A Dawn of Dragonfire: Dragonlore, Book 1 (13 page)

I've always wanted to be brave like you, Lyana,
she thought, holding her friend tight. 
Especially now, give me some of your strength, some of your courage.

"I'm with you, Mori," Lyana whispered and kissed her forehead.  "We're safe here underground, and I'll watch over you."

Mori looked up at her, eyes blurred with tears.  "Do you promise?"

Lyana nodded.  "I promise.  No one will hurt you while I'm with you."

Unless they kill you,
Mori thought. 
Unless they burn you, and gut you like a fish, and rape me as you lie dying. 

She shivered, her insides throbbing, and pressed her cheek against Lyana's breastplate.  She closed her eyes but only saw yellow teeth, a white tongue, and never-ending fire.

 
 
LYANA

As Lyana held her princess, a chill ran through her, trickling down her spine and along her limbs.  She did not know what Mori had seen at Castellum Luna.  She did not know how Solina and her men had hurt her.  But she saw Mori hug her belly and shiver, and Lyana knew enough of men at war to know what that meant.

They raped her
, Lyana thought,
to fulfill their desire and to send us a message.  They come to hurt us.  They come to conquer us.  If they break into these tunnels, they will rape Mori again, and me, and all the women they can capture.  They will slay the men and children.

Gently, Lyana kissed Mori's forehead, smoothed her hair, and whispered soft comforts.  It had been thirteen years since little Noela had died in her cradle, leaving Lyana without a sister; since then Mori had become like a sister to her.

I won't let Mori die too,
she thought.
  I won't let her leave me like Noela did.  We will stop the Tirans.  We will fight.

Huddled in her arms, Mori sniffed and pointed at the book.  It lay open on the floor, showing a drawing of a phoenix.

"I found this about the phoenixes," the princess said, her voice small.  "It talks about a Moondisk and a Starlit Demon.  Do you know of these things?"

Lyana sat by her, arm around her waist, and the two young women leaned forward to read the book.  Lyana scrunched her lips and tapped her chin.

"I remember hearing stories of the Starlit Demon," she said.  "My mother would tell me of it.  I don't remember much, only tales of Requiem's old kings trapping the beast, burying it deep underground in the Abyss itself, and placing many guardians around it.  Does the book have an entry about it?  Let's look."

They began flipping the pages, skipping entries about various beasts:  undead skeletons from Fidelium, a northern land of ruins; the snowbeasts, gangly creatures of many limbs; the Poisoned, deformed men and women with webbed hands and eyeballs on stalks; the Dividers, hairy beasts who guarded the western borders; and many other creatures, each more hideous than the last.

Finally they found a page titled "The Starlit Demon" and Mori shuddered.  An illustration appeared of a creature that seemed hewn from craggy stone.  Its claws, spiky tail, and teeth glimmered like obsidian, and its eyes shone like stars.

"It eats fire," Mori whispered, pointing at words on the next page.  "Look, Lyana."

The book spoke of the Draco Constellation, holy stars of Requiem, weaving the creature of stone and starlight to fight the phoenixes.

Lyana nodded and read aloud:  "The Starlit Demon, ancient and powerful deity of wrath, feasted upon the sunfire of the phoenix and drank from the lava of the Sun God's fury."

Mori gasped and clutched Lyana's arm.  Her damp eyes shone.  "That's it!  The Starlit Demon can defeat them.  But where is it?  Does the book say?"

She's still a child,
Lyana thought,
and she's hopeful, and she's afraid, and she will believe anything that can hold her terror at bay.
  Sadness ran through Lyana, like water dripping through her bones.  There was pain in Mori, pain that would perhaps always fill her… but life and hope still flickered in those teary gray eyes. 
Will I live to see joy return to her or those last flickers extinguished?

She shook her head and sighed.  "This book is ancient, Mori, written in the early days when many beasts roamed the earth.  Who knows if any still live?"

"The phoenixes still live," Mori whispered and clung to her, pressing her face against Lyana's armor.

"Yes," Lyana whispered.  "They do."  She stroked the girl's hair and tried to remember the stories her mother would tell her.  "In my bedtime stories, the Starlit Demon was wild, dangerous, a creature too powerful to tame.  It would topple columns and eat dragons when it found no phoenixes; it was a menace as often as an ally.  An old queen—Queen Luna the Traveler, I think, daughter of Gloriae—buried the Starlit Demon leagues under Requiem.  It's said only Requiem's monarch can free the Starlit Demon and tame him; all others would die in his starlight."

