A Day of Dragon Blood (18 page)

"Solina! Can't we just swim here?"

She turned back toward him, gave him a toothy grin, then began to swim toward the waterfall again. With a sigh, Elethor followed. The spray soon rose so thickly he could see only a foot ahead. The water crashed so loudly, his ears ached. Water kept filling his mouth, eyes, and nostrils.

"Solina, where are you?" he shouted and spat out water.

He looked around but saw only the mist. Currents swirled around him, and when he put his feet down, he could no longer feel the pool's floor.

"Solina!"

A hand reached out from the mist, grabbed the back of his head, and pulled him forward. He found himself pressed against Solina, her mouth against his, her hands in his hair. They kissed for long moments. The water crashed around them.

She shoved him back. "Get
off
. Come on, follow me." She mussed his hair, then vanished into the spray.

He caught her on the lakeshore. She stood before him, dripping wet, her tunic clinging to her. With a crooked smile, she stripped off her clothes and shook her hair. They made love there in the sunlight, until dirt and grass and dry leaves clung to their wet bodies, then lay holding each other and watching the water. She nestled against him, and he kissed her head. The autumn leaves rustled and the blackbirds sang.

"I don't ever want to go back," she whispered. She tightened her arms around him, laid her head against his chest, and closed her eyes. "I don't ever want to return to Nova Vita. I want to stay here with you, Elethor. Just you and me here in the forest. I love you so much. I hate all the other ones. I hate them!" She opened her eyes, revealing tears. "I hate Lyana, and I hate her father, and I hate all the rest of them." She growled, then sniffed, and her tears fell onto his chest. She held him tight. "I love you so much, El. You are the only one I love. Let's never go back."

He kissed her head and held her close. Her naked body was warm against him.

"Lyana can lecture a lot; I know it! She does the same to me, but she means no harm. Mori can seem to pity you; I know that too. But she only tries to comfort you, not hurt you. You know this, Solina; I've told you many times. Please let go of your anger." He pulled back an errant lock of her hair. "Never go back? Requiem is our home; it's your home too now. Will we live as beasts in the wilderness? Hermits clad in leaf and fur?"

"I don't need any leaf or fur." A deep light filled her eyes. "I am no beast, no hermit. I am the last survivor of the Phoebus Dynasty. Let us flee Requiem! Come with me to Tiranor, El. I will rally my people. I will raise the palace anew, that palace your father destroyed. We will rebuild the desert, El! You and I. We will become great rulers, an empress and emperor in a magical realm." She clutched his shoulders, digging her fingernails into them. "It will be our secret world, a world of steel, spice, and sunlight." Her eyes shone.

Elethor sighed. "Solina, I wish I could go there with you. Truly I do. But... what lies there for us? A ruined, toppled city. A desert of sand and death." He shook his head. "How could I leave my family? How could I leave Orin and Mori and Father and the rest of them?"

She snarled. Her fingernails drove deeper into his shoulders, so painful that he winced.

"To the Abyss with them," she snarled. "I don't care about them, El. They don't understand us. They don't know what it's like to be us. They don't know how much we love each other." She rose to her feet, walked toward the lake, and stood with her back to him. She gazed at the waterfall. "One day they will see, El. They will see my strength, and they will see our love, and we will no longer have to hide."

He walked toward her and embraced her. She laid her head against his shoulder, and they stood holding each other, watching the water crash.

He turned around.

Below the hill, his army stood—three thousand dragons clad in armor, snorting fire and smoke. They covered the valley, scales chinking, the heat of their flames filling the air. Elethor stood above them, still in human form—no longer a skinny youth, but a bearded man in armor, a sword at his side, his face scarred with war.

It's been eight years since that day,
he thought. And even now he missed the touch of sunlight, the kiss of her lips, and her hair between his fingers.

She was different then. I was not wrong to love her then.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes. The guilt clawed inside him, clutching his innards. She had been his love—his life.
It's me she wants. It's our war—hers and mine.
He gritted his teeth.
And thousands will die for us.

He turned away from his army and looked south. Mountains spread into a horizon of dark clouds. Ralora Beach lay beyond the shadows; from there she would emerge.

