A Dawn of Dragonfire: Dragonlore, Book 1 (6 page)

He turned to face them, his wings churning the falling snow.  They flew in phalanxes, each lead by a bellator with gilded horns, each a terror of a hundred dragons.  Fifty knights and thousands of hardened warriors; they all roared in the night.  Their jets of flame rose like pillars of a burning cathedral, blazing against their scales.  Their fangs shone like whetted daggers.

"Dragons of Requiem!" King Olasar called to them.  "Show the enemy no quarter.  Defend our land.  Destroy these beasts of unholy fire!"

Their cries shattered the night.  The falling snow flurried and steamed around them.  Olasar turned back toward the enemy, the countless phoenixes that had swallowed their southern lands, slain his son, and now flew toward Nova Vita itself.  The firebirds screeched and burned with the fury of the sun.

"To war!" Olasar shouted and flew toward them.

"To war!" cried five thousand voices behind him.

Their wings thudded.  Their flames roared.  Thousands of dragons, warriors of Requiem, soared through wind and darkness.  Their cries rose in the night—for war, for fire, and for glory.  The smell of smoke and fear filled Olasar's nostrils, and he bared his fangs.

As my forefathers fought for Requiem, I will fight too.  For the memory of my son.  For the eternal light of our people.  I will not let Requiem fall again.

The phoenixes flew toward them, a mile away, then a hundred yards.  Their heat blazed.  Olasar had never felt such heat; it stung his eyes and throat.  The firebirds soared and swooped, their cries thudded in his ears… and then they were upon him.

Roaring, Olasar blew a jet of fire.  It crackled, spun, and slammed into a phoenix.  The great bird tossed back its head and screeched.  The dragonfire only seemed to fuel the creature; it grew larger, and its talons lashed.

The claws slammed into Olasar, and he howled.  The fire roared across his chest, raising welts.  The heat consumed him, and all around, countless other phoenixes flew.  He swung his claws, tearing into one.  It was like clawing a campfire; there was no flesh to cut.  The phoenix roared, a sound like an erupting volcano, and thrust its beak.

Fire blasted Olasar and raced across his scales.  He reared and beat his wings, trying to scatter the phoenix flames; it only fanned the fire, making the bird larger, hotter, crueler.  Its eyes crackled, white pools like smelters.

Olasar bared his teeth and soared higher.  The phoenix chased him through the clouds.  All around, he saw dragons battling more phoenixes.  The flames and clouds roiled, and cries shook the sky.

"We cannot kill them, my lord!" cried a dragon to his left.

"The demons cannot be burned or cut!" shouted another dragon.

Everywhere he looked, Olasar saw dragons burning.  Their wings flamed and they howled in the night.  They fell around him.  In death, Requiem's magic left them, and they took human forms.  The bodies of men and women fell like comets.

"They must not reach Nova Vita!" Olasar shouted.  Thousands of his people dwelled there—women, children, the elderly.  He howled.  "Dragons, hold them back!"

Five phoenixes soared toward him, a shower of flame.  Their wings battered him.  Their claws burned him.  Their beaks of fire dug into his flesh.  He roared, flapping his wings, beating them back.  When he scattered their fire, they reformed.  When he cut their bodies, the flames only burned his claws.

"We must retreat!" cried a slim blue dragon beside him.  Her gilded horns shone in the firelight—a bellator's horns.

"Lyana!" Olasar cried to her.  "Lyana, fly to Nova Vita!  Get everyone into the tunnels and seal them!  We will hold them back.  Go underground!"

The young blue dragon howled.  She blew flame at a swooping phoenix but could not stop its dive.  It slammed into her, knocking her into a spin.

"I will not leave you, my king!" she cried, dodging the phoenix claws.  "I will not leave my men!"

"Fly!" he cried to her.  "Save those that you still can.  Lead the city into the tunnels, Lyana!  That is my command."

Three phoenixes crashed into him, and Olasar howled in pain.  Welts rose across his belly.  The scales covering his back blazed; he felt that they would soon melt.  He could barely see; smoke and flame filled the night.

"Fly, Lyana!" he shouted.

He thought he glimpsed a flash of blue scales shooting into the distance. 
I must only hold the phoenixes back long enough,
he thought. 
Long enough for Lyana to evacuate the city underground, to save herself and my living son.
  He gritted his teeth. 
I will hold them back.

