Requiem's Hope (Dawn of Dragons) (19 page)

The people behind shuddered at the word. Some pressed their hands
together in prayer.

Dorvin hobbled forward, frowning. "The tanner-what?"

Auben lowered his head. "The
tanari kar
. It means the
dream curse in your tongue." He hugged himself with thin arms.
"At first, the nightmares only filled our sleep, but then we
began to dream in waking hours. The leaves on Shenhavan grew blue
with mourning. Bar Luan fell into disrepair. The people hid in their
homes. The king refused to leave his pyramid. The gardens are not
tended, the forests are not hunted, the gods are not worshiped. The
people of Bar Luan needed somebody to blame, and they blamed us, the
draconians, those who can become the great beasts. We turned from
gods in their eyes to demons. They imprisoned us here."

Maev scoffed. "That's ridiculous. The people of Bar Luan still
suffer from waking nightmares. We had them ourselves up there. How
can they still blame you?"

"They believe that other draconians still live aboveground,
hiding their curse. Our king believes that once we are all imprisoned
here, amid the roots of Great Shenhavan, the nightmares will end."

Alina looked around her, and her eyes widened. She had not seen it at
first, but now she moved around the chamber, gazing with awe. The
roots of a great tree grew all around them, framing the chamber like
the bars of a cage. Of course—the roots of Shenhavan. The great tree
itself imprisoned them here. She recognized the source of the power
she had first felt when entering this place; it had not flowed from
the prisoners but from the roots of the old tree. Only it was not a
tree at all, at least not like any other tree in the world. This was
a being far older than trees, a being of many planes of awareness,
seeing from many eyes, its tendrils of thought digging deep. Its
roots were like eyes, like thoughts themselves, always digging,
seeing, hearing, sensing. Even now they sensed her, and Alina
approached one root and placed her ear against it.

She winced and cried out in pain. A shock like a bolt of lightning
shook her body. She yelped and fell.

"Alina!" Dorvin rushed forward and knelt beside her.
"Alina, what in the Abyss?"

She shook, eyes wide, tongue dry. Her legs convulsed. The pain! The
fear! Tears filled her eyes. "It's hurting, Dorvin. It's sensing
too much. Too much. Its nerves are exposed, raw, wounded, feeling
everything. Everything." Her tears streamed. "All its
filters are removed, all the stimulus is overwhelming, overflowing,
eyes that cannot be closed, thoughts that never end." Her voice
faded into a hoarse whisper. "It's feeling us now, feeding upon
us, and it wants to stop. It cannot. They dug too deep."

Dorvin held her and shook her. "Alina! What in the name of all
gods are you talking about?"

"She's having a nightmare," Maev said. "It's hitting
her even here."

Alina shook her head. No. No, this was no nightmare. This was too
real, too raw. "Let me speak to him." She struggled to
rise, still shaking. "Let me speak to Shenhavan."

She
approached one of the roots, wincing at the pain emanating from it.
She braced herself and placed her forehead against it. She gasped as
its presence flowed into her. She whispered into it, not whispering
with her mouth but letting her thoughts flow into the root.

Hello, Old One.

It replied with many voices.
It hurts us. We are exposed.

I know, Old One. You hear too much.

We hear it all! They dug too deep. They opened our nerves. The
diggers. They removed our soil, our flesh. They were afraid. We heard
them.

Alina placed her hand upon a root.
You dreamed of them.

The root thrummed.
No. We heard their dreams. We could no longer
feed on soil. We fed on their nightmares. On the diggers. On the
prisoners who followed. Their dreams became our nourishment, flowing
through our trunk, turning it black, entering our leaves, turning
them blue, flying in our pollen upon the wind.

Alina gasped. Her chest constricted. The pollen. Of course.
You
took the nightmares of prisoners into you. You could not stop it.

The tree seemed to weep.
We could not stop it.

Tears streamed down Alina's cheeks.
The nightmares rose through
you, and you expelled them into the air. You infected the others.

We are sorry. We are sorry. Please make it end.

Alina could no longer bear it. She pulled back from the root, and she
fell onto the ground, weeping. Dorvin and Maev leaned over her,
speaking to her, but she could barely hear. She whispered, her lips
wet with tears. "The Vir Requis do cause the nightmares."

