Requiem's Hope (Dawn of Dragons) (27 page)

"Jeid!" Laira called out, tears in her eyes.

The demons crashed down, charred with dragonfire, cut with claws,
leaking their innards.

All but Raem's mount. The demonic bat, too lanky to burn, rose from
the blaze, skin peeling off her bones. The King of Eteer still sat
upon her, the fire clutching at his cloak. His arms burned, wings of
fire. But still Raem laughed as he soared, head tossed back, wreathed
in the flame.

"So this is Aeternum, King of Reptiles!" Raem raised his
sword. "You too will join Laira in the courts of the Abyss."

Jeid landed beside Laira, raised his head, and roared again. The cave
shook at the sound. Cracks raced along the walls. Laira struggled to
her feet, still in dragon form, half the size of the coppery beast.
The two dragons raised their heads, staring up at the demon
fluttering above.

"Requiem rises," Laira said.

Jeid smiled crookedly. "With a pillar of fire."

The stone pillar had fallen in the cave. Laira and Jeid roared their
flames, the streams wreathing together, rising in a new pillar, a
column of dragonfire. The shrieking fountain crashed into the demonic
bat.

The creature plunged down.

Laira and Jeid stepped away from each other, and the bat crashed down
between them, charred down to bones. Skin peeled off its head, and
its hair had burned off. It was still alive, its organs exposed and
still pumping. One of its eyes had melted. The other eye met Laira's
gaze. Laira winced, the pain of that eye worse than arrows or demon
teeth. There was gratitude in that eye. The creature opened her mouth
and whispered.

"Thank you." Relief flooded the demon's face. "Thank
you."

Its eye closed and its organs deflated.

For a long moment, silence filled the cave. Then a trembling voice
spoke.

"Please. Laira, please." Raem rose, covered in soot and
blood. His sword was gone, fallen in the battle, and deep gashes bled
upon his legs. His arms were burnt, the skin peeling away. He tried
to run, but Jeid's foot slammed down, blocking his escape. Raem
turned toward Laira. "My daughter. Mercy."

Still a golden dragon, Laira growled. She stepped closer to Raem,
leaned down above him, and bared her teeth. "I have killed many
before. I slew Zerra, the chieftain who spent years hurting me, the
chieftain you bought with bronze. I killed many of your demons. And
now, Father, I will kill you. You turned me into a killer. You called
me a beast, but I was a daughter to you, an innocent child you sent
on a path of blood. Your own fear became true, and yes, now I am a
monster. You made me one, and this monster will be your death."
She roared, the sound pounding against him, her breath flattening his
skin against his skull. "In the name of Requiem, in the name of
my brother, in the same of all those you hurt, I end your life now."

She leaned down to bite.

"Laira, please!" he shouted, raising his arms in front of
his head.

Her jaws snapped shut around his arms, severing both at the
shoulders.

Raem screamed.

Blood sprayed from his stumps. Laira spat out both arms, tasting his
blood. Raem still stood before her, shouting hoarsely, face pale.

Laira bellowed and leaned in to bite again.

Her father turned and ran.

"Stitchmark!" the tyrant cried. "Stitchmark, help!"

One of the demons—the creature with tools growing from its
fingers—had survived the inferno of dragonfire. Its shell was
cracked and leaking, and its face was burnt, but it still buzzed
forward, wrapped its legs around Raem's torso, and lifted the maimed
king. The demon soared, insect wings beating with a fury, and began
to fly toward the cave exit.

Fast as a crocodile leaping from water, Jeid lunged upward and
snapped his teeth. His jaws closed around Raem's dangling legs. Blood
showered and Jeid spat out both legs. Raem screamed again, a horrible
sound, high-pitched, almost demonic. Stitchmark flew faster, holding
its lord. Raem bled from four stumps, only his torso and head
remaining. Jeid snapped his jaws again, trying to catch the king, but
Stitchmark flew out of the cave too quickly, bearing the dying,
mutilated wreck of a man.

Laira beat her wings and took flight, chasing her father. Jeid flew
at her side. They burst out from the cave into a sky full of demons.

"Where is he?" Jeid shouted.

Laira whipped her head from side to side, seeking her father and the
creature Stitchmark. Too many demons still flew here, and smoke hid
the moon and stars. She couldn't see Raem through the clouds of
enemies.

