A Memory of Fire (The Dragon War, Book 3) (17 page)

His claws grazed the water. He
beat his wings and soared. He grabbed Sila before the captain could
crash into the sea.

"Back into the saddle!"
he said.

He rose higher, looking around
him. The battle had become a brawl. Rather than protect their
comrades, the scope bearers flew aimlessly. For every legionary they
cut down, ten swooped from behind. Arquebuses fired, cracking and
shattering the air. Dragonfire blazed.

"This is no battle,"
Valien growled. "It's a bar fight."

He soared higher. Sila blazed
his beam upward. They tore through the hosts, legionaries falling
around them.

"Kaelyn!" he said,
spotting the green dragon ahead. "Take the east. Go! Erry—go
west. Shine that beam. Leresy, damn you, find your scope!"

The red dragon still flew, blood
seeping down his shoulders, his scope gone from his claws. Kaelyn
and Erry roared and darted out, blazing their beams, holding the
enemy back. Thousands of legionaries still flew, mingling together
with the resistors.

Valien cursed. "Sila, what
can you do?"

Upon his back, the captain
shouted, "Damn armies are too mingled! I can barely shine the
light upon a legionary without hitting a resistor too. This is a
damn mess."

"Do what you can. We have
to separate the forces."

The battle continued for hours.
Dragonfire, Genesis Beams, and gunfire lit the night. Men and women
fell all around, some still alive and blazing, others charred
corpses. Legionaries flew everywhere. The beams mowed down some;
others crashed into the Resistance, blowing fire and lashing claws.
Smoke and blood rained into the sea below.

Dawn rose before the Resistance
made its way onto the empire's shore.

The sunlight rose upon a world
coated in blood and ash.

Valien filled his wings with
air, grunted with the pain of a dozen cuts, and landed upon the
beach. His fellow resistors landed around him, wheezing and puffing
smoke. Their scales were cracked and charred. Cuts and burns
covered them. Their blood dripped. Upon their backs, many Tirans
clutched wounds and welts. Some dragons bore only corpses upon their
saddles.

All around them, the bodies of
legionaries swept onto the shore. Every wave brought a new pile of
their bloated, lacerated corpses. Death covered the beaches, thicker
than the seashells, a blanket of flesh.

Sila dismounted and Valien took
human form.

"Teramil, bring me
reports!" Valien barked at one of his lieutenants, a tall and
dour man with cold eyes. "Count the living. Aranor!" He
turned toward another commander, a former priest turned resistor.
"Organize the survivors into new phalanxes. Make sure every man
is armed. We fly within an hour. They know we're here."

He moved along the beach, giving
orders. With every wave, new corpses floated toward him. Blood
painted the sand. Most of the dead were legionaries, clad in black
armor; many were resistors, wearing only leather and wool, their
flesh burnt black, their mouths open in silent anguish.

Some soldiers washed ashore
still writhing and screaming. Some had lost limbs; they clutched at
their bleeding stumps. Others screamed with burns, their skin
peeling, their flesh twisting. Some bore gaping wounds, exposing or
losing organs, crying for home. They had brought only a hundred
healers—not enough, Valien knew. Not enough. With every step he
took, another wounded man or woman fell silent, joining the dead.

So
many more dead,
Valien thought, walking among them, gritting his teeth.
We
should have stayed on the islands. Stars damn it, this shouldn't
have happened. Frey knew. He waited for us.
Valien's throat tightened.
And
now more blood stains my hands.

Yet as he walked among the dead
and dying, his thoughts centered on only one soul.

"Kaelyn," he
whispered.

He walked through the sand,
seeking her. He saw her in every charred body. His fists shook. He
wanted to shout out for her, but could not; the leader of the
Resistance could show no emotions for one woman. He kept moving,
quickening his step, his boots slogging through the blood.

I
can't lose you too, Kaelyn.
His breath shook behind his clenched teeth.
Where
are you?

"Valien!"

Her voice rang across the beach.
He turned and saw her there, and his eyes dampened.

"Thank the stars," he
whispered.

He took three great strides
toward her. She ran and crashed into his arms, and he held her.
Blood smeared her.

