Dragons Rising (2 page)

"I
will live," he whispered. "The Spirit wants me alive. And I
will kill anyone who comes between me and my task."

He
knew his mission now. He knew why the Spirit had spared him while
taking so many.

I
stand on the continent of Terra
, he thought.
And my homeland
awaits beyond the sea.

He
looked across the water. North, beyond the great sea of sunken ships,
the Commonwealth awaited him. Its people cried out under the yoke of
Beatrix, desperate for him, for the blessed Lord Gemini Deus, to rule
the Cured Temple.

"I
will not forget you," Gemini whispered. "I will find my way
home, a holy warrior, blessed by the Spirit." He clenched his
fist. "The Temple will be mine!"

As
if in answer, a moan rose from the beach.

Gemini
frowned. Was the wounded sailor still alive? Did he still want to
fight for his lemons?

The
moan sounded again--soft, high.

Gemini
spun toward the sound. He could see only piles of driftwood, scraps
of sails, and another corpse, its legs missing. He walked forward,
taking slow steps, the lemons and water giving him some strength. A
ship's entire figurehead, detached from its hull, lay on the sand
before him, carved as a nude woman. Seaweed entangled around her
wooden hair. Gemini stepped around the figurehead and saw her there.

His
eyes widened, then dampened.

He
fell to his knees.

Thank
you, Spirit.

Gemini
knew then that he was truly blessed, that the Spirit had truly chosen
him.

Lying
before him in the sand, her clothes soaked with blood but her chest
still rising and falling, was Domi.

 
 
CADE

They
trudged along the gravelly road, two haggard travelers coated in
dust, while paladins in priceless armor flew their firedrakes above
and chanted for victory.

"Easy
now, Amity," Cade said, using the same careful tone he would
with a growling bulldog. He placed a hand on her arm. "Let them
fly by. We're not looking for trouble."

Looking
at Amity, Cade winced. A growling bulldog would appear downright
docile next to the woman. Amity's fists clenched at her sides,
trembling with rage. Her teeth ground, and tendons rose along her
neck. Her cheeks flushed red beneath the layer of grime covering
them.

"We
attack," she whispered through her tight jaw. "We fly as
dragons. We burn them." Her voice rose louder. "We--"

"Amity!"
Cade placed a finger on her lips. "Hush! We must choose our
battles. We--ow!"

She
grabbed his wrist, yanked his hand away from her mouth, and twisted
his arm. He bit down on another yelp, not wanting to alert the
creatures above.

"Do
not touch me." Amity glared at him, eyes wild, the mad eyes of a
killer. "Or I will burn you too, kid."

Good,
he thought.
Good, focus on me. Just don't shout and don't fly.

He
glanced back above. The procession kept flying overhead, thirty
firedrakes or more, the great reptiles clad in gleaming white armor
and spiked helmets. On their backs rode the paladins, each in white
steel plates, and their banners streamed behind them, displaying
tillvine blossoms on snowy fields. The firedrakes bore more than
riders today. The treasures of the Horde rose upon their backs:
chests of jewels, golden statues, and even chained slaves from the
southern lands. As the paladins flew, they chanted out for victory,
for glory.

"The
Cured Temple triumphs!" one paladin cried out and blew into a
silvery horn. "Hear, Commonwealth! We are victorious!"

The
rhetoric perhaps impressed other travelers on the road and the
farmers in their fields, but it only further enraged Amity. She
growled. She wore rags--tattered leggings, a ripped vest, and dusty
old boots--but seemed fiercer than a knight clad in steel. Once known
as the Red Queen, ruler of the Horde, Amity seemed ready to challenge
the Commonwealth to war again, with or without an army.

Another
blast of the horns above, and Amity leaped into the air and began to
shift. Red scales flowed across her, the nubs of wings grew from her
back, and claws grew from her fingertips.

"Amity!"
Cade whispered urgently. He leaped after her, grabbed her leg, and
tugged her back down.

The
force of his grip seemed to sever her concentration. Her magic
vanished, and she landed on the road, fully human again. She spun
toward Cade, grabbed his arms, and dug her fingernails into his skin.
Her hair, normally blond and just long enough to fall over her brow,
was now tangled and caked with mud. Her eyes stared from a face just
as muddy, brown and flashing and horrible to behold.

