A Night of Dragon Wings (39 page)

A moan sounded behind him.

Elethor pushed himself onto his elbows and turned to see Solina on the floor.  A great chunk of column pinned her down.  Her blood seeped from beneath it.

"El," she whispered.  Blood stained her lips.  "El… will you hold my hand?  For the end?"

She reached out a trembling, bloodied hand.

A boulder crashed through the ceiling and landed beside Elethor.  It cracked the floor, shattered his bed, and knocked him down.

He lay beside Solina, and bricks rained onto him, falling through the ceiling of his home.  Fire blazed above.

"El," she whispered.  "Hold my hand.  Please."

She reached out, grasped his hand, and held it tight.

"I love you, Elethor," she said.  "I'm sorry.  I'm sorry for how much I hurt you.  All I wanted was to be with you here.  I'm sorry."

Rocks rained.  His home trembled.  A column tore through a wall, and his shelf of books and statuettes crashed down.  His marble statues fell and cracked.  The wooden turtle shattered.

He tore his hand free from Solina's.

He crawled toward the fallen wall.  A brick slammed onto his back.  He dragged himself over the debris and outside onto the hill.

He crawled a few more feet until he lay in spring grass.  Birches rustled at his sides, and the city of Nova Vita rolled below him, towers and roofs emerging from a verdant forest.  White clouds glided above, and the dragons flew, shimmering bright under the blue sky.

It is a beautiful place,
Elethor thought and smiled softly. 
It is home.  It is the best memory of my life.  It is a good place to die.

Chunks of column, wall, and ceiling fell from the sky and crashed into the forest.  Elethor lay back in the sunlight, took slow breaths, and let his hands play with the grass.  Above him in the spring morning, the sky fell.

 
 
LYANA

She hovered outside above the desert, watching the Palace of Whispers crumble.

Blasts of Tiran fire sounded across it.  Lights flared.  The towers upon the mountaintop crumbled first, raining dust and bricks upon the walls below, and then those walls too fell, and soon all the bridges, archways, and pathways of this ancient edifice collapsed.  Dust rose in a cloud and rolled across the desert.  Some nephilim tried to escape.  They burst from the ruins, only to have boulders, fire, and crumbling towers crash against them and bury them upon the mountainsides.  Griffins fled shrieking.

Nothing will escape,
Lyana thought. 
All that lives there dies.

She watched, eyes damp, wings flapping as she hovered before the ruin.

"Elethor," she whispered.

Love of my heart.  Light of my life.  My husband.  My king.  Goodbye, Elethor.  You fly now to your brother and parents.  You will dine at their side among the glittering columns.

She let out a sob.

"And watch over me, El.  Watch over me from the stars, for I'm afraid and alone."

Wings thudded behind her.  Snorts rang through the air.  Lyana turned to see Bayrin and Mori flying over the mountains from the east.  They were ragged, scales stained with ash and blood, and they panted as they flew.  When they reached Lyana, they hovered at her sides.  They gaped at the crumbling palace, tongues lolling.

"Bloody stars!" Bayrin said and spat flame.  "We heard you were captured and chased you for three days, Lyana.  What the Abyss is that?"  He gave her a sidelong glance.  "Did you blow up that mountain?"

Lyana lowered her head.  Below her, dust and debris rolled across the desert.

"It was the Palace of Whispers," she said softly.  "The lair of Solina and all her devilry.  Elethor destroyed it."

Mori gasped.  "Elethor!" the princess said.  "Lyana, is…  And Treale…"

Bayrin snorted smoke.  "Stars, Lyana, where are they?"  He looked around from side to side, as if seeking them.  He sucked in his breath and looked back at the clouds of dust.  "Lyana, are…"

Lyana looked at her brother.  He appeared blurred to her, and she blinked, and her throat burned.

"We have to leave, Bayrin," she whispered.  "We have to fly north.  Back to Requiem.  Please, Bayrin.  Take me home."

She could speak no more.  Her eyes stung too much.  She turned and flew over the desert, fleeing this place, fleeing the pain inside her.  Bayrin and Mori flew at her side, wailing and roaring flame, and their tears fell upon the desert.  They understood, and they sounded their cry, a great song of mourning and pain for their fallen, for their king, for their guiding star.  Lyana roared with them, a keen of starlight.

