Pillars of Dragonfire

by Daniel Arenson

  Two jets of flame blasted at her sides, framing her, crashing forward, slamming into seraphim. The immortals screamed, their armor melting, their skin peeling, their chariots falling like comets. Two black dragons stormed forth—her father, her brother—blasting out fire.

  "For Requiem!" Til cried.

  Her dragonfire stormed forth, shrieking, spinning, slamming into another seraph.

  "Fly, children!" Father cried. The black dragon clawed the air, spraying dragonfire in all directions. "Don't fight. Fly! Fly!"

  Roaring, Father charged forth, barreling between seraphim. Lances slammed against him, chipping his scales. Firehorses washed across him, burning his wings. Yet still the black dragon flew, blasting out his fire, burning them down.

  "Father!" Til cried, flying toward him through the enemies. She swiped her tail, knocking down a chariot. A lance sliced her wing, and she screamed, roared her fire, burned the seraph down.

  "Til, take your brother!" Father shouted. Flames blazed across him, and blood seeped from his cracked scales. "Take him south. Take him to the coast. Find others! Find them in the south. Go—"

  His voice died under a shriek and blaze of blinding light.

  Til rolled in the sky, blinded, crying out.

  The sun seemed to crash onto the world. Light blasted out. Wings buffeted her. She tumbled, reached out, managed to grab her brother. They beat their wings as a holocaust of fire and sunlight flared. In the center of effulgence he flew, wings wide, halo thrumming, lance bright as a falling star—the Overlord.

  Father turned toward his children.

  "Go," the black dragon whispered.

  With a roar, Father soared.

  "No!" Til cried, tears in her eyes.

  She clung to her brother as Father soared into the light, as he reached toward the Overlord, as dragon and seraph slammed together.

  She cried out as the Overlord thrust his lance, as the blade crashed through Father's chest, as it burst out from his back.

  "Father!" Bim cried.

  Til howled. She wanted to fly up, to save him, to slay the Overlord, to slay them all, to die. To die. To burn in fire. Yet she couldn't release her brother. She could only watch, weeping, as Father lost his magic upon the lance.

  The overlord—a massive seraph, eight feet tall—raised that lance. Father was skewered upon it, a man again. The life gone from his eyes.

  "Sling him up with the others!" the Overlord cried, tossing the corpse toward a chariot. "Peel off the flesh and string his bones up across the column." Smiling thinly, the Overlord turned in the sky to stare at Til. "Now . . . come to me, children. Come join your father."

  Time seemed to freeze.

  All the world became just her and him. A dragon and a seraph. A grieving woman, her heart shattered, staring into the eyes of her father's killer.

  Father—gone.

  Everyone—gone.

  My brother.

  Her tears streamed.

  My brother lives. He lives. He lives.

  I have to fight, I have to kill him. I have to die with Father.

  "Til," her brother whispered.

  He lives. One other lives.

  The Overlord stared into her eyes, and his smile grew. "Come to me, children." He reached out his palm. "Come home."

  Til lashed her tail, slamming it against her brother, spinning him around in the sky.

  "Fly, Bim!" she cried. "Fly!"

  They flew, roaring out their dragonfire. The jets shrieked, slamming into seraphim, knocking them aside. The two dragons, orange and black, siblings, perhaps the last two free dragons in Requiem, charged into the hosts of heaven. Their tails lashed, tearing into chariots. Their claws ripped through armor. Lances slammed against them, tearing off scales, yet they kept flying.

  Til soared, blasted fire, melted one seraph. Another flew from her left, and she snapped her jaws, ripping his torso apart. She shook her head madly, scattering blood and flesh. Her brother flew at her side, his dragonfire washing over the enemy, burning their wings, their faces.

  They flew onward.

  They rose higher.

  They burst into the clouds, vanishing into swirls of snow.

  Flames rose through the clouds. Arrows and javelins flew through the shadows and light, a forest in the sky. The flames of chariots filled the darkness.

  Til and Bim flew onward. Silent. Their fire hidden in their jaws. The clouds coiled around them, and snowy wind buffeted them. The chariots flew everywhere, faded patches of light like the sun behind veils. The dragons swerved, rising higher, lower, dodging the enemy. An arrow pierced Bim's wing, but he ground his teeth and kept flying. Silent. Tears in their eyes. Two shadows in the night.

