Requiem's Prayer (Book 3)

by Daniel Arenson

  "Step forth, Eeras," said Auberon.

  "Step forth!" repeated the other druids, reaching out welcoming hands.

  Glancing from side to side, the man shuffled forward. He walked with a limp, and he whispered feverishly under his breath. Tied to the boulder outside the ring of druids, Laira only caught snippets of his words: "I will be brave . . . I will . . . cured . . . for her . . ."

  Finally, eyes damp, Eeras stepped onto the flat stone within the ring of druids. The sunbeam fell upon him, washing him with golden light. Tears flowed down the man's cheeks.

  The druids passed around a pewter mug full of green liquid, and each took a sip in turn. When the mug reached Auberon, the old druid stepped toward the beam of light.

  "Tell us of your sins, my son." The old druid smiled at the young man. "Tell us of your hurts."

  Eeras's body shook as his tears fell. "I . . . I am a weredragon."

  The druids all chanted, voices rising in song, their amulets rattling.

  Laira glanced at Maev. The golden-haired warrior was still straining against her bonds. Her dragon tattoos coiled across her arms as her muscles bulged, and veins rose upon her neck, but she couldn't free herself. Her own hope of escape long gone, Laira looked back toward the ceremony.

  "Show us, son," Auberon said softly to the young man. "Show us your curse, so we may see the evil before driving it away."

  Eeras nodded, closed his eyes, and shifted.

  Silvery blue scales flowed across him. Azure wings rose from his back. He stood in the valley as a dragon, his horns long and white, his eyes gleaming like pale crystals. Then, with a shudder, the dragon returned to human form. Eeras, a man again, hugged himself and trembled.

  He spoke again, tears hanging off his nose. "I . . . I used to fly as a dragon at night, in secret, in shame. I blew my fire in the darkness. And once . . . oh by the gods . . . once I flew too low. I blew too much fire. Our village burned." Sobs racked his body. "My sister was hurt. She ran from me. She called me a monster. And I am one." His voice tore in agony. "I am a monster."

  The druids chanted louder. Auberon reached out and stroked the man's hair. "We will cure you. We will drive the curse away from your blood. With the drink of the gods, we will heal you, and you will be purified." He kissed Eeras's forehead. "You will be forgiven."

  Eeras shook as he wept. "Thank you, Auberon. Thank you."

  The old druid held out the pewter goblet to Eeras. "Drink, my child, and be cured. Drink and the tillvine will drive the dragon magic away."

  Laira squinted. From the distance of the boulder she was tied to, it was hard to see into the goblet, but she glimpsed a green potion thick with crumpled leaves. Was this the same plant that the priests had balled up and attached to their arrows? The same plant that had knocked the dragon magic out of Laira and Maev, that now bound them to the boulder?

  "Tillvine," she whispered. "It undoes dragon magic."

  She remembered that feeling: the tillvine strands wrapping around her, digging through her, tugging her magic free. She had crashed onto the forest floor as a human, her dragon form yanked away, at only the touch of this plant. But to actually drink tillvine juice?

  "Drink," Auberon repeated. "Drink and the dragon magic will forever leave you, my son."

  Hands shaking, Eeras accepted the goblet.

  "Wait!" Laira shouted. "Eeras, stop! Don't drink!"

  The man looked up. He stared at her, and a tear streamed down his cheek.

  "I will never hurt anyone again," he whispered. He raised the goblet to his lips and drank deeply.

  "No!" Laira screamed, tugging at the bonds. "Damn you, Auberon!"

  Eeras's neck bobbed as he drank, emptying the goblet. When he lowered the cup, he stood still, pale, silent.

  For long moments, nothing happened. The druids sang. Eeras even smiled tremulously.

  Then he gasped.

  He clutched at his throat.

  His skin turned a sickly green color, and tendrils ran across him like the vines that bound Laira and Maev to the boulder. He fell to his knees, tossed back his head, and screamed.

  Scales rose and vanished upon his body. Horns grew from his head, then cracked and fell to the ground. Smoke blasted from him. Claws grew and detached. He fell over, writhing, twisting, screaming in agony.

  "You're killing him!" Laira said.

  "Auberon, damn you, I'm going to crush your bones into powder!" Maev shouted.

