Dragons Lost (5 page)

"Who are you?" Cade
said. "Did you tie me here? Release me."

She shook her head, and
her tangled hair swayed. "I can't or you'll fly south. You'll fly to the
village and confront the paladins and firedrakes, and they'll kill you."

"They're killing
everyone there now!" he cried, struggling against his bonds. "I don't know who
you are, but you must release me."

She shook her head
again.

Cade growled,
closed his eyes, and summoned his magic. He began to shift, growing into dragon
form. As his body grew, the straps around his wrists and ankles tightened,
shoving him back into human form. His magic fizzled away. With a sinking heart,
he realized he could not shift while bound.

He opened his eyes
and looked at the young woman again. Her green eyes stared back from within her
tangled hair.

"Who are you?" he
repeated.

"The name's Domi,"
she said. "That's all you need to know. Your guardian."

"Domi," he said
patiently, "please. I know you're trying to protect me, but you have to release
me. My family is in danger. I must fly to them."

Her eyes flashed.
She leaped up from the fallen log, sailed through the air, and landed right
atop him, driving the air out of his chest. Her body pressed against him, her
knee drove into his belly, and she snarled down at him. Suddenly she seemed as
wild and beastly as a firedrake.

"And you'll die!"
she said, teeth bared. "You almost died up there in the sky. Sheer luck—and
some help from a friend—saved you up there. And your luck has now run out. You
can't save your family by charging into a hive of firedrakes. How would you
serve them by dying too?" She grabbed a fistful of his hair and twisted it
painfully. "You're staying here where it's safe!"

Cade grunted and twisted
his head from side to side, trying to free himself from her grip, to knock her
off. As he struggled, he noticed something lying between the trees, and he
narrowed his eyes.

A firedrake
saddle.

He looked back at
his limbs. They were bound with straps taken from that saddle.

"Domi," he
whispered, "what happened to that firedrake? The one with orange and red
scales?"

Finally she got
off him. She took a few steps back, and fear seemed to fill her eyes. "Don't
ask me about that. Never ask me." Her eyes dampened, and her lips trembled. "Now
stay here! Until I say you can leave."

She turned and
marched away, disappearing between the trees.

Cade remained
lying on his back, bound to the pines. In the distance, he thought he could
hear firedrakes screeching. They could still be attacking his home. He had to
fly there. He had to try to save his family.

He gave the straps
a few more tugs. They wouldn't budge. Was he truly at Domi's mercy? Would she
even return or just leave him here to die of thirst or wild animals? He cursed,
tugging the bonds again, desperate to escape.

"Domi!" he shouted
but heard no reply. "Domi, damn you!"

He grunted and
cursed, then noticed something. He sucked in breath.

A sword was
hanging off the discarded saddle.

If he could only reach
it, he could cut his bonds loose. Yet it lay three feet beyond his grip. He
inhaled deeply, raised his chin, and tried to shift into a dragon again.

The magic began to fill
him. Golden scales appeared across his body. Wings began to sprout from his
back. The leather straps tightened painfully, digging into his widening limbs. He
felt the magic slipping away. Just before he could lose his grip on the magic,
he stretched out one of his sprouting wings. It scraped across the forest
floor. The claw on its tip touched the sword. He almost had it. He—

He cried out in pain as
the bonds dug into him. His magic fizzled away, leaving him human again, panting,
his wrists and ankles chafed and bloody.

When he looked back at
the saddle, Cade saw that his wing had knocked the sword down to the forest
floor. It still lay beyond his reach. He inhaled deeply, summoned his magic
again, and began to shift. Halfway through his transformation, just before the
bonds could shove him back into human form, he hooked his wing's claw around
the sword's crossguard and tugged it close.

He lost his magic
again. He stretched out his fingers and grabbed the sword's hilt.

He grinned as he tugged
and shook the hilt, drawing the blade from its scabbard. It took some finger
acrobatics to position the blade properly, but soon Cade cut one arm free. He
laughed, relief spreading across him, and quickly lashed the blade against the
other straps, freeing his second arm and both legs.

He rose to his feet,
leaped into the air, and shifted. He rose into the sky as a dragon.