  They flew for what seemed like hours, never leaving the clouds, pushing themselves onward until the firelight faded, until the sounds of pursuit were a mere rumble in the distance.

  Finally they could fly no more. They were too weary, too hurt. They glided down from the cloud cover, emerging into a dark world. The forests of Requiem spread below, silent in the night. The two dragons spiraled down. They all but crashed through the forest canopy, scattering icicles and frozen branches, and thumped into the snow.

  Their magic left them.

  They knelt in the darkness, shivering, weeping, humans again.

  "He killed him," Bim whispered, even as his teeth chattered. "The Overlord, he—he—"

  Til pulled her brother into her arms. She hugged him, squeezing him, nearly crushing him, and her tears fell into his hair.

  "He's with Mother now," she whispered. "His pain has ended."

  She could not see her brother in the night, but she felt his shuddering breath against her, felt his hands around her back.

  "What do we do?" he said.

  Til stared upward. Through the hole in the canopy, she could see the night sky. The stars of Requiem shone above—the Draco constellation. The god of her people. The stars that had forever blessed Requiem. The stars that, she had to believe, still looked down upon her.

  "We do what he commanded us." Til held her brother close, wrapping him in her cloak. "We travel south. We seek others. We seek life and hope even in this darkness."

  "There is no hope," Bim said. "Not without him."

  She gripped his shoulders and stared at his dark face, barely visible in the night. "Even in this night the stars shine. There is always hope, even in the darkest shadows. So long as we draw breath, we will fight for Requiem. If not with dragonfire then with every heartbeat, every breath in our lungs. We must stay alive. We must keep Requiem's memory within our hearts. We must believe, Bim."

  He lowered his head, shivering. "Believe what?"

  Til raised her eyes, though tears now marred her vision, and the stars blurred. "That Requiem can rise again."

  Perhaps it's but a dream, she thought. Perhaps Bim and I are the last. Perhaps all other resistors have fallen. Perhaps the slaves in Saraph will never return, and perhaps they too are gone. But I have to believe. I have to trust in my stars. For you, Father, I will go on. I promise you.

  The siblings held each other close, shivering until the dawn.

  MELIORA

  Around her they soared.

  Hundreds of thousands rising into the sky.

  Dragons.

  Dragons in every color, rising in the night. Thin. Weary. Some mere children, others elders missing their fangs. The scars of whips still showed upon their bodies, and holes filled their wings. They had been beaten down in human forms, and they showed their wounds as dragons, but still they soared. Their fire blazed in countless pillars, rising like the columns of a flaming temple. The light shone upon their scales. Red, blue, brilliant green, gold, silver—a mosaic in the sky.

  "Requiem rises," Meliora whispered, flying with them.

  She beat her wings, spinning and soaring higher, and she blasted out a great pillar of white flame. Her flaming halo crackled above her head. They spread below her, flying higher—the great nation of Requiem, their firelight
burning the sky.

  "Hear me, O Requiem!" Meliora cried, her voice ringing across Tofet. "Arise, arise, sons and daughters of Draco! Fly for freedom. Fly for your stars. Fly for Requiem!"

  They rose around her, streaming higher, dragonfire soaring skyward. Their voices rang together, torn with pain, with tears, with awe, with joy.

  "Requiem rises!"

  And from the south, rose new fire.

  Meliora spun in the sky and snarled, smoke blasting from between her teeth.

  "The seraphim," she hissed.

  They rose from Shayeen across the river. A hundred thousand chariots of fire, leaving trails of flame and smoke. They painted the sky red. The night turned bright as day under their wrath. Their firehorses' wings spread out in a burning canopy, and the seraphim raised their spears. At their lead he rode, his armor bright, his halo a great ring of gold.

  Ishtafel.

  The seraphim cried out together, spears gleaming, chanting for war. Ishtafel's voice rose above them all, tearing across the sky.

  "Slay the reptiles! Slay every last one. Saraph, Saraph, rise with fire! Slay every last dragon."

