The growl rose again, louder this time, drowning out her words.
Meliora narrowed her eyes and stepped closer. Her halo cast back the distant shadows. She inhaled sharply. At first she thought the beast ahead just another statue, but its eyes shone, and its chest rose and fell with breath. It had the body of a great lion, thrice the size of any lion Meliora had ever seen in Shayeen's menagerie. Its tawny fur was matted and dank. Its front paws were clawed, but its back feet ended with hooves, and a goat's head sprouted from the lion's back, the teeth bared, the horns curling. When the lion flicked its tail, Meliora saw that a snake's head hissed upon the tail's tip.
"A chimera," she whispered.
Lucem leaned close to her. "It's mixed of different things! Sort of like you, Mel."
"Hush!" Meliora glared at the boy, then looked back at the chimera. "Guardian of the mountain! Noble beast! I've come seeking the man known as the Keymaker. Does he live here? Does—"
"I am the Keymaker," said the chimera. All three heads spoke at once—the lion, the goat, and the snake, their voices metallic, otherworldly. "I forged the ancient collars to block the magic of dragons. I forged the Keeper's Key. I emblazoned the runes upon them. I am the keeper of magic, the dealer of secrets, the master of power. I make keys and locks and riddles. I do not guard this mountain, but I guard the magic of men."
Meliora glanced back at the shut doorway, then returned her eyes to the chimera. She reached into her pocket, pulled out the crumpled Keeper's Key, and held it out in her palm. Her halo's light fell upon the crushed ball of metal, its runes hidden.
"The Keeper's Key is broken, Keymaker. I've come to beseech you to fix it."
The chimera's lion head growled, the sound so loud the chamber shook. Upon his back, the goat's head screamed, sharp teeth shining, horns rising. The snake tail lashed, hissing, baring its fangs.
"Broken!" the beast cried. "An ancient work of mastery—crushed as one crushes the skull of an enemy. Shame, woe! Shame upon the seraphim that they should mock our magic!"
Lucem and Elory reached for their weapons, but Meliora shook her head.
"There is a seraph who mocks you, chimera," she said. "One who breaks all things. Ishtafel, son of Kalafi, broke this key. He crushed it in his palm, spitting upon the mastery that went into its magic. He slew Kalafi, your ally. He sees the collars you forged as mere iron, no more impressive than scrap metal."
The chimera reared, clawing the air. "Scrap metal! The iron collars are works of great mastery, of ancient magic, each one a greater triumph than this entire palace. Scrap metal!" The lion roared. The hall shook. Stones rained from the ceiling. "I should tear Saraph apart for spitting upon precious gifts they cannot comprehend."
"Scrap metal is all they are now," Meliora said. "All they are without the Keeper's Key. Ishtafel now sits upon the bloody throne of Saraph, no key in his hand, the iron collars left to rust. But I fight him! I am Meliora, daughter of Kalafi, and I will see Ishtafel cast off his ill-gained throne. And I beg you, Keymaker—grant me a new key. I will treat it as a precious gift, as the masterpiece of a wise deity."
Somehow, Meliora figured that a monster that had created hundreds of thousands of slave collars cared not for tales of uprising and freedom. No. This beast worked for the art; justice or cruelty were meaningless to him.
The chimera stared at her, eyes glimmering, saying nothing. The snake hissed. The goat glared with red eyes. The lion contemplated.
"Well?" Elory said, stepping forward.
Meliora's heart skipped a beat. Elory would surely speak of Requiem! She would tell a noble tale of an oppressed people struggling for freedom, of trapped dragons who had to rise, of collars to discard—simply infuriating the creature further.
But Elory was, apparently, wiser than Meliora had given her credit for.
"Well?" the girl repeated. "Will you let Ishtafel simply treat your collars as useless, magicless trifles?" Elory scoffed. "I hear he's even collaring new slaves with iron collars made by seraph smiths. He forges them on anvils in the heat and sweat of Shayeen, and he calls them equal to these." She tugged at her own iron collar. "Without a key, Ishtafel says, his collars are just as good as yours, chimera."
The chimera roared. The creature bucked, clawed the air, and slammed his paws down. The palace shook.
