A Birthright of Blood (The Dragon War, Book 2) (15 page)

But Tilla would not sit. She
would not drink. The tent swam around her.

"We have to save Cadport,"
she whispered. Rage flared through her, and she drew her sword. "We
must slay them, Commander!"

Shari bared her teeth and
grabbed Tilla's wrist. Tilla was among the tallest and strongest
women in this camp, yet Shari stood even taller, and she snarled down
at her like a lion staring down a wolf.

"Tilla Siren," she
said, "the Resistance has given us a great boon."

"They've captured my home,
Commander!" she said. Her voice shook. "They will slay
the people there. They—"

"They have emerged from
hiding," Shari finished for her. "They muster in a city we
know, a city we can attack, a city we can trap them within. We will
not let Cadport remain in their hands. Five thousand troops garrison
here now, and already dragons fly to bring my father the news. When
he hears of Cadport, the wrath of the Legions will muster here… and
descend upon the city."

Tilla breathed heavily, chest
shaking. "We will lead the charge. We will kill Valien and his
men."

"But we will take Relesar
alive," Shari said, and her eyes blazed; she still clutched
Tilla's wrist. "You will capture him, Tilla. You will capture
the heir of Aeternum, and you will carry him to the capital in your
claws."

Rage pounded through Tilla.
Fire pumped through her veins and spun her head.

Relesar
Aeternum. She means Rune.

She thought of him again, her
dearest childhood friend. The boy she would wrestle. The boy she
would whisper and cry with. The boy she had kissed upon the beach
and vowed to see again.

The
man who led the Resistance into these ruins,
she thought,
who
slaughtered hundreds of our townsfolk, who now brings war to our
home.

She took a shuddering breath,
squared her shoulders, and stared into Shari's blazing eyes.

"I will capture him,"
she whispered. "He will be ours."

 
 
RUNE

He stood upon the balcony where,
only moons ago, Shari had slain a girl and severed her head. He
squared his jaw, took a deep breath, and gazed down upon thousands of
townsfolk who filled the square below.

Rune had faced crowds many times
in the past year. He had spoken to hosts of resistors in their
shadowy halls. He had fought thousands of legionaries in battle.
Yet standing here, facing the people of Lynport, he felt very young
and nervous, and his head spun. The crowd covered the square
below—tradesmen, children, farmers, and even legionaries who had
stripped off their insignia after Gorne's death. Rune wore armor
now, the plates bright and the pauldrons wide, and he bore the
longsword of kings, yet facing this crowd, he did not feel like a
warrior or royalty.

I
feel like a young brewer again,
he thought.

He looked aside. Valien stood
at a doorway, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. His hair
hung wild around his leathery, scruffy face. He wore his old patches
of steel over hardened tan leather. Rune wanted the man to guide
him, to speak for him, but Valien didn't even step onto the balcony.
He only stared at Rune from the doorway, eyes inscrutable, saying
nothing.

Rune turned to look at Kaelyn.
She stood beside him upon the balcony, clad in her forest garb: tall
deerskin boots over gray leggings, a green tunic with a golden belt,
and a blue cloak. Her sword hung at her hip, her quiver hung over
her shoulder, and her golden hair billowed in the breeze. She raised
her hand, two fingers pressed together in the salute of the
Resistance, and spoke to the crowd.

"People of Lynport!"
she said. "I've asked you to gather here today. I see skilled
tradesmen, the heartbeat of this town. I see farmers, the pillars of
our society. I see warriors—men who abandoned the cruelty of
Cadigus, tore off their red spirals, and joined the light of old
Requiem. I am Kaelyn Cadigus! I am the daughter of the tyrant. I
am here to tell you: That tyrant will fall! You are free."

She stood panting and her eyes
glistened. She paused as though expecting cheers or applause. The
people, however, only stared at her silently. A few muttered.

Rune
sighed.
Kaelyn
has always seen the resistors as heroes. She will learn not all see
us the same.

With
a tug on her quiver's strap and a clearing of her throat, Kaelyn
collected herself. She raised her chin and kept speaking.

"People of Lynport! I
present to you your new king—the true king of Requiem. Here stands
Relesar Aeternum, son of Ardin, King of Requiem." She knelt,
eyes damp, and stared up at Rune. "May the stars bless him."