  The dragons of Requiem bellowed in fear. Child dragons, no larger than ponies, wailed in the sky. Elders prayed. The stronger dragons stormed forth to protect the weak, fangs bared, fire crackling.

  Vale, a great blue dragon, darted up beside Meliora. "We must fight."

  The seraphim kept charging, howling for war, the firehorses' hooves deafening like countless blasts of thunder.

  No, Meliora thought. We're too hurt, too weak. We cannot defeat them.

  She soared higher and roared out her fire, a beacon for Requiem. "Fly north, Requiem! Fly north! Flee them! Flee the city!"

  A few dragons began to fly north at once, but most bustled in a confused mass, and the chariots of fire flew closer.

  "Elory!" Meliora shouted. "Elory, lead them out! Lead them north. Father, help her!"

  The two—the green elder and the young lavender dragon—nodded and flew north, blasting twin jets of fire.

  "Follow, Requiem!" Jaren roared, casting out firelight, green scales clattering. "Follow me, Jaren Aeternum. Follow me north!"

  Elory flew at his side, raising her fire, crying out. "Follow, children of Requiem! Follow us north—to freedom, to home!"

  The green dragon led the way, raising his pillar of fire, while Elory flew madly from side to side, shepherding the dragons onward.

  Lucem flew up to hover at Meliora's side, facing the approaching seraphim. The red dragon growled. "Time to burn some seraphim."

  Meliora slapped him with her tail. "The sky is up, Lucem."

  Scales flashed, and Vale and Tash came to fly with them too. His scales shone deep blue, while hers glittered gold like coins.

  "We fight with you, Meliora," Tash said, snarling.

  Vale roared out a great cry. "For the light of Requiem, we fight!"

  While most dragons were fleeing the city, flying after Jaren, hundreds rose to fly around Meliora, to join the defenders. Their roars rolled across the sky, and their wings churned smoke and fire.

  "For Requiem! For Meliora!"

  The chariots stormed across the river.

  The warriors of Requiem charged forth to meet them.

  Above the field of bricks and dust and agony, dragons and chariots slammed together.

  The fire of chariots and the fire of dragons blasted across the sky. Meliora roared out her inferno, slashed her claws, whipped her tail. A chariot stormed toward her, and she soared, spun, lashed her tail, slammed the spikes into the firehorses. Another chariot flew from below, and Meliora swooped, reached out her claws, and tore the rider apart. Ichor rained.

  Around her, her companions fought. Dragonfire washed across seraphim. Spears shattered scales. Fangs tore into armor and tails smashed chariots. Firehorses drove into dragons, tearing out their magic, casting them down as screaming, bleeding men and women.

  "Welcome home, Meliora!" rose a voice across the battle—Ishtafel's voice. "You will watch your people burn before I drag you back to your cell."

  She saw him ahead, and Meliora growled. She rose to fly toward him, but a dozen chariots stormed her way. She roared. She blasted her fire. Her tail whipped, her claws lashed, and she tore into the seraphim around her. A lance thrust and dug into her side, and Meliora screamed, her scales cracking. She spun, scuttled forward, and grabbed the seraph in her jaws. She bit deep, tearing into the armor, tearing the flesh beneath, and pulled back, cutting the man in half. She spat out his upper torso and roared, blasting fire skyward, holding the chariots back.

  The other dragons fought around her in a fury, crying out for their kingdom. Every moment another dragon fell. Lances drove into them, picking them out from the sky. They lost their magic in death, falling as men, women, children, bleeding, slamming down onto the field where they had labored for so many years—falling finally as warriors, not slaves. And always the chariots stormed forth, thousands and thousands, covering the sky, and still more rising—an inferno in the heavens.

  "Ishtafel!" Meliora roared, meat and metal in her mouth. "You will die too, coward. Requiem is free!"

  "Requiem is free!" the other dragons cried.

  Meliora glanced behind her, just for a second. Countless dragons were fleeing the battle, flying so close together their wings touched. The scaly mosaic covered the sky. At their lead flew Jaren, blowing his fire. But as Meliora watched, thousands of chariots were making their way past the dragon defenders. Their fire blazed across those who fled, and the lances of the seraphim drove into dragons, sending them falling down as humans.

