Requiem's Hope (Dawn of Dragons) (2 page)

 
 
LAIRA

On a
beautiful spring morning, flowers blooming and birds singing, Laira
woke up to find her brother hanging dead from an oak.

She had woken that morning happy—truly, deeply happy for the first
time in many years, the sort of contentment that came from a full
belly, a good sleep, and a feeling of love and safety. For so many
years, she had suffered—exiled from Eteer across the sea, brutalized
as an omega of the Goldtusk tribe, and finally limping wounded
through the wilderness, almost dying, seeking a home. A home she had
finally found.

Requiem.

Waking that morning, she had gazed around at this new kingdom, this
dawn of dragons. King's Column rose above her, a pillar three hundred
feet tall, perhaps the tallest structure in the world. The sunlight
gleamed against its marble, its dragon capital reared, and even in
the morning light, Laira saw the Draco constellation shining above
the column, blessing it, blessing her. Birches rustled around the
pillar, dwarfed by its majesty, sprouting fresh leaves whose scent
filled her nostrils.

"Requiem," she whispered, placing a hand against the
pillar. "The beat of my heart. A beacon for my kind. Your light
will call all others home." Her eyes stung. "All weary,
hunted weredragons will see King's Column, and they will heed its
call, and they will gather here. They will become Vir Requis, a
people noble and strong."

That light and warmth in her heart, Laira made her way deeper into
the forest. After the nobility of her prayer, she needed a moment
decidedly less noble, and she sought a private place to relieve her
bladder. Leaving the other Vir Requis to sleep—they still lay
wrapped in fur blankets around the column, snoring softly—she made
her way down a hill.

Past a cluster of birches, a twisting pine with a trunk like a face,
and a boulder she had engraved with a dragon rune, she saw him.

Her brother.

Prince Sena Seran.

He hung from the tree, his belt around his neck. His bloated tongue
protruded from his mouth, and his eyes stared at her, blank, bulging.
A crow was already pecking at his ear.

Laira lost her breath. She couldn't even scream.

A choked whisper finally left her lips.

"Why?"

The crow tore off the earlobe and swallowed, snapping Laira out of
her paralysis. She ran forward, tears in her eyes, and she wanted to
toss a stone at the crow, but she didn't want to hurt Sena, and the
bird wouldn't leave, and she tugged her brother's feet, trying to
pull him down, but she couldn't, and finally she simply fell to her
knees, hugged his dangling feet, and wailed.

The others must have heard her cry; she heard their feet thumping
down the hill, and arms wrapped around her, pulling her back. Tanin
was embracing her, stroking her hair, holding her as the others cut
down the corpse.

"Why, Tanin?" Laira whispered, held in his arms, trembling.
"I thought . . . I thought he was happy here, I . . ."

The brown-haired young man held her close. He said nothing; perhaps
he did not know what to say.

Tanin's sister—the gruff, golden-haired Maev—stared down at the
body which now lay upon the grass. The wrestler crossed her tattooed
arms, spat, and shook her head in disgust.

"Bloody bollocks," Maev said. "I flew halfway across
the world to save the damn boy's arse from his prison. And now, when
we finally bring the bastard to a safe home, he hangs himself? Stars
damn—"

Maev's father—the burly, shaggy Jeid—cuffed the back of her head
and glared at her. "Show some respect, Maev." The bearded
Vir Requis, the first King of Requiem, turned toward Laira, and his
eyes softened. He approached her slowly, knelt, and joined her
embrace with Tanin.

"I thought he was happy," Laira whispered, tears streaming
down her cheeks. She let the two men—a father and his son—hold her
in their arms. "I thought he'd find joy among us."

She lowered her head. Perhaps she had always lied to herself. She had
been exiled from Eteer as a toddler, too young to remember much of
that realm across the sea. But Sena had grown up among the white
towers and golden palaces of that warm, southern kingdom. He had fled
into these cold hinterlands as a young man, soft and afraid. On his
first day here, Sena had tried to take Jeid captive, to betray his
own kind—to do anything to gain acceptance back into his father's
court.

My father, the cruel King Raem, hunts Vir Requis,
Laira
thought.
I've been suffering from this truth all my life, but Sena
. . .

