Dragons Reborn (23 page)

Korvin
twisted his jaw. "The old borders of Requiem leave us a small kingdom,
fragile. It was the kingdom that fell so many times to invaders. If we carve
but a small land for Requiem, we'll still have to face the Horde—a vast Horde,
stronger than ever before, ruling not only the southern continent of Terra but
wrapped around Requiem in the north too, a noose that will ever crave to
tighten."

Amity
grinned. "Big boy, I intend to rule both the neck of Requiem and the noose
of the Horde, forever keeping one away from the other. I will be queen of both."
She spread her wings and took flight. "Now fly with me! It's time to sail."
She blasted forth a jet of flame. "The invasion of the north begins!"
She roared, a cry that rolled across the land and sea. "Sail north, Horde!
Sail beneath the Red Queen! To blood! To fire! To war! To war!"

The
Horde roared beneath her. A hundred thousand warriors raised their weapons—men,
women, youths, elders, all wearing patches of armor of metal and leather, brandishing
swords and spears, hammers and axes. A great mass, a mob, a seething pot of
anger about to overflow. They bellowed. They sang for her. Their voices rose
together, shaking the sky.

"To
war! To war!"

Korvin
stared from the statue, and an icy shard sank through his chest. Amity was
howling for victory, but Korvin found no lust for war within him.

I
fought a war once,
he thought. He had invaded Terra from the north, and he
had faced the Horde upon the coast, and the scars still covered his body.
Thirty years ago, when Amity had still been suckling at the teat, he had faced
an enemy on the beaches, he too had shouted for victory.

Yet now I'm old, and now I know that war has no winners—only pain,
only blood, only ruin.

How
could he stop this tide? How could he stop the woman he loved—a woman he saw
descending into madness, into bloodlust?

Korvin
gritted his teeth, and his chest constricted.

I
once loved another woman. I once loved a young priestess named Beatrix, an
idealistic soul, her faith in righteousness strong.

That
woman too had sent Korvin to war. That woman too had let bloodlust consume her.
That woman had become a tyrant.

Standing
on the gilded hoof, Korvin stared at Amity, at this new woman he loved, at the
red dragon who flew and shouted ahead.

"I
can lose my land, and I can lose my life," Korvin whispered. "But I
cannot lose you, Amity. Do not lose yourself."

The
thousand ships of the Horde set sail, heading north, leaving the coast of Terra
behind. Finally Korvin leaped from the gilded hoof, spread his wings, and
glided on the wind, flying with the fleet, flying to blood and fire, flying
home.

 
 
CADE

He stood at the
prow of the
Kor Taran
, a sprawling baghlah ship with many sails, and he
stared north across the water. Many miles beyond the blue horizon, past sunsets
and sunrises and waves, lay the northern continent, lay an empire called the
Commonwealth, lay a memory of a fallen land called Requiem, lay a dream of a
Requiem reborn, lay a stolen sister, lay all Cade's hopes and fears.

"Requiem,"
he whispered—the beat of his heart. "Eliana," he whispered—the fear
and love in his chest.

For
Requiem and Eliana, Cade vowed to fight. To kill. To give his life if he had
to. He would liberate both the land of his forebears and the babe Mercy had
stolen from him.

All
around him, hundreds of ships sailed, griffins and salvanae flew, and warriors
roared and brandished their weapons. Cade had seen the ships of the
Commonwealth sailing in the northern waters, stern vessels, spotless, clinging
to rigid formations. The Horde's fleet was like its army of warriors; a
hodgepodge, scratched and dented and grimy, a swarm, a mass of metal, wood, and
leather like flotsam spilled across the water. Drums beat and horns blared.
Griffins and salvanae streamed overhead, screeching and bugling, riders on
their backs, and thousands of banners streamed in the wind.

Scales
clanked, wings thudded, and blasts of air ruffled Cade's hair. He looked up to
see a dragon flying down toward the ship, her scales a mosaic of red, orange,
and yellow of every shade. The fiery beast descended to hover above the deck,
wings blasting the sails, then shifted into human form. Domi landed before
Cade, her bare feet thumping against the deck.

"Hullo,
Cade," she said.

