Dragons Lost (21 page)

Perhaps neither one
of us will ever find peace,
he thought.

Gemini hesitated for a
moment, not wanting to scare her, then nodded and climbed into the bed with Domi.
She mumbled and stirred but did not wake. He crawled under the covers and lay
near her.

"Fire," she mumbled in
her sleep and winced. "Spurs . . . hurt."

He moved closer to her
and placed his arm around her. In her sleep, she nestled close to him, slung a
leg across him, and laid her head against his chest. He stroked her hair until
her mumblings stopped and her face smoothed. Soon she was sleeping calmly, and
finally Gemini too sank into warm, peaceful slumber, holding her close and
never wanting to let go.

 
 
CADE

When Fidelity opened her eyes,
clutched in Cade's claws, she began to squirm at once.

"We have to go back,
Cade." Still in human form, the librarian grabbed his claws, trying to loosen
his grip. "Cade, we have to go back!"

Gliding over the sea as
a golden dragon, Cade exhaled in relief. "Thank the stars, Fidelity. You're
alive. Rest."

She wriggled madly,
trying to free herself. Her pack dangled across her back, containing the heavy
Book
of Requiem
. "We have to go back! Release me. Let me shift." Tears streamed
down Fidelity's cheeks. "Father might still be alive."

Cade kept flying, a
golden dragon, holding the young woman like an eagle holding a hare. She tried
to shift in his grip—her body began to grow in size, and scales appeared across
her—but his grip was strong enough to knock her back into human form.

"I'm sorry, Fidelity." Cade's
voice was hoarse as he kept flying westward. "I can't let you go back. If you
fly back, Mercy will kill you. I can't lose you too." He lowered his head. "He's
dead, Fidelity. I saw the lance pierce him, saw him fall . . ." Grief filled
his throat, and he could speak no more.

"I don't care what you
saw!" Fidelity screamed in his grip. "Release me, Cade! He might still live, or
. . . at least I have to find his body. And Amity! Stars, Cade, what of Amity?
How can we just abandon them?"

"Because they'd want us
to keep going!" Cade said. His wings beat with more fervor, and they streamed
across the water. "Your father died so that we could live, so that we could
carry on the word of Requiem. Amity died so that we could escape. And she's
dead too, Fidelity. I grieve for her too, but she could not have survived that
many firedrakes." His voice was hoarse, his eyes damp. "They gave their lives
so that you and I could escape, find the printing press, and spread
The Book
of Requiem
across the Commonwealth. So that we could rebuild Requiem. If we
fly back to fight Mercy, we're dead, and the book will fall into the sea, and
their deaths will have been in vain, and the last memory of Requiem will fade.
I know you grieve. I know you hurt. I do too. But we can't let our hearts rule
us now. We must fly. For Requiem."

Fidelity hung limply in
his grip. "I can't just leave my father."

Cade winced, eye
stinging. It hurt to push the words out of his throat. "I had to leave my
parents. And my sister."

Fidelity looked up at
him, silent and pale. She closed her eyes. "So what do we do?"

"We keep flying." He
stared ahead, chest feeling too tight. "We keep fighting. If Korvin and Amity
are fallen, we will honor their memory and fight on for them. If they're alive,
we must trust that they're fighting their own battle now. Our mission lies in
the west, in the city of Oldnale back in the Commonwealth. We will print our
books—hundreds of books." He looked down at her. "I'm going to release you now—slowly.
Shift before you fall. And I hope you keep flying with me."

Slowly, he opened his
claws. She shifted as his grip loosened, becoming a blue dragon beneath him, absorbing
her clothes, spectacles, and pack into her dragon form. For a moment, Cade
thought she'd fly back to the east to find her father. For a moment, the blue
dragon seemed to hesitate, turning back and forth in the sky.

Finally, she flew westward
with Cade. She flew silently, eyes damp.

For hours, they said
nothing.

Finally, when Fidelity
was weary, Cade let her ride on his back as a human. Hours later they switched,
and he resumed human form and rode on her.

They flew through night
and dawn. Clouds thickened overhead, and faded patches of lightning glowed in
the distance, followed by rumbling thunder.

Finally, when evening
fell again, they reached the coast of the Commonwealth, of this land once known
as Requiem.

On the coast, hundreds
of lanterns and campfires burned.