Is Lord Oldnale right? Do I lead us to destruction? Will Requiem burn for the love and hatred of me and her?

Staring into the southern clouds and rain, he remembered Solina killing the children in the tunnels, burning the city, screaming that she would slaughter them all. He clenched his fists.

No. Oldnale is wrong. Solina would destroy us—for the death of her parents, for her captivity, for her madness.

He shifted into a dragon, flapped his wings, and rose into the sky. He roared a pillar of fire.

"Dragons of Requiem!" he called. "We fly! We fly to war!"

They howled behind him. Their wings beat like war drums. Their flames rose. The Royal Army of Requiem took flight. Elethor soared into skies of cloud and rain, and his army followed with howls and fountains of fire. As he dived through the storm, Elethor remembered swimming after Solina as the water pounded him, chasing her, seeking her through mist and spray. He had caught her and kissed her that day; now he would meet her again... and kill her with steel, flame, and blood.

 
 
SOLINA

She stood upon the Tower of Akartum, the tallest spire of her palace, and caressed the chains embedded into the limestone.

"Soon you will hang here, Elethor," she whispered. She imagined caressing his face like she caressed the chains, kissing him, and leaving him to wither in the sun. "Soon you will scream here upon the city your father burned."

At her feet, five vultures cawed in an iron cage. They bit at the bars, screeched for food, and clawed the air. She had been starving them, tossing them enough raw meat to keep them alive but always hungry, always vicious. She cooed to them.

"Soon, my darlings. Soon, when he hangs here, you will feed upon his flesh."

The smiled softly, imagining it. How he would writhe! How he would beg! When the vultures tore into his flesh, he would weep for forgiveness. When the vultures tore out his eyes, he wouldn't even be able to do that. But he would scream.

"Oh yes, you will scream, Elethor." Solina licked her lips. "The entire city will hear it."

She swept her arms around her, spreading her light across Irys. The city rustled around her, the palms and figs swaying, the cranes and ibises singing, the River Pallan flowing like a string of silver. The sandstone temple rose before her, kissed in sunlight. The villas of the wealthy lined the riversides, while behind them stretched thousands of brick homes, silos, and shops. Far north, the city melted into Hog Corner and finally to delta and sea.

"I will fly across this sea for you, Elethor," she whispered. "And I will bring you home."

The vultures bit at their cage, screeching for blood.

Smiling softly, Solina turned south and faced the desert. Upon the dunes stood her army. Twenty thousand wyverns screeched and clawed the sand, a host such as the world had never seen, twice the size and might of the phoenix army she had led last year. Men and women sat upon them, clad in steel, their shields like twenty thousand suns, their spears like rising sunrays. Solina raised her arms and cried to them.

"You will slay dragons!" she shouted, and her riders raised their spears and howled. The wyverns tossed back their heads, jaws rising like blades, and roared. The city shook with their cry. It was a cry of war, of death, of light and victory and her eternal glory. It was a cry that thudded in her chest, blazed with light across her eyes, and filled her mouth with the taste of blood.

"You will topple the lizard courts, avenge your fallen brothers, and bring the Reptile King in chains to die in sunfire!"

Their howl swept over her like wind from the desert, like the breath of her lord. She whistled, a sound like a bird of prey, and her wyvern took flight from the courtyard below. The beast's wings thudded, bending palm trees and sending sand flying across the palace. His scales, square plates like armor, clanked and glimmered. His eyes blazed red, his black teeth snapped, and smoke rose from his nostrils. Baal, the king of wyverns—a forge of acid, a deity of wrath and muscle and bloodlust.

When he reached the tower's battlements, Solina climbed into his saddle. She grabbed the shield and spear that hung there and raised them—sun and sunray. She dug her heels into Baal, and the wyvern's wings beat like a storm into sails. The beast soared, wind streamed Solina's hair, and she snarled.

"To war!" she cried and raised her spear higher. The tip glinted, a beacon of fire.