For
the first time since Cade had known her, Domi seemed . . . happy. Her orange
hair was tucked behind her ears, not covering her face, and she smiled. Her
nose and cheeks were turning red in the southern sun, and her freckles were
seeming to multiply, but she was beautiful to Cade, the most beautiful woman he
had ever seen.

And
I fight for you, Domi,
he thought.
So that I can see you smile more
often. So that I can see you happy, free, no hair covering your face, not a
firedrake forever hiding your human form.

"Are
you ready to roast Beatrix's backside?" he asked her.

She
grinned. "We're going to roast it together—roast it until it falls off as
ashes."

A
grin stretched across Cade's own cheeks. "And don't forget about Mercy. I'm
going to burn off her backside too. Burn it to ash. Burn it like she burned so
many people. I'm going to burn her like she burned them." Suddenly he
found that his eyes were stinging, that he was clenching his fists. "Like
she . . . like she burned my . . ." He swallowed, looked away, and
loosened his fists, the joke no longer funny, the pain too real, the memory too
vivid.

She
burned you, Derin and Tisha. I'll never forget you. I will avenge you.

Domi's
smile faded, and she stepped closer and leaned her head against his shoulder.
Then she looked up, kissed his cheek, and pinched his nose.

"I'm
with you, Goldy," she said. "Always."

He
raised his eyebrows. "Goldy?"

She
nodded and her grin returned. "Your scales are gold when you're a dragon.
Bit of a girl's color, if you ask me. Sort of like the legendary Queen Gloriae's
scales. Or Princess Mori from the old stories. Or Laira, the first Queen of
Requiem." Domi's grin widened and she hopped about. "Goldy! Pretty
pretty Goldy!"

Cade
grumbled. "At least I have a proper color. You don't even have one color,
just all sorts of yellows and reds and such. Do you turn into a dragon or a
quilt?"

She
froze and gasped. Then a snort left her mouth, and she doubled over laughing. "A
quilt? A flying magic quilt that blows fire?"

He
nodded. "Yes. That's your new name now. Quilty."

She
shoved him. "Shut it, Goldy."

He
shook his head. "Getting angry, Quilty?"

She
nodded and snarled, playfully pummeling his chest with her fists. Then she
sighed and embraced him, her body warm against his. She wore only a cotton
tunic, and Cade could feel her breasts press against his chest, her thighs
against his. He closed his eyes, holding her close, never wanting to let go. He
would be happy to live the rest of his life like this, on the open
sea, the air fresh around him, Domi pressed against him. He thought back to the
time she had first embraced him, had whispered "Requiem" into his
ear.

He
kissed her head, and he whispered to her, "Thank you, Domi."

She
looked up at him. "For what?"

He
cupped her cheek in his palm. "For a long time, I was confused. Sometimes I
hated you, blaming you for what happened to my village, for how you bore Mercy
on your back. But you tried to protect me. I realize that now. Without you, I'd
never know about Requiem, never be standing here, sailing toward our home. And
. . . it's not just about Requiem. I . . ."

I
love you,
he wanted to say.
I love you more than Requiem, more than my
life, more than anything. I've loved you since the moment you whispered into my
ear.

Yet
he could say none of these things; he dared not. So he only leaned down and
kissed her cheek, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth.

She
stared at him, eyes wide and huge, surprised perhaps at his audacity. But then
she laughed, kissed his mouth with a quick peck, and pinched his cheek.

"Goldy," she said, stepped back, and shifted into a dragon. She
flew off, heading toward Fidelity and Roen who glided above.

Cade remained standing at the prow of the ship. He walked across the
deck, moving between many soldiers of the Horde: swordsmen, archers, gunners,
and wild men and women bearing spears. When he reached the stern, he stood and
stared south. Hundreds of ships sailed there, and beyond them stretched the
coast of Terra, the southern continent. He stood for a long time, watching as
the land grew distant and faded.

 
 
GEMINI

The red dragon
flew above Gemini, circling the fleet, blasting fire and crying out words that
chilled him.

"The
Commonwealth will crumble! The Cured Temple will crash down! The bounty of the
north will be ours!"

All
across the fleet of the Horde, a thousand ships large and small, warriors
roared for glory. Hundreds of beasts flew above the ships, just as mighty—griffins,
salvanae, and weredragons. Greatest of all, Behemoth swam in their midst, back
in the sea whence it had first risen, only its nostrils and horns thrusting up
from the water. The coast of Terra grew distant behind them and faded to
nothing but a strip, then a haze, then a memory.

