Requiem's Prayer (Book 3)

by Daniel Arenson

  Jeid walked around them, motioning for them to follow. They walked through the coiling labyrinth, moving past other survivors, until Jeid stopped at a curve where blood stained the walls and floor. He pointed at the ceiling.

  "A hole," he said. "This is where the creature emerged. This is where it slew the boy." He drew his sword, reached up, and tapped the hole's rim. "Solid granite, yet whatever that creature is, it dug through it like a groundhog through soil. Its claws are sharper than our blades, sharper even than dragon claws. It can dig a way out for us."

  Dorvin blew out his breath, fluttering his lips. "Grizzly! By the stars. First of all, that hole's smaller than your head. Secondly, even if the creature could dig us a tunnel out, how are you going to convince it? Invite it for a drink of wine, give it a few kisses, and then ask to borrow its claws? Don't think that'll work."

  Jeid tapped the hole again. "It'll work or it won't." He looked back at Dorvin and smiled thinly. "It's worth trying; we have nothing to lose. Now let's hunt a demon."

  They got to work.

  There was no day or night in the tunnels, but Jeid felt like they labored for most of a day. Bryn moved through the tunnels, collecting belts, spears, leather straps, ropes, and axes. She returned the items to Jeid and Dorvin, who sat on the floor, snapping the shafts off axes and spears, tying them together into long sticks, and weaving belts into harnesses.

  "Do you really think this can work?" Dorvin said. He thrust out his tongue as he tied two wooden shafts together.

  "Probably not." Jeid tested a leather noose, tugging it between his hands, unable to break it. "Almost certainly not, in fact." He smiled up at Dorvin. "But when has Requiem ever had more hope?"

  Finally their work was done. Jeid stared down at the contraptions—long wooden shafts, each ending with a leather harness.

  "You do realize the creature can dig through granite," Dorvin said. He bit his lip. "It'll smash through leather and wood like dragonfire tearing through mist."

  Jeid thought back to his only sighting of the creature. Long black legs, spiderlike, tipped with claws. Red eyes. A bristly, soft abdomen. "Only its claws are sharp. It's those claws we want to avoid. If we grab the rest of it, we can secure it. Subdue it. We'll lasso its neck—if it has a neck." Jeid rubbed the back of his own neck. "I'm not sure it has one, but we'll find out. I—"

  The patter of feet interrupted him. Bryn came racing around a corner, blood staining her face and fur pelts. "Grizzly! Two more sphinxes broke in. They killed Perin." She grimaced. "And they wounded Celani; bit off her hand. I have the Redtooth twins guarding the entrance now, but . . . oh stars, Grizzly. We're falling fast."

  Jeid grimaced and that old terror rose inside him again, threatening to engulf him. Perin—a kindly, bald man who used to whittle toys for the children. Celani—a shy woman, a weaver of cloth and rope.

  Jeid clenched his jaw. "We have no more time." He tossed Bryn one of the traps, another to Dorvin. "We go hunting a demon."

  They carried their gear through the caves to the deep, craggy tunnel where the creature had snatched its last victim. Blood still stained the stone, the stench of death still lingered, and the hole still gaped above. Jeid raised his lamp toward the hole but saw nothing, only darkness inside.

  "How do we know the bastard will show up here again?" Dorvin asked. "The damn sheep-shagger keeps popping out of different holes each time." He spat. "Damn thing moves about faster than a cock in a hen house."

  Jeid gazed up into the darkness of the hole.

  Who are you? he thought. What are you hiding?

  "There is method to its killings," Jeid said. "It went after the wounded. It hasn't attacked me, you, Bryn, or any of the other strong Vir Requis. Its first victim was recovering from a gash along her leg. The last victim had only just hurt himself, stumbling in the dark and bloodying his nose." Jeid looked around him at the bloodstains on the floor. "Maybe the smell of fresh blood attracts it. It can smell it through the walls. Dorvin, go stand behind that corner with the gear. Bryn, you walk the other way and hide. Keep your harnesses ready."

  The two young Vir Requis glanced at each other. Dorvin muttered curses. Bryn raised her chin and tightened her lips. The two hefted their makeshift traps and each stepped around another corner, hiding in the shadows.

  Jeid propped his own harness against the wall, drew his sword, and etched a cut along his palm. His blood dripped. He lifted the harness with his good hand, then raised the bleeding hand toward the hole.