He flew over the
mountains, not caring if any paladin or firedrake saw. He reached the foothills
and beat his wings mightily, streaming across the fields and farms.

Finally he reached the
village of Favilla . . . and he cried out in agony.

The paladins and their
firedrakes were gone. The village, the only home Cade had ever known, lay in
ruin.

"Mother!" Cade cried
out hoarsely, flying above the devastation. "Father!"

The flap of his wings
raised clouds of soot and ash below. Pebbles raced across the ground. Bones
scattered. Tears filled Cade's eyes. The humble clay huts had been crushed, the
marks of firedrake claws upon what remained of their walls. The gardens still
smoldered. And everywhere—everywhere lay the bodies. He couldn't even recognize
the corpses; they were burnt black, charred like logs after a forest fire.
Bones thrust out through what remained of the flesh. A few splotches of red was
all the blood that remained; the rest was all black, all darkness, all death.

"Mother! Father!" Cade
cried out, voice torn in agony.

He flew down and landed
outside the ruin of his bakery. The roof had caved in. The walls had been torn
down. Cade rummaged through the bricks with his claws, trying to find them, to
find Derin and Tisha, the only parents he had ever known.

Finally, under a pile
of bricks, he found them.

He lowered his scaly
head, tears in his eyes.

Derin and Tisha, the
bakers who had adopted him, who had raised him as a son, were dead, burnt to
nothing but bones and shreds of blackened skin. Empty eye sockets gazed at him
as if asking
, Why weren't you here? Why didn't you help us, Cade?

Cade looked away, tears
stinging.

"Eliana," he whispered.

Still in dragon form,
he kept digging, praying the girl still lived, praying he did not find a third
corpse. Under more bricks he found her cradle, and his breath caught . . . but
the cradle was empty. She was gone.

Cade no longer had the
will to hold on to his magic. It fizzled away like the last flames in the
ruins. He knelt over the empty cradle, lowered his head, and tasted his tears.

An hour later, he stood
outside the village over two graves.

He stared down at the
mounds of earth, then stared at his hands—hands covered with the ashes of the
dead.

"I'm sorry, Mother and
Father," he whispered to the graves. "I'm sorry."

He could speak no more.
His chest shook with sobs, and he clenched his fists and lowered his head.

A voice spoke behind
him, hesitant, softer than the breeze.

"Oh, Cade . . . I'm
sorry."

He spun around, heart
leaping, ready to fight. But it was not a paladin behind him. Instead he found
himself staring at Domi.

She still wore her rags—a
tattered burlap sack tied around her waist with a rope, stockings full of
holes, and no shoes. More dust than ever coated her skin, and ashes rained into
her mop of tangled red hair. Those green eyes of hers stared at him from
between the strands, shining with tears.

"I should have been
here," Cade said, voice choked. "I should have fought for them, saved them."
Sudden anger rose inside him, and his hands balled into fists. "You kept me
away. You bound me as they died! Why?" He shook with his rage.

"To protect you," she
said softly. "I could not save the villagers, but I could try to save you."

Fresh tears stung his
eyes. "I'd have preferred to die with them."

Her eyes narrowed, and
she bared her teeth, a wild animal again. "You cannot die! You're too rare. You're
Vir R—" She bit down on her words, and her cheeks paled.

"I'm what?" he said.

She sighed. "You're
like me."

She took a few steps
back, stared at him solemnly, and shifted.

Wings burst out from
her back, red and tipped with white claws. Scales rose across her body in all
the colors of fire. A tail sprouted from her back, and she grew taller and
finally stared at him as a dragon.

Cade recognized the
firedrake from the battle, one of the twelve who had chased him.

Mercy's
firedrake.

He reached deep inside
him for his magic, but before he could shift, Domi released her dragon form,
returning to a human again. She approached him slowly, her bare feet sinking
into the soft soil.

"You . . . you're no
firedrake," he said.

She shook her head, and
her matted red hair swayed. "I'm like you, Cade. I was never purified. But
while you chose to live as a human, hiding your dragon form, I chose the
opposite life. I live as a dragon, pretending to be a mindless firedrake with
no human form to shift into, no human thoughts. I bear paladins on my back, and
I live in an underground cell, and I serve the cruel Cured Temple—all for the
freedom of flying." A wistfulness filled her eyes. "All for a taste of the sky
. . . the sky that was taken from us."

