Requiem's Hope (Dawn of Dragons) (5 page)

He looked down at the demon he rode, a tortured, weeping thing. Once,
they said, she had been a woman, a mere mortal. Her bones had been
distended, her skin stretched, her body broken and reshaped so many
times her mind had shattered. Today this creature flew as a great
bat, mouth smacking, wings thudding.

"An abomination," Raem whispered, disgust flooding him.
"And my daughters are sinners. They are abominations too. Soon
they will fly as broken creatures. I will ride them."

The north sprawled beneath him, the hinterlands across the sea,
barbarous realms of wandering tribes, backwater villages, and that
pathetic Requiem the weredragons called a kingdom. He sneered. Eteer,
his kingdom in the south, was a land of towers, of high walls, of
lush gardens, of civilization. Here was a benighted wilderness. Here
was a den of reptiles. Here was a land he must crush.

"Seek their column!" he shouted. "Stare, demon eyes,
and scan this world, and find the pillar of marble. They built a
beacon to draw in more of their kind, a lighthouse for lizards."
He laughed. "It will also summon their doom."

They demons cackled with him. They flew on.

They flew for hours, for days, for nights, never tiring, never
resting, seeking Requiem. She would be there, Raem knew. Issari would
be among the other filthy weredragons. He caressed his arm where
stitches still held his raw wound, the wound Issari had given him
when she stabbed him in the cistern. Raem licked his lips as he
imagined how she would suffer, how he would cut every part of her.
Perhaps he would stitch Issari and Laira together, forming a
conjoined twin, a single daughter to torment. He had seen demons
perform this art; he would practice it upon the reptiles.

They flew onward, dripping rot, scanning the world. Spring had begun,
but their wings darkened the sky, their steam hid the sun, and all
wilted beneath their rancid rain.

They flew until they saw the village ahead.

Clay huts clustered together, their roofs topped with straw. It was a
place barely worth stopping to piss at. Three reed boats floated in a
river, and goats brayed in a pen. A few barbarians stood in the dirt,
firing arrows up at the demons; most hid in their huts. Raem wanted
to fly onward, but his demons bustled, drooled, begged for flesh.

Raem sighed and stroked the creature he rode.

"Very well." He pointed down at the village and raised his
voice. "Land, my friends! Land and feed."

They descended upon the village in a spiral of decay, a dripping
tornado of hissing, snapping mouths and raining drool. A few
villagers tried to flee, firing arrows into the unholy swarm. Demons
descended upon them, ripping off limbs, pulling out entrails,
crunching bones in their jaws. Other villagers tried to flee across
the fields. A coiling centipede, as long as a fallen oak, wrapped
around one fleeing child and squeezed, slicing her to segments. A
twitching bundle of arms and mouths, its insect wings buzzing, flew
toward one family, regurgitated a net of dripping webs to trap them,
and thrust a metal tongue like a tube into the screaming mass. Huts
collapsed. Animals screamed and died. Gobbets of meat flew across the
village and blood soaked the earth.

Raem's mount, the constructed bat, still hovered above the village.
She looked over her shoulder at him, eyes begging, tongue lolling.
Sitting in the saddle, Raem stroked her.

"Very well, Anai," he said. He had named her after his dead
wife, for this creature had become his new companion. "You may
feed."

Not wasting another heartbeat, the beast plunged down, her two spine
ridges bulging. She descended upon a screaming, legless man; a second
demon was guzzling down the legs a few feet away. The man tried to
crawl away, but Anai pounced upon him, thrust down her mouth, and
ripped out flesh. The creature wept as she fed, perhaps still
remembering her old human soul, but she fed nonetheless.

When they took flight again, the village was gone, its houses
toppled, all its life consumed. Piles of bricks, bloodstains, clumps
of hair, and steaming demon waste were all that remained.

The host flew on.

"Soon, Anai," Raem said, riding his mount across the sky.
He caressed the beast's wispy, pale hair. "Soon you will feed
upon the sweet meat of dragons."

Their appetite whet, their bellies still grumbling, the demons flew
north, heading across the river . . . heading to Requiem.

 
 
LAIRA

Laira
knelt above her sister, stroking the girl's hair.

