Requiem's Hope (Dawn of Dragons) (12 page)

The demon army swarmed, and the two dragons cried out and tried to
flee. They were too slow. The demon horde rose from the forest like
flies from a disturbed carcass, grabbed the two dragons, and tugged
them down. The demons slammed the scaly creatures against the marble
tiles at the column's base.

Raem stared down, eyes wide. "Children," he said in wonder.
"They're no larger than horses. Mere children."

The two dragons, both green, whimpered and flicked their tails, and
their wings beat weakly against the tiles. They were trying to take
flight again, but demon legs pinned them down. The creatures hulked
over the two, licking their maws, their drool dripping onto the
dragons. The demons panted, begging to eat.

"Not yet!" Raem said. "Now is not the time to feed."

He stepped closer and placed a hand against one of the dragons. It
stared at him, pleading, teary.

"Please," the dragon spoke. "Don't hurt us. We're
looking for Requiem. We've heard tales."

The other dragon, even smaller, spoke too. Her voice was the voice of
a little girl. "My brother said there are other dragons in
Requiem! We came here from the east." Tears rolled down her
scaly cheeks. "Please, master, don't hurt us. We only came to
find the others."

Raem walked back to his mount. Several weapons—spears, bows and
arrows, clubs, and two more khopeshes—hung from the saddle. Raem
chose a bronze-tipped spear and approached the two dragons again.

He drove the weapon down. Its bronze head crashed through the female
dragon's soft scales. In death, her magic left her. She returned to
human form—a young girl, no older than six or seven, a spear in her
chest. Blood puddled around her, and Raem pulled back his spear.

The second dragon—her brother—roared in grief. He thrashed madly,
wings beating, tail flicking, unable to free himself from the demons
pinning him down. Raem approached the creature, his dripping spear
raised.

"Be thankful," he told the beast. "I'm showing you a
mercy. I'm killing you
before
the demons feed." He
smirked. "My own children will not be as fortunate."

He thrust his spear.

The green dragon died upon it, returning to human form—a small
butchered boy.

Raem pulled the spear out and smiled. He raised his hand to the sky.
"Well, my friends? Enjoy!"

The demons plunged down with the urgency of starving dogs upon a
piece of meat. Blood and gobbets of flesh flew. Within instants, the
children were gone, leaving only a single heart upon the marble
tiles; it lay where the little girl had died. A demon raced toward
the morsel, but Raem waved it aside. He knelt, lifted the heart in
his hand, and stared at the little organ—soft, pure, hot. He kissed
the heart and licked his lips, savoring the blood. He stepped toward
the column, slapped the heart against it, and drew a picture in
blood—the sigil of Taal.

He spoke softly. "A message for any of you who return."

Demons gathered around him, panting, begging for the treat. Raem
tossed the heart toward them.

Before the dripping organ would reach the demons, an arrow sailed
through the air, pierced the heart, and pinned it against a birch.

The demons squealed. Raem stiffened, raised his spear, and stared
into the forest whence the arrow had flown. A figure emerged from
between the trees, holding a bow.

"Hello, mighty King Raem! The whole north is speaking of you and
your demon horde. I see you've arrived at fabled Requiem a little too
late."

It was a woman, young by the sound of her voice. Raem could not see
her face; a bronze mask hid it, shaped as a blank face with only
small holes for the eyes, nostrils, and mouth. She wore a leather
tunic, long gloves that rose to her elbows, and a fur cloak. A copper
dagger and a quiver of arrows hung across her hips.

"We will find the creatures," Raem said. "Our scouts
scour the land for them. Who are you?"

She stepped closer. "A huntress. A warrior. One who will slay
dragons. I wounded their king once with many arrows; now I seek to
finish the job."

He narrowed his eyes, not lowering his spear. "Who are you?"
he asked again.

"A daughter of Oldforge, a village in the shadow of the
escarpment where dragons once flew." She snickered. "As a
child, I even loved one, a boy named Tanin. Of course I didn't know
he was a diseased reptile then." Her voice dropped. "One
day, I managed to trap Tanin's father, a beast named Jeid Blacksmith,
the King of Weredragons. I brought him to our village. I fired arrows
into his flesh. He escaped half-dead . . . but not before blowing his
fire."