"Grizzly!" rose a cry. A green dragon came flying toward
them, blood seeping through cracks in her scales. Maev spat out a
chunk of demon flesh. "Father, the demons are fleeing! Victory
is ours!" She grinned.

"Hunt them down!" Laira shouted. "Burn them all!"
She beat her wings mightily, flying back into battle. Jeid and Maev
flew at her sides.

The demons, once a thousand strong, had lost many; hundreds lay upon
the mountainside, burnt and lacerated. Pteros, rocs, and dragons kept
crashing into them, tearing more apart. The unholy horde, their
leader gone, seemed to lose all will to fight. Screeching, they flew
south, leaving the mountain, crying out for their missing king.

The alliance of dragons and tribes gave chase. Laira blew her fire,
roasting demon after demon. Her claws and fangs tore the creatures
apart. The dragons of Requiem flew around her, dozens strong, their
flames lighting the night, burning the creatures, and raining down
onto the fields. Surviving tribesmen of Goldtusk and Leatherwing flew
with them, firing arrows, their beasts catching and ripping demons
apart. Rot and blood fell upon the world as the demons fled.

"Slay them all!" Laira cried. "Let none escape. Kill
every last one!"

For long hours they flew in pursuit, hunting demons, chasing them in
the darkness. The horde broke apart. Creatures flew every which way.
Some landed in the forests and fled between the trees. Others sank
into rivers. And ever the fire of Requiem lit the sky, illuminating
and burning them.

"Where are you, Father?" Laira asked, flying over fields,
seeking him, burning whatever fleeing demon she saw.

He was dead; he had to be. She knew that. She knew no man could
survive that injury, the loss of all four limbs. He must have died
within moments. Almost certainly, he lay dead back at Two Skull
Mountain, hidden among other corpses upon the mountainside. Yet still
Laira flew over hills and valleys and forests, hunting demons,
seeking him.

Dawn rose, painting the sky and land red. Sunbeams fell between the
clouds like pillars of fire. The dragons of Requiem—thirty had
survived the slaughter—flew around Laira, gliding on the wind, the
sunlight on their scales. Jeid flew at Laira's right side, eyes
narrowed, and smoke rose from his nostrils.

"He's dead." Jeid grunted. "The last demons fled or
perished. Let us return to Two Skull Mountain and seek what survivors
we can."

Laira wanted to keep flying, to keep hunting, but Jeid was right.
They had not seen a demon for an hour now, but perhaps some demons
still remained at Two Skull Mountain, and perhaps some of their
people—Vir Requis or tribesmen—lay wounded, needing aid.
Reluctantly, the dragons turned in the sky. They flew back to a
mountain covered in blood, shattered bones, and the corpses of men
and demons. The fallen Vir Requis were almost indistinguishable from
the dead tribesmen; in death they had returned to human forms.

Gingerly, Laira landed upon the mountainside beside Dorvin. She
lowered her head, folded her wings, and shifted back into human form.
She knelt, the pain almost too great to bear.

Dorvin looked up at her, eyes red. He held his lifeless sister in his
arms.

"She gave her life for Requiem," the young man said, voice
choked. "She was a brave warrior, but she was more than that
too. She was a healer. A priestess. A great light." He lowered
his head, and his tears flowed. "She was the dearest person I
knew."

Jeid approached them, back in human form. The gruff, bearded man
knelt by Dorvin and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Through
Alina's sacrifice, Requiem rises. We are victorious."

Victorious? Laira looked around, seeing so much death. Half of
Requiem had fallen here; sixty dragons had flown to war, and thirty
lay mangled and burnt upon the mountain. Many warriors from Goldtusk
and Leatherwing lay among them, their bodies crushed, and dozens of
the great beasts—rocs and pteros—lay dead among them. Everywhere
the corpses of demons rotted.

This is no victory,
Laira thought, looking at the few
survivors.
There is no joy here. This is only a shred of hope.
The wind blew against her, scented of blood and ash, and she
shivered.
We won a battle, but more fear than ever fills me today.

She closed her eyes, seeing her father again, hearing his cruel
words, biting off his arms, staring frozen at the creature
Stitchmark. They were still out there, maybe still alive, maybe still
seeking her. A few survivors were chanting for victory, but their
voices sounded too small, too weak in this endless world of despair.
Kneeling in blood, Laira hugged herself and lowered her head.