  "Come on, you bastard," he whispered.

  He waited, hand raised.

  Nothing happened.

  "Come on . . ." he muttered. "Where are you?"

  His blood dripped down his arm. The tunnel was silent.

  Dorvin's head thrust around the corner. "Grizzly, anything yet?"

  Jeid glared at the young man. "Do you see a demon?"

  Dorvin squinted. "That beard of yours might qualify. I'm pretty sure it's possessed."

  Jeid grunted. "Get back."

  With a smirk, Dorvin pulled back behind the corner. Jeid stared up into the hole, seeing nothing but shadows. In the silence, he could hear the cries of sphinxes at the distant cave opening, the roar of dragonfire holding them back. But no scuttling of demons. No screams of dying.

  "Grizzly!" Dorvin stuck his head around the corner again. "Any damn demon yet? I gotta piss, for stars' sake."

  "Get back!"

  Dorvin cursed. "Bloody bollocks." His head vanished behind the corner again.

  Grumbling, Jeid raised his hand, stood on his toes, and smeared blood around the hole. The wound on his palm stung, but worse was his fear.

  "Come drink," he whispered into the darkness. "Smell it. Come to us."

  The moments passed by.

  Jeid waited.

  He paced.

  Time stretched on.

  Finally he sat down with a sigh, leaned against the wall, and stared up into the darkness.

  It won't work, he thought. The creature is sleeping, or the creature knows it's a trap. It'll strike again, somewhere else, and more will die.

  As he sat here, he wondered what he was fighting for. So many were gone already. The halls of Requiem had fallen to the enemy. Every day, another Vir Requis died. Perhaps worst of all were the three holes inside him, as dark and real as the hole above.

  "Laira," he whispered. "Tanin. Maev."

  His family—the only family he had left—was gone. He had already lost so many others: his daughter Requiem, his first wife, his parents. Was he alone now? Were the others dead like the bodies in the tunnels?

  Why do I fight? he wondered. Why do I keep going when there is so much darkness in the world?

  It would be easy to close his eyes, to wait for the demon to emerge and devour him. It would be easy to fly out into the sky and face the sphinxes, to die in battle. Why did he keep going, year by year, when the pain, the loss, the fear never ended?

  "For Requiem," he whispered. "For hope. Maybe for nothing but the fight."

  Fighting for a lost cause is better than giving up. We all must die someday. Some sooner, some later. If I must, I will die fighting. But I pray to the stars . . . I pray that I see you again, my wife, my children, my kingdom.

  A scratch sounded above.

  Jeid inhaled sharply and stared up at the hole.

  A shadow stirred. A single claw, large as a dagger, emerged from the hole and scratched along the rim, collecting the droplets of blood.

  Silently, Jeid rose to his feet and readied his harness. He clenched and unclenched his fist, opening the cut, and raised his hand above.

  "Smell it. Smell the blood . . . Come on . . . Come—"

  With a shriek, the creature burst out from the hole.

  Jeid gasped and nearly stumbled back.

  The hole was perhaps no larger than his head, but the creature that emerged unfolded into a massive size. Eight long black legs—each tipped with a claw—spread open like blooming petals around a red center. In this cente
r gaped a round mouth containing a ring of teeth. A tongue unfurled, enclosed in a black shell and tipped with clacking, fast-moving blades. White eyes gleamed upon the creature's bloated head like boils ready to burst.

  Jeid thrust his harness up against the creature.

  The demon snatched the shaft in its mouth and tugged. Its claws slammed down, wrapping around Jeid. He roared as they cut into him.

  "Dorvin! Bryn!"

  The two raced into the tunnel and thrust their own harnesses.

  "Come on, you bastard!" Dorvin shouted, struggling to wrap his leather noose around a leg. Bryn screamed at the other side, trying to lasso the creature.

  "Where do we grab it?" she cried out.

  "Anywhere!" Jeid shouted. The claws wrapped around him. One drove into his thigh. The creature's tongue thrust down, lined with moving blades, and Jeid roared and grabbed the writhing strand, holding it inches away from his face. Saliva dripped onto him, and the creature's mouth opened and shut, teeth snapping.

  "Get its claws off me!" Jeid roared.

  Dorvin and Bryn struggled at his sides, thrusting their harnesses.

  "Got him!" Dorvin finally cried. He tugged back, tightening a noose around one of the creature's legs. Dorvin yanked the shaft back, pulling the creature's leg outward.

