Requiem's Song (Book 1) (21 page)

He
spoke in a soft voice, more to himself than to his sister. "The
best revenge isn't killing your enemy. The best revenge is living
well. We must live. We must build our tribe. And tonight we must fly
south."

She
nodded, finally silent. They shifted together and flew into the
storm. By the time they heard the rocs pursuing again, they were deep
into the clouds and rain, flying south in darkness, flying to that
hint of light, that shred of hope, that dream of another—another
like them, hunted and hurt, needing that revenge, needing that new
life.

They
flew through the night, silent, leaving the Goldtusk tribe to lick
its wounds far behind them. They flew until they saw it in the dawn,
gleaming white and gold—the southern coast.

"The
sea," Tanin said. He glided upon the wind, his wounds still
aching.

"Beyond
it lies Eteer." Maev flew with him, blood still staining her
scales.

They
were both hurt, weary, consumed with pain and memory. They wobbled as
they descended. They landed in the sand, shifted back into human
forms, and huddled together, watching the waves.

 
 
ISSARI

Issari
walked through the city of demons.

Once
this had been a city called Eteer, the thriving, bright heart the
world's greatest civilization. Once this had been a beacon of light,
of hope, of order in a world of chaos. Once this had been her home.
Now as Issari walked down the cobbled street, she moved through a
hive of rot, blood, pus, and evil from the depths.

The
demons swarmed everywhere. They scuttled up walls like monkeys. They
perched upon domed roofs. They swung from palm trees, raced through
gutters, and clattered and crawled and slithered along the streets.
Their stench wafted, and their leaking sores coated leaves and
stones. No two were alike. Some towered on stilt-like legs, withered
beings like mummified corpses, their eyes glowing blue. Others
dragged themselves forward, obese balls of fat, eyes peering between
folds of skin, tongues licking their warty lips. Some flew as bats,
scaled and horned, cackling as their heads spun. Others lurked in
shadows, conjoined twins stitched together, four or five in each
clump, writhing things of many legs, eyes, and tufts of hair.

"Creatures
of nightmares," Issari whispered, clutching her robes as she
walked down the street. "Terrors of the Abyss."

She
had grown up hearing tales of the Abyss, that forbidden land that
festered underground. For many generations, the kings of Eteer had
guarded that unholy kingdom's doors; by ancient right, they governed
the lands above and below the ground. Now her father had opened the
seal. Now this terror swept across the city, and Issari—heir to the
throne—did not know how this kingdom could ever light the world
again.

"Weredragons,
weredragons!" the demons cried. "We seek weredragons to
kill. Brides, brides! We seek brides to fill with our spawn."

Ahead,
several creatures—they looked like men turned inside out, their
organs dripping—moved down the street, sniffing and snorting.

"We
smell for dragons, brothers! Do you smell dragons? We smell for
brides too."

The
creatures approached a brick house and pounded on the door,
shattering the wood. Screams rose inside. One demon raced through the
doorway, then emerged dragging a woman. A few years older than
Issari, her hair disheveled and her eyes wide with terror, the woman
screamed and kicked.

"Dragon?
Dragon?" The demons tossed the woman onto the ground and
sniffed, their snouts quivering. "We smell no dragon blood.
Bride! A bride!"

Issari
stared in horror. Her fear froze her; she could barely even breathe.
The glistening creatures, blood seeping from their skinless bodies,
tore at the woman's clothes, ripping her tunic, revealing her
nakedness.

"She
will be my bride!" cried one of the demons, the largest among
them. His heart thudded outside his chest, and his entrails bustled
with worms. He leaned down and licked the struggling woman's cheek.
"You will spawn my offspring."

The
woman screamed, pleading for aid, trying to free herself, but the
other demons held her down.

As
the demon began lowering himself over the woman, Issari finally
snapped out of her paralysis.

"Stop!"

She
marched forward, reached into her robe, and pulled out her mother's
amulet. Shedah the crone had brought the silver charm home from the
north, proof of Queen Anai's death. Upon its round surface appeared
an engraving of Taal, the god of purity—a slender man, his arms held
at his sides, his palms open. It was a symbol of goodness, of light
and hope. To Issari, it was also a symbol of her mother. She shook in
the presence of this evil, but she held the amulet out before her.

"Stand
back, demons!" she cried.

In
her hand, the amulet burst into light.

The
demons squealed. The inverted creatures stumbled back, covering their
bulging, bloodshot eyes. One's liver burst, showering blood.

"The
light burns!" they cried, shattering, organs ripping. "How
can she burn us? Who is the seraph?"

Issari
took a step forward, the amulet thrumming in her hand, casting its
light.

"This
was the amulet of Queen Anai of Eteer!" she cried out. "She
ruled the throne that rises above your underground lair. From this
relic shines the light of Taal, a god greater than your mistress."
She took another step, and the light intensified, bleaching the
world. "By this light and blood, I banish you!"

The
demons screamed. Their bones snapped. Whimpering, they fled behind
several brick houses, leaving a trail of gore and a lingering stench.

Issari
breathed out in relief. She lowered the amulet, and its light dimmed.
Her legs trembled and sweat dripped down her back.

Her
father had traveled north a few days ago, following the crone's map,
seeking Laira in the cold hinterlands. Issari had only this amulet
for protection—a guard against the demons he had freed, a shard of
holiness, a gift from her mother.