So many emotions filled
Cade—grief for his slain parents, worry for his missing sister, rage at the
Cured Temple, amazement that others like him still lived—that he could only
stand still, overcome, not knowing what to say, how to feel, what to do.

Finally he found the
words he needed to speak. They left his lips in a whisper. "Are there others?"

Domi smiled tremulously.
"There are. At least four others—four others that I know of. They call us
weredragons, creatures cursed, diseased, poor souls that need to be purified.
But our true name, our ancient name, is . . ." She dropped her voice to a
whisper. "Vir Requis."

Others like him.
Spirit, there were others who hadn't been purified, who hadn't been branded.
Others who could become dragons. Other Vir Requis.

"Where can I find the
others?" he said. "Can you take me to them?"

Domi looked from side
to side, and fear filled her eyes. "I can no longer help you. Lady Mercy will
be seeking me. She left me to keep scouring the mountains and flew here on a
different firedrake, but I'm her favorite mount. She'll want to ride me home,
and if I don't return to her, she'll think me lost, think me a recalcitrant
beast to hunt down. I must return to her now. And you must leave this place. They'll
be hunting you. Already they're back hunting you in the mountains." She pointed
toward distant figures on the horizon—firedrakes. "You must travel to the city
of Sanctus on the coast. Visit the city library. Speak to the librarian. She
will help you." She took a few steps back, glancing around nervously. "I must
leave."

"Wait!" Cade said,
reaching out to her. "What do I tell this librarian? Why would she help me?"

Domi was hopping from
foot to foot, anxious to leave. She chewed her lip, then looked back at him.
She stepped closer to Cade and, surprising him, embraced him. Her body was
soft, warm, slender, and her embrace was full of such goodness, such
compassion, that Cade never wanted it to end.

"Tell the librarian the
name of our kingdom." Domi caressed Cade's cheek. "Tell her the forbidden name,
the name the paladins would kill anyone who utters. The name that means
everything, that is who we were, who we can become again." She pressed her lips
against his ear, and she whispered a word—whispered it with such awe, such
holiness, that goose bumps rose across Cade. "Requiem."

With that, Domi broke
apart from him. She took a few steps back, stared into his eyes, and shifted.
She rose into the sky as a dragon—a wild firedrake in disguise—and turned to
fly away. She glided toward the northern mountains, toward the true firedrakes
and their riders.

Requiem.

The word felt too holy
to even repeat aloud. New tears filled Cade's eyes, but these were tears of
wonder, of awe.

Requiem.

The word—the way Domi
had whispered it, the way it echoed in his ear—spoke of ancient magic, of old
halls of marble, of something precious, something lost. Something Cade knew
that he carried inside him, that he would always seek, that he would never
forget.

Requiem.

He looked back at the
two graves. He looked at the burnt village. He needed to leave this place. He
needed to find his sister. He needed to seek the library in Sanctus, to learn
more about that forgotten place, that forbidden word . . . to learn about
Requiem.

He rose into the sky as
a dragon. He flew east, and he did not look back once.

 
 
GEMINI

Lord Gemini Deus, second born to
High Priestess Beatrix, stared into the mirror and liked what he saw.

"Do you see this?" he
said, looking over his reflection's shoulder at the naked woman in his bed. "A
paladin in all his glory. Feast your eyes, my darling, for you'll never see a
sight so beautiful again."

His bedchamber was
lavish, coated in gold and jewels. The woman in his bed was beautiful, and she
stretched with a yawn, displaying her splendid nakedness in the sunlight. But
Gemini returned his eyes to his own reflection; it was fairer by far. He was a
tall, slender man of twenty-two years, young enough for youthful beauty, old
enough for masculinity. Like all paladins and priests, he shaved the left side
of his head, leaving only stubble. Long, luxurious hair cascaded down to his
right shoulder, bleached white as snow. His cheekbones were high, his eyes blue
and clear, and he wore priceless armor of white steel. He turned to admire all
angles.