A Legacy of Light (The Dragon War, Book 1)

by Daniel Arenson

  I must never stare at him again, she thought. He is the most dangerous man in Requiem.

  "Children of Requiem!" the prince cried. He had the high voice of a youth, but carried it with the arrogance of a man. "I welcome you to my home. Rise."

  The recruits rose to their feet, those newly arrived and those already armored.

  "Hail the red spiral!" Prince Leresy shouted and slammed his fist against his chest.

  "Hail the red spiral!" shouted thousands of recruits below, and thousands of fists thumped against chests.

  To her left, Tilla heard Mae whimper. To her right, she heard Erry smirk and whisper something about sneaking into the prince's bed. But Tilla only stood still and silent, and though she had vowed to never look at the prince again, she could not help it. She found herself once more glancing his way.

  He met her eyes and stared. The stare seemed to last forever, and in his eyes Tilla saw haughtiness, lust, and unending malice.

  Without another word, the prince spun on his heel and stepped away from the battlements. He vanished, leaving Tilla feeling as empty and violated as a ransacked home.

  "All right, you miserable lot of filthy maggots!" Nairi shouted above. She shifted back into a gray dragon and took flight. "It's time to sort your useless arses into phalanxes. A bloody waste of time, if you ask me." She blasted a pillar of fire. "Commanders, to the courtyard! Fresh meat!"

  With roaring fire and thudding wings, five dragons appeared, rising from behind the grand hall. Fire and smoke filled the air. Scales clanked. Orders rang. Soldiers rushed about the courtyard, goading recruits with crackling punishers. Welts rose on flesh and recruits screamed.

  Tilla moved with the crowd, her belly knotting.

  Her life in Castra Luna began with fire, smoke, and pain.

  RUNE

  They climbed the hill, cloaks billowing in the wind, and beheld a landscape of ruin.

  Rune stood for a moment, frozen, and softly exhaled. At his side, Kaelyn nodded and took his hand.

  "My father's cruelty," she said. "Here it lies below us. Here we hide. Here we fight him."

  They had been traveling through the wilderness for ten days now, keeping off the roads. At least, Rune thought it was ten days; it all blurred into one long, confused dream of hiding in holes, scurrying between trees, and living off dwindling supplies of dried meat, rough cheese, and stale bread. He had fled Cadport wearing everyday clothes—old boots, woolen pants and a tunic, and a warm cloak—and the journey had worn them into tatters. He was down one notch in his belt already, and he felt about a day away from losing another notch.

  And here… here they reached the end of their journey, and Rune realized: He would miss the long days in the wilderness.

  "Why this place?" he said, a chill tingling his spine. He turned to look at Kaelyn. "In the entire empire of Requiem, with all its forests and mountains and swamps and deserts, why hide here?"

  She stood watching the ruins. The wind ruffled her golden, wavy hair and pinched her cheeks pink. She held her sword's hilt, and suddenly she seemed so sad to Rune, sadder than he'd ever seen her. Years ago, a wandering bard had traveled to Cadport, entered the Old Wheel, and played a song upon his harp. Men had wept to hear the music of old forests, ancient kings, and starlight upon marble columns. Rune had never forgotten that song, that sadness of longing and beauty; today he saw the same song in Kaelyn's eyes.

  "It is safe," she said softly. "Imperial dragons fly here, but they don't land. No one but the Resistance walks among these ruins. We can hide here, survive, arm ourselves… and dream." She turned to look at him, and her eyes glistened with tears. "This place reminds us. Everywhere you look here, you will see my father's evil. It keeps us strong. And one day, his collapse will begin here—in this place that he crushed."

  Rune looked back at the fallen city.

  Confutatis, he thought. He knew of this place. He had seen its maps and cityscapes in the books hidden under the Old Wheel's floor. Only twenty years ago, this had been the capital of Osanna, a kingdom east of Requiem, a land whose people could not shift into dragons but rode horses, wove silk, studied the stars, and honored ancient alliances with the Vir Requis. In the old pictures, Rune had seen spires scraping the sky, temples with silver domes, thousands of homes and streets, and white walls topped with banners. It had been a place of life, science, and creation.

  Today he saw a place of death, ash, and shattered stone.

