Dragons Rising (3 page)

The innkeeper stood at the bar, a little old man wrapped in burlap
robes. At the sight of Amity and Cade--both bruised, muddy, and clad
in rags--his eyes widened. He reached under the bar, perhaps for a
weapon.

"We mean you no harm," Cade said, smiling thinly, trying to
make himself look less like an outlaw and more like a paying
customer. "We--"

"We want food." Amity pounded her fist on the bar. "Two
plates piled high with whatever you have cooking at the back. Then
another two plates ten minutes later. And ale. Two pints now and two
more once they're empty."

Cade sidled over to Amity and whispered, "Can we afford all
this?"

She dragged him toward a table. "My treat. Sit down."

He dutifully sat down at the scarred pinewood table, and she sat
across from him. Not a moment later, the old innkeeper brought over
two plates piled high with stewed ribs on a bed of roast potatoes.

A sudden pang of guilt stabbed Cade. What were the Terran survivors
on the beach eating? Had they caught food in the river or were they
starving while he dined here? And what of Fidelity, Domi, and the
others? Were their bellies full or--

"Oh thank you, Spirit!" Amity said and tucked in.

Cade could no longer resist. He grabbed a rib in each hand and
feasted. The meat was so soft it fell off the bone and melted in his
mouth. It was delicious. It was heavenly. Cade had barely eaten in
days, and this tasted like a meal for gods. The flavors filled his
mouth: tomatoes, brown sugar, and fatty goodness.

He finished his second rib to see Amity devouring her tenth.

"Slow down!" he said. "Chew."

"No time." She stuffed another entire rib into her mouth,
sucked off the meat, and tossed the bone over her shoulder. She kept
attacking the meal like a wild animal.

"You eat like a damn wolf."

She grunted. "Good. I like wolves."

"A rabid wolf all covered with mud and fleas."

She swallowed more meat. "Quiet, kid. Eat more and talk less."
She looked over her shoulder. "Innkeeper, more! Keep 'em coming.
And where's the damn ale? Ah! There. Bring it over, good man."

She grabbed a tankard and drank deeply, a trickle of ale dribbling
down her chin. She slammed the emptied stein down, wiped her mouth,
and returned to her meal. As she kept devouring the meat, Cade sat
and watched her.

She almost doesn't seem Vir Requis,
he thought. With her
tangled hair, mad eyes, and the table manners of a wolverine, Amity
seemed to Cade more like a barbarian of the Horde than a daughter of
Requiem. To Cade, a Vir Requis was somebody holy, mysterious, a proud
and noble bearer of an ancient torch. Somebody like Fidelity, wise
and solemn, or like Domi, mysterious and fair, or like Korvin and
Roen, strong and noble and proud.

But Amity is different,
he thought. Rougher. Darker. She
didn't have the noble heart of a Vir Requis but a wild heart, eager
for bloodshed and fire.

Cade thought that, deep down, he was a little afraid of Amity. Afraid
and, well . . . He gulped. He had to admit that Amity stirred other
feelings in him too, that she heated his blood in ways he didn't like
and yet found intoxicating. He flushed to remember her kissing his
forehead, and all those times she had grabbed his hand or arm.
Looking at her now, Cade realized that, beneath the grime and gravy,
Amity was a beautiful woman. Domi was beautiful too of course, in a
soft and fragile way, the sort of beauty that Cade wanted to cherish,
to protect, the beauty of a delicate rose struggling to bloom in
snow. But Amity was no fragile flower. She was fire, wild and free
and hot, a strong older woman who dripped sex, who could probably
teach him things in her bed, who--

"What are you staring at?" Amity demanded.

Cade gulped and hurriedly reached for his ale. He drank quickly,
hiding his flushing cheeks behind the raised stein.

I can't think of Amity this way,
he told himself. Guilt filled
him.
Domi is the woman I love.

The memory of making love to Domi filled him, more intoxicating than
the ale. He remembered fleeing the burning forest with her, lying
with her in the grass, undressing together, making love, how her body
had seemed so fragile, so pale, how Cade had vowed to always protect
her, always love her.

Where are you, Domi? Are you still alive, flying north, thinking
of me too?

The innkeeper returned with two more plates of food, and Amity and
Cade were tucking into their second helpings when the firedrake
screech rose outside.