"Dragons of Requiem!" he shouted into the inferno.  "Cut them with claws, scatter their flames, do not let them fly forward!  Hold them back!"

The phoenix beaks bit.  Their wings slammed into him like fountains of lava.  All around he saw dragons blazing, shouting, and turning into men who burned and fell.  The smoke filled Olasar's lungs.  He could not breathe.  Soon he could no longer see; he seemed to fly inside the sun.

Will Requiem fall again?  Will it fall like in the days of King Benedictus, when the griffins toppled our halls?

A great howl rose before him, a sound of collapsing mountains, of primal rage, of shattering kingdoms.

The smoke parted.  The flames rose in a wall.  From the holocaust soared a phoenix, brighter than the others, slender and graceful.  Its eyes were molten stars, blazing white.  Its wings stretched out, red and orange, tapestries of inferno.  It was the most beautiful creature Olasar had ever seen, a deity of punishment and brimstone.

The great firebird soared toward him.  Its claws were shards of purest white, hotter than forge fire.  They slammed into him, and the world burned, and white light flooded him.

Olasar the First, King of Requiem, fell from the sky.

He crashed through the clouds, tore through burning trees, and slammed into the snow.  The shock and pain tore his magic from him.  His wings pulled into his body, his claws and fangs retracted, and his scales vanished.  He lay as a man, burnt and cut, dying.  When he looked around him, he saw the bodies of slain soldiers; they too were only men now, their magic extinguished, their bodies seared red and black.

Olasar looked above him.  The phoenix army covered the sky; he could see no end to them.  They were flying north, heading to Nova Vita, the capital where forty-five thousand of his people still dwelled.

"Save them, Lyana," he whispered, feverish and trembling.  Smoke rose from him.  "Save our people."

The great, beautiful phoenix descended toward him, burning with the fire of the sun. 
So graceful,
Olasar thought in a haze. 
So beautiful.  How could something so beautiful be so cruel?

The phoenix landed in the snow before him.  It regarded him for a moment, and then its fires flared, twisted, pulled inward.  It shrank and reformed, taking the shape of a human.  It was a woman, he realized—a woman with platinum hair, a golden mask, and sabres at her hips.  She walked toward him as the sky burned.  A crystal hung around her neck, a flame dancing inside it.

"Who are you?" Olasar whispered, staring up at her.

She came to stand above him, staring down through her golden mask.  In one hand, she held a sack.  Her other hand rested on the pommel of her sword.

"Olasar," she said to him, her voice itself like caressing flame.  "Hello again."

He squinted, staring up at her; she stood dark before the wall of fire.  Her golden mask glimmered.  He tried to rise but could not.  Welts rose across him, seeping.  The pain spun his head and sweat drenched him.

"Show yourself," he managed to say, reaching for his sword with charred fingers.

Slowly, the woman removed her golden mask… and Olasar snarled.

You were right,
Lyana.  Stars bless us.

"Solina," he whispered hoarsely.

Her face was golden, her eyes blue, her lips cruel.  A burn mark ran across her face, from forehead to chin and down her neck.  She traced the scar with her fingers.

"My line of fire," Solina said softly.  "You remember how your son, the great Prince Orin, burned me."  She opened her sack and held it upside down.  A severed head rolled out.  Half the head was burned into pulpy, red flesh.  The other half was locked in a cry of anguish.

"No," Olasar whispered, then howled in the night.  "My son!  My son."  Tears filled her eyes.

Solina nodded, smiling softly.  "He burned me… and so I burned him.  And so I will burn all of you."

Olasar shook his head.  Though the pain suffused him, he managed to rise to his feet.  He drew Stella Lumen, his ancient sword.  The fire of the phoenix army blazed against the blade.

"I took you into my court," he said, voice trembling but still strong.  "I raised you as a daughter.  I—"

"You lie!" Solina screamed.  Suddenly her eyes blazed, and her fury twisted her face.  "I was no daughter to you.  I know, Olasar.  I know what happened to my true parents.  I know that you killed them."  She laughed and touched the crystal at her neck; the flame inside it danced.  "But I am strong now; I have the strength of the Sun God.  As you killed my parents with steel, so will I kill you.  Goodbye, tyrant.  May your soul forever burn in the court of my lord."

She drew her sword.  It crackled with fire and she drove it forward.  Olasar parried, sparks showered, and his blade shattered.  Shards of steel flew.

Solina snarled and her blade thrust.  It drove into Olasar's chest, burning, blazing, twisting inside him.

