Requiem's Hope (Dawn of Dragons) (11 page)

Issari walked uphill, moving along a pebbly path between burnt trees.
Tanin walked close behind. The wind stung Issari's face, hot and
scented of ash. A skeleton lay on the hillside to her left, bite
marks in the bones, the skull stuffed into the ribcage. A single
banner thudded above from the citadel's wall, the only movement she
saw. The soldiers stared down, still as statues.

When she reached the gates, she looked up and called out, "I am
Issari Seran, Daughter of Raem, Heiress to Eteer!" She was only
the youngest princess, but with Laira outcast and Sena fallen, she
supposed that left her the heiress. "I've come to shine the
light of Taal and cleanse this city of darkness." She raised her
palm, and the amulet blazed with light. "Allow me entrance and I
will speak with your lord."

She stared at the doors, thick oak banded with copper. The marks of
demon claws marred them, and black blood stained the path below her
feet. Slowly, creaking on their hinges, the doors opened.

Issari glanced at Tanin. He gave her a slight nod. They entered
together.

They found themselves in a cobbled courtyard surrounded with columns.
The statue of Sharash rose ahead upon a pedestal, fifty feet tall,
its new demon head leering down at them. Stairs rose between charred
cypress trees, leading to the barracks. Several soldiers stood in the
complex, their bronze breastplates and shields dulled with ash. Still
no sound rose, only the single banner that rose and fell with thuds,
hiding and revealing the sigil of the city, a winged bull. Issari and
Tanin climbed the staircase, stepped between columns and onto a
portico, and finally walked through an archway into the city
barracks.

They found a vaulted hall, larger even than the palace throne room.
Statues of Sharash—a soldier with a raised spear and a beard of
serpents—stood between columns that lined the chamber. Many living
soldiers stood here too, clad in bronze and holding true spears. All
eyes turned toward Issari and Tanin, a princess and her companion
from the north.

How must we look to them?
Issari thought. She no longer wore
her fine cotton tunic hemmed with gold, and her old headdress of
lapis lazuli had been lost in the war. She wore the fur and leather
of the north now, and gone was the innocent softness of her old life;
she knew her cheeks were gaunter now, her eyes harder. At her side,
Tanin looked out of place, like a dragonfly among bees—a tall young
man, his brown hair mussed and dusty, his cloak made of rich fur, a
northerner that must seem like a barbarian to these southern
soldiers.

"Hear me!" Issari stepped forward and raised her amulet. "I
am Issari Seran. I have come to rededicate Eteer, to reclaim our
kingdom and banish the demons who infect it. My father, Raem Seran,
is a killer of kings; he slew his own father, the wise Nir-Ur. My
father, Raem Seran, lies with demons. He must fall! I claim dominion
of Eteer." The light blasted out from her amulet. "Follow
me, soldiers of Taal! March with me to the palace. We will banish
Angel from the throne, and I will be your queen. We will banish these
demons back into the Abyss."

She stood, panting, waiting for a reaction.

The soldiers only stared.

From the shadowy back of the room rose mirthless laughter. Issari
stiffened and her lip curled up. At her side, Tanin raised his
dagger. The shadows stirred and a soldier stepped forth, his smile
cruel and his eyes hard.

"General Gateris," Issari said, her voice cold.

He walked toward her, a hint of swagger to his step. A grin split his
face, revealing a wide space between his front teeth. Wrinkles
crinkled the corners of his eyes, and lines marred his forehead, but
he still stood tall and strong, and his hair was still jet-black. A
bronze breastplate covered his chest, and a khopesh—the traditional
sword of Eteer, shaped as a sickle—hung at his side. Issari had
always feared this man. Once, as a child, she had run into the
barracks while chasing a butterfly. Gateris had grabbed her, twisted
her arm, and sent her fleeing with a slap—but not before grabbing
the butterfly in his hand, crushing it, and wiping the mess against
her shirt. Since then she had cowered whenever she encountered him,
trying to ignore the lustful looks he gave her growing body.

But today I will not fear him. Today I will be his queen.

"General Gateris!" She stared at him, the amulet thrumming
on her palm. "Follow me with your troops to the palace. We have
a demon to tame."

