Requiem's Hope (Dawn of Dragons) (20 page)

The creature opened its mouth wide, revealing rows of sharp fangs.
The mouth opened from ear to ear, the jaw dislocating to drop halfway
down its chest like a python about to devour a boar. The nephil—a
creature born of man and demon—tossed back its head and shrieked.
The sound shook the hall. It turned toward its mother. Angel still
lay on the floor, her belly deflating, and her son crawled onto her
chest and began to suck at the breast, drinking a foul milk of lava
and liquid sulfur. Nursing her son, Angel raised her eyes and stared
at Issari.

"Behold the heir of Eteer," Angel said. "Behold the
future king. Behold—"

"As Queen of Eteer, I command you!" Issari shouted, amulet
raised. "Return to the Abyss! Summon your demons to retreat
after you. I have seized control of this throne, and—"

Angel laughed. She plucked the feeding creature off her breast and
pointed toward the fallen throne of Eteer. Lips smoking, the child
leaped, bounded over Issari, and landed upon the seat. He lashed his
claws, tearing the throne apart, scattering shards of wood and gold.
He looked up from the mess, nostrils steaming, green eyes blazing.

"I do believe that my son has just challenged your claim,"
said the Demon Queen. "I name him Ishnafel,
Fallen One
.
Eteer will be his prize. Your reign has lasted only a few heartbeats,
Issari, Queen of Filth." She barked a laugh. "You should
have exiled me while you could."

Issari raised her amulet again, though its light dimmed. Shadows were
emanating from Ishnafel, cloaking the room, overpowering the glow of
Taal. "I will burn you, Angel. Obey me! I still command Eteer's
army." She swept her arm behind her, gesturing at the soldiers
who still lived. Tanin stood among them, bruised and bloody but still
holding a spear and dagger. "She who rules the military rules
the kingdom."

Angel grinned and licked her chops. "Oh, sweet innocent child .
. . I do fear that a new army now sweeps across the city. Listen,
child. You can hear them."

Issari listened and a chill washed her. She heard it. The buzzing
rose from outside like a swarm of flies. Human screams rose with the
sound. Soon shrieks joined the cacophony, high-pitched and demonic.
Inside the throne room, Ishnafel hissed and flapped his wings, rising
to hover over the floor.

"Yes, Issari," Angel said. "The nephilim. The army of
the fallen ones. They rise and they are my son's to command."

Still covered in mucus, Ishnafel opened his mouth, stared at Issari,
and spoke in a hiss. "I . . . will . . . reign."

Issari ran to the window, stared outside, and felt the blood drain
from her face. Tanin ran to her side.

"By the stars," he whispered.

They covered the city, rising to bustle like flies, creatures born of
demons and mortal women. Many covered the city streets, feasting upon
the bodies of their dead mothers. There were hundreds. The blood of
their mothers still on their lips, they began to crash into homes,
tearing into human flesh, feeding, growing larger. People fled into
the streets. Walls crumbled. Blood flowed.

The city fell to darkness,
Issari thought.
Now it will fall
into the Abyss itself.

She turned back toward her soldiers. "Men of Eteer!" She
grabbed a fallen khopesh. "Follow! Into the city!"

She ran, burst from the doors, and raced down the hill. Her men
charged behind her.

Below in the city streets festered the spawn of demons, a shadow
covering the land. More kept emerging, tearing their way out of
mortal wombs with claws and teeth, taking flight, ready from their
first breath to fight for the Abyss. Upon roofs, streets, and
corpses, they turned to stare at the army charging toward them. They
leered, tongues unrolling, fangs bright, eyes blazing. The creatures
clustered together, and their howls rose, shattering stone. Upon a
distant hill, the temple columns cracked and fell. The roof crumbled,
and dust rose to hide the sun. The water in the canal boiled and
turned red. The beasts beat their wings and flew toward the palace.

Issari ran, raising her sword. Tanin ran at her side, spear in hand.
Behind them ran hundreds of Eteerians, armor and shields dented and
dusty, swords raised high.

Under a veiled sky, upon the foothills between city and palace, the
hosts of nephilim and the army of Eteer slammed together with blood,
steel, and fire.

Issari had never been a warrior, but this day her sword drank blood.