  We're not going to make it, Meliora thought, heart sinking. We're—

  "Sweet sister!" The cry rose above, and fire crackled.

  She looked up and saw him charging down toward her.

  "Ishtafel!" she roared. Growling, she narrowed her eyes and stormed up to meet him.

  Ishtafel laughed as he flew, wreathed in the fire, and his lance pointed down toward her. A white and gold dragon, Meliora blasted forth her fire.

  Her white flames crackled and streamed over the charging firehorses. Ishtafel raised his shield, and the blaze exploded across the disk, scattering like a collapsing sun. The firehorses crashed against Meliora, their flames washing across her. Her scales expanded in the heat and cracked, and she bellowed with rage. She whipped her tail, beat her wings, soared higher and swooped toward the chariot.

  Ishtafel grinned, protected within his armor, the gilt melting and peeling off the steel. He thrust his lance skyward.

  The blade drove into Meliora's front foot, cutting through the scales and flesh, then bursting out the other side.

  Pain blasted up her leg, along her back, into her head, and she screamed.

  Ishtafel tugged the lance back with a shower of blood.

  She couldn't even breathe.

  A hole in her hand, Meliora lost her magic. She fell. She landed in the chariot beside him, a woman again.

  "You've come back to me, sister!" He reached toward her, grinning. "Now stand with me here and watch as—"

  With her good hand, she drew her sword and thrust the blade into his chest.

  He yowled, the blade denting the steel and cutting the skin inside.

  Before she could push the blade deeper, he swung his fist into her cheek.

  Meliora fell. She saw nothing but light and shadows.

  Don't faint. Live. Live!

  She summoned her magic and rose as a dragon.

  Pain throbbed through her. The blazing agony of a shattering world filled her wounded hand. Her eyes began to roll back, but she sneered and blew her fire.

  Chariots slammed into her.

  Fire washed over her.

  Meliora lost her magic again and fell.

  She tumbled through the battle, a woman again, passing through fire. She slammed onto a dragon's back, rolled across its scaly flank, and fell again. The ground rushed up toward her, strewn with corpses.

 
You will never see Requiem! Leyleet shrieked in her mind. With my dying breath I curse you.

  "No," Meliora whispered and clenched her shattered hand. "I will find your sky."

  She shifted into a dragon, soared, blew her fire against a chariot. She tried to find Ishtafel again but did not see him. Dragons and chariots flew everywhere.

  "Ishtafel!" she roared. "Ishtafel!"

  She blasted fire, knocking back another chariot, and surveyed the battle. Hundreds of Vir Requis, maybe thousands, already lay dead below, their human bodies torn apart. Many dragons still flew, battling the seraphim, but they were falling fast.

  When Meliora spun her head northward, she saw the bulk of the dragons still fleeing, following Jaren. But hundreds of seraphim had made their way around the dragon defenders. They were now falling upon the flanks of fleeing slaves, cutting into the dragons—the young, the old, the wounded, sending them crashing down. Thousands of other chariots kept streaming forth.

  "Kill them all!" Ishtafel cried somewhere in the distance, laughing. "Kill all the dragons!"

  Meliora's heart sank.

  Does our dream end here? Did we rise as dragons only to fall in battle?

  She sneered.

  No. We must escape. We must make it back to Requiem. I will not see our dream end here.

  "Meliora!" a red dragon roared, and Lucem came to fly beside her, tail knocking a chariot out of his way. "Meliora, the seraphim are tearing into us!"

  "The sky is up, Lucem!" Meliora cried back. "Now fly with me."

  She was bleeding, burnt, her scales cracked and her front foot ravaged, but still she flew. Lucem flew at her side. They stormed toward the nation of fleeing dragons—half a million strong—and charged into the ranks of attacking seraphim.

  Dragonfire and blood filled the sky.

  VALE

  He saw Meliora fall.

  He saw Ishtafel laugh above her in his chariot.

  Vale roared and charged toward the tyrant.

  Chariots flew toward them, and Vale lashed his tail and claws, knocking them back. Seraphim thrust their lances at him, and he shattered the spears and blasted his fire across the soldiers. He stormed through the battle, burning down the enemy, and howled with rage.