  The druids ignored the two prisoners. They chanted out to their gods, spears raised high. The inuksuks upon the hills seemed to lean in, and the runes upon their stone chests burst into light. They glowed green like the tillvine, a sickly color of disease.

  "Help him!" Laira cried out. "He's dying."

  The druids ignored her. Eeras began convulsing. Green foam rose from his mouth and leaked from his eyes. He screamed again, a sound that curdled Laira's blood, then lay still.

  Maev stared with wide eyes. "The bastards killed him. By the stars, they killed him."

  "No, look," Laira whispered.

  Wisps of light began to rise from the fallen Eeras. This light was not green like tillvine, not golden like the sun, but silver as starlight. It rose in strands, coiling skyward, and took the shape of a dragon. Laira gasped and her eyes watered. The astral dragon rose higher, spread its wings, and let out a keen, a cry so sad and beautiful that Laira wept. Then it dispersed in the wind and was gone.

  "They killed his dragon soul," Laira whispered.

  Silence fell. The druids lowered their staffs. Eeras let out a gasp, sucked in air, and finally rose to his feet. He rubbed his eyes, and a tremulous smile touched his lips.

  "Am I cured?" he whispered.

  Auberon only smiled thinly. "Try to shift, my son. Become the dragon."

  Eeshan screwed his eyes shut, clenched his fists, and gasped. He opened his eyes. "I can't. It's gone. The curse is gone." He fell to his knees and embraced Auberon's legs. "Thank you, Auberon. Thank you. Thank you . . ."

  Laira shook her head slowly, a hollowness in her chest.

  It's worse than murder, she thought. To steal a man's magic, to remove the dragon from inside him . . .

  "Auberon, what have you done?" she whispered.

  The bearded druid walked toward her, a small smile on his face, and his eyes were sad.

  "Only what has been done to me." The old druid reached into his robes. He pulled out a single green scale which hung around his neck on a leather string. "This was my scale once. I was a sinner. I was lonely, afraid, ill . . . until the Cured Druids found me and healed me." He turned back toward his comrades. "My friends! Show me your scales."

  They reached into their robes and pulled out their own scale amulets, all in different colors. Eeras, still pale, reached down to the flat stone and raised a single blue scale that lay upon it. He held his own last remnant of magic.

  "You too will be cured," Auberon said, looking at Laira and Maev in turn. "You too will drink the tillvine essence and joined the Cured."

  Maev spat. "Like the Abyss we will. I'd sooner eat mammoth shite."

  Laira raised her chin. "We will never join you, Auberon. You are false. You are cruel. Your piety masks your hatred. I know men like you. My father is one. We refuse to join your order. Free us now."

  The old druid sighed, and his shoulders slumped. "Sometimes we see others like you . . . consumed, stubborn, blind to their own disease. But they all turn. They all accept the tillvine. You will stay here upon the boulder, watching the skies, feeling the wind and rain, reflecting, dreaming . . . until you drink of our juice. And if you do not drink, you will drink nothing at all." Auberon stroked Laira's hair. "Sweet child, do you not understand? You will abandon your magic, or you will abandon your life."

  With that, the druids turned and crossed the valley and entered their grassy huts.

  Laira and Maev remained outside upon the boulder.

  The clouds thickened and rain fell. Laira kept struggling but the bonds were too strong. The s
un set and the storm grew, leaving her wet, in shadows, and crying out in rage.

  ISSARI

  The nephil swarm descended upon the city of Goshar like flies upon a carcass.

  Issari stood at the southern gates in human form, staring up at the unholy host.

  "But we were almost free," she whispered. Her fingers tingled. "We were almost home."

  The nephilim hid the sky. The children of demons and mortal women, they were shaped as men, as tall as dragons were long. Their frames were skeletal, their flesh mummified, their eyes red and their teeth long as swords. They seemed like corpses, gaunt and reeking, and they flew on insect wings. They laughed as they landed upon roofs and walls, tearing into the people of Goshar. Their claws tore into flesh and dug out innards to feast upon. Their cries rolled over the city.

  Fire blazed above and a roar tore across the sky—Tanin flying overhead. A lone dragon, he charged toward the nephil army.

  Issari looked at her people. The children of Eteer filled the streets, thousands of them, awaiting salvation. Now they cried and pointed at the nephilim. A few of the creatures descended into the crowd, snatched up Eteerians, and tore them apart. One nephil ripped the limbs off a screaming boy and scattered them. Another dug the entrails out of a woman, laughing as he stuffed them into his mouth.