Slowly, as gingerly as one lifting a newborn babe, the woman removed
her bronze mask.

Raem's lip twitched.

The woman's face was gone, burned away with dragonfire. She hadn't
much of a mouth left, but Raem thought that she was smiling. She
placed the mask back on.

"I am Ciana," she said. "I've hunted weredragons for
many years. Now I will hunt with you."

 
 
LAIRA

Laira
stood upon the stalagmite, her fingers tingling. All around her, the
tribesmen of Leatherwing chanted, their voices echoing in the craggy,
torchlit innards of Two Skull Mountain.

"Release the Beast of Bride's Blood! Release the hydragrif!"

Laira gazed around. The vast chamber seemed to spin around her, the
torches all whirring into blurred lines. Hundreds of tribesmen stood
below, raising their spears, their voices thudding against her
eardrums. Standing by the throne of Chieftain Oritan, she swallowed
the lump in her throat.

"A beast? I have to fight to wed you?"

Oritan placed the ape-skull helmet back over his head, hiding his
face. He stared at her through the eye sockets. "It is the
custom of Leatherwing. Chieftains of our tribe may only marry the
strongest women, those who can defeat a hydragrif in battle. Summon
your roc, Laira Seran of Goldtusk. You will ride upon her in battle
here in this cavern."

Laira stared down from the pillar of stone she stood on. Upon the
cavern floor—a hundred feet below her—men were tugging on ropes,
turning winches, and opening a massive trapdoor built of the natural
stone floor. The opening began to widen like a woman in labor, and in
the shadowy womb below, white eyes stared, claws scratched at stone,
and grunts echoed. A beast hid within that underground cavern—it
seemed larger than a dragon—though she could see only its eyes and
tufts of white fur.

She stared back at Oritan. "This is wrong. This is barbaric!"

"This is the way of our people, Laira Seran." He leaned
back in his throne. "Do you want my help fighting a demon army?
Prove that you yourself are a warrior."

The creature's grunts below grew into squeals. The entrance opened
wider, and claws ringed with white fur emerged into the chamber,
scratching at stone. The tribesmen cheered. Laira's heart thudded,
and she spun toward Jeid, hoping he'd have something to say, a way to
stop this madness.

The shaggy, bearded King of Requiem grumbled. "Let us leave,
Laira. We'll return to Requiem and defend it as best we can. With our
rocs. With our dragons." He shook his head. "This is not
the way."

Laira narrowed her eyes, tilted her head, and stared at him, and she
saw something in his eyes—something more than fear. What was it?
Jealousy? Did Jeid object to her fighting a beast, or did he object
to her marrying this chieftain?

She took a deep breath. She looked down. The opening was wider now,
and a head emerged from below. It was shaped like a great, albino
eagle, but a mane of white fur—like that of a lion—encircled its
neck. It stared at her with white, baleful eyes and shrieked, the
sound deafening. The creature's body still lurked below. Across the
cavern, a hundred pteros clung to the walls, mouths clattering open
and shut, screeching down at the beast in the pit.

I need these pteros,
Laira thought.
I need the hunters who
ride upon them.
She thought back to the demon she had slain, to
the thousand others said to be flying north in search of dragons.
I will not turn away this chance for victory.

She stepped closer to Jeid, placed a hand upon his shoulder, and
kissed his cheek. "I will fight for Requiem," she said.
"And I will marry this man. And we will fly with this tribe to
victory."

She saw the pain those words gave him. He held her hand. "There
are other ways."

She shook her head. "Not for me. Not for the kingdom we are
building." She turned back toward Oritan. "I will fight.
But not upon Neiva. I will risk my life, not that of my roc. I will
fight as a dragon."

With that, she leaped into the air and shifted. Her wings burst out
from her back. Flames roared from her mouth and crashed against the
ceiling. Across the chamber, tribesmen stared and roared. Their
voices echoed.

"Release the Beast of Bride's Blood!"

Finally the stone doors fully opened below, a craggy cervix birthing
a beast. Laira flew above, hissing out smoke. She had never seen a
hydragrif before, and the creature shot bolts of fear through her. It
emerged shrieking into the cavern, lashing its claws, a massive beast
twice her size. Its body was that of a dragon, covered in white
scales. Tufts of white fur rose across it like patches of crabgrass,
and its tail whipped, spiked and cruel. Its wings were not leathery
but instead covered with white feathers, and they ended with claws
longer than swords. Strangest of all, three necks grew from the
creature's body, each supporting the head of a pale eagle. The three
beaks opened wide, and cries emerged from them, and six eyes blazed
as they stared at her.