She paused again, craned her
neck up, and peeked down at the crowd. She seemed to be waiting for
them to kneel too, but the crowd only muttered louder. One man
grumbled, shook his head, and turned to leave the square. The rest
bustled restlessly.

"Kae," Rune said
softly, "I don't think they care much about old dynasties here.
We're far from the capital."

She rose to her feet and glared
at him. "Of course they do!" she said, turned back to the
crowd, and raised her voice. "Do you not remember House
Aeternum, people of Lynport? Relesar is heir to an ancient dynasty,
to—"

One man below groaned. "That
there's only Rune Brewer!" he shouted up at her. "Bloody
Abyss, the boy sold me ale about a hundred times."

"More like a million times,
Tam," said the man's wife and poked his ample gut. "Boy
darn well turned you into a boat."

Nervous laughter spread through
the crowd. One woman, emboldened by the chortling, pointed up at
Rune and cried out.

"I used to watch him as a
babe, I did! Changed his swaddling clothes more than once. Boy sure
knew how to soil them!"

The laughter grew, and Rune felt
his face redden. Wearing armor definitely wasn't making a difference
now. Desperate, he turned to look at Valien. The gruff old knight
stood in the doorway, muttering and fuming, his eyes dark. Rune
wanted to plead with him for help, but Valien wouldn't even meet his
gaze.

The crowd's laughter grew, and
more people called out their own stories of Rune—how he'd once cried
when his father wouldn't let him keep a stray kitten, how he'd walked
into a cart when gaping at a pretty woman whose skirts had blown in
the wind, and how his singing voice once caused flowers to
wilt—honest to goodness, half a dozen people saw it.

Rune only stood sighing upon the
balcony, but Kaelyn shouted over the crowd.

"You speak of your king!"
she cried, face red and eyes blazing. "Relesar is descended of
a proud dynasty, of legendary Queen Lyana who founded this city, of
the great King Benedictus who fought the griffins, and of the first
King Aeternum himself who raised the marble halls. Relesar is a
light upon Requiem, and—"

Rune placed a hand on her
shoulder. "Kae," he said, "I don't think they're
listening. Let me try."

She bit down on her words and
spun toward him, fuming. Pink splotches spread across her cheeks.
She seemed too enraged to even breathe. Rune looked back at the
crowd below. They were still laughing, and many were leaving the
square.

"People of Lynport!"
Rune shouted out to them. "My friends. Listen to me please.
For just a moment."

Grudgingly, they turned back
toward him and watched, silent. Rune felt his head spin—so many
eyes stared at him!—but forced himself to plow on.

"Look," he said to the
crowd. "You're right. Don't follow me because I'm so-and-so
fancy king's son. Don't follow me because I'm Relesar Aeternum, an
heir from some old legend. You're right, I'm just Rune Brewer."

At his side, Kaelyn gasped and
began to object, but he held up his hand, hushing her.

Rune
continued speaking to the crowd. "Follow me
because
I'm Rune Brewer. Follow me
because
I'm nothing but a common son of this city. Follow me because I know
what it's like living here, because I felt the scourge of Cadigus,
because I—like you—saw the light of our home fade."

This got their attention. Their
mirth died, and the people stared up at him, silent and listening.

Rune took a deep breath and saw
Tilla's father in the crowd, a tall and wiry man with black hair.
Rune pointed at him and spoke for the people to hear.

"Heri Roper, you used to
sell many ropes to sailing ships. Traders from Tiranor docked here
often, and your shop thrived. When the Cadigus family burned the
kingdom of Tiranor, and our port rotted, you lost your livelihood."
Rune turned toward another woman. "Meti Weaver, you used to
sell silk to the south. You ran a shop full of seamstresses. Now
you can barely sell cotton to hungry folk too poor to buy it."
Rune turned to another man. "Your three sons were taken away
from this very square, carted off to the Legions, and never
returned."

The crowd mumbled, but this time
nobody turned to leave, and no scorn filled their voices or eyes.

Rune looked upon them—his
people, his townsfolk, his friends. He glanced over at Valien, and
the man stared back, and now his eyes shone with approval. He gave
Rune a small nod and an almost imperceptible smile. Rune turned back
toward the crowd below.