"To compare works of brilliance to crude iron! That is like comparing the Frescos of Felinar to a scribble drawn in mud. You've come here to mock me?"
Meliora shook her head. "We've come to worship your skill, O Master Keymaker!" She stepped closer and held out the broken key. "Please, Master. Fix this key or forge us a new one, and I vow to you: For eternity, the children of Saraph will admire your masterwork."
The chimera stared at her, a slyness in his eyes. The snake's tongue slipped out with a hiss.
"I do not forge runes for free," said the chimera, speaking from all three heads. "Not for Queen Kalafi. Not for you."
Meliora winced. "Master Keymaker, I have no money. But I promise that if you grant me this key, I will return with payment once I dethrone Ishtafel. I will bring you many jewels, golden coins, gemstones, and—"
"Do not mistake me for a vain son of Saraph!" The chimera clawed the floor. "I care not for your glittering baubles. I care for wisdom, for locks, for keys, for artistry. I am a keymaker, a keeper of knowledge, a master of riddles." Sly smiles spread across the chimera's three heads. "Each of my heads will ask you a riddle, daughter of Saraph. If you answer all three correctly, I will make you a new key. But if you fail . . . your bones will join the dust on the floor."
Meliora looked down at the dust, wondering how much of it was comprised of old bones. She looked back up at the chimera and nodded.
"Ask me your riddles," she said.
* * * * *
In his mountain hall of shadows, the chimera seemed almost to enter a trace. His body relaxed, and two of his heads—the goat and the snake—drooped and closed their eyes. Only the lion head remained alert. With narrowed, gleaming eyes, the lion turned to gaze at those who had entered his chamber. He spoke with a low voice, like a spirit from long ago.
"I inspire the poet
And the warrior's sword.
I send forth rivers of blood.
I raise wonders
And heal broken lands.
I destroy like wildfire and flood.
All crave my wonders.
Men seek me
In fields of enemies slain.
Yet finally claim me
And gain my love
You'll find only yoke and chain."
Meliora frowned. She glanced over at her companions. Lucem too was frowning and tapping his chin, while Elory had closed her eyes and was mumbling to herself, repeating the words.
"What inspires poets?" she whispered. "Landscapes? Sunrises?"
"Beautiful naked women!" Lucem said, eyes brightening.
Elory groaned. "Beautiful naked women don't destroy like wildfire and floods."
"Oh don't they?" Lucem asked.
"Shush!" Meliora clenched and unclenched her fists, thinking over the words. "The answer is . . . something obviously powerful but dangerous too. Something men craved yet which enslaves them."
Lucem nodded sagely. "I told you. Beautiful women. The ol' yoke and chain."
"And I told you—shush!" Meliora glared at him.
And yet she wondered—was Lucem right? Surely men had fought wars over beautiful women, and surely beautiful women could be dangerous. But . . . no. Whatever the answer was, it healed broken lands—lands, not hearts.
"Answer!" said the lion's head. He bared his fangs. "Answer now, for I grow weary of waiting." He licked his lips. "Answer or I will feed upon your flesh, for I have no use for fools who cannot answer my riddles."
The chimera took a step closer to them.
"Wait!" Meliora said, and her halo of dragonfire crackled with fear. "Wait, we need time to think. We—"
"Answer!" demanded the lion, rearing and roaring.
Meliora winced and sweat dripped down her brow. She couldn't die here. She had to answer. She had to fix the key if she were ever to lead her people home. They needed her. Her father. All her people in chains. They needed her—the daughter of King Aeternum—to lead them home, yet would she die here in the darkness, food to an ancient beast? She wiped her brow. Her damn crown of fire was too hot, and—
"The answer is beauti—" Lucem began.
"No!" Meliora shouted, leaping forward and shoving him aside. "The answer is: Crown!"
The chimera remained very silent, the lion head staring with narrowed eyes, the other heads still lowered. The companions stared, holding their breath.
Finally the lion nodded. "Truth." Its eyes closed, and it lowered its head.
Meliora breathed out a shaky breath of relief.
