She sent Cade to me, Fidelity reminded herself. She told him of Requiem. That means she holds Requiem some love. Oh, Domi . . . perhaps I need to save you as much as Cade.
As they walked toward Nova Vita, many other people joined them on the road: farmers, shepherds, loggers, and other travelers. All spoke in hushed tones of "the weredragon in the city." Some peasant children held dragon effigies, which they stabbed with wooden swords. A few men proudly proclaimed what they would do to any weredragon they caught slinking around their farms.
It seems word has spread, Fidelity thought with a sigh.
They drew closer to the city. The afternoon sun gilded its walls and guard towers. Beyond them, Fidelity could see only one building soaring in the distance: the Cured Temple. All other buildings in Nova Vita, mere huts for the commoners, were too small to rise above the walls, but the Temple rose as a great edifice. Its base was round and white, and from it grew many curving towers of glass and crystal. From this distance, it looked to Fidelity like a fallen comet, its tail still stretching into the sky.
The crowd thickened along the road as they approached the southern gates. Two towers framed an archway here, and guards stood within the doorway, allowing one traveler at a time into the city. Several firedrakes stood upon the walls around the gatehouse, smoke pluming from their nostrils, their claws clutching the city ramparts.
Roen frowned and grumbled. "Don't like so many people around me."
Fidelity nodded. "Nor do I."
Suddenly she missed her old library in Sanctus, and her eyes stung to think of it. The way Roen had sought sanctuary in the forest, she had found solace in that dusty library. She had spent many hours reading her forbidden books in the cellar, dreaming of the old days of Requiem, even of this very city which had once been Requiem's capital. Yearning for Requiem had always seemed sad to her, yet now, walking here toward the enemy, her friend captive, her old life seemed carefree, a life of daydreaming and peace.
Only Julian seemed to remain calm. "Not to worry, younglings. Not to worry. We're naught but simple foresters, come to pray at the Temple."
Yet as they drew closer to the gatehouse, Fidelity's heart sank down to her pelvis.
"Oh bloody stars," she whispered.
At her side, Roen grumbled and even Julian frowned.
"One by one!" a guard was shouting, waving a bundle of leaves. "You don't enter without touching the leaves. Stand back! One by one!"
The travelers—farmers and shepherds and other commoners—were lining up outside the gates. Each person who stepped forward held out his or her arm. The guards, gruff men in chain mail, pressed ilbane onto their skin, then let the traveler pay a toll and enter.
Ilbane. Fidelity shuddered, already feeling the pain. The plant was harmless to most. It burned Vir Requis like fire.
The companions paused and stepped to the roadside.
"Spirit's blistery feet," Roen cursed. "Since when do they test for Vir Requis at the gates?"
Fidelity sighed, keeping her voice low. "Since they caught one." She glanced back at the guards. "Maybe they don't know us by name, but they know other Vir Requis are out there. They know we're coming for Cade." She grimaced. "I touched ilbane once—a couple years ago. I screamed. My skin was raw for days." She shook her head. "We cannot enter here."
Roen smiled savagely. "I can take pain. I can enter." He made to step back onto the road.
"No!" Fidelity grabbed him. "Not even you, Roen. You'd be unable to withstand that pain. No more than you could grin if I kicked you in the groin."
He grimaced. "Ouch. That bad?"
She nodded. "That bad." She took a deep breath. "There's another way in . . . in darkness. In danger." She gulped and looked at the setting sun. "We wait until tonight . . . and we fly."
DOMI
"I'm sorry," she whispered. She stared down at the unconscious Gemini, and she was surprised to find true guilt coursing through her. "I'm sorry, Gemini, but it's something I must do."
He lay sprawled on the floor, blood trickling from his mouth. Domi was surprised at her own strength. Gemini was quite a bit larger than her, yet she had knocked him out cold. Before he could wake, she knelt and slapped her old manacles around his wrists and ankles, then grabbed him under his arms. She pushed her heels against the floor and grimaced, straining to drag him into her old cell.
I have to hurry. Before the guards return.