  The demon screeched. It was a horrible sound, too loud for human ears. Pain washed over Jeid. His ears rang, numb, feeling full of water or perhaps blood. He gripped the creature's lashing tongue in one hand, the harness in another.

  "I got another leg!" Bryn said. She lassoed one of the long, clawed digits and hauled back.

  But the creature had many other legs, and they were still stabbing at Jeid, tearing through his thick fur and leather.

  The creature was laughing. A bubbling, deep voice emerged from it.

  "I will feast upon your innards, King of Reptiles." Its saliva dripped. "I know your name. I am Golgoloth, a Digger of the Abyss. I serve the Demon Queen. I will drink your—"

  Jeid slammed his harness upward, wrapped the lasso around the creature's mouth, and yanked back, tightening the noose. The leather strand squeezed the demon's mouth shut like a string wrapped around a newborn's umbilical cord.

  The tongue dangled, twitching. Jeid yanked it like a rope, stepped between the legs, and tugged the demon's head down onto the floor.

  Golgoloth, this digger of darkness, lay on the ground, thrashing, lashing out its legs. The Vir Requis stepped back, gripping their shafts, pinning the creature down.

  "Yeah, how do you like that?" Dorvin laughed and kicked the creature. "Not so fun when you're the one hunted, is it?" He kicked again, driving his boot into one of the demon's eyes. The eyeball popped and leaked white fluid.

  "Dorvin!" Jeid roared. "Stars damn it. Don't hurt the beast. We need it to dig."

  But Dorvin was still kicking, driving his boot again and again against the creature. Its abdomen, previously hidden in the hole, was large and soft and covered in small hairs; it twitched and jiggled whenever Dorvin kicked it.

  "Yeah, feel the pain!" Dorvin shouted, but now his laughter was gone, and red rimmed his eyes. "Just like the people you hurt. Scream! Just like they screamed." Dorvin let out his own hoarse cry. "Just like you demons killed my sister. You're mine now, you puke-drinking son of a—"

  "Dorvin!" Clutching his harness with one hand, Jeid shoved Dorvin back with the other. "Stop that. Not now. We need this creature."

  The demon began to laugh. It was a sound like bubbles rising in tar, like dead children crying from underwater, like fear rising in the night. It turned its many eyes toward Jeid.

  "You will suffer, children of Requiem." Golgoloth hissed as it laughed, spewing out smoke and droplets of rot. "I have foreseen your future. One of you three will die today. You will die in pain. You will die screaming." It chuckled, body twitching. "There is nothing but failure in your future, nothing but agony."

  Jeid clenched his jaw and leaned against his harness, shoving the creature across the floor. "And you will dig, Golgoloth. You will dig silently or we'll take another one of your eyes." He turned toward Dorvin and Bryn. "Help me. Let's shove him against the wall. He'll dig." Jeid nodded firmly. "It's time for the dragons of Requiem to return to the sky."

  TANIN

  Tanin sat in the tent, eating little, watching the famished young boy scarf down plate after plate of food.

  "Chew," Tanin said. "Don't bolt it down."

  But Fin didn't seem to hear. The young Vir Requis reached across the table with his one good arm and grabbed a bread roll. The other arm was no larger than a babe's, ending with a hand the size of a walnut, but it too clutched a chicken leg. Fin alternated between bread and chicken, taking a bite from each in turn. Before him, several emptied plates lay across the table, covered with the crumbs of meat pies, the bones of a roast duck, and a few last grains of rice cooked with pine nuts.

  "The poor boy spent many days flying." Issari glared at Tanin. "Let him eat. The poor thing's half-starved."

  "The poor thing just devoured my supper." Tanin lifted his own plate. Moments ago, it had been piled high with mutton skewers, flatbread soaked in olive oil, and spiced chickpeas. All that food now filled Fin's belly; the boy had snatched the plate before Tanin had taken a single bite.

  Fin gulped down a mouthful of chicken. "I am chewing!" He grabbed a pear stewed in wine and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. "It's just good."

  The three sat in a tent of white canvas stretched over cedar poles. The place felt restrictive and hot. Tanin left the table, stepped to the tent door, and stared outside. He sighed.

  Hundreds of thousands of souls . . . lost.