The creature soared through the cavern, beaks clattering.

Laira roared down her flames.

The fire streamed over the creature. Its tufts of white fur ignited,
but the fire flowed harmlessly across its scales. It kept soaring,
reached her, and snapped its beaks. Laira yowled as one beak closed
around her shoulder, cracking scales, trying to reach her flesh.
Another beak closed around her tail.

"Fight it, Laira!" Jeid's voice rose from below.

Her blood dripped. Her wings beat against the ceiling. Pain fueled
her, and she thrust her claws into the head that bit her shoulder.
The claws drove through flesh, and the beak opened, releasing her.

I defeated Zerra. I can defeat this creature.

She grabbed a neck between her jaws, bit and twisted, and tore off
the eagle head. It tumbled down to the sound of cheers, leaving a
severed stalk.

The other two heads still bit at her scales, struggling to reach the
flesh. One beak grabbed her tail, and the other clutched her leg. The
creature's wings beat madly, holding it aloft, pinning Laira to the
chamber ceiling. Far below on the cavern floor, the tribesmen waved
their spears and roared. Laira blasted more fire, baking the
hydragrif. It released her tail, and she swung that tail, driving the
spikes into the beast's neck. With another bite, she tore off a
second head. Spurting blood, the head tumbled down.

Only one head remained, gnawing on Laira's foot. Its bite worked
through her scales, and her blood dripped. She thrust her claws, tore
through its muscles and tendons, and ripped off the last head. She
tossed it down.

The creature hovered below her, wings beating. It flew in circles,
headless.

Laira breathed out in relief.

"I beat it!" she cried out. "I defeated the hydragrif!
I—"

She bit down on her words. She stared in horror.

Three new heads sprouted from the severed necks.

Healed, the hydragrif flew back toward her, its three new beaks
clattering.

"Oh bloody mammoth shite," Laira cursed, shocked at her
words; she must have picked up a thing or two from Dorvin. She
winced, beat her wings, and skittered across the ceiling. The
hydragrif slammed into the stone, cracking a mural of racing bison.
Bits of painted stone fell into the pit.

Laira flew toward one of the cavern walls, spun around, and reared in
the air. When the hydragrif charged toward her, she bathed the beast
with fire. The flames raced over it harmlessly. All around the pteros
shrieked, clinging to the walls like bats, and below hundreds of
voices rang out.

The creature passed through the flames, its three beaks snapping, and
barreled into Laira. Hydragrif and dragon flew backward. Pteros
shrieked and scattered, and Laira slammed into the wall. Torches
blazed against her back. She yowled, beating her wings, flailing her
tail. The creature's beak drove into her chest, blood spurted, and
she screamed. The pain knocked the magic out of her. She returned to
human form.

A fraction of her previous size, she tumbled down the wall,
momentarily free from the hydragrif's grip. The cavern floor rushed
up to meet her. She glimpsed the pillar of stone rising ahead; both
Jeid and Oritan still stood upon it, shouting. Tribesmen scattered
below, awaiting her crash. The hydragrif swooped from above, beaks
opening wide.

An instant before Laira could slam into the floor, she summoned her
magic again.

She flew, roaring fire, and skimmed along the cavern floor. Tribesmen
fled from her, and she soared higher, rising along the pillar of
stone. She shot past Jeid and Oritan on its crest, spun around, and
charged toward the hydragrif.

Her tail lashed. Her claws slashed. Her jaws bit.

A hydragrif head tumbled down.

Burn it!
screamed a voice inside her.
Burn it like you
burned the octopus!

She spun back toward the creature, wings churning smoke. It reared
before her, its two remaining heads shrieking. The stalk of its left
neck was red and dripping. Already a nub was sprouting; soon it would
turn into a new head.

Bleeding, so weak she could barely cling to her magic, Laira blasted
out her flames. The fire crashed into the creature, cauterizing the
stump of its neck. The creature bucked, scratched the air, and wailed
in pain.