EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (195 page)

We end this tonight,
Valien swore and let flames fill his maw. He flapped his wings, prepared to charge at the doors and smash into the hall.

A cackle from above froze him.

Old pain flared in dark shadows.

Valien knew that cackle. He had heard that cackle the night his wife died. He heard that cackle every night since in his dreams. It was a rumble like thunder, like demons in the deep, like the death of all Valien had ever loved.

He looked up.

Through the rain and fire, he saw him there, a great golden dragon upon the clock tower—burly, demonic, wreathed in fire.

Frey Cadigus. Emperor of Requiem.

The man who killed you, Marilion.

“Valien!” the beast cried from above. “Valien, come to me! You have flown here slaying youths. Now face an emperor. Or will you run again, coward?”

Valien beat his wings and took flight.

The clock tower rose before him, the tallest spire in Castra Luna—in all southern Requiem. As Valien flew past the great dials, the bells chimed midnight. Each chime clanged across the palace, as loud as the cannons. Valien kept ascending until he reached the tower’s top. Black crenellations rose here like jagged claws reaching skyward.

Atop this dark steeple, the emperor waited.

“Valien!” shouted Frey Cadigus. “You’ve at last come to join your wife.”

Frey’s wings beat, churning cloud, smoke, and fire. Lightning blazed against the emperor’s golden scales. His teeth shone. Flames crackled in his maw like a smelter. He seemed less a dragon than a primordial beast, a demon of the Abyss.

“
You
will die this night!” Valien called, hovering before the beast. “Your stronghold falls, Frey. Your reign ends here. Aeternum has returned; you cannot survive.”

Frey cackled again, the sound of tar bubbling from the deep, and blasted his fire.

Valien howled and blew his own flames.

The two streams crashed together and exploded, showering sparks across the sky. Valien drove through the inferno, opened his maw, and slammed into the emperor.

The two dragons thudded together. They fell. They crashed against the tower, and its obsidian cracked. Lightning slammed into a jagged crenellation; its light revealed thousands of dragons still battling around the fort. Thunder pealed.

“You cannot defeat the power of the red spiral,” Frey said. The gold dragon lashed his tail, shoving Valien aside. “The pup you brought here won’t save you, Valien. Nothing can save you now.”

Valien slid across the roof. The knob of a trapdoor drove into his flesh and snapped off, remaining inside him. Valien roared and Frey’s fire blasted him.

Agony flared. Frey’s tail cudgeled him again, and a spike pierced his scales. Valien howled, slid another few feet, and dangled over the tower’s edge. Below him, hundreds of dragons battled across the walls and barracks.

“Now you can only die, Valien,” said the emperor. The golden dragon loomed above him, a god of scale and flame. “Only die.”

Frey’s fire blasted down.

Howling, Valien leaped up.

The dragons crashed together in a shower of fire.

“You have already failed, Frey!” Valien howled, driving the golden dragon back. He clawed and bit at the beast. “Your daughter left you; she fights at my side. The heir of Aeternum flies with me too; the people rally around him. Your reign ends tonight. You—“

“Your wife, Valien!” Frey said, biting and clawing. “What was her name? Marilion, was it not?”

Rage flared in Valien, blinding him, spinning his head. He howled and blew flames.

“You will not speak her name here! You will—“

“I bedded her that night, Valien!” the emperor shouted, still laughing maniacally. “Did you not know? She spread her legs for me, and I thrust into her, and she loved it. She moaned with pleasure. I gave her a taste of a true man before I stuck my blade in her gut.”

Claws lashed Valien. His scales fell like jewels. His blood poured. Frey roared his fire, and heat blasted Valien, and he howled. In the flames, he saw her again: His Marilion, his wife, his love. He saw her smile—that smile that always seemed so hesitant, trembling, a ray of joy breaking through her sadness. He saw her eyes again, kind eyes that carried so much old pain, yet which shone whenever he held her, whenever he kissed her cheek, whenever she sang to the birds they kept in a golden cage.

Marilion. Scarred and afraid, pure and loving, a moonbeam caught in a storm.

And he saw her dead. He saw the blood soaking her gown. He saw Frey’s sword stuck inside her. The cage had fallen; the birds had fled. Her eyes had stared. Her smile had died.

Marilion. Timid and strong. Hurt and beautiful.

I will join you now, Marilion,
Valien thought as the fire washed him, as the emperor’s claws cut him, as his blood spilled.
I fly to you now, and we will meet in the starlit halls of the fallen. I will never let you go again, and your eyes will never know more pain.

“Valien!” cried a distant voice, high and afraid. “Valien!”

Was it Marilion calling? Did his beloved shine down from the starlit halls?

“Father, no!” cried the voice.

Valien opened his eyes. Through the blood and fire, he thought he could see her—a green dragon in the storm.

Kaelyn.

Above him, the emperor chortled and turned his flames away.

“My daughter!” Frey called. “You’ve returned to me, traitor of Requiem! Come die too in my fire.”

Welts and blood covered Valien. He wheezed and gagged for breath. He flapped his wings weakly and struggled to stand. Frey held his claws against his chest, pinning him down; Valien struggled and lashed his tail, but was too weak to rise.

“Kaelyn,” he whispered.

The emperor was still laughing. “Fly to me, Kaelyn! You’ve betrayed your empire and your family. Come die in my fire.”

Valien drew flame into his maw.

Kaelyn—a new light in his life. Kaelyn—daughter of his enemy, beacon of his soul. Kaelyn—the woman who looked so much like Marilion, the woman who stirred memories he feared, the woman Valien had vowed to defend.

I will not let you die too, Kaelyn.

She came flying toward them, a green dragon caught in the wind. Frey roared and blasted fire her way.

Valien howled, shoved himself up, and crashed against Frey.