"I still think it was beautiful women," Lucem whispered. Elory gave him an angry elbow to the ribs.
Upon the chimera's back, the goat head rose, and its eyes opened. It stared at them, and its horns curled upward into the shadows. It too spoke.
"When the sun shines
I lurk in the shade.
When the moon glows
I stab like a blade.
Men create me yet cannot slay me.
Kill your enemies
And I'll soil your victory.
Escape a drowning ship
But you can't escape me."
The goat stared at them, waiting, and lowered its horns as if ready to thrust them.
The companions frowned again, thinking, mumbling to themselves.
This one seemed like it should have an easy answer, Meliora thought. It was something that was always there—even in the beautiful sunlight and moonlight. Something . . . man-made. Something you can't escape.
"Chains?" Meliora whispered to her companions. "Certainly chains would soil any victory, would ruin any beautiful day of sunlight or night of moonlight. Certainly they're something one could not escape."
"If not chains, maybe slavery?" Elory said. "Maybe even our iron collars? We can't escape those."
The goat let out a shrill scream, almost human-like, the scream of a tortured prisoner broken beyond any measure of pain. "Answer!" it cried. "Answer my riddle now, or my horns will gore your flesh."
Meliora grimaced and tugged her collar. "So what do we say?" she whispered to Elory. "Chain? Collar? Slavery? It has to be one of those."
"No," Lucem said. For the first time today, he appeared somber, no smile on his face, and his eyes were haunted. "One can break a chain, unlock a collar, but there is something one cannot escape." He lowered his head. "I know. I escaped Tofet but could not escape this."
"What?" Meliora whispered.
Lucem turned toward the chimera. "Guilt," he said.
The goat nodded, closed its eyes, and lowered its head.
Meliora exhaled in relief, not even realizing she had held her breath. Elory stepped closer to Lucem, held his hand, and leaned her head against his shoulder.
The chimera's tail—a slithering snake—rose next. It turned its head toward them, its tongue slid from its mouth, and it hissed out its riddle.
"I give the warrior his courage.
I'm medicine to the ill.
Men seek me through shadows
Upon mountain and under hill.
Struggling souls crave me
Like a hungry man craves bread.
Let me out of your door
And death steps in instead."
Silence fell. The companions pursed their lips, thinking.
"Answer!" hissed the snake.
"You haven't given us any time!" Meliora said.
The chimera approached, and the lion snarled, the goat sneered, the snake hissed. "Answer! We grow weary. Answer or we'll feed upon you."
Meliora stepped back, wracking her mind. "All right!" She glanced at her companions. "It's . . . what is it?"
Already the riddle's words were slipping out of her mind. The chimera advanced and raised its claws. Lucem raised his spear, trying to hold it back.
"Wait!" Meliora said to the chimera. "Give us a moment."
"You've waited long enough!" The beast pounced.
Meliora grimaced and leaped aside. She drew her sword. "You cheat, chimera! You must give us time to think."
Her heart thudded and her fingers tingled. It wasn't fair! The chimera obviously didn't want them to win, didn't want to forge them a new key. Yet without a key, Requiem would languish in slavery, slowly dying. Without a key, there was no hope, there—
She froze.
The chimera leaped at her, and Meliora cried out and fell back, swinging her sword before it.
That's it! Meliora thought.
"Chimera, it's—"
But Elory cried out the word before Meliora could. "Hope!"
The chimera stepped back. Its three heads rose and spoke together: "You have answered our three riddles."
Meliora exhaled in relief, and sweat dripped into her eyes. Lucem fell to his knees and just breathed. Elory stared up at the chimera, eyes damp.
The chimera's heads rose high, and their eyes closed. Rings of light coiled around the creature, blue and white, spinning faster, soon forming a dome around it. The mountain hall shook. Dust and pebbles danced on the floor. Winds blasted out from the light, blowing the companion's cloaks.
The light faded, the winds died, and the chimera stood before them again. One of its paws was held out, and upon it rested a crimson key.
ELORY
They stood outside on the mountain, three collared slaves.
Three people hurt, beaten, brutalized, healing.
Three exiles from a fallen home, still clinging to hope after so many tears, so much blood.