"Why
did you tug me down?"

She tightened her grip, and Cade winced. She felt strong enough to
snap his bones. Amity was a dozen years older than him, taller,
stronger, and far deadlier, but Cade forced himself to stare into
those blazing furnaces of eyes.

"To save your life." He raised his chin. "Because
you're stupid enough to believe you can defeat a hundred firedrakes
on your own."

She growled and raised her fist. "You dare call me--"

"Stupid." He nodded. "Yes. You are stupid, Amity. And
you're proud. And you're hurt. And you're grieving. And your whole
world has fallen around you. And maybe you don't think you can defeat
them. Maybe you know you'll die and you want to. Maybe you just want
to die in battle. But I won't let you."

He was surprised to see her eyes dampen. Her fist trembled in the
air. "Why not?" she whispered, still clutching him with one
hand.

"Because I need you." Cade placed a hand on her arm and
guided her fist down. "I can't survive in the wilderness on my
own. Requiem can't survive without you. I need you to live. So we can
find the others."

Amity looked away, blinking. Above them, the firedrakes flew on,
heading toward the horizon. The road suddenly seemed so quiet. Cade
heard nothing but the rustling fields at their sides, a few crickets,
and Amity's heavy breathing.

"Requiem is dead," she whispered. "I can no longer
help the others." She looked back at Cade, and her eyes were
softer now, haunted and grieving. "You're right, Cade. I want to
die in combat. That's all the honor that's left to me. Would you deny
me that?"

"I would." He nodded. "There's no glory in a suicide
mission. There's glory in survival. In fighting on rather than
charging headstrong to certain death. Stay with me, Amity. If we can
no longer fight for Requiem, we can fight for ourselves. To survive.
To live. To find Korvin, Roen, Fidelity, and Domi."

His voice choked as he spoke their names. He lowered his head. He
missed them so badly his belly seemed to freeze, his heart to crack.

Korvin--the noblest, strongest man Cade had ever known. Fidelity--his
dearest, wisest friend. Domi--the woman Cade loved, the woman he had
lain with in the field, the woman he missed with every beat of his
heart. Cade even missed the tall, solemn Roen, a man he had not known
long but had come to think of as a brother.

"I miss them," he whispered.

Amity lowered her head, leaned forward, and pressed her forehead
against his. Rather than gripping him painfully, she placed her hands
on Cade's shoulders, her touch now soft and comforting.

"I miss them too," she whispered. "I miss that big
hunk of meat Korvin. I don't know the others well, but . . . they are
fellow Vir Requis, so they are my brothers and sisters." Amity
nodded. "If they're alive, we must find them. You're right,
Cade." Surprising him, she kissed his forehead, then spun around
and began walking down the road. "So come on! Don't lag behind,
lazy."

He nodded, still feeling her kiss on his brow, and hurried to catch
up.

The
road stretched on through the fields of the southern Commonwealth,
narrow and pebbly, many leagues long. They had been traveling along
it for two days now, heading north toward the mountains.

"Fly to Draco Murus!" Fidelity had cried out in the battle,
soon vanishing into the smoke and flame.

"Draco Murus," Cade repeated now, walking behind Amity on
the road. He knew that name from
The Book of Requiem
. He had
arranged the letters himself in his printing press to spell those
words. Draco Murus--the Wall of Requiem. An ancient fortress. The
bastion of the bellators, the knights of Requiem's golden age. The
place where Queen Lacrimosa had reigned, fighting off the twisted
mimics with her daughters, the princesses Gloriae and Agnus Dei. For
thousands of years, dragons had guarded Requiem from the towers of
Draco Murus. Now, perhaps, a sapling of hope would rise from those
ancient ruins.

Very distant ruins,
Cade thought with a sigh.
Fidelity just
had to choose a northern hideout all the way across the Commonwealth.

"Cade!" Amity looked over her shoulder and frowned. "Hurry
up or I'm leaving you behind."

She spun back forward and kept walking. With the daylight blazing
down, they dared not fly. Even flying at night felt risky without
clouds to hide them. Mercy would be seeking them. Her paladins would
be trained to inspect every flying beast in the sky. Even disguising
themselves as firedrakes would not work, not without saddles or
paladins to ride them.