The two dragons fell against the tower, cracking stones and shattering the trapdoor. Valien bit down hard. His fangs drove into Frey’s shoulder, tore through scales, sank into flesh, and drew blood.

Frey screamed.

Valien lashed his claws. He pulled his head back, blasted Frey with fire, and thrust his horns. He pierced the emperor’s chest, and blood spurted, and Valien kept clawing, kept biting, kept blasting his fire.

With crackling heat and shimmering scales, Kaelyn landed upon the tower and joined her flame to his.

Frey Cadigus burned.

His scales cracked.

His skin peeled.

And yet he laughed. He kept cackling. He spread his wings wide; they rose in flame like burning sails, spreading smoke. And still he laughed.

“Your fire makes me strong!” he called. “You are like me, Valien. You are like the thing you hate. You too are a killer. You too lead hordes to blood. You fight to slay a monster; you’ve become one yourself!”

With that, Frey Cadigus fell.

The golden dragon slammed against the tower top... and lost his magic.

Frey’s smaller, human form—charred and clad in armor—crashed through the shattered trapdoor and vanished into shadows.

Valien leaped, shifted into human form, and jumped after him into the darkness.

He crashed down against a ladder, reached out, and grabbed a rung.

“Frey!” he shouted. “Face me, Frey! Does the great emperor run like a coward?”

He could not see the emperor; darkness cloaked the chamber. Lightning blazed outside the windows, illuminating tapestries stained with blood. Valien descended the ladder, placed his boots upon the floor, and drew his sword.

Located above the tower clocks, this was the chamber of Castra Luna’s lord—once a benevolent princess of Aeternum, today the foul Leresy Cadigus. The prince was away now. A mirror stood against one wall, framed in gold, and firelight glowed behind a stained-glass window. A bed stood by a table topped with wine jugs. A trail of blood led across the floor toward a shadowy corner; groaning rose from those shadows.

Valien grunted, clutched his sword, and marched across the floor.

His torchlight fell upon a charred, bloody Frey Cadigus.

It ends now.

Valien raised his sword and kept marching, only feet away from the emperor.

A dagger gleamed.

Frey snarled and tossed the blade.

Pain burst across Valien. The dagger pierced his chest beneath the shoulder.

Valien’s breath left him. Stars swam across his eyes. He howled and raised his sword again, prepared to land the killing blow, even if he died with it.

“Marilion lives, Valien!” Frey called and cackled, blood on his lips. “She lives in my dungeon, you fool!”

Valien faltered.

Horror thudded into him, sharper than the dagger.

Frey dragged himself up, ran toward the window, and crashed through the stained glass. Multicolored shards flew. Frey tumbled outside into the rain.

“Frey!” Valien howled, blood washing his eyes, blood soaking his shirt. He ran toward the window. He fell to his knees. “Frey!”

Outside in the storm, a golden dragon beat wings, spun toward the tower, and blasted fire.

“Valien!”

Hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back.

Kaelyn dragged him aside, and they pushed themselves against the wall, and flames bathed the room.

“Dragons of Requiem!” Frey shouted outside, voice ragged. “Fall back! Fall back to the capital.”

Valien could hear no more. Was Frey dying? Did his injuries silence him? Had Valien himself died?

He held onto Kaelyn, and tears streamed down his cheeks.

“She lives,” he whispered, trembling and clutching her. “She lives, stars, she lives.”

The tower shook. Flames crackled outside. Thousands of dragons roared in a storm of sound and fury.

LERESY

T
HUDS
SHOOK
THE
DOOR
. C
HIPS
of wood flew. Around the doorframes, dragonfire roared and blasted into the hall.

“Break down the doors!” cried voices outside, and again the doors shook. Splinters flew. “Slay everyone inside!”

Leresy stood trembling. His hand was so sweaty he could barely grip his sword. His head spun and his breath shook in his lungs.

“Do something!” he screamed. “Soldiers—slay them! Drive them back!”

He whipped his head from side to side madly. His trousers, soaked with his own urine, clung to him. The doors kept shaking—again and again. Every time the dragons outside slammed against them, more chips of wood flew, and more fire raced around the frames.

“Go on, kill them!” Leresy screamed, voice hoarse. His sword shook madly in his hand. “I order you! Are you disobeying your prince?”

And yet his soldiers—a mix of the Axehand and the Legions—only stood still, weapons raised, facing the door and waiting. Waiting! How could they just stand and wait like this?

“I order you to kill them!” Leresy cried, and his voice cracked. “You took vows. You swore to defend your price—now kill the enemy!”

He looked around madly, seeking an exit. There were no windows here, only arrowslits, and men stood there firing their bows. Who had designed this damn fortress? How could they not have built windows for escape? The enemy kept slamming at the doors, and outside the arrowslits, Leresy glimpsed thousands of the flying beasts.

Barbarians! A horde of unwashed outlaws! And his own men—soldiers trained for honor and strength—did nothing?

“Why don’t you kill them?” he demanded, pacing among his troops. They only stood like damn statues, frozen and watching the doors. He screamed so loudly, his voice became but a shrill rasp. “I order you to get out there and kill them all!”

“They can’t, you fool,” Shari said. The princess sat slumped in the corner, bandaged and bloody. Her face was ashen, but scorn still filled her eyes. “They know war.
You
know how to fluff up your hair, choose the finest embroidery, and kiss our father’s arse. Stand back and let them do their job, little brother.”

Leresy spun toward her, baring his teeth. “Look at you! Look at you, sister, the great warrior. You lie wounded and dying. What do you know of war?”

Sitting in the shadows, she smirked. “Enough to fly out and fight one, not cower in a hall.”

“And yet now you too cower,” he said. He raised his sword; it wavered in his palm. “I should end your life now, Shari. I—“

A thud echoed across the room.