Crown of Dragonfire (29 page)

This one seemed like it
should have an easy answer, Meliora thought. It was something that was always
there—even in the beautiful sunlight and moonlight. Something . . . man-made.
Something you can't escape.

"Chains?" Meliora
whispered to her companions. "Certainly chains would soil any victory, would
ruin any beautiful day of sunlight or night of moonlight. Certainly they're
something one could not escape."

"If not chains, maybe
slavery?" Elory said. "Maybe even our iron collars? We can't escape those."

The goat let out a shrill
scream, almost human-like, the scream of a tortured prisoner broken beyond any
measure of pain. "Answer!" it cried. "Answer my riddle now, or my horns will
gore your flesh."

Meliora grimaced and
tugged her collar. "So what do we say?" she whispered to Elory. "Chain? Collar?
Slavery? It has to be one of those."

"No," Lucem said. For
the first time today, he appeared somber, no smile on his face, and his eyes
were haunted. "One can break a chain, unlock a collar, but there is something
one cannot escape." He lowered his head. "I know. I escaped Tofet but could not
escape this."

"What?" Meliora
whispered.

Lucem turned toward the
chimera. "Guilt," he said.

The goat nodded, closed
its eyes, and lowered its head.

Meliora exhaled in
relief, not even realizing she had held her breath. Elory stepped closer to
Lucem, held his hand, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

The chimera's tail—a
slithering snake—rose next. It turned its head toward them, its tongue slid from
its mouth, and it hissed out its riddle.

"I give the warrior his
courage.

I'm medicine to the ill.

Men seek me through shadows

Upon mountain and under hill.

Struggling souls crave me

Like a hungry man craves
bread.

Let me out of your door

And death steps in instead."

Silence fell. The
companions pursed their lips, thinking.

"Answer!" hissed the
snake.

"You haven't given us
any time!" Meliora said.

The chimera approached,
and the lion snarled, the goat sneered, the snake hissed. "Answer! We grow
weary. Answer or we'll feed upon you."

Meliora stepped back,
wracking her mind. "All right!" She glanced at her companions. "It's . . . what
is it?"

Already the riddle's
words were slipping out of her mind. The chimera advanced and raised its claws.
Lucem raised his spear, trying to hold it back.

"Wait!" Meliora said to
the chimera. "Give us a moment."

"You've waited long
enough!" The beast pounced.

Meliora grimaced and
leaped aside. She drew her sword. "You cheat, chimera! You must give us time to
think."

Her heart thudded and
her fingers tingled. It wasn't fair! The chimera obviously didn't want them to
win, didn't want to forge them a new key. Yet without a key, Requiem would
languish in slavery, slowly dying. Without a key, there was no hope, there—

She froze.

The chimera leaped at
her, and Meliora cried out and fell back, swinging her sword before it.

That's it!
Meliora thought.

"Chimera, it's—"

But Elory cried out the
word before Meliora could. "Hope!"

The chimera stepped
back. Its three heads rose and spoke together: "You have answered our three
riddles."

Meliora exhaled in
relief, and sweat dripped into her eyes. Lucem fell to his knees and just
breathed. Elory stared up at the chimera, eyes damp.

The chimera's heads
rose high, and their eyes closed. Rings of light coiled around the creature,
blue and white, spinning faster, soon forming a dome around it. The mountain
hall shook. Dust and pebbles danced on the floor. Winds blasted out from the
light, blowing the companion's cloaks.

The light faded, the
winds died, and the chimera stood before them again. One of its paws was held
out, and upon it rested a crimson key.

 
 
ELORY

They stood outside on the
mountain, three collared slaves.

Three people hurt,
beaten, brutalized, healing.

Three exiles from a
fallen home, still clinging to hope after so many tears, so much blood.

Three Vir Requis.

The sun set around
them, painting the ruins, the mountains, and the land beyond gold and bronze.
Wind blew, ruffling their cloaks. They stood in a triangle, facing one another,
staring, silent.

Meliora held the key in
her hand. Waiting. Hesitating. Not sure how to approach a moment of such
importance, a moment that would be branded upon the song of Requiem with
dragonfire.