  The white walls lay fallen. The streets and homes lay shattered. The stems of towers rose like broken ribs, barely taller than men. The city spread for miles; a million souls must have lived here. Today Rune saw no life but for crows that circled above.

  All who lived here—dead, he thought. Cadigus killed them all.

  "Why?" he whispered. "Why would your father kill so many, crush an entire city?" He spun toward her, eyes stinging. "These people had no magic; they could not become dragons, could not defend themselves. Why, Kaelyn?"

  "Because he is proud," she replied, looking upon the city. The wind billowed her blue cloak. "Because he is cruel. Because he is hurt." She sighed. "My father… when he was younger, he trained to be a priest, did you know?"

  Rune frowned. "A priest? Your father? I've met priests; they tend to be meek, humble, and kind. I've seen statues of your father. He doesn't exactly seem the priestly type."

  "He isn't," Kaelyn agreed. "But he was born into poverty, the son of a logger. His father beat him, and priesthood was an escape. A temple could give him food, shelter, and most importantly—books. My father had always craved knowledge."

  "He doesn't seem the bookish type either," Rune said, remembering the man's statues. Even carved in stone, Frey Cadigus scared him. The emperor was a tall, powerful man—or at least sculpted that way—clad in armor and bearing weapons. Yet the statue's eyes would always frighten Rune the most. Those eyes stared, cold and always watching, from a hard, lined face. Those eyes seemed crueler than the man's sword.

  "Books contain knowledge, and knowledge brings power." Kaelyn tightened her cloak around her. "He spent years in temple libraries, reading every book he could find. He especially craved histories of battle; even then he lusted for blood. He read how the people of this land, of Confutatis, enslaved the griffins, rode them to war, and toppled the halls of Requiem. That was a thousand years ago, but to a skinny boy in a dark temple…" She shook her head sadly. "I think those stories stabbed him like griffin talons. He left the priesthood. He became a soldier, an officer, and finally a general powerful enough to take Requiem's throne. And then… then he became a killer." She gestured at the city. "Then he took his vengeance. Deep inside, he was still that boy in candlelit libraries dreaming of slaying Requiem's enemies. But now this boy had an army of dragons. And still this death lies before us." Kaelyn snarled and gripped her sword. "And here, Rune, here his own death rallies." She began walking downhill. "Come. I will take you to Valien."

  Ash swirled around their boots. Charred trees and skeletons, their flesh picked cleaned, littered the hillside. Kaelyn squeezed Rune's hand. Her grip was warm, and when he looked at her, she stared back with huge, somber eyes.

  At the foothills, the ruins spread around their feet. The shells of houses stood blackened, roofs gone, walls chipped like teeth in smashed jaws. Bricks, shattered blades, and cloven helms littered the streets, so thick Rune had to wade through them. Inside the homes, skeletons still lingered—soldiers grasping rusted swords, children hiding in corners, and mothers huddling over babes. Dragonfire had burned them; the bones were charred.

  Rune could barely breathe. His throat constricted. His fists trembled. He wanted to reel toward Kaelyn, to shake her, to yell at her.

  Why didn't the Resistance bury them! he wanted to demand. How could you just let your father's victims lie dead here?

  Yet when he looked at Kaelyn, prepared to shout, he saw tears on her cheeks. She did not tremble. She did not weep. She walked tall and proud, clutching her sword and bow, a warrior. Yet tears
for the fallen, even these strangers of a different kingdom, shone in her eyes. Rune felt his rage ebb, and sadness replaced it.

  Requiem was once a noble, peaceful kingdom, he thought, looking around at the destruction. This is what the Cadigus family has made us. Killers. Monsters. Demons of fire.

  They stepped over a pile of bricks. A doll's hand peeked from between them. A crow sat upon a smashed keystone, pecking at a human jawbone. Half a tower rose to their right, ending with a shattered crown; inside, Rune saw skeletons in rusted armor. Looking upon this death, Rune remembered the Old Wheel burning and Shari clutching his father's body, and tears stung his eyes.

  The Cadigus family had done the same to his home and family. The dead of Confutatis were his brothers now, bonded in grief. His eyes stung and his breath shook.

  I don't want any of this, he thought. He climbed over half a child's skeleton; the legs were missing. I never wanted this! All I wanted was to live quietly, to see Tilla again, to help Cadport cling to hope. Not this death. Not this war.

