Crown of Dragonfire (21 page)

They burst out into the
valley. Without the protection of walls around them, the dark seraphim attacked
with more vigor. A sickle flashed, cleaving Lucem's spear. Claws thrust at
Meliora, tearing her cheek. One dark seraph swooped, landed before Elory, and
she swung her blade, knocked him aside, and ran around him.

"Cut them down, cut
them down!" Leyleet shrieked, soaring above. "They're heading for the cave, cut
them down!"

Elory ran as fast as
she could. Only twenty yards separated her from the cave, but Leyleet was
swooping, her wings opened wide, her laughter rolling.

I will fight as the
heroes of Requiem did,
Elory thought, running with all her speed.
I will
never stop fighting for my stars.

She leaped into the air
and tossed her blade.

Lemuria flew, a shard
of silver, and slammed into Leyleet's leg, sinking into the flesh.

The scream tore across
the land, shattered stones, sent boulders tumbling, a sound that was deafening,
blinding, a living thing. But still Elory ran, and Meliora and Lucem ran with
her, and as Leyleet soared in her agony, they leaped into the cave and plunged
into darkness.

A tunnel stretched
before them, leading to shadows. Meliora's halo lit rough stone walls. Elory
spun toward the cave entrance. Dark seraphim flew outside, storming toward the
cave, their cries echoing.

"We'll be trapped in here!"
Elory said. "They'll fly in!"

"No, they won't." Lucem
gritted his teeth. "Move deeper. Go!" He reached up, grabbed a stone that
jutted from the cave ceiling, and yanked it loose.

Dust rained.

A dark seraph streamed
through the entrance.

Lucem grabbed Elory and
pulled her backward, knocking into Meliora, stumbling deeper into the cave.

The entrance collapsed.

Stones rained, then a
great boulder fell, slamming against the ground, cracking the walls. More
stones tumbled, burying the dark seraph who was entering the cave, crushing his
body, then his head, leaving only his arms exposed. And still stones fell.

"The whole cave's
collapsing!" Elory said.

Lucem shook his head. "No.
Just the entrance." He wrapped his arms around Elory, who was now shivering
madly. "Look. It's all right."

A few last stones fell,
and the dust settled. Where the cave entrance had been, now a pile of rocks rose,
solid, blocking the exit. Only Meliora's halo now lit the shadows.

Elory took a deep,
shuddering breath, her head spinning. Her legs would not stop shaking. The
screams of the dark seraphim still sounded outside, and the boulders shuddered
as the creatures slammed at them. Dust flew but the barricade held. Elory had
to lean against the wall, and blood dripped across her shoulder.

"It's all right." Lucem
held her close and kissed her forehead. "We're safe, Elory. We're safe."

Meliora stepped
forward, eyes grim. Two ugly scratches ran across her cheek, dripping. "We're
trapped, that's what we are. Unless this cave has another exit somewhere. Does
it, Lucem?"

He bit his lip. "Not
sure. I built a few of these booby trap doors years ago, back when I was hiding
from the seraphim. Never had to use one until now, but I built at least . . .
four. Maybe five. Might be they're connected underground." He flashed a grin. "Guess
we'll find out."

Elory pulled away from
his embrace, stepped toward the crushed dark seraph—only his hands were still
visible—and wrenched his sickle free.

I lost an ancient
blade of Requiem,
she thought.
So I will bear a blade of evil. I—

Her head spun madly,
and she fell to her knees. Lucem knelt beside her, looked at her missing ear,
and winced.

"At least you'll save
money on earrings, right?" Lucem winked. He opened his pack and pulled out some
large, flat leaves. "I always carry these around. Silverweed leaves. Good for
healing even the worst of wounds. Hold this against your wound. It'll soothe
you."

Elory took one of the
leaves, and she winced when she touched it to her wound, expecting a blast of
pain. But Lucem was right; the pain dulled, and coolness spread across the
flames. Meliora took another leaf and held it to her wounded face.

"Break it down!" rose a
screech outside.

The boulders shook. One
stone—the size of a fist—came free and tumbled from the barricade.

"We have to move."
Meliora touched Elory's head, her fingers gentle. "Can you walk, sister? We
have to go now. This barricade won't hold for long."