 
 
RAEM

Buzzing.

Clatters and whispers.

Sawing and spinning and trickling.

Raem floated through a dream of sounds, lights, and shadows. The
creature hovered above him, a beetle of the sky, a god of bone and
metal and spinning eyes. Glass lenses moved on copper rods, up and
down, forward and back, magnifying and shrinking those peering white
eyes. The creature's tongue hung low, and its voice chattered, and
always its fingers probed him, hurt him. Fingers of scalpels. Fingers
of saws. Fingers of needles. Fingers of spools, the thread around
them spinning madly. Beyond this demonic physician spread dark clouds
and streams of light, rising and falling suns, nights and days
dancing, creaking trees, clouds of pain.

He laughed and bucked, wriggling, trying to rise, to move his limbs.
Nothing but stumps. Nothing but pain.

"An abomination." His spittle flew as he laughed. "Look
what they did to me. But I still live. I live!"

The insect above him only chattered in its tongue, tools moving in a
fury. Dead demons spread around them in the forest, their limbs
severed like his own—tentacles, insect legs, claws, strewn around,
piled up, leaking. He wondered if his own limbs were among them. He
wondered if Laira had swallowed his arms. He wondered if they still
moved inside her, grabbing at her innards.

"Stitchmark heal you," the insect buzzed above, its tools
dipping and rising, cutting and sewing. "Stitchmark bring back
your limbs."

The sun set and rose, the trees moved, rain washed him, and the
shadows of a fever dream danced like demons.

Finally in a pale dawn he rose.

He looked down upon his body, then tossed back his head and laughed
in the sunlight.

New limbs grew from him. His left leg was that of a great bird,
ending with a yellow talon. His right leg was furry and thick, ending
with a hoof. His right arm was that of a lobster, its claw clacking.
His left arm was now a long, wriggling tentacle.

"You should have used human limbs, Stitchmark!" he said,
still laughing, tears flowing down his cheeks.

The demon buzzed and hovered before him. "Human limbs are weak.
They rot and fall off. The limbs of demons I gave you, and they made
you strong."

Raem took a step. The furry leg moved forward and the hoof pushed
into the mud. He took another step. The talon stepped onto grass. He
raised his arms, the lobster claw clacking, the tentacle writhing. He
was an abomination. He was a demon. He was strong.

"You cannot stop me now, Requiem." His body convulsed with
his joy. "You took my arms, Laira. You took my legs, Jeid. You
made me so much stronger. I rise greater than ever before! I am Raem
Seran, King of the Abyss. The bones of dragons will bedeck my new
hall!"

Sweat drenched him and he trembled with weakness. He stumbled toward
Stitchmark, climbed onto the creature's armored back, and pointed his
tentacle to the south.

"Fly, Stitchmark. Fly to Eteer. Our army has fallen but we
return home in glory."

They flew, the world streaming around them, skies streaked with many
clouds, beams of light like dragonfire, wilted forests, gray seas.
They left the north, this realm of dragons, this realm that had
purified him, that had cleansed his soul and turned him into a demon,
into a great king of the underworld. He was half-starved, mad with
thirst and fever, pale and thin but still laughing when Stitchmark
carried him back into Eteer, his wondrous city.

"Beautiful Jewel of the Coast." He gazed upon his city with
damp eyes. "Fair Crown of Taal." It was an ancient city,
perhaps the oldest in the world. It was a beacon of civilization in a
world of chaos. It was a hive of demon spawn, shattered bricks, and
the birth of a new nation.

His children had been born; today they were all his children. The
nephilim perched upon the shattered walls and broken roofs of Eteer,
gazing at him with wide, lit eyes. Half demons. Half mortal women.
Fallen Ones. They were the size of men already, their skin rotten,
their wings leathery and warty. Fangs grew from their mouths, long as
daggers. Their sweet, rancid smell filled Raem's nostrils, and he
smiled. They had destroyed his city, the lovelies; few buildings
remained standing, and the skeletons of many mortals littered the
streets. From the ruins rose his palace, one of the few buildings
that still stood. Its gardens were gone. Its columns were blackened.
The engravings of old gods had been scratched off its walls; the
spirals of the Abyss now dripped upon them, painted in human gore.