Requiem's Hope (Dawn of Dragons) (21 page)

The creature burned ahead of him, but it still flew. Shrieking, it
turned toward the two dragons. Its jaws swung open, and it blasted
out more acid. Dorvin and Maev scattered, and the jet fell through
the sky. Dorvin darted forward, slashed his claws, and cut deep into
the creature's face. Its blood spilled. He leaned in, prepared to
bite out its neck.

Something grabbed his tail.

He yowled.

Maev was tugging him backward, away from the dying demon. He
thrashed, freed himself, and spun in the sky. By the time he righted
himself and flew toward the demon again, Maev had bit out its throat.
The creature tumbled down, dead before it hit the ground.

Hovering, his wings scattering smoke, Dorvin turned to stare at Maev.

The green dragon gave him a crooked smile. "I win again."

Dorvin took a deep breath. He spoke in a strained, low voice. "That
one was mine. I burned him. I cut him. I was going to finish the job
when you—"

"When I won." Maev nodded, her smile widening. "As
always."

Something snapped inside Dorvin—something that had been taut and
painful since leaving Requiem. He roared. He barreled into Maev,
knocking her back in the sky.

They tumbled down in a ball of lashing claws, snapping teeth, and
blasts of fire.

"Let go of me!" she roared.

Dorvin refused to, only tightening his grip. Their wings beat against
one another. They kept falling. The ground rushed up toward them. The
rage flowed over Dorvin. He had spent too many days listening to her
taunts, seeing that damn raised chin of hers, letting her strong
body, crooked smile, and winking eyes fill his dreams. She was
intoxicating, infuriating, impossible, and he didn't release her
until they crashed through a tree, tumbled between snapping branches,
and fell to the ground. The blow knocked the air out of Dorvin,
banged his teeth together, and tugged his magic from him.

He lay on the ground in human form, moaning. Smoke wafted into his
eyes. He sat up, wincing and blinking, hoping no bones were broken.
When the world came back into focus, he saw Maev back in human form
too, struggling to rise. Scratches covered her, and a branch had
ripped her tunic.

Dorvin struggled to his feet, stumbled toward her, and swung his
fist.

Fast as field mouse—creatures just as horrible—Maev dodged the
blow. She leaped up, and her own fist connected with Dorvin's cheek.
He crumpled, falling back onto the grass. Before he could rise again,
Maev jumped onto him, fists flying. Her knee drove into his belly,
and he grunted and couldn't even scream.

"Get off me!" he whispered hoarsely, holding up his arms to
protect his face.

She snarled above him, her face rabid. The dragon tattoos on her arms
danced as she pummeled him. "I've had enough of your rubbish,
Dung Beetle. I—"

He raised his knee into her belly, and she let out a short
oof
.
He flipped her over, and she thumped down onto her back. Before she
could rise, he leaped onto her, pinning her wrists down. She flailed,
unable to free herself.

"Calm down!" he said.

She growled up at him. "Release me now, or my knee drives into
your crotch." She raised her knee abruptly, and
Dorvin—expecting the pain—loosened his grip and pulled back. She
seized the opportunity to slam into him, swinging her fists again.
They rolled through the grass, flipped over a fallen log, and began
sliding down a hillside, wrestling all the while. Stones and fallen
branches jabbed Dorvin, and even as she rolled, she kept attacking
him, trying to bite, driving her knees into his sides. Finally they
rolled to a halt in a grassy valley between trees.

"That demon was mine," Dorvin said. "You stole it from
me. Just like you did last time. Just like you always do—stealing
the glory from me." His eyes suddenly stung. "Your family
loves that. Your father stole my people from me. Now you keep mocking
me."

She snorted, flipped onto him, and pinned him down into the grass.
"Grow up and stop whining. Are you a warrior or a little boy?"

"A warrior." He growled. "If you'll let me be one, for
stars' sake. It's not easy with you, you know."

"Never claimed it would be."

Dorvin spat out grass. "You're too damn strong, too damn proud,
too damn fiery, too damn beautiful, and—"

"Too damn beautiful?" She raised an eyebrow.

His cheeks flushed. "I mean—for a mammoth arse." His
tongue felt too thick. "Don't pretend you don't know it! All
your mocking smiles, your little winks, your swagger when you walk.
You know what that does to a man, don't you?"