For Treale.  For Elethor.

They flew for a long time.

They flew over dunes.  They flew over the ruins of southern cities, their palm trees charred, their rivers littered with burnt ships, their towers fallen.  They flew north over the sea, ragged survivors behind them, a thousand Vir Requis haunted and wounded and crying for their fallen.  They flew over the ruins of Requiem:  her blackened forests, her hills littered with dead, and finally her fallen courts among the ash of King's Forest.

His words echoed in her mind. 
You must lead Requiem now.  Our people will follow your fire, and it will lead them home.

Once Nova Vita had stood here, a city of new life, a revival for Requiem among the holy birches.  Once towers had risen here, white and pure against the sky.  Once harpists had played music here in white halls, and dragons had flown overhead, singing the songs of their people.  This had been a city, a hope, a living dream, the heartbeat of a nation.

This is where my parents raised me,
Lyana thought. 
This is where I loved Orin, and where I loved Elethor, where I was knighted and where I fought, where I watched columns fall and dead rain.

She landed in the ruins of the palace.  A single pillar rose from the debris, three hundred feet tall, its capital shaped as dragons:  King's Column, raised by the first King Aeternum millennia ago.  Even the cruelty of Queen Solina could not topple it, and all the claws of her beasts could not scratch its marble.  Lyana shifted into human form, held her sword before her, and knelt before this column.  It led from ruin into starlight, from death into hope, from memory into dream.

"This is where I fought, this is where I killed, this is where so many died," Lyana whispered.  "And this is where I will lead.  I swear to you, stars of Requiem.  I swear to you, Father and Mother.  I swear to you, my Elethor.  I will lead Requiem in your path, and I will rebuild her halls, and starlight will forever shine upon us."

She turned from the column and looked over the ruins.

Her people stood there, a thousand Vir Requis dressed in white, Requiem's color of mourning.  Many here were wounded.  Many were scarred, limbless, broken—but strong.

Yes, they are still strong,
Lyana thought, looking from face to face.  Their eyes were grim and haunted, but determined. 
We will rekindle our fire.

She climbed onto a fallen column and stood before the crowd.  Bayrin and Mori stood before her, hand in hand.  The others sprawled around them over the strewn bricks, toppled columns, and smashed statues.  All looked upon her.  They had flown south in winter, and snow had covered these lands.  Today spring warmed Requiem, and among the ruins, Lyana saw birch saplings sprouting.

This forest will live again.

Upon the column, Queen Lyana Aeternum spoke to her people, voice ringing clear above the ruins.

"We gather in desolation," she said.  "We gather in grief.  We stand here in spring to mourn our long winter."  She looked from person to person—elders with white hair, children with solemn eyes, and warriors with scarred faces and scarred souls.  "Today we all mourn a loss.  Everyone who stands here grieves for family, for friends, for loved ones.  We grieve for those who died.  We grieve for our fallen kings.  Let us look to our sky, and let us pray for them."

They raised their heads and stared into the sky of Requiem.  It was a clear spring sky, cold and bright and empty of clouds, yet Lyana thought that even in the light of day, she could see the Draco constellation, the stars of her fathers.

You are there now, Father and Mother,
she thought, and a soft smile touched her lips. 
You are there, Orin and Elethor.  You watch over me.  You are with me now.  I can feel your light upon me, and I am afraid, but I know that I am never alone.

She returned her eyes to the crowd.

"We are the survivors of Requiem," she said.  "And we are her hope.  We are Vir Requis, and we have known pain, and we have known tears, and we have known too much blood, too much death.  But we are strong, and we are eternal; forever our starlight will glow.  It has glowed here for three thousand years since King Aeternum raised this column and carved our stars into its stone.  Queen Gloriae found this column standing in ruin after the great wars three hundred years ago; she rebuilt these halls and let starlight fall upon them.  King Elethor led us to victory and to hope, and now this torch of starlight passes to me.  And I vow to you, children of Requiem, I will rebuild these halls, and we will watch this forest bloom again."  She raised her voice and cried to the stars, knowing that Elethor could hear her.  "Requiem!  May our wings forever find your sky."