Three Vir Requis.
The sun set around them, painting the ruins, the mountains, and the land beyond gold and bronze. Wind blew, ruffling their cloaks. They stood in a triangle, facing one another, staring, silent.
Meliora held the key in her hand. Waiting. Hesitating. Not sure how to approach a moment of such importance, a moment that would be branded upon the song of Requiem with dragonfire.
"Five thousand years ago," Meliora finally said, "new stars began to shine in the sky, shaped as a great dragon. They chose a few blessed souls. Hunters. Gatherers. Priests and healers. People scattered across a world just rising from darkness. And the stars blessed them, gave them a holy magic . . . the magic of dragons." Meliora's voice dropped to a whisper. "And they were hunted. Cruel warlords and kings raised armies of demons to slay those who could grow wings, breathe fire, and rise as dragons. Yet one man gathered these hunted souls together. In a forest of birch trees, King Aeternum founded the kingdom of Requiem—a kingdom to last for eternity."
Elory and Lucem moved closer together, reached out, and clasped each other's hands. Their eyes shone damply.
Meliora continued speaking. "Today, the Vir Requis believe that Jaren is descended of that ancient king, that I myself bear that old blood of royalty. Yet for five hundred years, we did not fly. We did not sing among the birches. We suffered in chains, our magic stolen from us." She reached up and touched her collar. "The time has come to fly again."
Elory and Lucem looked at each other, then back at her. Meliora looked at them. Lucem, the hero of Requiem, the first to escape Tofet—a young man who taunted her, told jokes, smiled readily, yet hid deep pain and guilt. Elory, her sweet sister whom Meliora had only just met, small and meek yet strong as the greatest heroines of the Requiem that had been.
I love them more than all the palaces in the world, more than my life. I love them like Requiem.
"Step forth, Lucem," Meliora whispered. "You were first to scale the walls of Tofet. You will be first to spread your wings."
His eyes widened. "Mel! I mean—Your Highness! I'm nothing but the son of a bitumen refiner. I'm not worthy of flying first."
Elory leaned toward him and whispered from the corner of her mouth, "She's testing it on you. You know, just i
n case the new key causes collars to constrict until they squeeze your head off."
"Ah." Lucem tugged at that collar. "Puts a damper on that whole holy moment for Requiem. But I accept!" He stepped forth. "Unlock me, Meliora Aeternum, Heiress to Requiem, and if my head pops off and rolls downhill, tell everyone that I died battling Leyleet in the caves."
He cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and raised his chin.
Meliora hesitated. What if it failed? What if hope died here upon the mountain? What if—
"Mel!" Lucem whispered. "It's itching. Hurry."
She nodded, took a deep breath, and pressed the key against his iron collar.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Meliora caught her breath, staring, waiting. Her hope began to fizzle. It wasn't working! It—Wait!
She gasped.
The key was warming up in her hand, soon almost intolerably hot. The runes upon it brightened, then glowed, then cast out bright light. The corresponding runes on Lucem's collar shone with their own light. The key thrummed madly in Meliora's hand, shaking so violently she almost dropped it. She gripped Lucem's shoulder with her free hand, keeping the key pressed against his collar, letting the light flow. Lucem sucked in breath, eyes closed, jaw clenched, fists tightened, and she was hurting him, oh stars, he was in pain, and—
With a crack, his collar opened.
Meliora gasped and stepped back.
Her key dimmed and cooled. The iron collar fell to the ground.
Meliora and Elory froze, staring. Lucem brought his fingers up to his neck. The skin was raw, scarred—the wounds of a thousand times he had tugged, hammered at, tried to melt the iron.
"Well," he said, "my neck's a bit cold already. Anyone got a scarf? At least now I can wear that ruffled collar I've always wanted. Though I'm not sure I'm quite as safe from axe blows to the neck, which I hear is a real problem these days in Tofet, and—"
Suddenly tears filled his eyes, and Lucem lowered his head and trembled.
Elory rushed forth and embraced him. Meliora smiled tremulously and touched his arm. They stood together for a long time, overwhelmed, tears on their cheeks.
Crown of Dragonfire Page 21