He fell.  Solina laughed above him, and all Olasar saw was the thousands of firebirds flowing north, burning all in their path, heading to the heart of his realm… and then the flames flooded his world, and he saw nothing else.

 
 
LYANA

"No," she whispered, eyes stinging.  Her breath died within her.  "Stars, please, no…  Stars, no."

The image seared her.  Orin's head, severed and charred, rolling from a sack.  It stared up at her from below, hundreds of yards away, but dragon eyes were sharp, and she knew it was him.  Tears blurred Lyana's vision.

"Orin, stars… my Orin."

My love.  My betrothed.  My prince.

She watched as Solina pulled her sword free from the king's body, this woman who had once been like an older sister to her.  Smirking, Solina sheathed her blade, leaped into the air, and flames engulfed her.  She spread fiery wings and took flight as a phoenix, a flaming beast the size of a dragon.  Her shrieks tore the air.

"Kill every last dragon!"  Her voice stormed through her beak of fire.  "Soon we fly to Nova Vita."

Lyana had heard enough.  She had to warn them.  The king had commanded her.  Growling, she spun around and began flying north. 
I will warn them.  I will save our city.

She shot through the battle, eyes narrowed.  Around her, dragons were still dying, burned in the grip of phoenix talons.  Three of the firebirds dived toward her, leaving trails of flame.  Lyana flew sideways, dodging them, and flashed around them.  She soared, jaw clenched.

You will not have died in vain, Orin,
she vowed. 
I will save our people.

She had always been fast—not as fast as Mori, perhaps, but faster than anyone else she knew.  Her body was slim, her scales smooth, her wings strong.  She burst through walls of fire, howling, and shot into the clouds.

Snow flurried and filled her maw.  Its ice stung the welts that covered her wings.  She flew higher and higher until her eyes burned, her lungs ached, and she could barely see or breathe.  She straightened, glided forward, and looked down.

The battle raged below, hidden under the clouds.  She saw bursts of light where phoenixes flared.  She heard their shrieks and the death cries of dragons.  When she looked north, she saw only darkness, but she knew Nova Vita lay ahead across lake and mountain.  Capital of Requiem.  Home to thousands of Vir Requis she had to save.

The shame of leaving her phalanx—a hundred soldiers sworn to serve her in battle—dug through her chest.  She was a knight, a leader of warriors… and she was leaving them to die.  She gritted her teeth and fire flared inside her.

Yet I will obey my king.  I will save the people of Nova Vita.  I will do what I must.

She flew toward the city.  She cut through the night, the cold air stinging.

Shrieks sounded behind her, moving closer.  When she looked over her shoulder, she cursed.  Three phoenixes emerged from the clouds, flames blazing, and flew toward her.

"Damn it!"  Lyana gritted her teeth and flew faster.  She could not let these beasts follow her home.  She dived, plunging into the cloud cover.  The snow slammed against her and the wind screamed.

The phoenix cries rose behind her.  She turned her head and saw blazes of light through the clouds, like three suns chasing her.  She flapped her wings mightily.

Even three could destroy our city,
she thought. 
I can't let these ones reach Nova Vita before I evacuate everyone into the tunnels.

She kept flying.  They kept chasing, orbs of light inside the clouds. 
They will not leave me.
  Lyana swerved sideways and flew east, cursing the delay; every moment she lingered could mean another life lost.  When she looked back, she saw the flames follow, blazing among the clouds.

Stars!
  How could they keep following her?  The clouds were surely too thick to see a slim, blue dragon who blew no fire. 
I must be leaving a wake through the clouds… that, or they can smell dragons.

She flew up and down, left and right, but the phoenixes followed.  Their shrieks grew closer.  The clouds began to thin, and Lyana cursed under her breath.  Soon the flurries of snow died, and only wisps of clouds raced across her scales.  Sky burst open before her, black and tainted with the orange glow of distant fire.  Smoke billowed above, umber and gray.  Behind her, a wall of fire rose from the battle, casting red light like blood across the land.

The phoenixes cried behind her.  Lyana glanced back and cursed.  They tore through the last clouds, comets of fury, blazing toward her.  Their wings burned red and yellow.  Their beaks opened, revealing gullets like flowing lava.  Their eyes flared, collapsing stars.  They left wakes of flame as they soared toward her.  Though the night was black, their light filled it; they saw her, and they cried with bloodlust.