Auben's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed. "That is a lie! We
do not—"

"By no fault of your own!" Alina said, lying in her
brother's arms. "The roots of the tree. The soil was removed to
create this dungeon. The roots were exposed. Lacking soil to feed
upon, they fed on your dreams. Do you have nightmares in this place?"

Auben froze. He nodded slowly.

Alina smiled wryly. "In the shadows of a dungeon, most prisoners
have nightmares. So did the first prisoners here—thieves and
murderers imprisoned before you. The tree fed, and the nightmares
spread through its pollen. The king blamed you. He imprisoned you
here. But he only gave the roots new nightmares to drink." She
rose to her feet. "We must leave this place. We must reveal the
truth. We must end this tree's suffering."

Dorvin cleared his throat. "And free everyone. That too. That's
also a little important, Alina."

She returned to the roots that enveloped the chamber, placed her
forehead against one of the ropey strands, and closed her eyes. She
whispered, head lowered, "You can answer prayers. You are good
in your core. Free us, Shenhavan. Free us from our bonds and we will
refill this cavern with soil."

For a long moment, nothing happened. Alina tugged at her bonds, but
the ropes would not loosen. Alina's belly curdled. For many years,
she had been able to speak to the stars, to sense warmth and guidance
from them. Was her power, the insight of a druid, limited to the
stars?

"Please, Shenhavan." Her eyes stung. "Free us."

Silence filled the cavern. Alina lowered her head.

I have failed.

Her eyes stung, and she thought of Requiem and her people—of Jeid,
of Laira, of all the others waiting for them. The demon army would
reach them, and she would perish underground, bringing no aid to her
people. She—

She frowned.

She gasped.

The walls of the chamber were shaking around them.

I have no power over matter, child of starlight,
spoke a voice
in her head.
Only thought. Only dreams. And not only the minds of
men.

Soil fell from the walls, and rustling rose all around. A hundred
holes broke open in the dirt walls between the roots. Noses and
whiskers twitched. A hundred mice scurried into the chamber.

Dorvin squealed like a little girl. "Stars damn it! Get them
away from me!" He began to hop around, sweat on his brow, as the
mice raced around his feet. "Get them away, get them away!"

Maev rolled her eyes and snorted. "Bloody bollocks, Dung Beetle.
Is the brave warrior scared of mice?"

The dark-haired young man grimaced and hopped around. "They're
climbing me! Mammoth Arse, bite them off!"

The mice were not climbing only Dorvin; the rodents were scurrying up
everyone's legs. Alina laughed as their fur tickled her, and she
smiled because she knew that there were greater powers in this world,
powers large and small that looked after her even in the darkness.
Little teeth worked at the ropes binding her. All across the chamber,
the mice chewed, and the bonds fell to the ground.

"Thank you, Shenhavan," she whispered, touching the roots
of the tree, and she felt the warmth against her palm. She turned
toward the other prisoners, their limbs free. "Stand back,
friends. Stand against the wall. Make room."

The prisoners obeyed. Maev had to guide Dorvin backward; he was still
slapping at his clothes, shuddering, and muttering about still
feeling whiskers against him. Once they were all pressed against the
opposite wall, Alina summoned her magic. Her body grew, unencumbered
by the ropes. Her scales clanked. Fire filled her mouth. A lavender
dragon, she raised her claws and began to dig.

She carved a tunnel, reaching far into the soil, digging through the
earth, and the prisoners followed behind her.

She dug for a long time, letting the starlight inside her guide her,
until she rose and emerged into a dark forest. Cold air flowed into
her lungs, and the moon shone above between the branches. When Alina
climbed out of the tunnel, she could see Bar Luan behind her; she had
dug their way out of the city, and its pyramids and walls rose silver
beyond the dark trees. She released her magic, returning to human
form, and the others emerged into the night and stood around her.
Alina raised her staff, and the starlight shone into its crystal and
grew, a beacon for the others to circle, a light to guide her flock.

She climbed onto a fallen log and gazed upon her people. She spoke
softly in the night.