She looked over Jeid's shoulder at the body of her brother.

For Sena it was too much.

She freed herself from the embrace, made her way across the grass,
and knelt by his fallen body. She touched her brother's cheek and
gazed into his dead eyes. Even in death, he was a handsome boy, his
features noble, his hair soft. She pulled his lifeless body into an
embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Sena." Her tears dampened his tunic.
"Goodbye. I love you."

Before she could say more, a shriek rose above.

Laira raised her head, stared between the trees, and saw it there.
For the second time that morning, she lost her breath.

Around her, the others gasped and sneered.

"A demon," Laira whispered.

She had never seen one of these creatures, the unholy things her
father had freed from the underworld to hunt dragons. But she had
heard the tales, and she recognized it at once. The creature flew
down toward them, large as a dragon and shaped as an octopus. Instead
of suckers, its tentacles bore many round mouths, each containing a
ring of teeth. A central mouth, large as a dragon's maw and full of
fangs, opened in the creature's head. It emitted a cry so loud the
trees shook, shedding their last patches of snow.

"Stars damn it!" Maev said. "The bastards found their
way here."

The gruff wrestler spat, leaped into the air, and shifted. Green
scales clattered across her, wings burst out from her back, and Maev
soared, a dragon blasting fire. An instant later, the others shifted
too. Tanin soared as a red dragon, Jeid as a copper beast. They
crashed through the treetops, heading toward the demonic octopus.

Laira hesitated for a moment longer. Her brother needed her. Sweet
Sena lay dead at her feet; how could she leave him to the crows?

Above the trees, the demon stretched out three tentacles, wrapping
each one around a dragon. Scales cracked and Laira's friends cried
out above. Their fire crashed into the octopus, only to slide off its
slick, wet body. The blood of dragons spilled.

Today the living need me more.

Laira leaped into the air and shifted.

She beat her wings, her golden scales chinked, and she crashed
between the treetops before soaring toward the battle.

The deformed mollusk shrieked ahead, wreathed in flames that did not
burn it. Its tentacles were squeezing the three dragons, and the
mouths upon them—round and toothy like lamprey jaws—tore into
flesh. Maev roared and slammed her tail against the creature, but it
was like trying to cut a pile of jelly; the octopus's body kept
reforming. Jeid and Tanin were beating their wings uselessly; the
demon was flailing them around like a man swinging cats by the tails.

Laira growled and streamed toward the fray.

"Requiem!" she cried. "Our wings will forever find
your sky!"

She drove toward the demon, opening her maw wide to bite, to tear
into its flesh.

A tentacle snapped toward her.

Laira banked, dodging it, but a second arm slammed into her and
wrapped around her neck.

She floundered in the sky, choking. She tried to breathe fire but
could not; the tentacle was constricting her throat, blocking both
air and flame.

"Stars damn it!" Jeid howled, tossed around by the tail.
The burly copper dragon was clawing at the beast, unable to harm it.
"Tanin, Maev—you told me these demons are small as horses."

"They were!" Maev shouted back, her green scales chipped.
"Most of them."

Laira sputtered, only sparks leaving her maw. She lashed her claws,
tearing at the tentacle, but whenever she pierced the boneless digit,
it reformed. The grip tightened around her neck, and the small mouths
upon it—each as large as a human mouth—tore at her scales, tugging
them off her neck. Blackness spread across her.

Do I die here too?
she thought.
Do we end up as food for
demons and crows?

Tears stung her eyes; she could barely see. They had founded Requiem,
a kingdom for dragons, only this winter; did this dream of a nation
now end?

She managed to hiss.

No.

She beat her wings madly.

I did not pass through fire and blood to die above my home.

She gritted her teeth . . . and released her magic.

A human again, slim and small, she squirted out of the octopus's grip
and tumbled through the sky.

The beast shrieked, a sound so loud Laira thought her eardrums might
shatter. It reached out more tentacles and grabbed her again, but she
slipped from its grasp like a minnow from a man's fingers. She flew
through the sky, spinning, and reclaimed her magic.

A golden dragon again, she soared with a howl, dodged the tentacles,
and crashed into the demon's belly.