  He lowered his head. He missed home. He missed his father, his dog, his books, and everything else. The pain filled his belly like ice.

  Kaelyn squeezed his hand. He looked up to see her gazing at him softly.

  "I'm sorry, Rune," she whispered. "I'm sorry you have to see this." She touched his cheek. "But you need to. You need to see everything Frey Cadigus has done. And you will need to remember this." Her eyes hardened. "You will need these memories when you face him."

  He laughed mirthlessly. "Face Frey Cadigus? After seeing these ruins, Frey is the last person I want to confront."

  "I know," she said. "Yet you are the heir of Aeternum, and he seeks you. He will find you. He will want to slay you himself. And you will have to fight him. And when you do, remember this place." She looked around her. "Remember why you fight."

  Rune sighed, shook his head, and kept walking. He could not get rid of that lump in his throat.

  "You're mad, Kaelyn," he said. "Mad! I joined you only because Shari burned my home. But to fight your father? The emperor himself?" He barked another humorless laugh. "I'm only a brewer. Not a warrior."

  "You were a brewer," she whispered. "A warrior you will become. Valien will teach you. We are near."

  They kept walking through the ruins. They walked across a wide, cobbled square strewn with hundreds of skeletons still clad in sooty armor. They passed a shattered temple; its dome was cracked open like an egg, skeletons slung across its shattered rim. They were walking down a street littered with bricks, shattered shields, and bones when a shriek tore the air.

  A dragon shriek.

  Rune bent low and scurried for cover. Kaelyn leaped at his side. They landed in a ditch, scuttled under a fallen statue, and huddled deep in shadow.

  They had run for cover so many times over the past ten days. Rune's knees and elbows were skinned from a hundred dives under logs, brambles, or tangled roots. Yet in the forest, the leafy canopy had offered extra concealment. Here in these ruins, the sky was clear; peering from under the fallen statue, Rune saw the dragon in all its wrath and flame.

  The beast had copper scales, white horns, and great black wings like curtains of night. It shrieked to the sky, then swooped and blasted fire across the street. Walls of flame roared before Rune, heat blasted him, and he cursed and grabbed his sword.

  "Bloody stars!" he hissed. "I thought you said this place was safe, Kaelyn."

  She knelt beside him in the shadows. The fallen statue stretched above them, forming a roof. Kaelyn's face glistened with sweat. She clutched a dagger in her hand, bared her teeth, and breathed sharply.

  "Hush!" she whispered. "Keep your voice down. This dragon hasn't seen us. If he had, we'd be dead. They patrol these ruins several times a day."

  Rune rolled his eyes. "And you chose your hideout here? Where your father's dragons patrol daily?"

  She tightened her cloak around her. "Forests can be uprooted. Towns can be toppled. Forts can be crushed. This place is already dead—lots of places to hide, nothing left to tear down."

  Perhaps Kaelyn was right, Rune thought. The forests had seemed to offer no more safety, and as for Cadport, well… Rune's chest still ached to remember Cadport. Perhaps no place was safe anymore from Frey Cadigus. Once this had been a distant kingdom; now it lay ruined. Now there was just this, just the empire, as far as they could go.

  And Kaelyn thinks we can topple it!

  Rune wondered if he was crazy to even be here. He could grow a beard to disguise his face, he thought. He could take up a false identity, move to a new town, and find work. He didn't have to fight this war. He didn't have to walk through death.

  He had thought this many times over the past few days. And yet he had kept following Kaelyn through forest, field, and ruin. Why? Was it Kaelyn's big eyes and her body pressed against his? Or had he simply gone mad?

  I can't keep doing this, he thought. I'll listen to what this Valien has to say. I'll tell him I'm not the man he's looking for. And then I'll leave this place and forget about the whole damn rebellion.

  Finally the dragon shrieks faded into the distance. Kaelyn released her dagger and began crawling back onto the street.

  "Come on," she said and looked over her shoulder at him. "Follow me. Another dragon won't be back for hours."

  Rune sighed. "So said half the skeletons on this street, I reckon."

  Yet as she walked down this street of death, he followed. In the distance, he could see the dragon flying into the southern horizon, a mere speck blowing a thread of fire. Crows replaced it in the sky; a few dipped down to pick at old ribs.