"To war!" howled twenty thousand riders behind her, and wyverns screeched, and wings thundered. The city streamed beneath her, trees bending and leaves flying under the blast of leathern wings. When she looked behind her, she saw her army following, a sunlit host, a light upon the desert, a fire to burn out the darkness of dragons.

"To Requiem!" she shouted.

"To Requiem!" rose the cry behind her.

They streamed over delta and sea. To war. To Requiem. And to Elethor.

"We will meet again, my love, my life," she whispered, remembering those days long ago when she would love him in darkness. Soon no more darkness would hide him. Soon he would hang upon her tower, and her lord's light would strip him bare, and his bones would be her toys.

The wrath of Tiranor flew, and Solina smiled.

 
 
LYANA

Pain burned across her like scarabs ripping flesh from bone. Every flap of the wyvern's wings shots bolts of fire through her. She sat in the saddle, chains clutching her in an iron embrace. All around her, the army of wyverns flew, a storm of scales rising and falling. Wind gusted, rain fell, and the wyverns soared. Lyana winced, her stomach rising and falling like a dead jellyfish on a storming sea. She felt a stitch on her back open and blood trickle to her tailbone. She closed her eyes and let out a soft moan.

"Silence," said Mahrdor. He sat in the saddle behind her, his arms reaching around her as he held the reins. "Make another sound, and I'll cut off your hand and gag you with it."

She fell silent. They had stitched the raw, bloody lashes across her body, but not before rubbing ilbane into them. The poison still burned, spreading through her. Every jostle in the saddle felt like whips beating her anew. She opened her eyes once more, saw the wyverns rise and fall in the rain, and swallowed to stop from gagging.

Oh Elethor,
she thought and her eyes stung.
I failed you.

He was waiting at Ralora Beach, she knew—hundreds of leagues away. Because of her... because of her. She grimaced and cursed herself, the anguish a claw inside her. She had fallen into Mahrdor's trap so easily. She had doomed her people to death—sweet Princess Mori, her dearest friend; her family, whom she loved more than life; Elethor, her betrothed and king.
I doomed them all.

A gust of wind blew rain across them. The wyvern bucked and howled, and Lyana dug her fingernails into her palms. She felt another stitch open, and she trembled with the pain.
What I must look like now...
Her face felt swollen; she could barely see through her puffy eyes. Her torso bore a network of long, raw welts still oozing blood between the stitches. The chains dug into her, working their way through her skin. Her scalp still felt raw and bare. If her family saw her now, would they even recognize her, or see only a bloodied, beaten wretch?

A thunderbolt crashed and the wyverns screeched. A few spewed acid into distant forests below; where the foul liquid landed, the trees crumbled. Lyana looked around her, trying to place her location. She could see almost nothing through the storm: trees below, the shadow of mountains ahead, a river to her west. They had crossed the Tiran Sea yesterday, but Lyana did not know this land.

This is not Requiem,
she thought. She had flown over Requiem countless times, traversing it north to south, east to west. She knew every mountain, river, and forest in Aeternom's Kingdom. She breathed out sharply through her nose.

Of course.

She shook her head. How had she not guessed it? Solina's army would not invade Requiem's southern border; a thousand dragons patrolled it, from Gilnor's swamps in the west to Ralora Beach in the east.

"We're flying over Osanna," she whispered as thunder rolled.

Osanna. Ancient realm of men. Empire of steel and stone. Its soldiers rode horses, unable to become dragons like Requiem's children; they could not stop an army of wyverns. Osanna's border stretched across the east of Requiem, from the snowy mountains of northern Fidelium and down hundreds of leagues to the southern sea. Not with every dragon alive could Requiem patrol that great wilderness of forest, mountain, and plain.

Lyana gritted her teeth. She had to escape. She had to warn Elethor. Images of the Phoenix War swam before her: burning people in the streets, children torn in two, severed limbs littering the underground.
I can't let my city burn again.

The fear and anger pounded through her, overpowering her pain. She looked down at the irons binding her: they wrapped around her torso and clasped her wrists behind her back. Her armor and sword were as parts of her; they could shift into a dragon with her. But these manacles were foreign constraints. If she shifted now, they would dig through her enlarged body, shoving her back into human form.