"I am Alina, a daughter of Requiem, a priestess of the Draco
constellation. I do not deign to lead you, for you are now free
souls. But I would offer to guide you. As I've guided you to freedom,
I would guide you to a revival of starlight. Requiem lies in the east
beyond the rivers and mountains, and she is a kingdom of dragons, of
our kind. Three generations ago, the holy stars bequeathed a blessing
unto the world, gifting their magic to only a few scattered souls.
For three generations, we were hunted, imprisoned, feared—here in
Bar Luan, in the eastern forests, even south in the seafaring realm
of Eteer. For a hundred years, we thought we are alone, but we have
found one another, and we rise." Tears filled her eyes. "Join
me, my friends. Follow my light, the staff that glows with starlight.
Follow me to a land of scales, wings, and fire—a land of dragons.
Follow me to King's Column and to King Aeternum, and Requiem will
shine with our all lights. You were born in Bar Luan, a land that
imprisoned you; follow me across the wilderness to Requiem and find
your pride and freedom."

The Vir Requis of Bar Luan conferred amongst themselves. Alina could
not understand their words, but she could guess at their meaning. She
had spoken the same words to Dorvin when they had left their tribe.
All those who had made it to Requiem had left their homes with
heartbreak and fear, but they had all chosen the path of the stars.
So did these people. Auben detached himself from the others,
approached Alina, and nodded.

"We fly with you."

Alina smiled. "We will fly. But not before we heal a friend."

She returned to Bar Luan then, holding her lit staff before her, and
the others followed, her light guiding them. In the city they found
the people in a daze, whispering, rubbing their eyes, finally woken
from the nightmares that had plagued them for so long.

"There is no more fear underground," Alina said when the
King of Bar Luan approached her, riding upon a palanquin. "The
roots of Shenhavan no longer feed upon the nightmares of prisoners,
no longer spread those nightmares in the pollen. We will fill the
dungeon with soil, and we will let Shenhavan flourish again."

The old king, tears in his eyes, watched in wonder as his people
crowded around, finally free of their long fever dream.

Alina became a dragon again in the night, and this time she did not
dig but filled holes, giving soil and peace to the exposed roots of
an ancient god. She felt the tree in her mind, thanking her, its pain
waning, like an injured man drinking soothing silverleaf. When her
work was done, Alina stood before the tree, still in dragon form, and
she watched as its leaves turned green again, as its trunk
brightened, as life and goodness returned to the deity. The people of
Bar Luan circled the tree in a great torrent, singing and chanting.
Bar Luan was healed.

Alina flapped her wings and took flight, soaring toward the stars.
The Draco constellation shone above, and the people of Bar Luan
whirled below around their tree, and the moonlight lit the pyramids,
walls, and statues of this ancient city. The others, her own people,
summoned their magic. They rose as dragons in the night, forty
strong, light in their eyes and fire in their mouths. The dragons of
Requiem flew into the east, leaving the city of stone. They flew
under the stars. They flew to Requiem. They flew to war and to hope
and to a new dream.

 
 
ISSARI

Issari
stood in the ravaged throne room, eyes wide, watching the Demon Queen
give birth.

The creature emerged from the womb, still wrapped in the caul. It
twisted inside the wet sack, claws tearing at the membranes, teeth
biting, cutting free. It rose from the red wetness, unfurling with
creaking joints, already the size of a full-grown man. It stood in
the muck and stared into Issari's eyes.

All she could do was stare back.

"My brother," she whispered.

It regarded her, dripping wet, its skin gray and stony. It almost
seemed to Issari that the creature recognized her, knew her to be its
sister. Its jaw was long and pointed, its face hideously deformed,
far too long to be human. Wings grew from its back, veined and
translucent. But Issari could see her features in it. Her half
brother, the son of Raem and the demon Angel, had the eyes of the
Seran family—
her
eyes. Large. Green. Not the red, lustful
eyes of a demon but the eyes of a mortal.

"My brother," she whispered again, taking a step closer.
Across the hall, the surviving soldiers stared with her, hesitating,
their swords still raised. Issari kept approaching, and her eyes
dampened. "My brother, you're safe here. I will look after you.
I—"