Elory nodded. Holding
the leaf to her wound with one hand, her sickle in the other, she rose to her
feet. "Let's go see if Lucem doomed us to a slow death in darkness."

He gasped. "Oh, my dear
heart! Never thank the hero." He sighed. "Let's go explore. Meliora, the human
torch, would you be so kind as to lead the way?"

Meliora sighed. "I
liked him better when he was a hermit." She began to walk, heading down the
tunnel into the deep blackness. As the screams still rose outside, Elory and
Lucem followed.

 
 
VALE

In the dawn, they crossed
the last rivulet, reaching the end of the delta. Behind them spread lush lands
of fresh water, fruit trees, and wildlife. Before them stretched the coast,
snaking into the horizon, nothing but sand on the left, sea on the right.

"Well, dear boy." Tash
nodded. "Not much water or food ahead, and according to my map, it'll be
another two or three days of walking. We need some water for the road."

Vale stared ahead at
the coast. As lush and green as the delta was behind him, the land ahead was
barren, nothing but golden and blue sea, no freshwater or fruit trees to be seen.

"It might not be
seraphim, zamzummim, or gold-laying centipedes that kill us then." He smiled
wryly. "It might be thirst. We'll have nothing but seawater for the rest of the
journey. Unless you want to sneak into town and steal a few canteens."

"No need, my boy!" Tash
flashed him a grin. From her leather pack, she pulled out a second
treasure—the glass bottle she had found in the centipede's lair. The deep
golden whiskey swirled inside. "We've got a bottle."

"Good." Vale reached
toward it. "Spill out the whiskey and fill up water from that stream. Last
freshwater we'll see for a while."

Tash gasped, eyes wide.
She pulled the bottle to her chest. "You did not just say that."

He groaned. "Tash!"

"Don't you Tash me!"
She cradled the bottle against her chest as if it were a babe. "This is
precious stuff. We can't just spill it away." She bit her lip, and a wry look
came into her eyes.

"You're not suggesting
we drink it." Vale sighed. "That's seraphim juice."

She snorted. "Oh, you
think everything fine and luxurious is for seraphim. But back in the day, we
Vir Requis knew how to enjoy life. I still do." She uncorked the bottle and sat
down under a pomegranate tree. "Now there's a lot in here, so I'm going to need
your help."

Vale glanced at the
pomegranates that hung above her. "We can drill into the fruits' shells and
fill them with water."

"Sit now and drink!"
Tash reached up, grabbed his hand, and yanked him down.

He sat with a groan.
The stream gurgled at their side, and the branches of the pomegranate tree
swayed, and the sea whispered in the distance. Tash drank deeply from the
bottle, then smacked her lips.

"I detect an elegant
bouquet of apple flavors and brown sugar, a hint of vanilla and caramel, and an
undertone of maple and oak."

Vale raised his
eyebrow. "Are you drinking spirits or a perfume shop?"

She handed him the
bottle. "Try it."

He took a sip, forced
himself to swallow, and grimaced.

"Well, do you taste the
oaky apple flavors?" Tash asked.

He shuddered. "I taste
all the things you did, at least after they were burned in dragonfire."

"Now you're getting the
hang of it!"

She took the bottle
from him, drank again, then handed it back.

Vale took another sip
and winced. "And you really call this
luxury
?"

She nodded. "This is
living, my boy." She leaned against the tree and grinned. "Relaxing under a
tree, a stream flowing by our side, a beach below, dawn rising around us . . .
good drink and good company." Her smile faded, and she looked into his eyes. "These
moments don't last long, Vale. Not for us Vir Requis. Let's savor this moment
while we can. This memory might have to sustain us on dark paths ahead."

He drank again. This
time it didn't taste quite as bad.

They passed the bottle
back and forth as dawn rose, and every sip was easier, and soon Vale found
himself lying on his back, looking up at the swaying branches, the
pomegranates, the blue sky above, the whispering beach in the distance.

A memory to last,
he thought.
A good moment to savor.

Yet what did he know of
such things? Tash had scolded him that he could not laugh, could not have fun,
and she had been right. There was something broken inside him. Something that had
broken in Tofet. Something that he didn't think all the rivers, seas, or
bottles could wash away.