Her horns tore through translucent, sticky membranes. The demon's
stomach tore open above her, and Laira managed to grin, sure she had
killed it.

An instant later, a thousand baby octopi spilled from the slashed
belly, raining onto her.

Laira screamed. Each of the spawned creatures was large as a wolf,
their tentacles bloody and lined with clattering mouths. They fell
upon her, clinging like parasites. Their mouths tugged at her scales,
tearing them loose, and her blood showered. Several landed upon her
wings, tugging her down toward the forest. She screamed, fell, and
slammed against the treetops. She yowled as a branch drove into her
thigh. As she crashed through the branches, the demon spawn tore free
from her wings, allowing Laira to flap and soar again. The creatures
were feeding at her flanks, sucking her blood like leeches. She
whipped her tail, knocking them off. When finally she removed the
last creature, she saw the spawn—there were hundreds of them—racing
through the forest, tearing down trees, and dragging themselves
toward King's Column. Their slime covered the holy ground of Requiem.

She beat her wings, rising higher, and returned her eyes to the main
battle. The mother octopus still lived, lashing her tentacles; only
four of the arms remained. The other three dragons had managed to
free themselves, though blood covered them and their scales were
chipped.

"Laira!" Maev shouted down to her. Blood and slime filled
her mouth and she spat. "You have to bite through the tentacles.
Grab them near the body and bite!" With that, the green dragon
shot toward the octopus, dodged one tentacle, and grabbed another's
base between her jaws. She began to tug like a pup on a rope, tearing
off the slimy arm.

The octopus flailed in the sky, spraying black liquid like tar. A
stream of the foul ink crashed against Tanin, and the red dragon
bellowed and dipped in the sky, wiping off the ooze with his claws.
When the octopus spun toward Laira, she banked, dodging most of the
attack. The jet of ink sprayed over her head, but some droplets
landed against her. They stung like a rain of lava, and she yowled
but kept flying.

Hovering before her, the octopus met her gaze. Its mouth opened in a
toothy grin. At first, Laira had thought this a mindless beast, but
now she saw cunning and recognition in its eyes. A voice emerged from
its maw, shrill as trees cracking under ice, as the cries of dead
souls, as her innermost nightmares. It licked its chops, tongue long
and blue, as words fled between its teeth.

"Laira . . . I recognize you, Laira Seran." It hissed at
her, grin widening. "Your father, King Raem Who Lies with
Demons, sends his regards."

Laira froze in the sky, terror constricting her.

It knows me. It knows my name.

Its remaining tentacles lashed, holding back the other dragons, as it
hovered closer toward her. Its tongue reached out, stretching as long
as its arms, blue and dripping saliva. It licked her cheek, then
grabbed her horn and tugged her closer. Its mouth opened wider and
wider, so large she thought it could swallow her whole. Its uvula
swung and its gullet bubbled with acid.

Laira screamed and blew her fire.

Her flames crashed into the creature's mouth, splashed against its
palate, and ignited its stomach acid. The creature screamed but would
not release her. Its tongue still tugged her horn, dragging her
toward the inferno.

She raised her claws, grabbed the tongue, and tore it apart with a
shower of blood. Free from its grip, she flew backward a few feet,
blew more fire, then drove forward with a scream.

Her horns pierced the creature's eyes with wet
pops
, sank
through flesh, then pulled back coated with jiggling globs of brain.

The misshapen mollusk hovered for a moment longer, staring at Laira
with empty eye sockets, then crashed down toward the forest.

When it hit the trees, branches and trunks drove through its flesh,
tearing the creature apart. Gobbets of flesh, chunks of tentacles,
and blood rained, thick with worms.

Wobbling and bleeding, Laira descended, all but crashing through the
canopy. She landed in a patch of bloodied snow, yellow grass, and
rotted globs of flesh, and her magic left her. She stood shivering in
her fur cloak, a human again. The other dragons landed too and
resumed human forms: Jeid, a grizzly bear of a man, his beard thick
and his hair shaggy; his daughter, Maev, her chin raised in defiance,
her tattooed arms crossed, and her yellow hair scraggly; and finally
Jeid's son, Tanin, a tall young man with a shock of brown hair.