Cade froze, a spiced potato wedge halfway up toward his mouth.

Oh stars.

The
shriek rose just outside the tavern; this was not a beast flying high
in the sky. Cade spun toward the window and saw the flash of brass
scales outside, the puff of smoke, and the glaring eyes of a Templer
firedrake. Cade glimpsed a glint of sunlight against scale armor.

He leaped to his feet. "Amity, out the back door!" He began
to race across the common room, but Amity wouldn't budge. "Amity!"

She sat hunched over, elbows on the table, and swallowed another
bite. "I'm eating."

Cade raced back toward her. "Amity," he whispered urgently,
"there's a star-damned paladin outside!"

She reached for a roasted potato. "And there are potatoes
inside. I'd rather focus on them. Sit down or I'm eating your
leftovers."

Cade gulped, torn between fleeing for his life, grabbing Amity and
trying to drag her away, or hiding behind the bar. Before he could
decide, the tavern door slammed open, and a paladin marched in.

Cade cursed and sat back down.

I should have run.

The paladin who entered the room was tall and coated in white steel.
His helmet's visor was raised, revealing a face as cold, hard, and
pale as his armor. He held a chain in his hand; it trailed out the
door. The man stared around the tavern in disgust.

"Wretched piss pot." The paladin spat onto the floor.
"Innkeeper! Wine! Have you got any wine in this hovel?"

The innkeeper rushed forth, knelt, and bowed his head. "Yes, my
lord! Fine wine from Lynport, my lord, would--"

The paladin kicked the kneeling man, knocking him down. "Go get
some, scum! A bottle for me. And bring a dog bowl of water. Put it on
the floor for my pet."

The innkeeper nodded and rushed off.

Cade reached across the table and placed his hand near his knife.

The paladin stared right at him and Amity, wrinkled his nose, and
spat again. "Filthy urchins." He tugged his chain. "Come
on! In!"

Cade expected to see a dog enter the tavern, but instead a chained
woman followed the paladin inside.

Oh stars.
Rage rose in Cade, and his fingers inched closer to
the knife.

The woman had olive skin, large green eyes, and curly dark hair--a
Terran woman of the Horde. The chain connected to her wrists, and
bruises covered her face. She wore a tattered woolen dress; those
tatters had been made with clutching hands, Cade guessed.
A
slave,
Cade realized, belly curdling.
A slave he captured in
the war.

Icy
guilt filled Cade. His actions--fleeing Mercy, burning the tillvine,
gathering the Vir Requis--had spurred this war. Now the world had
burned. Fleets had sunken. Countless lay dead. And women were taken
captive. How much more pain could the world endure for Cade's dream,
a dream of Requiem?

The
paladin marched toward a table and sat down with a grunt. His captive
knelt on the floor beside him, head lowered, arms still chained. The
innkeeper stepped forth, bringing a bottle of wine and a bowl of
water.

The
paladin grabbed the bottle, uncorked it with his teeth, and drank
deeply. He swallowed and wiped his mouth. "Tastes like swill."
He belched. "Bring some food!"

Soon
a plate of ribs steamed before the paladin. After swallowing the meat
off each bone, he tossed the bone to his captive on the floor. The
woman nervously nibbled on whatever meat and fat remained. It was
probably her first meal in a long time.

Cade
found himself trembling with rage.

I
cannot let this happen.

"Calm
yourself, kid," Amity muttered under her breath, busying herself
with the last few potatoes. "Not our battle."

Cade's
eyes widened with rage. He leaned across the table and whispered,
"Not our battle? Amity! That's a woman of the Horde! You're her
queen!"

Amity
drank her last drop of ale. "
Was
her queen." She
stared up at him. "That dream is over, Cade. Now come on. We
keep moving north."

Cade
shook his head. "I'm not leaving."

"Suit
yourself." Amity began to rise from the table.

"Wait."
Cade reached out to grab Amity. "What about wanting to fight for
glory, for triumph?"

She cracked her neck. "Ain't no glory in a tavern brawl."

He wouldn't release her. "We're not leaving without this woman,
we--"

The paladin's voice rose from across the tavern, hoarse and already
slurred with wine. "Silence, you maggots! A paladin's trying to
drink here. You should be kneeling before me, not blabbering to
yourselves. Look how this one kneels!" The paladin turned toward
his captive. "Kneel lower! Lower!" He backhanded the woman,
knocking her to the floor.