She rolled her eyes. "You really are a dung beetle. I can't
control that, no more than you can control your pretty eyes or your
own smile."

He blinked. "My eyes aren't pretty! They're warrior eyes.
They're—" He blinked again. "You think I'm pretty?"

She groaned, still lying atop him, pinning him down. "This is
what I think." She leaned down and kissed his lips. "And
that's the last kiss you'll ever get from me, so now stop thinking
about me like that, and—"

He wouldn't let her finish her sentence. He kissed her in return, and
this kiss was deeper, and her tongue flicked into his mouth, and her
body softened against his. After what seemed like ages, she pulled
back and glared.

"Stop that!" She grabbed a fistful of his hair. "I
didn't say you could kiss me. I'm not that kind of woman. I—"
She shuddered. "Oh to the Abyss with it." She pulled his
head toward her and kissed him again.

Her hands slipped under his tunic and all but ripped the garment off.
She stared down at his bare chest. "Stars above, Dorvin, you're
skinnier than your sister."

His blood boiled too hot to answer. He grabbed her own clothes and
tore them off, leaving her naked above him, then sat up and kissed
her again. Her legs wrapped around him, and she tossed back her head,
and they rolled back down into the grass. She moaned beneath him, and
sweat poured down their naked bodies, and this felt like wrestling
too, a thing of passion and groans and heat.

"Damn mammoth arse," he whispered into her ear.

She bit his bottom lip, tugging it. "Dung Beetle."

When they finally flew back toward the others, Alina stared with
narrowed eyes, blasting out smoke. Behind her flew the group from Bar
Luan, forty dragons strong.

"What happened?" the lavender dragon demanded. "I saw
fire and heard roars."

Maev turned to fly at Alina's side. "Three demon scouts."
She glanced at Dorvin. "Your brother killed all three. Got to
them faster than I could."

The lavender dragon nodded toward him. "Good work, brother."

Dorvin nodded back, silent. He looked over at Maev, and the green
dragon winked at him.

Her and her damn winks.

He flew among the others, sneaking glances at her. For the first
time, he flew without singing or telling rude jokes. He simply glided
silently, remembering the heat of her body against his, her full
lips, and the light in her eyes.

 
 
JEID

He
was standing alone on the mountainside when the demon army arrived.

The others were all inside Two Skull Mountain, celebrating the second
day of the great wedding—a day of feasting, music played on lutes
and drums, and tribal dances with masks of wood and feathers. Jeid
had volunteered to stand here outside the cavern, to watch the
southern horizon for an enemy attack. He was not one for
celebrations, not since that day his twin brother had murdered his
wife, not since his daughter Requiem had died. And especially not
today, the day he lost Laira too.

And so he had come here, to watch, to wait, to grieve. As he stood
outside, alone, the sound of music and laughter rising from the
caves, he clenched his jaw and stared south at the distant rain and
lightning, waiting for the demons, waiting for war. Perhaps that was
all he had left now—war and death, fire and blood.

"When you arrived at the escarpment, half-dead and trembling, I
thought that a new light had kindled in my life," he whispered,
eyes dry but throat tight. "I lost so many, but I gained you,
Laira. A pure soul. Somebody strong yet fragile, compassionate yet
unflinching in her struggle against our enemies. And I love you. You
gave me new light, new meaning, new hope. And now you too fade from
me."

He lowered his head, feeling like a lovelorn boy. He was King of
Requiem, and Laira was a chieftain, and yet he was acting like a
foolish boy spurned by a village girl. He would not lose her, not
truly. She would wed Oritan, but she would still fight by his side.
And he knew that she sacrificed herself for Requiem, not for any love
she harbored the chieftain of Leatherwing.

And yet still the thought of her in Oritan's bed soured his belly.

He unslung his axe from his back and was hefting the weapon—an
action he often took to soothe himself—when the shadows appears on
the horizon.

Jeid froze and stared.

From here it looked like insects rising from a carcass, a cloud of
many black spots. Distant sounds rose on the wind—squeals, grunts,
screams. A human voice seemed to call among them, and the setting sun
glinted on metal. Jeid bared his teeth and narrowed his eyes,
staring. Iciness flowed across him.