  There is no salvation, Issari thought, numb, frozen. After all we've traveled through, we die here.

  "Issari!" Tanin cried above, blowing his dragonfire. Nephilim crashed into him, tearing at his red scales. Blood rained.

  A droplet of Tanin's blood hit Issari's head, snapping her out of her paralysis.

  She soared as a dragon.

  She blew her fire.

  "Hide, children of Eteer!" Issari cried. "Into homes! Into cellars! Into—"

  The nephilim crashed against her.

  Their claws grabbed at her scales. Their fangs bit into her. Their laughter rang and their eyes mocked her.

  Issari screamed and roared her fire. Her flames washed over the nephilim, but their hard, mummified flesh would not burn. Her claws, her fangs, and the spikes on her tail cut into them, shedding their black blood. They flew everywhere, and Issari wept as she slew them, for they were half-Eteerian, born from human wombs. She knew that slaying them was a mercy, though with every one that fell, she wept for her people.

  "We can't fight them all!" Tanin cried at her side. He blew fire in rings and whipped his tail, trying to hold them off.

  The creatures surrounded the two dragons, a sea of rot. As Issari fought, she saw more nephilim scuttling over the city. They shattered roofs, pulled humans out from within, and sucked the meat off the bones. They shattered columns and sent temples crumbling. They knocked down statues of Shahazar; the goddess seemed helpless to stop them. Blood stained the streets, buildings collapsed, and dust rose in clouds.

  Like Eteer before it, the city-state of Goshar fell to the rot of the half-demons.

  We are lost, Issari thought. She swiped her claws and tail and blew fire, holding the enemy off, but she knew she could not win this battle.

  Thousands of soldiers raced across walls and roofs below, shouting and firing arrows. A few arrows sank into nephil flesh. Most shattered uselessly against the creatures' leathery hides. The nephilim kept swooping, lifting archers off roofs, and tearing them apart. Shreds of ring mail, severed limbs, and gobbets of flesh fell upon the city, vanishing into the crumbling ruins.

  Goshar falls. Issari stared below, and through clouds of dust, she glimpsed a hundred nephilim trundling down the streets, towering over the children of Eteer, clawing them apart. Eteer falls. She looked up at Tanin. A dozen of the creatures were landing upon him, clawing at his scales. We fall. We cannot win. Not only two dragons. Her eyes stung. We need Requiem. We need armies of dragons. We—

  She blinked.

  She blew fire, roasting a nephil who flew toward her. She clubbed another with her tail.

  "Requiem," she whispered.

  A screeching nephil soared toward her from a collapsing dome. Its mouth opened wide, full of yellow teeth as long as swords. She roasted it with dragonfire, then swiped her claws across its neck. Maggots fled the wound and the creature crashed down.

  Issari flew higher. "Requiem!" she cried out. "Dragons of Requiem!" Her eyes stung. They had to be here too. They had hidden in the north in caves and forests. They had hidden in Eteer in brick homes. Surely the stars blessed Goshar too. "Dragons of Goshar, hear me! I am Issari, a Princess of Requiem, a kingdom of dragons. You are not cursed!"

  The battle raged below, thousands of people dying, thousands of buildings collapsing. Several nephilim flew toward her, reaching out their claws, cackling and licking their maws. Tanin flew somewhere below, engulfed in a cloud of the creatures.

  "Hear me, dragons of Goshar!" Issari cried. She zipped across the sky, dodging nephilim. "I have freed the dragons of Eteer! I have fought with the dragons of the north. A kingdom of dragons rises. You need not be ashamed. You need not hide your magic, for it is blessed by the stars. Arise, dragons of Goshar! Fly with me! Blow your fire with mine! You are dragons of Requiem." She roared out her cry. "Requiem! May our wings forever find your sky."

  A nephil landed upon her back and dug its claws into her. She yowled. Another nephil slammed into her belly and bit her chest. She could barely stay aflight. A third nephil grabbed her left wing and tugged.

  "Dragons of Goshar!" she cried. Her blood spilled. "Fly with me. For Requiem. For Requiem . . ."