Why do I live?
he thought.
Why do I fight on when there's no hope for my life? Even if I
could remain here forever in beauty, the nightmares would remain inside me. I've
left Tofet, but Tofet will never leave me. I died on the ziggurat, pinned above
the city. No matter how long I draw breath, I died that day.

Tash spoke softly at
his side. "It's beautiful here, but more than anything, I want to see the
beauty of Requiem. All those places from the stories. There are no pomegranate
or fig or date trees there, but there are different trees. Birch trees that
spread for miles in a great forest, the place where the first Vir Requis lived
wild. There is no sea, but there's the great Ranin River, fabled in the tales
for its icy fresh waters. I was born here in Saraph, and for five hundred
years, we lived here, but this is not our home. Our home lies across the sea."

Vale touched his iron
collar. In Requiem he would not lie under a tree. He would fly over forests,
fields, and ancient halls of marble and light.

"In my dreams," he
said, "I saw the sky so many times. The sky is always pale searing blue or
endless black here in Saraph, the color of steel and death, and the sun is
always white and cruel. But in Requiem the sky is of many colors, a painting in
gold, blue, purple, and all the colors of fire. Some days there are clouds, and
some days there are storms. Some days it rains and on others the sun shines.
Some nights the stars are hidden, and in others, the Draco constellation shines
brilliantly above. But it's always our sky, ours to touch, ours to find. Do you
know the old prayer of Requiem, Tash?"

She nodded, eyes damp.
Her voice was but a whisper. "Requiem! May our wings forever find your sky."

And that is why I
live on,
Vale thought.
That is why I fight. Issari gave me this life,
not so I could live in pain, but so that I could find that sky again.

Tash hefted the bottle.
Only a few swigs inside swirled. "Only two little sippies left. For Requiem!"

She drank and passed
him the bottle.

"For Requiem," he said
softly and emptied the bottle.

Tash nestled up against
him and stroked his hair. "You will find that sky, Prince Vale Aeternum, son of
Requiem. You will fly there as your forebears did, our great kings of old. You
will be a king to us, and I will fly with you. Always."

He lay on his back, and
she curled up against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her leg tossed
across his leg, her arm across his chest. He stroked her hair—long, soft brown
hair. His hands had always held pickaxes, stones, bricks; he had never imagined
anything could feel so good to the touch. She looked up at him, pushed herself
onto her elbow, and her hair draped around them in curtains, and he kissed her.

The world is full of
want and pain,
he thought.
My homeland lies in ruin, my father cries out
in chains, and my mother lies underground. But right here, right now, the world
is good. Right here I am in beauty with a woman I love. Let this be a small
fire that warms us for the road ahead.

His hand trailed across
her body, moving down to the valley of her waist, where her skin was bare and
smooth, then up the hill of her hip, where her silk trousers did not shield the
warmth and softness beneath. She reached under his tunic, stroking his chest,
and he hesitated, stiffened, but she kissed him and whispered softly.

"For years I pleasured
men in the gardens and beds of Shayeen. I know where to nibble, to lick, to
stroke, to bite, to drive men wild until they scream. But I don't want to do
this to you, Vale. Those are mere tricks for petty lords. Let me love you
truly. As a woman loves a man. And I want you to love me back, for I'm yours.
Not only my body but my heart, my soul, my love. I've never given them to
another, but I give all these to you, son of Requiem."

And at that moment,
Vale loved her—loved her more than he had ever thought he could love another,
loved her with a passion as great as dragonfire, as wonderful and all-consuming
as flying as a dragon. He kissed her again, and their hands moved across each
other's bodies, seeking, stroking, then moving faster, tearing at their clothes
with an urgency only matched by their kisses.

Her body was so
slender, so soft, a thing of such frailty and beauty that it seemed impossible
that it should exist in this world. His hand cupped her small breast, and her
hand reached down to stroke him, and she closed her eyes, lay on her back, took
him inside her. He moved atop her, and it was like flying, like gliding on the
winds of Requiem. They flew together as dragons, forgetting their collars, coming
together like sky and stars, like prayers and song.