As
Amity, Queen of the Horde, roared above, and as her soldiers cheered, Gemini
stood on the deck of a dhow ship and shivered.

"No,"
he whispered to himself. "No. No. It's not supposed to be this way."

Gemini
paced the deck, shoving his way between warriors of the Horde—primitive men
and women who stank of sweat and cheap wine. They didn't wear proper armor like
paladins of the north, and their armor didn't even match, just random scraps of
iron and metal scales sewn onto leather. It was disgusting. This was no army,
this was a mob, a swarm of barbarians, a menace to the lands of Gemini's family
and heritage.

"Domi!"
he shouted, elbowing his way between the brutes. "Spirit damn it, Domi,
where are you?"

The
barbarians around him snorted and jeered. One man spat, and another wouldn't
even move aside as Gemini tried to shove by. Gemini elbowed the bearded brute.

"Move!"

The
barbarian stared down at Gemini and burst out laughing. Gemini was a tall man
but thin. This brute stood several inches taller and must have weighed twice as
much. His beard looked flea ridden, and his armor was a crude coat of rusty
iron rings. Rather than a proper sword like the one Gemini had lost in the
north, the barbarian held a heavy axe that looked more suited for chopping down
trees than dueling an enemy.

"I'm
warning you," Gemini said, glaring at the thug. "Move out of my way.
Do you even know who I am?"

The
brute grabbed Gemini's collar and sneered. "You're a maggot I'm about to
squash."

Across
the deck, other barbarians burst out laughing. One brute laughed so hard he
sprayed spit onto Gemini, and a wild woman—her hair a great curly mane and her
body barely covered—reached out to pat his cheek.

Gemini
trembled with rage, shoving them aside. "I am Gemini Deus!" he
screamed. "
Lord
Gemini Deus. This is my campaign. This is my army!"
His voice cracked. "You fight for me. You serve me! This is my quest to
redeem my home and—"

Roaring
with laugher, several of the brutes grabbed Gemini and lifted him over their
heads. They began to carry him across the deck, singing hoarsely.

"Put
me down!" Gemini screamed. "I am your lord! We travel north to put me
on the throne. I will kill you all! I order you to put me down!"

The
bearded brute in iron mail laughed. "Very well."

The
warriors swung Gemini backward, then thrust him forth. He flew through the air,
screaming, tumbled off the deck, and—with horror and a strangled scream—crashed
into the sea.

He
floundered in the water, shock pounding through him. He breached the surface,
gulped down air, and screamed.

"This
is mutiny! I'll slay you all! I'll have your hides! I'm going to turn your
skulls into chamber pots!"

Yet
the dhow kept sailing away, leaving him behind. Hundreds of other ships sailed
all around, more barbarians atop them, and the flying creatures kept gliding
above. Nobody even glanced his way.

A shadow fell upon Gemini, and he looked up to finally see her. Domi
glided down toward him, wreathed in smoke, her scales chinking. She beat her
wings powerfully, hovering over the water, blasting him with air. Her claws
reached out, and he climbed onto her leg.

"Gemini,
what are you going in the water?" Domi asked.

"Fly!"
he shouted. "Take me to a ship, damn it!"

As
the fiery dragon flew, Gemini tried to climb onto her back, but he couldn't
reach it. He remained clinging to her leg like some amorous dog humping its
master. He could hear the army below mocking him, laughing at his wretchedness.

Apes,
he thought, trembling with rage.
Foul, flea-ridden apes.

It
wasn't supposed to be this way. He was supposed to attack the Cured Temple with
Domi alone, just two souls sneaking in, slinking through the halls, then
burning down the guards and slaying Beatrix and Mercy. Later on, Gemini had
allowed the other weredragons—the boy Cade, the whore Fidelity, and that brute
Roen—to join his mission. They would have done the job quickly and easily,
killing the High Priestess, killing Mercy, and placing him—Lord Gemini Deus—in
command of the Temple. Not this. Not this . . . this swarm of insects, this diseased
stain upon the land. Calling this ragtag army a "Horde" was being too
kind. It was a brood of cockroaches.