Thousands of soldiers
were mustered below, and dozens of firedrakes took flight, blasting up pillars
of flame.

"Spirit damn it!" Cade
hissed, breaking the silence for the first time in hours. "They're waiting for
us. Oh, bloody Abyss!"

He beat his wings and
soared higher. Fidelity soared at his side, fire flicking between her teeth.
The soldiers below cried out, and firedrakes shot up in pursuit, their riders
firing arrows.

Lightning flashed.

The sun vanished
beneath the horizon.

Cade and Fidelity shot higher
and vanished into storming clouds thick with hail.

They flew through the
cloud cover, thunder booming, firedrakes screeching all around. Arrows shot
through the storm, quickly vanishing; the paladins were blinded by the clouds,
shooting randomly. The only light came from the fire the drakes spewed across
the sky. Cade could barely see Fidelity by his side, only flashes of her blue
scales. With her bad eyesight, he doubted she could see him at all.

"Fidelity!" he said,
keeping his voice just loud enough for her to hear. "Fly with me. I'll keep
tapping you with my wing. Be quiet and don't blow fire!"

She looked toward him,
blinking furiously, brow furrowed. He knew she couldn't see a thing within the
clouds; he himself could see little more than hail, flying arrows, and blasts
of fire as the firedrakes sprayed their jets through the storm.

Cade tapped Fidelity
with his wing, guiding her onward. They flew, heading west—or at least Cade
thought they were heading west. The wind buffeted them, nearly knocking them
into a spin. Cade had to keep his wings stiff; the storm kept threatening to
pump them so full of air he'd whirl. The firedrakes flew all around, appearing
and disappearing among the clouds. Their flaming jets rose like the columns of
fiery cathedrals, only to quickly vanish under the rain and wind. Cade flew
onward, silent, whizzing around the pillars of dragonfire. He kept tapping
Fidelity with his wing, guiding her way.

They flew for what
seemed like hours before the cries of the firedrakes finally faded, and the
beasts no longer blew their fire. The two dragons flew a few miles more before
emerging from the storm.

Cade sighed with
relief. He found himself flying over empty plains. He saw nothing but grasslands
in the night, a few fields, and a distant barn. Clouds still covered the moon
and stars.

"Cade, are they gone?"
Fidelity glided on the wind, looking around, blinking. "I can't see a thing."

"They're gone," Cade
said. "We're flying over fields. There's a farm below. No more soldiers. No
more firedrakes. If the clouds part, the moon will shine bright. Until then I'll
guide you."

She looked around
nervously. "I really can't see anything, only blackness, as if my eyes were
closed." She sighed. "I really do need to get large dragon spectacles."

Cade felt so tired and
weak every flap of his wings was a battle. When he looked at Fidelity, he saw
her panting, her tongue hanging loose, her eyes glazed.

"Let's land and rest,"
he said. "Here's a good place."

They dived down,
stretched out their claws, and landed in a patch of wild grass. Scattered
aspens rose around them, and a stream gurgled nearby.

Both dragons were so
weary they released their magic at once. They slumped down into the grass,
humans again, and lay on their backs. The clouds parted above, finally
revealing the moon and stars.

Cade turned his head to
the side. In the moonlight, he could see Fidelity more clearly. She clutched
her book to her chest, and her spectacles were back. A tear flowed down her
cheek.

Cade didn't know what
to say. How could he comfort her? How could he heal the grief inside her?

I can't,
he
thought.
There's nothing I can do to heal her hurt, to bring her father
back. All I can do is be here with her.

"I'm here with you," he
whispered. "I don't know how I can help, but I'm here with you. For whatever
you need."

She nodded and rolled
over toward him, and Cade found himself embracing her. She pressed her face
against his chest, and her tears dampened his tunic. He kissed her forehead and
held her in his arms until she slept.

Cade lay awake for a
long time. He stroked Fidelity's golden hair—her single braid hung across her
shoulder—and watched her sleep. When he had first met Fidelity, she had seemed
imperious, rude, and condescending. She had scoffed at him, maybe even hated
him; he had tossed her life into a spin. Now, looking at her, she seemed
younger, more vulnerable, no longer the haughty librarian but a hurt, fragile
girl.