His grin widened, cruel and taunting. The same malicious mirth filled
his eyes. "And so, the wayward pup returns home. Or should I say
. . . the wayward weredragon?" He drew his sword, pointed the
blade at her, and raised his voice to a shout. "I have seen this
wretch shift into a dragon! I watched her fly across the city. I will
have no reptile ruling over me." He spat at her feet. "Raem
Seran is my king. Raem Seran is—"

"A weredragon himself!" Issari said. She turned toward the
soldiers. "I've seen my father shift in the city cistern. He
himself carries this magic; all in our family do. My siblings, Laira
and Sena. My late mother, Queen Anai. And my father. Dragon magic is
not a curse; it's a blessing of starlight. This city
is
cursed—with a demon infestation, with a cruel king who aligned
himself with the Abyss. I've come to purify Eteer—with Lord Gateris
or without him."

The soldiers stood still, but she saw their eyes darting from one to
another. She saw the doubt in them. Tanin stepped up closer to her,
dagger raised, as if his small blade could do these armored swordsmen
any harm.

"March with me to the palace, soldiers of Eteer!" she said.
"Accept me as your queen, and we will—"

Laughing and shaking his head, Gateris swung his sword at her.

Issari hissed and leaped back. The sickle-shaped blade sliced the
air.

"You want control of this army?" Gateris said, grin wide.
"Fight me for it." He grabbed a sword from one of his
soldiers and tossed her the blade, hilt first. She caught it. "Fight
me, Princess of Dragons." He brandished his blade, spinning the
khopesh with skill more elaborate than the greatest juggler. "Slay
me and this host will be yours to comma—"

Issari shifted into a dragon, blew her fire, and roasted the man.

Gateris fell, burning and screaming. A white dragon, Issari stomped
upon him, driving her claws through his armor and into his flesh. He
lay still.

She released her magic, stood above the burning corpse, and stared at
the soldiers around her. A few had drawn their blades, but they froze
under her glare. She spun around slowly, staring at them man by man.
Her amulet buzzed on her palm, its light blazing.

"Soldiers of Eteer!" She raised her chin. "Follow me
to the palace. Follow me to dethrone the Demon Queen. We will reclaim
Eteer!"

For a moment, the men were silent. Issari wondered if they too would
attack her. She could not defeat so many, not even as a dragon;
dozens stood in this hall, and hundreds more filled the citadel. She
took deep breaths, refusing to lower her gaze.

Finally one soldier, a young man with green eyes, raised his spear
high. "For Issari!" he cried. "For a new queen!"

The floodgates broke. Dozens of spears rose, and dozens of voices
shouted out, echoing in the hall. "For Issari! For a new queen!"

She took a shaky breath and her eyes stung. She spoke softly. "For
Eteer."

At her side, Tanin blew out his breath. "Bloody stars, I was
almost worried there for a moment."

Issari turned and marched out of the hall, stepping into the
sunlight. Behind her, the soldiers streamed out in a sea of bronze.
From buildings across this hilltop citadel, more soldiers emerged
into the sunlight, and their voices rang. "For Issari! For a new
queen!"

 
 
RAEM

After
scouring the barbarous hinterlands for days, Raem finally saw the
Weredragon Column rising ahead from the forest. Flying upon Anai, his
deformed bat of the underworld, Raem spat sideways and snickered.

"So here is their kingdom!" he cried for his thousand
demons to hear. "Here is the fabled Requiem, the land of
dragons—a single bone rising from the wilderness."

He laughed and his demons laughed with him. Their chortles filled the
sky. Raem twisted in his saddle, looked over his shoulder, and
admired them. They were beautiful. They were the most beautiful
things in the world. Great balls of fat dripped ooze, their tongues
thrusting out between folds of skin. Cadaverous creatures beat insect
wings, leering, their teeth longer than human arms. Twisted clusters
of limbs and torsos rolled in the sky, stitched together, flapping
wings of skin stretched over bones. Naked moles the size of dragons.
Naked men with beards of snakes and wings of bats. Creatures of fire,
of stone, of rot. All flew here, seeking the meals they craved, the
meat of dragons.

"Where are you, my children?" Raem whispered. "Where
are you, Jeid the so-called King of Dragons?"