"Kaelyn, you're hurt,"
he said, her golden hair a tangle beneath his chin.

She shook her head. "The
blood isn't mine. Not most of it. I'm scratched and a little
burned, but I'm fine." She looked up at him, her eyes large and
afraid. "He knew we were coming. How did he know?"

Still holding her in his arms,
Valien looked over the beach. For a mile or more around him, the
corpses lay. Crows and crabs were already swarming for the feast.

"He always knew we were on
the island," he said, throat tight and voice a mere hiss. "I
should have known islands that size, even so far away, would not go
unnoticed. He patrolled from the air or from the sea, but he knew,
and he waited for us."

When his lieutenants returned
with the news, Valien felt his stomach sink. His head spun. He
gritted his teeth and could only stand in the blood, fists clenched.
He had flown here with five thousand souls; four thousand remained.

This
was always a fool's quest,
he thought, head lowered.

Kaelyn clutched his arm. Her
hair flew in the wind, stained red. A cut ran down her cheek, but
her eyes still blazed.

"We fly on," she said.
"We tore through the Legions upon the beach. We will tear
through them at the capital."

Valien growled and shook his
head. "We've lost too many. Even with full force, we were
unsure. We lost a thousand warriors before even landing on the
beaches."

"And yet we did land,"
Kaelyn said and bared her teeth. "Valien Eleison, do not give
up hope now. Keep fighting or I will smack you." She dug her
fingers into his arms, her head no taller than his shoulders, her
eyes shining like the red beams of ancient stones. "We fight
on. You and me. As we always have. We fly to the capital and we
win this."

Valien looked around. His
fighters surrounded him and he gazed into their eyes, each one in
turn. Sila and Miya stared back steadily; their faces were ashy and
bloody, but their backs were straight. Erry stood with her chin
raised, snarling, her eyes lusting for the fight. Thousands of
fighters spread beyond them—cut, burnt, and weary, but their eyes
all shone the same. They shone for battle. For victory.

They
are brave and strong,
Valien thought,
yet
I am afraid. They need me to lead them, but do I only lead them to
more death?

"Move. Move it!" An
arrogant, high-pitched voice rose among the crowd. Leresy came
trudging forward, elbowing men and women out of his path. "Where's
Valien, damn it?" When the prince emerged from the crowd and
saw them, he glared. "Are you having a council without me?"

Kaelyn rolled her eyes.
"Brother, do be quiet."

Her
twin snorted. "Me, be quiet? My scopes won this battle for
us." He raised his chin. "
I
dug up the Genesis Shards.
I
built the scopes. Thanks to me, we're in Requiem now. What are you
planning next? I demand to know."

Valien growled. His rage fumed
inside him like dragonfire. For many days, he had ignored this pup,
letting Kaelyn and the others scold him into silence. Today, these
dead around him, this blood on his boots and hands, he could not curb
his fury. He marched through the sand.

When he reached Leresy, the
prince smirked at him. Valien could not stop himself. He growled
and backhanded the boy, putting all his rage into the blow.

Leresy yowled like a kicked dog.
He cowered, raising his arms to protect his face, and scampered
back. Valien would not let him flee. He grabbed the boy, twisted
his collar, and glared down at him.

"You foolish child,"
he said, clutching the prince. "You lost a scope. You were too
proud to bear a rider, and you let your scope tumble into the sea.
Did you find it?"

Leresy tried to shove him off,
but could not, so he only raised his chin and glared. His lips
shook, and his cheek reddened where Valien had struck him.

"How the Abyss can I find
it?" His voice cracked, but he swallowed and glared, struggling
to reclaim some pride. "The damn thing sank. It fell by you.
Why didn't you grab it?"

Valien howled and shook the
prince. "Its light tore away my magic. I could have died
because of your foolishness, boy. I let you carry a scope, and you
proved yourself useless."

Leresy clenched his fists and
glared, but his knees trembled and sweat drenched him.

"Unhand me!" he
demanded. "I am Prince Leresy Cadigus. I am the son of the
emperor. I order you to—"

"You are a fool,"
Valien said and spat.