"The demon army."

They stormed closer, larger with every heartbeat. A thousand of the
creatures—still only specks from here—covered the sky like locusts.
Jeid's grip tightened on his axe. He remembered the demonic octopus
they had fought; four dragons together had barely defeated the
creature, and now a thousand of its brethren flew here. For a moment
Jeid could only stare, frozen.

Twenty dragons,
he thought.
Two hundred rocs and pteros.
Against the ancient horde of the underworld.

It was a fight they could not win.

We're not ready. Stars, we need more time. We need Maev to return
with more dragons. We need Issari to ascend to Eteer's throne.
His hands shook around his axe's shaft, and a strangled growl rose
from his throat.
We cannot win. We must flee.

The sun set and the stars emerged above. Their light fell upon him,
the light of Requiem, and Jeid took a deep, shuddering breath.

"For you, Requiem," he whispered, thinking of his daughter,
thinking of the kingdom he would raise.

The demons flew nearer, their shrieks louder now. Jeid turned, ran
into the cave, and shifted into a dragon. Light, song, and color
filled the great cavern. Pteros hung from ceiling and walls like
bats. Rocs perched in alcoves. Tribesmen danced on the cave floor,
wearing wooden masks and cloaks of feathers. Laira and Oritan stood
upon the stone pillar in the cavern's center; she wore an embroidered
garment inlaid with jewels, and he wore his armor of bones. Game
cooked upon fires, the smoke wafting out of a hole high above—one of
the skulls' eye sockets.

A copper dragon, Jeid flew around the chamber, sounding his alarm.

"Demons! Demons attack. The horde is here!"

The music died. All eyes turned toward him.

After a heartbeat of silence, the cavern erupted.

"Riders of Leatherwing!" Oritan shouted. "Leatherwing,
fly!" The chieftain whistled, and his ptero flew toward the
pillar, wings beating back smoke, the torchlight blazing against its
golden horn. Oritan leaped into the saddle, dug his heels into the
animal, and flew out of the mountain and into the night. A hundred
other pteros detached from the ceiling and dipped to the floor, and
riders leaped into their saddles. The swarm flew after its chieftain.

"Hunters of Goldtusk!" Laira cried. Her roc, the great
vulture Neiva, sailed toward the stone pillar. Laira leaped off the
stalagmite, sailed through the air, and landed upon her mount.
"Goldtusk, fly for Ka'altei! Fly for the glory of our tribe and
our god."

The rocs too beat their wings, scattering droplets of oil and
spreading their stench through the cave. Riders of Goldtusk yipped
upon them, clad in fur cloaks and bronze breastplates. Laira at its
lead, the tribe flew out of another exit—one of the skull's mouths.

With the warriors of both tribes gone to battle, Jeid flew above his
own people—twenty Vir Requis who huddled below. They were not
warriors. They were the exiles of tribes, villages, and wandering
clans, people who had come to him for safety, for peace. Now he would
have to lead them to war.

He landed before them on the cave floor and resumed human form. They
stared back at him, eyes frightened but determined. Three among them
were children, no older than ten years old, yet their fire too would
be needed this night.

"Vir Requis," Jeid said to them. "People of Requiem. I
was a smith, exiled from a village that killed my wife and child. You
were farmers, hunters, gatherers, shepherds. You too were exiled. You
came to me to find a home, a kingdom where you can belong. You found
that kingdom, yet now Requiem is threatened. Now our enemies will
crush us just as we rise from darkness. Tonight we will tell them: We
will stand. We will fight. We will find our sky. Tonight we fight
Requiem's war of independence. Tonight we are no longer hunted and
afraid. Tonight we are warriors of starlight."

They trembled. A few shed tears. One of them, a young girl, clung to
her mother. But they all stared back at him, and courage shone
through their fear. It was Bryn who spoke first. The young woman
stepped forward, her hair a wild red mane, and met his gaze.

"For Requiem," she said. She shifted, took flight as an
orange dragon, and soared in the cavern.

Jeid shifted too and the others followed. Twenty dragons, they rose
in the cave to join Bryn. Beating his wings, roaring his cry,
Jeid—King Aeternum—led them out of the mountain and into the night.

Fire, steel, and the stench of demons filled the sky.