Mori shivered and clutched Lyana's arms.  "Is the demon buried here in these tunnels?"  She looked around, as if seeking the demon between the book shelves.

"Deeper," Lyana said.  "Many leagues underground, down in the Abyss itself."  She shuddered to remember stories of that nightmarish realm.  "Around its lair, Queen Luna placed many riddles and ancient guardians that would not die.  Mother would tell me that it still lives underground, locked behind a Crimson Archway.  When I'd misbehave, she'd tell me that the Starlit Demon ate bad children."

"But that's not true, is it?" Mori asked, eyes pleading.  "It eats phoenixes.  It
has
to.  The book says so.  Right, Lyana?"

Lyana sighed.  She had never believed in Starlit Demons, or Moondisks, or old stories of legendary magic.  But then again, until today she had not believed in phoenixes either.  If stories of an old demon gave Mori hope, well, they were real enough.  She stroked the girl's chestnut hair, again and again, until her shivering stopped.

"That's right, my princess," she said and kissed Mori's head.  "If we can find the Starlit Demon, he'll help us.  He'll eat all the phoenixes."

Mori nodded, closed her eyes, and mumbled, "Eat all the phoenixes…"

I wish I could turn back time,
Lyana thought, a lump in her throat. 
I wish I could have kept you here in Nova Vita, my princess, you and Orin my love.  I wish I could have saved Orin's life, saved your innocence, saved everyone who died tonight.  I will keep fighting for you, Mori, and for the memory of your brother, and for our home.

Suddenly Mori rose to her feet, freeing herself from Lyana's arms.  She bounded across the chamber, scurried up a ladder to a shelf, and pulled out another book.  This too was an ancient tome, its leather old and cracked, its pages dusty.  Holding it to her breast with both arms—the book was a good foot long—she walked back to Lyana and placed the codex down with a shower of dust.  Its cover read:
Artifacts of Wizardry and Power
.

"I used to love this book as a child," Mori said.  "It has pictures of magical rings, and amulets, and bracelets, and all sorts of jewels with special powers.  When I was little, I liked to pretend that I owned these jewels, that I had magic that could stop Bayrin from tugging my braids, turn my hair red like yours, or save me from the spiders that crawled in my room."  She opened the book and began leafing through it.  "But the book has pages about other artifacts too, not just jewelery."  She gasped and slapped a page.  "Here!  The Moondisk."

Lyana leaned down and examined the book.  The page showed an illustration of a green disk, chipped and dented; it seemed made of bronze.  Golden symbols were worked into the bronze: a crescent moon, a full moon, and a cluster of three stars.

Mori tapped the page.  "See?  The Moondisk that can extinguish phoenix fire!"

Lyana read from the book:  "In the Days of Mist, the Children of the Moon sailed upon ships to the Crescent Isle, built rings of stones among the pines, and danced in the moonlight.  A Moondisk they forged of bronze inlaid with gold, and upon it the moon turns, and the Three Sisters glow, and its light can extinguish all sunfire, so that the Sun God may never burn them."

Mori nodded emphatically.  "See, Lyana?  See?"  Her eyes lit up.  "We can defeat them!  We can kill the phoenixes!  I'll find the Moondisk so we can put out their fire.  You can find the Starlit Demon, who will eat them."  She clutched Lyana's shoulders, panting, eyes desperate.  "We can do this, Lyana.  I know it.  I believe."

Lyana sighed.  Magical disks of moonlight?  Ancient demons of stars?  Were these but myths, fairytales for children?  Lyana was a warrior.  She believed in the heat of her dragonfire, the sharpness of her claws, the steel of her blade.  She knew nothing of ancient magic and enchanted beasts.

"Come, Mori," she said.  "Let's take these books to my mother.  She knows much of old lore and can interpret these words better than we can."

The young princess shivered.  "Do we have to?  Adia is near the tunnel entrance, where the phoenixes are, and…"  She gulped, nodded, and knuckled her eyes.  "But we must, yes.  I'm not afraid.  Not with you by my side.  Let's go."

Each holding a book, the two young women left the library.  They walked through the tunnels.  As the wounded moaned and prayed, and as the shadows swirled, Lyana's throat constricted.