Her heart pounded, and she was breathing heavily when she released Gemini. Chained inside her prison cell, he began to wake, mumbling confusedly.
She kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry again, my love."
She drove her fist into his face a second time, then grabbed her aching knuckles and cursed. Gemini thumped back onto the floor, and Domi hurried out of the cell, closed the door, and locked it.
She glanced down the corridor. The guards, which Gemini had sent outside, had not yet returned, but she knew they could be back any second.
"Cade, you foolish boy," she muttered. The keys jangling in her hand, she rushed toward his cell, unlocked the door, and swung it open.
"Up!" she whispered. "I'm here to save your backside—a second time. Up!"
Cade blinked at her in amazement as she unlocked his chains. "Domi!" He rubbed his eyes. "Oh, stars, Domi." His eyes dampened, and he tried to embrace her. "Are you all right? What—"
"Hush!" She glared and tugged him to his feet. "Stand up. Now hurry. We're getting out of here." She gulped. "If you see any guards, kill them."
For a moment he stood still, face pale, eyes wide, and Domi realized how young he was: only a boy, that was all, no older than eighteen. But he quickly came to his senses, tightened his lips, and nodded.
"Let's go."
Both were bruised, bloody, and clad in rags. Both limped as they moved, stumbling down the corridor.
They had crossed only half the distance to the exit when the first guard stepped back into the hall.
The man stared at them. His eyes widened. He cried out to his comrades.
"Prisoners escaping! Prisoners out—"
Domi growled, shoved Cade backward, and shifted.
Scales rose across her, and her tail sprouted, knocking Cade farther back. Her body ballooned, slamming against the ceiling and walls. As guards rushed toward her, Domi blasted out her fire.
The inferno blazed across the hall, leaped into the cells, and roared through this cavern of stone. The guards screamed and fell, blazing, trying to roll and extinguish the fire, only for more flames to crash against them.
When Domi shifted back into human form, they all lay dead before her, charred black. She grabbed one fallen sword, grimacing as the hilt blazed against her palm. She kicked another sword toward Cade.
"Now run, you foolish boy!" she said. "Grab that sword and run!"
She tugged him forward, and they ran.
FIDELITY
They crouched behind the bale of hay as the sun sank beneath the horizon, the stars emerged, and the most dangerous night in their life began.
"Darkness falls," Fidelity whispered, clutching the metal letter—the only charm she had left—so hard it dug into her palm. "It's time."
Julian and Roen knelt beside her behind the hay. Crickets chirped, fireflies glowed, and a cool breeze blew. It was strange, Fidelity thought, that this night of horrors seemed so peaceful. She would have given all the treasure in the Commonwealth for a night of clouds and rain, no starlight to shine upon them.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Roen whispered. "Let me fly. You and my gaffer will ride me. I'm fast and strong."
"And big," Fidelity said. "I'm the smallest. What we need now is stealth, not speed or strength. Only I'll shift—one dragon, sneaky and silent, with you two on my back." She stared across the darkness toward the city. "We fly high. We fly hidden. We descend inside Nova Vita with the Temple none the wiser."
Roen reached out in the darkness and clasped her hand in both of his. He stared at her, the light of fireflies reflecting i
n his eyes. He still smelled of the forest—the leaves, clear pools, good soil, comfort, safety. His hands were rough but still soft, the hands that had so often explored her body.
"I hope the boy's worth it," he said.
"He's Vir Requis." She stared into those brown eyes she had gazed into so often in her youth. "There might be no more than us in the world. He's worth it."
"Worth dying for?" Roen said.
"Requiem is worth dying for. I will fight for all her sons and daughters. I will not abandon Cade." She lowered her head. "Roen, I know what this means to you. I know that for years you refused to join this fight of mine. I know that for years you sought only to live in the woods, to forget the Commonwealth, the Temple, even Requiem." She looked back up at him, tears in her eyes, and kissed the corner of his mouth. She whispered to him, her voice choked. "Thank you. I love you."
He winked at her, and a crooked smile tugged at his lips. "With me doing this, you'd better love me."