"Five thousand years
ago," Meliora finally said, "new stars began to shine in the sky, shaped as a
great dragon. They chose a few blessed souls. Hunters. Gatherers. Priests and
healers. People scattered across a world just rising from darkness. And the
stars blessed them, gave them a holy magic . . . the magic of dragons." Meliora's
voice dropped to a whisper. "And they were hunted. Cruel warlords and kings
raised armies of demons to slay those who could grow wings, breathe fire, and
rise as dragons. Yet one man gathered these hunted souls together. In a forest
of birch trees, King Aeternum founded the kingdom of Requiem—a kingdom to last
for eternity."

Elory and Lucem moved
closer together, reached out, and clasped each other's hands. Their eyes shone
damply.

Meliora continued
speaking. "Today, the Vir Requis believe that Jaren is descended of that
ancient king, that I myself bear that old blood of royalty. Yet for five
hundred years, we did not fly. We did not sing among the birches. We suffered
in chains, our magic stolen from us." She reached up and touched her collar. "The
time has come to fly again."

Elory and Lucem looked
at each other, then back at her. Meliora looked at them. Lucem, the hero of
Requiem, the first to escape Tofet—a young man who taunted her, told jokes,
smiled readily, yet hid deep pain and guilt. Elory, her sweet sister whom
Meliora had only just met, small and meek yet strong as the greatest heroines
of the Requiem that had been.

I love them more
than all the palaces in the world, more than my life. I love them like Requiem.

"Step forth, Lucem,"
Meliora whispered. "You were first to scale the walls of Tofet. You will be
first to spread your wings."

His eyes widened. "Mel!
I mean—Your Highness! I'm nothing but the son of a bitumen refiner. I'm not
worthy of flying first."

Elory leaned toward him
and whispered from the corner of her mouth, "She's testing it on you. You know,
just in case the new key causes collars to constrict until they squeeze your
head off."

"Ah." Lucem tugged at
that collar. "Puts a damper on that whole holy moment for Requiem. But I
accept!" He stepped forth. "Unlock me, Meliora Aeternum, Heiress to Requiem,
and if my head pops off and rolls downhill, tell everyone that I died battling
Leyleet in the caves."

He cleared his throat,
closed his eyes, and raised his chin.

Meliora hesitated. What
if it failed? What if hope died here upon the mountain? What if—

"Mel!" Lucem whispered.
"It's itching. Hurry."

She nodded, took a deep
breath, and pressed the key against his iron collar.

For a long moment,
nothing happened. Meliora caught her breath, staring, waiting. Her hope began
to fizzle. It wasn't working! It—Wait!

She gasped.

The key was warming up
in her hand, soon almost intolerably hot. The runes upon it brightened, then
glowed, then cast out bright light. The corresponding runes on Lucem's collar
shone with their own light. The key thrummed madly in Meliora's hand, shaking
so violently she almost dropped it. She gripped Lucem's shoulder with her free
hand, keeping the key pressed against his collar, letting the light flow. Lucem
sucked in breath, eyes closed, jaw clenched, fists tightened, and she was
hurting him, oh stars, he was in pain, and—

With a
crack
,
his collar opened.

Meliora gasped and
stepped back.

Her key dimmed and
cooled. The iron collar fell to the ground.

Meliora and Elory
froze, staring. Lucem brought his fingers up to his neck. The skin was raw,
scarred—the wounds of a thousand times he had tugged, hammered at, tried to
melt the iron.

"Well," he said, "my
neck's a bit cold already. Anyone got a scarf? At least now I can wear that
ruffled collar I've always wanted. Though I'm not sure I'm quite as safe from
axe blows to the neck, which I hear is a real problem these days in Tofet,
and—"

Suddenly tears filled
his eyes, and Lucem lowered his head and trembled.

Elory rushed forth and
embraced him. Meliora smiled tremulously and touched his arm. They stood
together for a long time, overwhelmed, tears on their cheeks.

"It's . . . I can't
tell you how many times . . .," Lucem began, then rubbed his eyes. He took a
shaky breath and embraced Meliora so tightly he nearly crushed her. "Thank you,
Meliora. Thank you."

She laughed through her
tears. "Are you going to keep standing here hugging me, or are you going to
fly?"