She fought screaming, lashing her blade, cutting creatures down. All
around her they swarmed, dipping from the sky, scuttling up streets,
leaping from roofs. Her blade flew, digging through their flesh,
spilling their entrails. They were the children of mortals, but she
felt no pity for them, and she fought not only for Eteer, not only
for Requiem, but for all good people of the overground. Tanin fought
at her side, spearing the creatures, and around her soldiers cut
through the nephil horde.

"We must fight as dragons, Issari!" Tanin shouted.

She shook her head. "Not while my people die upon the ground."

He grunted, shifted, and took flight. "Fly with me in the sky.
Only victory matters now, not honor. Fly and blow fire with me."

He soared, wings beating, into a cloud of nephilim. The buzzing
creatures crashed into him, biting his wings. Tanin blasted out
flames, torching a cloud of them. His tail lashed. His claws cut into
their rotten flesh. They tugged him down, and he crashed onto a roof,
cracking the stone, rose again, and blew his fire.

Issari returned her eyes to her own battle. Her soldiers spread
around her, swords lashing, and she swung her blade with them, one of
them, their queen of blood and light.

The nephilim fought back with a fury. Their maws opened wide, tearing
off limbs. Their claws drove through armor, piercing the soft flesh
beneath. They bit into faces, chewing, eating. The blood of Eteer
spilled. And more kept emerging—three, four from a womb, growing
with every bite of meat, until a thousand or more flew, darkening the
sky, crashing into walls and columns. The city of Eteer fell, roofs
collapsing, trapping souls beneath. Dust and blood covered the ruins.

"Fight for Eteer!" Issari cried. She stood atop a fallen
statue, raising her dripping sword. "Rally here, men of Taal,
and fight!" She raised her palm, and her amulet blazed into
light, raising a pillar toward the sky. "Rally and fight them!"

Tanin flew down toward her. Soot and black blood covered his red
scales. "There are too many, Issari! We must flee. Shift and fly
with me."

She shook her head, swung her sword, and sliced open a diving
creature. Its entrails spilled and its blood splattered her. It
crashed down at her feet, writhing. "I will not abandon Eteer."

"Eteer is fallen!" the red dragon shouted back. Blood
dripped from a gash on his chest, and scratches covered his scales.
"You cannot serve Eteer by dying here. We will find another
way."

Shattered bricks, statues, and columns spread around her. Corpses lay
among them. One soldier wept, dragging himself forward, his body
halved. Another man raced across the battlefield, shouting for his
mother. His feet were gone; he ran upon the stumps. Issari's head
spun, her heart beat against her ribs, and she could barely breathe.
She had never imagined such terror, such bloodshed, such malice in
the world. Her entire people crumbled around her—not just her reign
but her very race died under the smoke and dust and nephil wings. She
had summoned a thousand soldiers from the barracks; perhaps a hundred
remained, and still the nephilim flew.

And she knew Tanin was right.

The city had fallen.

Another nephil flew toward her. She sliced off its jaw, and Tanin
finished the job, driving his horn into its head. Panting, covered in
the creatures' blood, Issari turned her head and stared back at the
palace. It rose from the smoke, its columns blackened. Upon its roof
he stood, staring down at her with his burning green eyes.
Ishnafel—King of the Fallen. Heir of Eteer, a kingdom of darkness.

And so I will flee this day,
she thought.
And so my second
exile begins. But I vow to you, Eteer, I will return.

Finally she shifted into a dragon. She rose into the sky, blowing her
fire.

The surviving soldiers below pointed and shouted out to her, "Queen
Issari, Queen Issari! Do not abandon us. Fight with us."

Nephilim swarmed toward her. She blew her flames, sending them
crashing down. She landed back upon the ruins. "Follow, men of
Eteer. To the southern gates! To the Spice Gates! Follow!"

She lolloped down the street, claws clattering against the
cobblestones, blowing her fire before her to clear a path. Tanin flew
above, raining fire upon the buzzing half-demons. Soldiers ran
behind, swords swinging, cutting their way through the army of the
fallen. Women, children, and elders emerged from homes, weeping,
begging for aid.

"Follow, Eteerians!" Issari cried. "To the Spice
Gates!"

They ran, soldiers and townsfolk, a life extinguishing with every
step. The creatures swooped from roofs and scuttled from alleyways,
faster than falcons. Finally the survivors of Eteer, clutching their
wounds, reached the archway of Spice Gates, the southern gates of
Eteer. Tanin flew above the gatehouse, blowing his fire at the
creatures that mobbed him. Issari slammed into the bronze doors,
shoving them open, and crashed outside into the plains.