They flew closer. Soon Raem could see details on the column; it rose
taller than the tallest tree, even taller than his palace back in
Eteer. Its capital was shaped as rearing dragons. No other structures
seemed to stand here, just a single pillar. He tugged the reins and
his mount descended, the wind shrieking around them. A circle of
marble tiles lay around the pillar, and Raem landed upon them, his
demon's claws clattering against the stone. The rest of his demons
circled above, screeching and sniffing. Raem could see none of the
weredragons he sought. His demon's nose twitched.

"Do you smell them, Anai?" He stroked her wispy hair.
"Where are they?

He dismounted. A few of his demons landed too, and they scuttled
around on clawed feet, slithered and left trails of slime, and
clattered on centipede legs. Most of the creatures still flew above,
sniffing, snorting, seeking their enemy. Raem frowned, gazing at the
place.

"This is no kingdom," he said softly. "This is nothing
but a dream I will crush."

All of Requiem, it seemed, was this pillar of stone, these marble
tiles, and a wooden hut between the birches. The footprints of
dragons covered the forest floor beyond the tiles, but he could see
none of the beasts; if any were here, the cowards hid. Holding his
khopesh, he walked between the birches, leaving the column and
approaching the hut. He kicked the door open to reveal an empty room.
Inside he found five piles of straw topped with fur blankets, a
brazier full of cold embers, a few bowls, and a clay tablet bearing
the cuneiform writing of Eteer. When Raem lifted and examined the
tablet, he recognized the words—it was a tale of the god Sharash and
his journeys, a tale Sena used to enjoy.

"Did you engrave these words, Sena, after fleeing me as a
coward?" Raem tossed down the tablet; it shattered on the floor.

Snorts sounded from the doorway, and he turned to see Anai gazing
into the room. The demon's bloated, vaguely human head sniffed, and
her distended body rose behind her, too large to enter.

"The weredragons lived here," Raem said to her. "They
fled."

He was walking back toward the door when his boot hit something. He
knelt and lifted a wooden doll. Upon it appeared more Eteerian
letters, markings that would be meaningless to anyone born in the
north. "Mustardseed." It was the doll's name, perhaps.

"Laira's old doll." He caressed its wooden cheek, then
snapped off its head. He tossed the broken toy aside and stepped back
outside.

He stood before the column, tilted back his head, and coned his palm
around his mouth. He shouted for all his demons to hear. "Crush
the column! Tear it down."

The creatures descended like insects upon a fallen morsel. They bit
at the marble. They clawed. They kicked it, drove horns against it,
gnashed their teeth, rubbed hooks and jagged scales.

Not a scratch appeared upon the marble.

"Pathetic weaklings!" Raem shouted. "Topple it!"

The demons howled. They slammed against the column again and again,
ten at a time, storming around it, shoving, scratching and biting,
yet still it stood. Light fell upon the creatures, and when the
clouds parted, Raem saw it above. Even in the blue sky of day, it
shone—the Draco constellation, the stars the dragons claimed blessed
them.

The demons mewled, covered their eyes, and cowered between the trees.

Raem spat in disgust, walked toward the column, and swung his
khopesh.

The blade shattered against the marble. A shard scratched along his
hand, and Raem spat and cursed.

"The gods of the dragons protect their column." Clutching
his wound, he stared up at the stars and shouted hoarsely. "You
will watch, weredragon of the heavens! You will watch as I slaughter
all your children."

The stars gleamed down upon him, their light soft, comforting, and he
imagined that he could hear a soothing voice inside him, a voice of
starlight.
You are one of them, child. You are blessed with our
magic. You too are a child of Requiem.

Raem covered his ears, ignoring the words, ignoring the need inside
him, the urge to shift into a dragon. He had shifted many times in
the city cistern, chastising himself every time.
No. No! I am not
cursed. I am not a reptile. I am a pure son of Taal.

A high whimper—not the cry of a demon—rose above from the stars.
Raem looked back up and sucked in breath with a hiss.

Dragons! Two dragons flew above, descending from the starlight!

The demons roared and squealed and bustled.

"Do not feed yet!" Raem shouted. "Bring the dragons to
me alive."

He licked his lips, his body crackling with energy. He felt more
alive than he had since slaughtering weredragons back in Eteer.
Finally—to kill again! Killing was the greatest joy there was,
greater even than shifting.