He shoved the prince away.
Leresy tumbled into the sand, hissed, and glared. Valien turned and
marched away. He shouted out for his army to hear.

"Warriors of the
Resistance! We will not linger here. We fly! Carry the wounded
with you. We fly on."

They took flight, four thousand
souls, one of their scopes lost, leaving their dead to the sea. They
would need to set camp soon. They would need to rest, to eat and
drink, to sleep, to nurse their wounds before the fight ahead. But
not here. Not upon this beach of death.

They flew through the night, a
small light in the endless darkness. As Valien flew at their lead,
he could not swallow the pain that filled his throat.

 
 
RUNE

They had flown for barely a
league when the city erupted behind them.

Rune had never found flying
harder. He had not taken dragon form in many days, not since
surrendering himself. His wings felt as creaky as the old chains.
His scales clanked and slammed together, sending jolts of pain
through him. When he twisted his head and looked at his body, he did
not see the slim, strong black dragon he had been, but a wretched
beast, haggard, his ribs pushing against cracked scales.

He looked at Tilla. She flew at
his side, a white dragon clad in black armor, the red spirals still
blazing upon her steel. She looked behind her and cursed.

"They found her," she
said. "They found Shari and they'll scour the sky until they
find us."

As Rune flew, he again glanced
over his shoulder at the city. Alarm bells clanged. Pillars of fire
shot skyward, thick as a forest. Dragons began to rise, tens of
thousands of them, like flies rising from a disturbed carcass. Their
shrieks rolled across the land. The Legions began spreading out from
the city in every direction, a puddle oozing across the forest.

"Oh stars damn it!"
Tilla said and panted. "They'll find us. They'll bring us
back. Oh stars."

Rune shook his head. He wheezed
and barely forced the words from his lips.

"They won't find us,"
he said. "I've hidden from the Legions for two years. Follow
me."

He spotted the place ahead. Two
piney hillsides dipped down, creating a fold between them. The trees
were thick and white with snow, but Rune knew that a stream ran
beneath them, hidden from the air. He began descending, the wind
rushing against him. Fire crackled and shrieks rose behind.

"What are you doing?"
Tilla said. "We have to fly far. We have to fly south.
They're chasing!"

"Trust me," he said.
He slapped her with his tail, gesturing her on. "Follow. I
know a hiding place. Don't blow fire. Glide dark and silent as a
ghost."

He glanced behind him. The
Legions were swarming closer. Firelight glinted against armor. Tens
of thousands of dragons were flying out, shrieking, blowing fire and
lighting the night. Rune was a fast flier, but he was too weak now,
too slow and hurt. They would have to hide.

He dived down, silent in the
night. Tilla dived beside him. They crashed through the forest
canopy, stretched out their claws, and landed on the forest floor.
Rune allowed only a glint of fire to fill his maw. The orange light
fell upon a frozen stream, boulders, and snow. Hillsides flanked
them, thick with birches and pines, forming two walls.

"We're too close to the
city," Tilla said. The white dragon glanced up nervously.
Their pursuers shrieked above; they would fly overhead in moments.
"They'll uproot every tree here."

Rune grunted and wheezed.
"Uprooting trees takes a while. And they won't burn the forest.
They want us alive or dead. Burning us gives them only ash. Follow
me. We're close. It's somewhere around here."

"What is?" she said.
"Rune, we must head south. We must get as far from the capital
as possible. I can carry you if you can't fly. But we—"

"We cannot flee," he
said. "They're too many and too fast. Tilla, trust me. I've
spent two years fighting with the Resistance. I know how to hide.
We walk in human forms from here; walking as dragons disturbs the
trees."

He shifted back into a human.
His head spun and he nearly fell. Tilla had burned him with her
punisher; every inch of his skin ached. But she didn't know of his
deeper wounds, those kicks and punches the guards had given him at
nights while she slept. He could barely walk. Every step blazed.
Yet he forced himself to move, one step after another.

Tilla walked at his side.
Perhaps sensing his weariness, she held his hand.

"Are you all right?"
she whispered.