He blinked. "Blimey, I
forgot the most important part. Better step back." He took a few paces away
from Meliora and Elory, inhaled deeply, and spread out his arms.

No light glowed across
him. No angelic choirs sang. No beams of starlight fell in a crown of
luminescence. And yet a miracle occurred upon the mountain that evening, a
miracle that brought fresh tears to Meliora's eyes and song to her heart.

Scales flowed across
Lucem, red as rubies and fire and the blood of dragons. His fingernails
lengthened into claws, fangs sprouted from his mouth, and wings unfurled from
his back, creaking and leathern and deep crimson like wine. His body
lengthened, widened, and he fell onto his hands—only they were no longer hands
but great dragon feet. Smoke blasted out from his nostrils, and a tail flailed
behind him, tipped with black spikes.

He stood before them, a
dragon.

Meliora fell to her
knees before him. She lowered her head. "A dragon. A dragon of Requiem."

Elory too knelt. "Requiem
rises."

The red dragon nodded. "Not
bad, this. Little mortals kneeling before me." Lucem still had the same voice,
albeit stronger, fuller, echoing in his elongated jaws. "Now let's see what
these wings can do."

He spread his wings
wide and beat them several times. Dust rose in clouds. Pebbles cascaded down
the mountainside. Air blasted Meliora. The red dragon began to rise . . . then
wobbled and crashed down onto the mountainside, cracking a boulder.

"Might take a bit more
practice," Lucem said.

Elory patted the dragon's
red scales, then stepped toward Meliora and raised her chin.

"I'm ready," she
whispered.

Meliora placed a hand
on Elory's shoulder, then raised the key in her other hand.

The light glowed. The
collar fell.

Elory stood before her,
her collar gone for the first time in her life. She sniffed and embraced
Meliora, resting her cheek against Meliora's breast.

"I love you, sister,"
Elory whispered. "Always."

Meliora kissed the top
of her head. Elory's hair was growing out, thick and brown and soft. "I love
you too, sweet little sister. Forever."

Elory stepped back,
closed her eyes, and she too became a dragon. Lavender scales gleamed across
her, deep purple near her belly, lightening to violet on her back. White horns
grew from her head, and white spikes ran down her tail in a palisade. She was a
smaller dragon than Lucem, slender and short, but when she puffed out smoke and
let fire fill her maw, she looked just as fierce.

"It's real," Elory
whispered. "The magic inside me. It's always been real, waiting all these
years." She lowered her head and shed a tear, then reared and clawed the air
and roared. Her cry tore across the mountain, rolled across the land—a great
wordless cry of freedom, of magic restored.

Finally Meliora brought
the key to her own collar, the light shone, and the collar fell. As she stood
in human form, Meliora felt the magic inside her, and she hesitated.

The one time I
summoned Requiem's magic, I still had my seraph wings,
she thought.
I
became a dragon of both scales and feathers, great swan wings growing from my
back. If I shift now, will I be wingless?

"Come on, join the fun!"
Lucem said, beating his wings and rising several feet into the air again. "Fly
with us, Mel. Fly like—ah!"

Again the red dragon
crashed down, cracking another boulder.

Meliora sucked in
breath, closed her eyes, and reached deep inside her for that warm, tingling
magic.

She felt her body
growing. She heard scales clattering. Fire heated her belly. Her claws sank
into the mountain.

When her transformation
was complete, she kept her eyes closed, not daring to look. But she could hear
the others gasp.

"Oh, Meliora . . .,"
Elory whispered.

"Blimey," Lucem said.

Meliora cringed. She
had been right! Surely her wings were gone! She braced herself, opened one eye
to a slit, and looked over her shoulder at her body.

Such shock filled her
that she spurted out fire.

"Stars," she whispered.
"Thank you, stars of Requiem."

Her body was long,
slender, covered in small silvery scales like pearls. No more feathers grew
from her tail; that tail was thin and quick as a whip, tipped with ivory spikes.
Instead of swan wings, great leathern wings, white as drifts of snow, grew from
her back, tipped with golden claws. Fire crackled above her head, its orange
light falling upon her snout, and she realized that even in dragon form, she wore
a crown of dragonfire.