She stepped away from him, raised her chin, and shifted. She stood in the dark field, a blue dragon, and lowered her wing, forming a ramp. Roen climbed first and straddled her back, and Julian followed. Once son and father were safely seated, Fidelity kicked off the ground, flapped her wings, and rose into the night sky.
She spiraled up and up, careful to keep her wings and scales silent, to keep the fire hidden in her gullet. The land sprawled around her. Many years ago, King's Forest had covered these hills and plains, the fabled woods of Requiem. Today the trees were gone, for the birches had been symbols of Requiem to be cut down.
Fidelity rose higher, so high the air thinned out and chilled her. The stars spread above her, and the Draco constellation, ancient god of Requiem, shone upon her. The celestial dragon's eye, Issari's Star, glowed brighter than all others in the sky. Along with King's Column, the stars were the only symbol of Requiem the Cured Temple had been unable to destroy.
Please, stars of Requiem, Fidelity thought, gazing at their light. Protect me this night.
She looked at the city that lay a mile away. In her dreams of Old Requiem, the city of Nova Vita had been a hub of light, its lanterns glowing bright even at night. Nova Vita was the largest city in the Commonwealth, perhaps the world, yet now it was dark, almost as dark as the farmlands. Few lanterns lit the streets. Few lights glowed in windows. There was little oil for lanterns, little firewood for hearths these years, little life on the streets after sundown. The Cured Temple had stamped out the lights of Requiem.
All but one light—a great light like the moon. The Cured Temple shone below, the greatest structure in the Commonwealth, a hub of luminescence and splendor. Its crystal spikes soared to the sky, curling inward like claws, carved of glass and crystal, shining with inner lights. Below them, many windows pierced the round base of the Temple, and white light blazed out from them. Here was a comet fallen onto the world, glowing with the heavens.
Are you in there, Cade? she thought.
The only other lights she saw lined the city walls. Archers stood there, torchlight glinting off their armor. And between them, perched like gargoyles, hulked the firedrakes, flames in their maws.
Fidelity kept flying higher. Soon the air was so thin she could barely breathe. She looked over her shoulder.
"Are you all right?" she whispered.
Julian and Roen clung to her back, shivering in the wind, but they nodded. Flying so high, especially in human form, was grueling, but she'd have to become but a speck in the night sky to avoid the firedrakes' eyes.
She made her way northward until she crossed the city walls below. From up here, even the firedrakes seemed like mere ants. She kept her mouth shut as she flew, knowing that a single, errant flicker of fire would shine for miles. She glided, as silent as she could, barely daring to breathe.
Once she had crossed the walls, she allowed herself a short breath of relief. She now flew directly above the city. On the walls, the firedrakes kept staring into the black horizons. They had not seen her.
She glided high above, scanning the city for a place to land. Thousands of domed clay huts covered the hills, huddled together. The streets were narrow between them. She could see no place to land, and she could not land on a roof without waking up those sleeping beneath it.
An empty black patch spread ahead of her, large as an entire town, leading toward the Cured Temple. The Square of the Spirit, built hundreds of years ago, was large enough for armies to muster on. There were no huts there, no lanterns, only shadows.
That's where we'll land. Fidelity glided forward. In the very heart of the Commonwealth.
She looked over her shoulder. "Get ready, boys," she whispered. The two nodded, and Julian even seemed to be grinning.
Fidelity turned to look forward again. She was nearing the square now, getting dangerously close to the light of the Cured Temple. She began to glide down, slowly spiraling closer and closer to the square, praying with every heartbeat that none saw the shadow descending in the night.
She was reaching out her claws, ready to land, when fire blazed, screeches rose, and the night exploded with light and sound and fury.
CADE
Cade's heart pounded and his head spun as they ran upstairs, fleeing the dungeon. He clung to Domi's hand, and his breath rattled in his lungs.
So many thoughts swirled through his mind: Beatrix is my mother. Mercy is my sister. Domi is alive. I must find Fidelity.
He tightened his lips. For now, he had to focus on escape.
Gripping his sword, he raced upstairs. His wounds ached, and his limbs felt rubbery, but the excitement and fear pounded through him, propelling him onward. They had climbed dozens of steps when the three guards came clanking down toward them.