  They reached a wide, cobbled boulevard that looked wide enough for a hundred men to walk abreast. This must have been the main street of Confutatis. Along its sides, the iron frames of chariots rusted, and the skeletons of horses lay shattered. The stems of lost columns, the shells of burnt towers, and crumbling walls lined the roadsides in a palisade of destruction. Far ahead, past mist and shadow, the path led to a shattered palace, its pocked walls rising from ash and ending in ruin. Even the crows did not fly above this street, as if they feared it.

  "What is this place?" Rune whispered.

  "Welcome," she said, "to the Boulevard of Bones. It leads through death. It leads through old fire. It leads to hope."

  They began to walk down the street. The skeletons at their sides seemed to stare at Rune. The skull of a horse grinned. Ash carpeted the cobblestones; it muffled their footfalls and stirred around their boots. Rune was looking at the burnt skeleton of a child, a sword piercing its ribcage, when movement caught his eye.

  He spun sideways, clutched his sword, and drew a foot of steel.

  "Kaelyn!" he hissed.

  An archer stood in the broken tower, peering through a crack in the wall. The man wore a gray cloak smeared with ash, and gray paint covered his face; he blended into the tower's bricks. Rune snarled and prepared to dive for cover, but Kaelyn gripped his arm.

  "It's fine, Rune!" she said. "He's one of ours."

  She pushed Rune's sword back into its scabbard and nodded at the archer. She raised her left hand, holding her index and middle fingers pressed together. Inside the shattered tower, the archer returned the gesture and lowered his bow.

  As they kept walking down the boulevard, more movement stirred. Rune looked from side to side and blew out his breath. Dozens of archers hid here, each one cloaked in gray, the color of the ruins. They peeked from broken towers, from behind shattered walls, and from under fallen statues. As Kaelyn walked by, they each raised their hands in salute, index and middle fingers pressed together.

  "Welcome, Rune," Kaelyn said softly, "to a voice of hope, to a light in the dark, to courage in an empire of fear." She gave him a sad look that spoke of her childhood, of countless deaths, and of hope almost lost under pain. "Welcome to the Resistance."

  They kept walking down the Boulevard of Bones. All around among the broken towers, walls, and halls they hid—warriors of the Resistan
ce. As Rune walked, his head spun. Every year in Cadport, soldiers of the Regime would speak of the resistors' evil and might. Every year, they would draft all those turned eighteen, cart them off to forts, break and mold them into soldiers, then send them off to fight the Resistance. Rune had always imagined hosts of demonic beasts mustering with fire and steel. But this… this was just a rabble. Here were only a few men—Rune doubted he saw more than a hundred—clad in rags and dust, their blades chipped.

  This isn't an army.

  The Cadigus Regime had been lying to its people, Rune realized. With fiery speeches and military terror, they had turned a toothless pup into a rabid beast. The wars against the phoenixes, the griffins, and the wyverns had ended years ago. With Requiem's external foes defeated, Frey Cadigus needed a new enemy, Rune realized. He needed a new way to terrify his people, to rally them around a threat. How else would a soldier keep his power? How else could Cadigus maintain his iron grip, if not with fear of monsters?

  This Resistance is nothing but a ghost of a threat, Rune thought. They cannot win. Not with me here. Not with ten thousand more men. This is a hopeless war. They only serve to give Frey Cadigus the enemy he so desperately needs.

  They continued down the Boulevard of Bones, this vein of destruction Cadigus had carved. With every step, they drew nearer to the fallen palace of Confutatis. Soon its ruin rose before them.

  In one of the books Rune had hidden under his floor planks, he had seen an illustration of this palace. Its dozen towers had risen into the clouds. Banners had streamed upon its walls. Soldiers bearing red, green, and yellow standards had ridden horses through its gates. All of that was gone now. The towers lay broken. A single archway rose in a crumbling wall; its doors had burned away. A few walls still stood, and a few archers still manned their arrowslits, but that was all. If this was the heart of the Resistance, Rune thought, it was barely beating.

  "Is Valien in there?" he asked.

  Kaelyn tightened her cloak around her; it was flapping in the wind. She nodded and clutched her bow tight to her chest.