"Issari," she whispered, and her tears fell, splashing
against the young woman's cheek. "My sister."

Only eighteen winters old, Issari was younger than Laira, but her
limbs were longer, and even bruised and cut and famished, her body
seemed stronger. A braid hung across her shoulder, thick and black,
and her skin was pale.

"You grew up in a palace," Laira whispered. "You grew
up in wealth, a roof always over your head, food always on your
plate. And you are beautiful. And I love you."

Having fled Eteer as a toddler, Laira had grown up cold, hungry,
neglected, and now—in adulthood—her body still bore testament to
those hardships. She stood shy of five feet, her body frail and weak,
her limbs stick thin. Her hair, which her chieftain would crop short,
was only now growing out, falling across her brow and ears. Her jaw
was still crooked, broken years ago, leaving her mouth slanted and
her chin thrust to the side—an injury that would never heal. Yet
Issari was still pure. Issari was the only pure thing Laira still had
from her old home across the sea.

"I lost a brother today," she whispered. "But I found
a sister."

Issari mumbled, lying upon a fur rug beneath King's Column. The
others stood all around—Jeid, his children, and the newcomers. Some
stared at Issari, and others whispered amongst themselves of the
demon threat crawling across the land. Grief at Sena's death and joy
at finding Issari filled Laira, but fear coiled within her too. War
was coming; she smelled it on the wind, a faint stench.

"Wake, Issari." Laira kissed the girl's cheek. "Wake
and tell us what you know."

Dorvin paced restlessly beside them, his boots thumping upon the
marble tiles. A young man, his black hair falling across his brow, he
scowled and clenched his fists. His eyes burned. "She already
told us enough." Dorvin hawked and spat. "An army of
demons. Flying here. Very well then! We fight. We take flight now. We
meet them in battle." He raised his fist. "We blow fire and
we—"

Jeid slapped the young man's nape. "Silence, boy. We don't fly
to war before hearing more." The king turned toward Alina, the
young druid. "Is the drink ready? Issari needs healing. Now."

The druid nodded. She stared up from the shadows of her hood, her
lavender eyes glowing in the sunlight. She stepped forth, robes
swaying, holding a clay bowl. Within was steaming water thick with
healing herbs.

"Help your sister drink," Alina said, offering the mug to
Laira. "This will give her strength."

Laira accepted the medicine and tilted the bowl over Issari's lips.

"Drink, sister." Gently, she poured the liquid into
Issari's mouth. "Drink a little."

Issari twitched in her sleep, mumbled something unintelligible, and
sputtered. With Laira's guidance, the young woman drank a few sips,
coughed, and opened her eyes.

At once Issari sprang up to a sitting position, her eyes widening.
"Demons!" she cried out. Her voice rang across the camp.
"An army of demons. We must flee. Dragons of Requiem! We—"

Her eyes rolled back, and Laira had to catch her to stop her from
falling. Gently, she pulled the girl closer to King's Column and
propped her up against the pillar. Issari flitted between sleep and
wakefulness, mumbling about an unholy host, of her father's cruelty,
and of an evil to destroy the world.

Laira sat by her sister, gently letting her sip her medicine, holding
her close as she trembled. Finally Issari sat with open eyes,
breathing deeply, her hand clutching Laira's. Her cheeks were still
pale, and blood still stained her tunic and hair.

When the others stepped closer, Laira waved them back. "Give us
room! Let her breathe."

Issari took deep breaths, calming herself. Laira allowed only Jeid to
step close. The king knelt before Issari, his eyes somber.

"How far is this demon army?" he said, voice low.

Issari swallowed, squeezed Laira's hand, and spoke softly. "I
don't know. I shook them off three days ago in a dark forest. I've
been flying since, seeking Requiem. If I found it, they'll find it
too. They can pick up any scent; their noses are more powerful than
any hound's. I disguised my scent with a bear's pelt, but they'll
smell this place." She shivered. "They'll smell us, or
they'll see the pillar rising from the forest, and they'll be here
soon. Already their scouts scour the land. They will not stop."
She trembled. "My father will never stop hunting us. He's fallen
to madness."

After a moment of silence, everyone started talking at once.

"We fly and take them head-on!" Dorvin was shouting, a grin
splitting his face.