They had until sunrise, Solina had said. 
We can surrender and live under their yoke, let them torture us, rule over us with fire and steel…
  She clutched the book tight to her chest. 
Or we can go chasing a dream from old books.

She did not know which path led to greater darkness, and the book seemed so heavy in her arms, Lyana wanted to lie down, to place her head against the floor, and to sleep until this nightmare ended.  But she kept walking—for Mori's eyes full of grief and hope, for the memory of Orin, for her family, for all those who prayed and wept around her.

I am a soldier,
she told herself. 
Whatever horror dawn brings, I will face it. 
She walked through blood, fear, and pain, head high and heart trembling.

 
 
ELETHOR

He stood in the wine cellar, arms crossed and head lowered, staring at the cobbled floor where centuries of boots had trodden.  Dozen of oak caskets rose around him, holding wine from Requiem's vineyards.  
If we go to siege,
he thought,
at least we can get royally drunk before the Tirans break down our doors.

He had chosen this cellar as his war room. 
My father ruled among columns of marble and gold; I think caskets of wine are a far wiser choice for a king. 
He did not know how long he'd live to rule.  Perhaps future poets would sing of the Drunk King—Elethor Aeternum who was crowned in darkness, reigned from a wine cellar, and died the next day.

He sighed and turned around.  Lyana and Mori stood there, staring at him with solemn eyes.  Their ancient codices lay on a scarred table between rolled-up maps, mugs of wine, daggers, and a helmet.  Around them stood the rest of his inner council: Lord Deramon, a bloody bandage covering his neck; Mother Adia, her eyes solemn and her white robes splashed with blood; and their son, Bayrin, ash in his red hair and fire in his green eyes.

They want me to fight,
Elethor thought. 
Even Mori.
  He couldn't help it; he laughed bitterly.

"You can't be serious," he said and slapped the old books.  "A magical disk that can extinguish sunfire?  A Starlit Demon?  My nurse told me such stories at bedtime—until I was about nine and stopped believing them."

Bayrin raised an eyebrow and whistled.  "Well, there's a trick.  I never believed in phoenixes either, until about ten thousand of them nearly burned my backside to a crisp."  He clutched the hilt of his sword.  "I don't know if this Stardisk or Moonlight Demon are real, but I'd rather go find a fairytale than surrender to your old flame, El—literally an old flame, in this case."

Face still ashy from the battle, Lyana glared at her brother.  "It's the
Moon
disk and the
Starlit
Demon, you dolt.  And it's not about what you'd rather do.  It's about our best chance of saving lives.  You might want to go on some adventure in the great outdoors, not caring if the Tirans kill us all in the meanwhile, but I'm sure Elethor cares."  She looked at him and sighed.  "At least I hope you do, El."

He looked into her green eyes and saw the fear in them.  They were all afraid, he knew, even grizzled Lord Deramon.

What would my father do?
Elethor thought
.  What would Orin do?  They would rally the troops.  They would never surrender.  They would fight at all costs.
  He closed his eyes.
  And they are dead, while I survived.

He dug his fingernails into his palms.  It wasn't fair.  He didn't want to be king.  He didn't want to make these decisions.  He had never asked for this, for any of this!  He was only Elethor, the young prince, the sculptor.  How did he end up here, bearing the yoke of monarchy, his people depending on him, waiting for his decree?  He opened his eyes and looked at them, one by one.  A gruff warrior.  A priestess.  A friend.  A betrothed.  A sister.

He let his eyes linger on Mori, his dearest love, the last living member of his family.  She stared back at him, eyes soft and damp, face so pale.  She was a frail, pretty thing, and more than anything Elethor wanted to protect her. 
If I surrender to Solina, what would become of my sister?  Of Lyana and Adia?  Of the other women who hide in these tunnels?
  Elethor was no soldier, but he knew enough of war and conquest. 
Solina's men would plunder our halls, eat our food, ravage our women.  They would spare our lives, but they would make those lives miserable.

And what of him?  If he accepted Solina's offer, he would need travel south with her, rule by her side in Tiranor.  She still loved him; he'd seen that in her eyes, felt it in her kiss.  He could rule there with her, feel those kisses a million times, make love to her like in the old days, forever be with the woman he'd spent seven years sculpting and missing and craving.