  In the northern distance, he could see a cloud of dust upon the horizon—the ruin of Goshar, a city reduced to ash. Once a great city-state, Goshar now lay among the mountains as a pile of rubble and bones. Here, south of the mountains, three rivers crossed the land; one flowed only a mark away from Tanin, the setting sun gilding its surface. Plains of grass, golden farms, and groves of trees stretched for marks—the great land of plenty Issari had promised the children of Eteer.

  "But more than Eteerians now cover this land," Tanin muttered.

  Thousands of Eteerians had survived the slaughter in the mountains, but so had thousands of Gosharians. The two people spread across the grasslands, some living in tents, others in the open air. Scattered campfires burned, and the scents of cooking meats wafted. Soldiers in ringed armor patrolled. And above . . .

  Tanin raised his eyes, and finally some hope filled him.

  "Dragons," he whispered.

  A hundred dragons glided above, Gosharians blessed by the Draco constellation. Two hundred had once hidden in the stone labyrinth of Goshar; half had fallen to the nephilim’s claws, paving a path of fire and blood to this camp.

  Like me in the north, they hid, Tanin thought. Like Issari in Eteer, they were hunted. Pride welled up in him, inflating his chest. But now we fly free. Now Issari and I can return home, a hundred dragons behind us, and save what we can of Requiem.

  As soon as it had risen, his chest deflated.

  "Requiem . . . fallen."

  He spun around and reentered the tent. Fin was now eating honeyed cakes topped with sliced almonds. Issari sat beside him, sipping wine but eating nothing.

  "Fin," Tanin said, "tell me again. Tell me everything you know."

  The boy swallowed another bite and nodded solemnly. "Sphinxes." He shuddered. "They have the bodies of lions, the wings of vultures, and the heads of men. They work for Raem, they said, and they're flying all over the north." He stared at the remaining cakes but seemed to have lost his appetite. He shoved the plate away. "We all escaped Requiem. Many of us died. Jeid and Laira flew north to hide but . . . I couldn't join them. I had to find you." He looked at Issari. "I had to tell you, my priestess."

  The boy wrapped his arms around Issari and clung to her. She stroked his hair.

  "Return to your tent, my sweet boy." Issari kissed Fin's forehead. "Lie
down to sleep and do not worry about sphinxes or demons or any other monster. You are safe here in my camp. I'll visit your tent soon to tuck you into your bed."

  Fin nodded. He grabbed a few honey cakes, stuffed them into his pockets, and left the tent.

  Tanin placed his hands on the table, stared down at the empty plates, and felt as if he'd just eaten raw meat. His belly roiled and bile filled his throat.

  "We have to return." He turned to look at Issari. "We must fly north to Requiem."

  Seated in her cedar chair, Issari breathed deeply and folded her hands in her lap. She had replaced her harem silks with a white tunic and cloak. A string of coins hung around her brow, chinking as she shook her head.

  "How can we return now?" she said. "We flew south to claim the throne of Eteer, to banish demons. Yet the children of demons now fly across the land, and Eteer lies in ruin, the gates of the Abyss open and spewing out evil." She caressed the amulet in her palm. "The people of the south need me—the people of Eteer, of Goshar, of the eleven other city-states of Terra. How can I abandon them?"

  "Requiem needs us!" Tanin stepped toward her and clasped her hands. "Do you forget Requiem, our home? That home lies fallen now. Our people are fled, and enemies live in our marble hall. We must return to find Laira, to find Grizzly and Maev, to help them. To help our kingdom."

  "And what of Eteer?" Issari's cheeks flushed. She rose to her feet and pulled her hands free. "Is Eteer not a kingdom? Is it not a home to me as much as Requiem? Its halls too have fallen, but its people still live. They live out here, in the wilderness, afraid, hurt. You cannot ask me to abandon them. And what of Goshar? I was the abina's wife. I slew him. By the laws of Goshar, its people too are mine; I am their queen, no less than I'm Queen of Eteer." She walked toward the tent's door, stepped outside, and swept her arm across the camp. "Multitudes are without homes, without hope. And they look to me, Tanin." She spun toward him. "They look to me for hope."

  Tanin took a shaky breath, scarcely believing what he heard. "Issari . . ." He tried to hold her, but she stepped back. "Issari, this is not how I know you. Requiem needs us. You used to believe in Requiem. Where is the bright-eyed girl who wandered the streets of Eteer, sending dragons north to safety? Where is the girl who flew across the sea, bringing us a warning of demons? Where is the girl—"