"We should flee and hide!" said Bryn, a young woman with
fiery red hair.

One man was trembling. "We're all going to die. Oh stars, we're
all going to die."

Voices rose and soon everyone was crying out as one, demanding to
flee, fight, or surrender. Jeid was urging calmness, but even the
king couldn't silence the voices.

Only Laira and Issari remained silent, sitting under the column. As
the others shouted and waved their hands, Laira touched her sister's
cheek.

"Do you know who I am, Issari?" whispered. "Do you
recognize me?"

Issari stared at her, confused. Her eyes widened and tears streamed
down her cheeks. She reached out a shaky finger to touch Laira's
hair.

"Are you . . . You're her." Issari gasped and pulled Laira
into an embrace. "You're Laira. You're my Laira. You're my sweet
sister. Thank Taal."

Even as the others shouted, as fear and rage flowed across their
camp, Laira smiled as she cried. She held Issari close and kissed her
forehead. "It's me. We're together again."

 
 
JEID

For
a long time, Jeid stood silently, listening to the others speak,
shout, and whisper.

Some demanded to take flight now, to find the demons, to face them
head-on. Others cried to flee, to hide in the forests in human forms,
to dig holes and tunnels and wait until danger passed. Alina the
druid, her eyes gleaming, kept speaking of a fabled settlement of Vir
Requis in the west, Vir Requis who would help them. Hearing the
commotion, several riders of the Goldtusk tribe joined their council;
the fur-clad hunters normally camped farther east in the forest,
serving Laira, their new chieftain, but now they too joined the
argument, shouting that they could defeat any demonic army crawling
across their land.

And Jeid stood, listening to them all.

What do we do?
he thought, a chill inside him.
Fight? Flee?
Seek others to help us?
He looked at his people: a couple dozen
Vir Requis. With them fought only seventy rocs.

Not even a hundred flying beasts,
Jeid thought, heart sinking.
Against a thousand demons.
It had taken four dragons to defeat
the demonic octopus; how could they face a thousand of those
creatures?

He closed his eyes, thinking of all those he had lost. His father.
His wife. His daughter. He thought of the others who had died: the
young man who had lost his leg, Prince Sena, Laira's mother, and many
others across the world.

So many Vir Requis already fallen. Will the last of us die now?

He opened his eyes and looked at his people again. Dorvin was
shouting louder, demanding they fly now to battle. Her staff raised,
Alina was speaking of finding more Vir Requis in the west. Others
were demanding they hide.

Jeid ignored the calls, ignored the hands that grasped at his cloak.
He turned back toward Issari. The young woman was sitting down,
propped up against the column, wrapped in a cloak.

Stars, she's so young,
he thought.
Barely more than a
youth, yet she carries the fate of a kingdom on her shoulders.

"Issari." He knelt before her. "Tell me everything you
know of these demons. How did your father summon them? How does he
control them? Why do they obey him?"

The southern princess took a deep breath. She clutched her braid like
a drowning woman holding on to a rope dangling off a boat. "I
read about them in ancient clay tablets. All royal children of Eteer
know the tale. Many years ago, the first Eteerian King imprisoned the
Queen of Demons, the creature named Angel. She was once a being of
great piety and light, a daughter of Taal himself, banished from his
realm for her cruelty. In her underground prison, she bred and
festered, creating a host of many creatures. She and her minions are
bound to the throne of Eteer. Whoever sits upon that throne can
command them." Issari took a shuddering breath. "For
generations, no king or queen dared free this unholy legion. Until my
father." She grimaced. "He hates Vir Requis so much—those
he calls weredragons—that he summoned the demons to hunt us. I
myself am one of your number."

Shakily, Issari rose to her feet, took a deep breath, and shifted.
White scales flowed across her, gleaming like mother of pearl. Snowy
horns budded upon her head, and her claws clattered against the
marble tiles. She looked at Jeid with deep green eyes. When the
dragon spoke, the same high, soft voice emerged from her jaws.

"You see now why I fled Eteer. Why he hunts me and Laira. Why he
hunts Sena." Suddenly Issari blinked, looked around, and tilted
her head. "Where is Sena? Laira . . . where is our brother?"