Both our lives were
tossed into a maelstrom,
Cade thought.
And maybe we're both alone in the
world now. Maybe you, Domi, and I are the only Vir Requis left.

At that moment, holding
the sleeping Fidelity in his arms, Cade loved her—his last companion, perhaps
the only other soul who understood him, who shared his magic.

"I will always protect
you," he whispered. "We'll print your book, Fidelity. We'll keep the memories
alive."

 
 
KORVIN

His eyes fluttered open, then
closed again. All was pain, haze, weariness.

"Wake up, big boy,"
somebody said, and Korvin felt a hand slap his cheek. "Wake up, or I'm going to
knock out your teeth and use them as counter-squares pieces."

Korvin grumbled and
forced his eyes open. At first he saw only stars and shadows. Slowly a face
came into focus: a young woman, her blond hair just long enough to fall across
her ears, her smile crooked, her eyes lit with mischief.

"Amity," he groaned. "Let
me sleep."

She snorted. "Wake up!
You've slept long enough. Breakfast is served."

He looked around him.
He was lying on bare rock, and more rocks rose around him. Ahead he heard the
sea, saw faint light, and smelled salt.

A cave,
he
realized.

He tried to push
himself onto his elbows, then fell back down and lay on his back.

"I died," he whispered
hoarsely. Speaking hurt.

Amity groaned and
rolled her eyes. "If you're dead, I'm the bloody High Priestess, because I
brought you back to life. Now sit up! I collected some delicious seaweed to
eat."

He closed his eyes,
forcing himself to think back. He had died. He remembered dying. Mercy—the
daughter of his old lover—had thrust her lance into his neck. He had lost his
magic. He had fallen under the sea. He had sunk, drowned, and—

He frowned.

Vague memories rose
through the haze, flicking in and out of his mind like a fading dream at dawn.
He remembered a red, scaly fish, large as a whale, swimming toward him,
grabbing him. No, not a fish—a dragon underwater. He had swum with her. He had
swum until he could barely stand it, his lungs aching for air, then burst above
the water, gulped air, sank again, and bled, so much blood, and—

"Eat," Amity said,
stuffing seaweed into his mouth. "You lost a lot of blood, and you need to
regain your strength."

He grumbled but he
chewed the clammy meal. It did give him strength—at least, enough strength to
finally push himself onto his elbows.

He finally got a better
view of his surroundings. He lay in a cave, a small chamber not much larger
than his fallen library back in the Commonwealth. Outside he saw golden sand
and the blue sea. Amity sat beside him and winked. She still wore her brown
trousers, leather boots, and vest, though burn marks now spread across them.
Welts rose along her arms, but if she felt the pain, she gave no sign of it.

Korvin brought a hand
to his neck and winced.

"Hey, don't touch!"
Amity said. "I bandaged it all proper like. You're lucky you were in dragon
form when that lance cut into you. Would have killed you right away as a human."

Korvin lowered his
hand. He stared at the woman, and he spoke solemnly. "I thank you, Amity. You
saved my life. But what of the others? Where's my daughter? Where's Cade?" Fear
flooded him, cold and all-consuming. "Are they—"

"They're fine!" Amity
patted his knee. "The two bloody runts got away. Well, to be fair, they only
got away because I placed myself between them and a typhoon of dragonfire.
Saved their little arses, I did. Same as I saved yours. I told you, big boy. I'm
a warrior."

Ignoring her protests,
Korvin shoved himself to his feet. He wobbled for a moment and had to hold the
wall for support. Everything hurt—the wound on his neck and the old scars on
his back, the scars from his war against the Horde twenty years ago. His breath
rattled in his lungs.

"Where are the
paladins? What happened to Mercy? What—"

"You're full of
questions today," Amity said. "You should rest. Mercy and the other paladins
think us dead and drowned. Most are sailing back to the Commonwealth now,
trying to find Spectacles and the kid." She raised her hand, silencing him
before he could speak. "Don't worry! I gave the pups a good head start, and
they're fast enough to make it home. It's the Horde I'm worried about now." She
tightened her jaw and lowered her head. "They're all dead, Korvin. Men.
Griffins. Salvanae. All gone." She clenched her fists at her sides, and her
eyes reddened. "The people who sheltered me, who trained me . . ." Her voice
dropped to a hoarse whisper. ". . . who loved me. Mercy butchered them."