Domi and Cade glanced at each other, then looked forward, screamed, and charged.
The stairwell was narrow—too narrow to shift in. Their elbows banged together, but they kept racing upward, swords swinging. One guard cried out and fell back a step. Cade snarled and thrust his blade, hitting the man's armored belly. He could not pierce the chain mail, but it distracted the man long enough for Domi to swing her blade, slicing into the guard's leg.
As he crashed down, the two other guards raced toward them, drawing their swords. Cade parried a blade. Domi fought at his side. As another sword swung toward him, Cade ducked and lashed his own blade, hitting another guard's legs. The man fell, and Cade plunged his sword downward, stabbing his back. Domi finished off the last guard.
Cade flashed her a shaky grin. "Not bad, Doms."
She glared. "Less talking, more running!"
She grabbed his hand and yanked him forward, and they kept racing upward.
They burst out of the stairwell into a lavish, marble hall coated with gold, murals, and jewels.
Dozens of guards, priests, and paladins filled the place.
Oh bloody stars . . .
Cade shouted, leaped forward, and shifted into a dragon. An instant later, Domi shifted at his side.
Two dragons, one gold and one the colors of fire, roared in the jeweled hall of the Temple. Their tails slammed against gilded columns. Their claws tore into the mosaic floor. Their horns hit the ceiling, sending gemstones raining down. Their dragonfire blazed, shrieking across the hall.
Gilt melted. Murals crackled. And everywhere, men burned. Soldiers screamed and fell. Priests fled, robes blazing. A paladin tried to race through the fire, to swing his sword, only for Cade's claws to crash against him, knocking him down. The dragons moved through the hall, roaring, blasting out fire, their tails swinging into men.
Shouts rose behind them. Pain drove into Cade's back, and he yowled. He turned his head to see soldiers aiming crossbows, firing quarrels. Another shard drove into his shoulder, crashing through a scale and punching into his flesh. Cade growled and blasted flame. The jet streamed across the hall and crashed into the crossbowmen. They fell, screaming, their skin peeling off, their armor melting.
"Cade, to the exit!" Domi cried, her claws clatter
ing as she raced forward. "Follow!"
He spun back toward her and lolloped in pursuit, his wings banging against the walls, his horns etching grooves along the ceiling. Doors rose ahead, and more guards shot crossbows. A blast from Domi knocked them down, and an instant later, her horns slammed into the doors. They shattered in a shower of splinters.
The fiery dragon burst out into the night, beat her wings, and soared. Cade leaped after her and soared at her side, laughing, his wings billowing with air. The city sprawled before them, countless huts spreading into the darkness, and beyond them the forest.
We're free.
Screeches rose all around. Dark wings shaded the moon. With flashes of scales and roaring flame, the firedrakes swooped toward them.
DOMI
She beat her wings, soaring toward the firedrakes.
"Fight them, Cade!" she cried and blasted out her flames.
A dozen firedrakes or more flew toward her, and their own dragonfire cascaded down. Paladins sat in their saddles, firing crossbows. Domi screamed as a quarrel slammed into her shoulder, as fire washed her. She bellowed with rage, beat her wings, and soared higher. Cade flew at her side, a golden dragon, blowing his flames. He too bled, and one of his wings burned; he beat it madly, extinguishing the fire against his flank.
More firedrakes kept rising. Archers ran into the square below, and arrows flew. Domi kept soaring, but firedrakes swooped from above, blocking her passage, surrounding her, and she knew she was going to die.
She growled. So I go down fighting.
Bleeding, burnt, dying, Domi lashed her claws, snapped her jaws, blazed out her fire. A firedrake screeched above her. Domi's claws tore open its belly, and its entrails spilled. A paladin fired his crossbow. Domi's dragonfire washed over his steel, heating the armor and melting the flesh within. Another drake swooped toward her, and she bit deeply, tearing out its neck, tasting its blood. Cade fought at her side, roaring, blood on his fangs, his fire blasting out. They could not win this fight, Domi knew, but they could make a last stand to be sung of for centuries.
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