Farmlands stretched before her, and distant yellow hills rose under
the veiled sky. Beyond lay the wilderness of Eteer, perhaps some hope
for salvation. She raised her paw, hoping to raise a pillar of light,
but her amulet was dimmed. Perhaps Taal had no more power over this
falling world.

"Run, children of Eteer! Follow my light."

She shifted back into human form and ran, holding the dim light of
her amulet, a beacon barely visible in the shadows under the smoky
sky. Tanin roared above, and the people followed behind, an exodus
from the city of demons, out of ruin and into the wild.

 
 
DORVIN

They
flew ahead of the rest, scouting the skies, two dragons—green and
silver.

"See anything, Dung Beetle?" the green dragon asked. The
other dragons—Alina and the survivors of Bar Luan—flew a mark
behind them, specks in the distance. Here at the vanguard flew the
two warriors of their group.

If you can call the mammoth arse a warrior too,
Dorvin
thought, looking at Maev.
The damn buzzard only got lucky with the
demon wolves.
He growled.
Next time we meet demons, I'll bury
her under the corpses I make.

A silver dragon, he puffed fire her way. "I see only a massive,
flying clump of green rhinoceros snot." Dorvin spat out smoke.
"No damn demons. I wish I had gone north or south instead. By
the the Sky God's hairy nostrils, we fought a damn tree for stars'
sake. A
tree
." He growled. "I want to kill demons!
Lots of them."

Flying on the wind, Maev smiled crookedly. "You didn't do too
well when we met the demon dogs. Your killed only one pup, while I
slew three. I don't think you'd fare well with demons. Trees are more
of your forte." She gestured down to the forest. "I see a
little sapling down there. Want to land and try to defeat it? Just
watch out for any sharp branches."

He roared, scattering flames, and banked toward her. He slammed into
her, knocking the green dragon aside in the sky. "I can defeat
you in a fight!"

She snorted. "Dorvin, you nearly fainted when a mouse climbed on
you. I used to pummel men twice your size for a living."

"That does it." He bared his fangs, beat his wings, and
raised his claws. "I'll show you who's the true warrior—right
now, here in the sky. I can kill many more demons than you. I can
kill you. I've slain creatures that would give you nightmares. I—"
He slapped her with his tail. "Look at me when I talk to you!
Mammoth Arse, what are you doing? Why are you flying away? Stars damn
it, you coward, you—"

"Dorvin, you imbecile!" She blasted out fire. "In the
east—go on, show me what you've got, Dung Beetle."

He frowned, turned eastward, and his eyes widened. "Well, star
spit! Finally."

Three demons were flying toward them—scouts. Dorvin grinned. The
creatures were reptilian and limbless, covered in long white spikes.
Three forked tongues emerged from each mouth, and feathered wings
grew from their backs. Dorvin flexed his claws, preparing for the
fight, when Maev darted past him. The green dragon blasted out her
fire, flying toward the creatures.

Dorvin growled, unwilling to let Maev beat him at the game again. He
beat his wings mightily, shooting after her. The demons ahead
squealed, opened their maws wide, and blasted out streams of sizzling
liquid.

The two dragons banked, dodging the sprays. Droplets sizzled against
Dorvin's flank and he roared; the poison began to eat through his
scales, stinging the flesh beneath. He soared, then turned and
swooped with the sun at his back. He roared down fire, bathing one of
the creatures. The fire washed off its scales harmlessly, but the
demon was momentarily blinded. Dorvin lashed his claws, ripping at
the beast's wings. He landed upon its back, cutting, biting, until he
tore out the creature's neck. It tumbled down toward the plains.

His mouth bloody, he raised his head to see Maev slay another demon.
The third and last creature turned to flee.

Maev shot forward, banging into Dorvin and knocking him aside. "Out
of my way, Dung Beetle! The last one's mine."

He roared and grabbed her tail, but she whipped it madly, freeing
herself, and snorted fire his way. With a slap of her tail against
his face, she flew after the fleeing demon.

"Mammoth Arse, stars damn it!" He flew after her, gritting
his teeth, and grabbed her tail again—this time between his jaws. He
tugged her toward him, flew above her, and slammed his claws against
her back. With a kick to her head, he leaped over her and flew
onward. His flames roared, roasting the demon. "I win! I slew
the last one!"