  She tumbled through the sky toward the falling city. Below her, the palace of Goshar collapsed, raining bricks and dust across the ruins.

  Goodbye, Requiem, she thought. I rise now to your stars. I rise to your celestial columns. To—

  Firelight rose in a dozen pillars. A temple of flame rose from the ruins.

  Roars pierced the air.

  Issari wept.

  Requiem lives.

  A dozen dragons rose from the rubble, roaring. Their fire washed across the nephilim around Issari. She thrashed and shook herself free from the beasts grabbing her.

  "Dragons of Goshar!" she cried. "Arise! Fly with me. Fly for starlight, for freedom, for Requiem! Requiem lives!"

  The dozen dragons rose around her. A hundred more soon took flight from the ruins, soaring, blowing their fire, lashing their claws.

  "Bloody stars!" Tanin said, flying toward Issari. Several of his scales were missing, and blood dripped from the wounds. "Where did they come from?"

  "From the stars that bless the world. They were always here, hiding, ashamed." Issari laughed. "We freed them."

  The dragons of Goshar rallied around her—red dragons, blue dragons, metallic dragons, dragons small and large, all blowing fire, all roaring.

  "Issari!" they cried. "Fight for the white dragon."

  "For Requiem!" Issari shouted. "Burn the enemy."

  Soon two hundred dragons roared. Two hundred pillars of fire blazed across the city.

  The nephilim shrieked in fear.

  Some of the creatures tried to attack; they fell, burnt and lacerated. Others turned to flee; dragons chased them across the desert and burned them down. Corpses of the mummified, reeking

  beasts tumbled down to crash against the ruins.

  The last walls of Goshar fell; so did the last of the nephilim. Death and scattered stones spread where once a proud city had stood. Issari soared higher, and the dragons of Goshar—now the dragons of Requiem—rose around her. They formed a great pillar in the sky, a typhoon of scales and dragonfire.

  With fire, blood, and dust, Requiem rises, Issari thought. With the ruin of cities and nations, our kingdom is forged.

  JEID

  He stood in the deepest, coldest tunnel in this labyrinth of stone, staring down at the body.

  "May your soul rise to the stars," he said, head bowed. "You will forever shine among them."

  He lowered the little body—only a boy, not even ten years old—and placed him among the others. Like the other dead, the boy's
chest had been cracked open, his innards scooped out and consumed by the creature in the mountain. Jeid's throat felt tight, his eyes close to tears, as he draped the boy's fur cloak over his body. They nestled together here in the darkness—seven dead, seven souls lost to the beast of shadows.

  "Grizzly." Dorvin placed a hand on his shoulder. "Grizzly, we can't keep them here forever. It's cold and dark in this tunnel, but the bodies are going to start to stink soon." Dorvin covered his nose. "Stars! I can already smell them. What do we do when they rot?"

  Bryn stood further back; the tunnel was so narrow they had to stand in single file. The red-haired woman glared at Dorvin, her eyes flashing. "Show some respect! These are children of Requiem. They—"

  "—are going to rot and stink," Dorvin finished. "Like the rest of us, sooner or later. Have you ever seen a rotting body, Bryn? I have. They spread disease. They'll kill us as surely as whatever killed them." The young hunter sighed. "Sphinxes outside. A demon in the walls. Thirst and hunger. Now the threat of disease. All that's left to do is guess what'll kill us first."

  Jeid stared down at the bodies. His fists clenched at his sides.

  "No. We no longer wait." He spun toward Dorvin and Bryn. His voice shook, the anger replacing his grief. "I hid in a cave once before. With my children and father. For years we hid in the canyon, waiting for our enemies to hunt us. And then we built a kingdom among the trees, and we raised a column of marble blessed by the stars, and we flew freely under the sky. It's time we found our sky again."

  Dorvin bared his teeth and pounded his fist into his palm. "Yes! We fly out. We face the sphinxes. We—"

  "No." Jeid shook his head. "We will not charge rashly into death."

  "But you said we'd—"

  "We will find another way out," Jeid said. "We'll dig our way out."

  Dorvin and Bryn stared at him, eyes wide.

  "Dig?" said Bryn. "The walls are mostly granite. Our blades can't cut them. Even if we had room to shift into dragons, our claws would be too weak." She tapped one wall with her sword; the bronze clanged against the stone. "How will we dig?"