Cade's feet ached. The soles of his boots were worn down and cracked,
letting in mud and small stones that stabbed his feet. His clothes
were in no better shape. He still wore the woolen trousers and cotton
tunic the Horde had given him, but the battle had left them in
tatters. Beneath his clothes, his skin was just as ravaged. Bruises,
cuts, and welts covered him, still aching even now, several days
after the battle.

"Maybe
we should have stayed in the south," he mumbled. "Stayed
with the others."

He
thought back to those he had saved from the Horde, the women and
children he had borne on his back across the sea. Survivors.
Homeless. Scarred and burnt. He had carried them from fire and death,
carried them across the sea to a new land . . . only to abandon them.
To leave them in the wilderness by a stream, with nothing but a few
makeshift fishing hooks and spears.

"We
abandoned them," he whispered. "We saved their lives only
to leave them in an enemy land, no food, no shelter, no--"

"What
are you mumbling about?" Amity demanded. "Are you talking
about the Terrans again? I told you, Cade, there's nothing we could
have done. Would you have them following us through the wilderness, a
group of foreigners for the firedrakes to hunt? They're safer in the
south--safer than we are up here."

He
nodded. "I know. It's just . . ." He sighed. "We need
to stop Beatrix. We need to stop this Cured Temple from spreading
across the land, burning, killing." He stared at the distant
firedrakes; they were just specks on the horizon now. "Gemini's
original plan was to sneak into the Temple, to kill Beatrix in her
bed. Do you think there's still hope for that?"

Amity
raised an eyebrow. "Only a moment ago, you were the one
lecturing me about hope." She sighed. "No, Cade, I don't
think there is much hope left at all. We can't sneak into the Temple
without Gemini's help. I don't even know if Gemini is still alive,
the only heir who would have given us a kingdom. Perhaps there's no
hope left, and all we can do is die in combat, foolish though you
think that might be. But let's go to Draco Murus first. Let us seek
the others." Her eyes shone. "And if all hope is truly
gone, then I will fight in those ancient ruins like Queen Lacrimosa a
thousand years ago. That is where I will make my final stand."

The
road stretched on and they walked for hours. Cade struggled to keep
up. With his worn soles and shorter legs, he kept falling behind, and
Amity kept glaring over her shoulder at him, sometimes walking so far
ahead he barely saw her.

It was afternoon before they passed by their first tavern.

The building rose at a crossroads, two stories tall and built of
clay. A tillvine blossom was carved above the rounded door, and two
chimneys pumped out smoke. An herb garden grew outside, and Cade
winced to see ilbane growing there. The fumes stung his nostrils, and
his hand tingled in memory of the ilbane that had burned him on the
day of Eliana's purification. But above the stench of that poison . .
.

He sniffed.

"Ribs," he whispered. "Oh, stars, pork ribs in gravy."
His mouth watered, but he shook his head wildly and kept walking.
"Come on, Amity, let's walk by quickly before we can't resist
it. We can reach the forest by nightfall, and . . . Amity?"

Ignoring him, the tall warrior was making a beeline toward the
tavern, the aroma guiding her like a siren's song.

"Amity!" Cade whispered. "We can't go into taverns!"
He rushed toward her. "People might see us."

She shrugged and kept walking. "So? Let them see us. I'm
famished."

He glared at her. "Amity! Mercy must have spread our description
across the land. What if somebody recognizes us?" He reached out
to grab her.

"Then I'll invite them to share some ribs, or at least I'll get
to fight them on a full belly." Shoving him aside, Amity crossed
the last few steps toward the tavern, yanked the door open, and
stepped inside.

The smell of the roasting meat--oh stars, it was being stewed in
tomatoes--nearly knocked Cade off his feet.

Well, I can't just let Amity in there alone.
He inhaled deeply
and closed his eyes with pleasure.
I have to protect her.

Mouth watering, he stepped into the tavern too.

The common room was humble, its walls and floor made of clay, its
windows round. This was not one of the ancient, wooden taverns like
the Old Wheel, a building that had survived from the days of Requiem.
Here was a newer, simpler structure built in Templer style. Perhaps
this had once been a monastery, its priest having decided to pursue a
life of cooking rather than praying. Several tables stood here, empty
of patrons. Bottles of wine stood on shelves, and the smell of the
cooking meat wafted from the kitchen.