"We all lost something to
the Cadigus family," he said. "Some of us lost our
livelihoods. Some of us lost our faith; this courthouse where I
stand was once a temple to the Draco constellation, our forbidden
gods. Some of us lost our loved ones. How many people did the
Regime murder in this very square, beheading or whipping or breaking
them upon the wheel?"

Eyes in the crowd darkened.
People muttered and cursed. Anger brewed below like a sea about to
erupt into a storm. But the anger was not directed at him, Rune
knew. He raised his hands and spoke louder.

"Do not listen to the lies
of Cadigus! They told you the Resistance is evil, that resistors
hunt and kill for sport. The Resistance is not your enemy, but your
ally."

Some in the crowd looked
skeptical, but others were muttering their agreement, especially
those old enough to remember the days before the tyrant. Voices
began to rise in cheers, crying out their approval. Rune spoke
louder to be heard above them.

"I am Rune Brewer!" he
said. "I lived on the boardwalk. The Regime murdered my father
and burned my home. I say: We are not Cadport, named after a tyrant
who crushed us under his heel. We are a far older, nobler city. We
are Lynport and our light will shine again." He shouted for the
city to hear. "The tyrant must fall! We will fly as dragons
again."

Below in the square, the crowd
stared up silently. Tears filled the eyes of elders. Fire and
passion filled the eyes of youths. One young woman, a farmer holding
a basket of fruit, raised her head and cried out in a clear, high
voice.

"Requiem! May our wings
forever find your sky."

The crowd repeated the forbidden
prayer, tears fell, and Rune knew: They were his.

"Blessed be the children of
Requiem," he whispered, looking upon his home.

Kaelyn reached out and held his
hand, her eyes swimming with tears, her lips whispering prayers.

Rune held her hand, turned his
head, and looked across the roofs of Lynport. Beyond the city walls,
golden forests rolled into mist.

Frey Cadigus waited there. The
Legions would be mustering.

Frey
will descend upon this place with all his wrath and malice,
Rune thought and shivered.
Today
Lynport is free. Tomorrow blood will soak these streets.

The people sang for stars, for
Aeternum, and for Requiem, but Rune only shivered and held Kaelyn's
hand tight.

 
 
LERESY

"No!" he said and
slapped her hand. "Damn it, girl, I told you a million times.
The griffin only moves two squares."

Erry glared at him over the
board of Counter Squares, a game of the capital. Her lips twisted in
a snarl; she looked to Leresy like some puppy trying to seem fierce.

"This game is bloody
complicated," she said. "You said the griffin can move
diagonally across the—"

"That's
the
dragon
,"
Leresy said and rolled his eyes. "By the Abyss, woman, do you
think a griffin would beat a dragon?"

The pieces were arranged across
the board: griffins, dragons, phoenixes, and other creatures carved
of obsidian and ivory.

Chewing her lip, Erry reached
for an obsidian wyvern that stood upon a white square. Leresy
slapped her hand again.

"No, Erry, if you move your
wyvern, my salvana will capture your mimic. See?"

Erry
fumed, her face red. "No it
won't,
"
she said. "Do you want to know why?" She leaped to her
feet and tossed the board sideways, sending pieces flying across the
tent. "Because I bloody quit this stupid dumb game you just
invented!"

Leresy looked at the pieces
strewn across the ground. "Counter Squares was invented
hundreds of years ago."

"And it was bloody dumb
then too!" Erry crossed her arms and sulked. "Who the
Abyss ever heard of stinkin' griffins hopping squares, and phoenixes
that can't even fly, and ivory codpieces—"

"Those are salvanae, Erry,
true dragons of the west."

"Well they look like
codpieces to me! Sweaty, stinking ones." She snorted. "You
fancy-arse nobles with your fancy-arse games. Burn me. Give me a
mug of ale, a sword to swing, and a song to sing, and I'm happier
than playing any game for prissy princelings."

He reached across the table and
grabbed her wrist. "I'll give you something else."

She raised her chin and shot him
a haughty stare. "What is that, princeling? Another la-dee-da
game a little princess taught you to play?"