at court, and you two have a lot to discuss." He clutched Bayrin's shoulder, then pulled him into an embrace. "It's good to have you back, friend."
When Bayrin stepped alone into the room, he found himself holding his breath, suddenly sheepish. Their quest north, the battle with the demon of wood and stone, the inferno over Nova Vita… it all seemed like a bad dream to him now. He had kissed Mori on the Crescent Isle, had vowed to protect her, but… back home, in Nova Vita, would she mock him for it? Would they be as before the war—he the ne'er-do-well guard, she the timid princess who shied away at every touch? It felt like waking from a dream, not knowing what the dawn would bring.
A Dawn of Dragonfire (Dragonlore, Book 1) Page 27