Cade couldn't help himself. He stormed forward, trembling with rage,
and knelt by the woman. Blood speckled her lips. Lying on the floor,
she gazed up at him with fear, eyes damp. Her lips wobbled.

"I'm sorry," Cade whispered. "Let me help you."

The paladin rose to his feet, placed his hands on Cade's chest, and
shoved him back.

"Hands off my prize, you peasant!" The paladin drew his
sword. "Kneel now or I'll slice off your head."

Cade gulped and glanced over his shoulder. "Amity, a little
help?"

Amity leaned against the wall, and a smile touched her lips. "You
don't need me, kid. I'll enjoy the show."

Cade spun back toward the paladin and cursed. There was no room in
here to shift into a dragon, not without trapping himself between the
walls, easy prey for the paladin's sword. He raised his chin, reached
to the table, and grabbed a knife. He raised the little blade.

"I challenge you to a duel!" Cade had read that phrase in
one of his old books, though in the stories, the heroes never had
cold sweat bead on their brows. "For this woman's honor. Let's
take it outside." He was pretty sure he'd read that phrase
before too.

The paladin stared at him with wide eyes, then burst out laughing.
The captive at his feet stared up, still shaking, her lip bleeding.
Shaking his head with amusement, the paladin sat back down and
returned to his meal.

"Funny creatures, you peasants are." He polished off
another bone and tossed it at his captive.

The woman flinched, and Cade met her eyes again. They were large,
scared eyes. The eyes of a woman far from her home, grieving for her
fallen land, her lost family, her lost freedom. Cade could not let
her remain in captivity.

Perhaps a hundred thousand died,
he thought.
Perhaps I lost
the war and lost Requiem. But I can still save a life.

Cade grabbed the bottle of wine on the table. He tilted it over the
paladin's head, letting the red liquid spill down.

For a moment, the paladin sat still, the wine dripping down his head
and face. His captive gasped, and Cade heard Amity snort behind him.
Then only silence.

Slowly the paladin rose to his feet.

Cade turned and ran.

"Good work, kid!" Amity said as Cade raced outdoors. "Just
next time waste water, not good wine."

Cade burst out onto the road and beheld the paladin's firedrake
there. The beast reared and screeched, wings spreading wide. Its
scales were bronze, and a great steel breastplate like a boat coated
its underside. A helmet topped the creature's head, bristly with
blades. Its jaws opened, revealing swirling fire like molten iron in
a smelter.

Cade sucked in his breath and froze. Cursing, the paladin burst out
from the tavern behind him. Cade spun back to face the man, caught
between firedrake and paladin.

"Let your captive go!" Cade shouted, trying to keep his
voice stern. He balled his hands into fists. "Let her go and
I'll let you live. You don't have to die today."

I've slain firedrakes and paladins before,
Cade told himself,
raising his chin.
I can kill this one.

The firedrake screeched behind him, a cry so loud Cade had to
struggle not to cover his ears. Hot air blasted his back, singing his
clothes. Sparks of flame flew around him. Ahead, the paladin raised
his sword.

"Bloody fool!" the man said. "Are you touched in the
head? Death would be a mercy for you."

Grumbling and still sticky with wine, the paladin charged.

Cade shifted and soared into the sky.

I'm sorry,
he thought, perhaps directing his thoughts to the
paladin below, perhaps to the stars above, perhaps simply to his own
soul.
I'm sorry. I didn't want to kill again. I didn't want more
blood on my hands.

He beat his wings, rising higher toward the sun, a golden dragon with
wide wings, gleaming scales, and roaring fire. He blasted that fire
downward.

The paladin rolled aside. Flames slammed into the ground beside him,
showered up, and sprayed the man.

"Weredragon!"
he called out.

Cade
prepared to blow fire again when the firedrake soared toward him.

The
bronze beast roared, clad in steel and wreathed in smoke, and blasted
up its dragonfire.

Cade
cursed.

"Amity,
where the Abyss are you?" he shouted as he swerved.

He dodged most of the fire, but a stream still blazed across his
tail, and he yowled. He felt his scales--they were softer and smaller
on the tip of his tail--expand and crack in the heat. He swooped,
claws stretched out, and slammed into the beast.