All across the ruins, the survivors of Requiem repeated her prayer.

Standing upon a smashed mosaic, Mori smiled at Lyana, her eyes soft and warm.  She knelt upon the broken stones before her queen.

"Queen Lyana," she said softly.  She held her sword before her upon open palms.  "I serve you, my queen."

Bayrin knelt too, blade held before him.  Behind them, more people knelt, and soon a wave flowed across the survivors.  They all knelt before Lyana upon the ruins, eyes gleaming, lips whispering.

Lyana stood before them, and her eyes stung, and she tasted a tear on her lips.

"I will lead them well, Elethor," she whispered and looked to the sky.  "I will lead Requiem down a path of starlight, and I will not stray from it to the left or right, and I will honor your memory.  I swear this to you, my husband.  I swear this to you, stars of my fathers."

Those stars now did shine in the sky; Lyana could see them, and she laughed through her tears.

The birch saplings rustled.

Spring turned to autumn.  The leaves turned red and scuttled across the ruins of Requiem.

All around the city, masons and carpenters toiled, and smithies rang, and people bustled.  The first homes stood upon hills, and new columns rose in the ruins of the palace.  The farms gave their crops, and baking breads, foamy ale, and hot apple pies filled Nova Vita with their scents, and for the first time in years, Lyana heard laughter ring through the city.  Life and light shone.

On a cool autumn morning, Lyana lay upon her fur rug in the small, hillside temple they had built.  She dug her hands into the fur and closed her eyes, but she did not scream.  Mori clutched her one hand, and Bayrin held the other, and with a gasp and joyous pain, they had another in their family.

Lyana held her son to her breast, smoothed his hair, and smiled.

"Our son, Elethor," she whispered and looked to the ceiling.  "He looks like you."

Mori laughed and gasped at the babe.

"Look at his hair!" the princess said.  "It's brown like mine.  And his eyes, Lyana—they're green like yours."  She gingerly touched the babe's head.  "What will you name him?"

Bayrin cleared his throat.  "She's going to name him Bayrin, of course.  After me.  What do you think?"

The babe mewled and fell asleep against her, and Lyana stroked his hair, feeling warm and safe.

"I will name him Elarath," she said softly.  "And I will raise him to know of his father, and his grandfather, and the great kings who came before him.  He will be a great king too someday."

Bayrin patted the child and smiled down upon him.

"Your father was a good king, little one," he said.  "You better follow in his footsteps, or Uncle Bayrin will make you regret this day."

Mori punched him, and Bayrin gasped and feigned indignation, and Lyana smiled and held her son close.

"Sweet El," she whispered to the child.  "The birches whisper, dawn gilds our mountains, and light shines upon the forest.  You are home, El.  You are home."

 
 
MORI

Mori stood upon the fortress walls, watching winter's first snow fall.

The flakes swirled, glided, and coated the forest below.  The trees spread into the distance: young pines, birches, and maples rising from memories of war.  Icicles hung from their branches, and the snow soon covered the forest floor, a glittering carpet like fields of stars in a white sky.  All around Castellum Luna, this small southern outpost, the snow and light of winter rolled into the horizons.

Mori took a deep breath of the cold air.  The wind kissed her cheeks, billowed her hair, and sneaked into her cloak.  She looked down at her hands and caressed her luck finger, the sixth finger on her left hand.

You've always brought me luck,
she thought. 
You've always helped me.

She placed her hands upon the battlements and looked back into the southern horizon, watching the snow glide down and coat the trees.  It was four years to the day since she had stood here, a frightened young girl, and watched the first phoenix rise from the south.

I was so afraid then,
Mori remembered. 
Everything scared me:  the creak of armor, the rustle of leaves, and the wilderness that rolls on forever like a sea.

And now… who was she now?  No longer a youth.  No longer so afraid, perhaps.  Four years ago, she had come to Castellum Luna as a frightened girl, and here her world had burned around her.  Now she stood here as a woman, older, stronger, a lady of this fort.  She ruled Castellum Luna now.

"And I will not let these walls fall again," she whispered.  "I will be the eyes of Requiem and her long arm in the wilderness."