"I
was only a babe when you left, Mother," she whispered. "And
you're gone now. But still you watch over me."

Fingers
shaking, she tucked the amulet back under her tunic.

"All
flesh is theirs to claim," King Raem had said before leaving. He
had stroked her hair. "All but yours. Stay in your chambers. Do
not tempt them. They are forbidden to enter your room."

Yet
Issari had left her sanctuary. She could not remain in her palace as
her city bled. The people of Eteer needed her. How could she stay in
safety while they suffered?

Still
trembling, she approached the fallen woman.

"Rise,
friend," Issari said, reaching down a hand to the woman. "You
are safe."

The
woman rose, clutching her tattered tunic to her nakedness. Issari
wore a veil of tasseled silk and a hood hid her hair; only her eyes
were visible. To all, she looked like a simple priestess, not the
Princess of Eteer.

"Thank
you." The woman wiped away tears. "Bless you, daughter.
Bless you."

As
the woman stepped back into her home, Issari pulled her hood lower,
praying the woman did not recognize her. If Raem returned and heard
of Issari's doings, he would beat her. She took a shuddering breath,
raised her chin, and kept walking.

Down
a street strewn with smashed pottery, the bones of an eaten dog, and
puddles of blood, she saw it. The pottery shop. The safe haven.

A
demon lingered on the street. It had the body of a massive
centipede—as large as a python—covered in metallic plates and lined
with many clawed legs. Its torso, arms, and head were those of a
human child, pale and warty, its mouth full of hooked teeth and its
belly swollen and bulging with kicking, living innards. When Issari
pulled out her amulet, the creature fled from the light, its many
feet pattering.

Issari
approached the shop. Its bricks were pale white, splotched with demon
drool, and a winged bull was engraved on the door—the god Kur-Paz, a
sigil to ward off evil. When Issari stepped inside, she found that
the sigil—unlike her amulet—had failed at its task. Three small red
demons, no larger than cats, were hopping upon the shelves, smashing
clay plates, bowls, and vases. The potter, a graying man with a wide
mustache, was fighting them off with a broom. His daughter was
flailing, trying to rip off a demon that tugged her hair. When Issari
raised her amulet, the light blazed, and the scaled creatures fled
out the window, leaving trails of smoke.

"I
think they smelled something this time," said the white-haired
potter, visibly shaken. "We can't keep them here any longer."

Issari
nodded. "The ship sails out today." She handed the old man
a few coins. "For your trouble."

He
shook his head, gently pushing her hand back. "I don't do this
for reward."

"I
know, kind sir." She kissed his bristly cheek. "But keep
these coins. They're pure gold. Rebuild your shop."

Tears
dampened his eyes as he pocketed the money. "Taal bless you,
Princess Iss—"

"Hush."
She placed a finger against his lips, her heart leaping. "I'm
but a nameless priestess, that is all.

She
tightened her shawl around her face, knelt, and pulled back the rug,
scattering pieces of broken pottery. She revealed a trapdoor. Issari
gave her braid a nervous tug, squared her jaw, and climbed down a
ladder into the darkness.

A
dark, dusty chamber awaited her. Packs of clay wrapped in cloth lay
upon a dozen shelves. The only light came from a small sliding window
near the ceiling. A sunbeam fell into the chamber, gleaming with
dust. They huddled behind the last shelf, wrapped in cloaks, their
hair dusty and their faces pale—the weredragon family.

Issari
knelt by them. She spoke softly. "It is time. A ship awaits."

They
peered up at her, lost souls, thin and pale. A mason and his wife.
Their five children, their eyes huge in their gaunt faces. Cursed.
Diseased. Or maybe blessed.

Weredragons,
we call them,
Issari
thought.
The name of
monsters. But if they are monsters, so is my family. So are my exiled
sister and my dead mother. So is my brother, imprisoned in the tower.
She reached down a
hand to help the family rise.
To me they are simply souls to save.

"We
will walk quickly," she said. "We will head straight to the
port. The ship will take you north to the cold, barbarian lands. I
don't know what awaits you there. I don't know how or where you will
live. But you will be free. You will start a new life." Her eyes
stung. "Nobody will hunt you there."

The
family stood up, shivering.

"But
there are demons outside!" said the youngest child, a girl with
tangled brown hair. "They can smell us. They smelled my
grandmother's magic." Tears welled up in her eyes. "They
ate her."

Issari
knelt and embraced the girl. "My amulet will protect you. I will
protect you." She kissed the girl's forehead. "You will be
brave."

The
girl nodded. Issari smiled but trembled on the inside. What if the
demons spared her but slew the family? What if the amulet's power
could not overcome their lust for weredragon blood? She tightened her
lips and began to climb out of the cellar. She had no choice. She had
to risk this. The demons had already invaded the pottery shop's
ground floor; during the next raid they might find the cellar.

I
must lead these people to the sea, and they must sail north. This
kingdom is death.

As
they stepped outside the pottery shop, the family blinked in the
sunlight, momentarily blinded after long days in the dark. The
youngest child whimpered and clung to Issari.

"I will be brave," the
girl whispered. "I will be brave like you."

They walked down the street,
moving slowly, barely daring to breathe. White columns rose around
them, and a palm tree grew from a ring of stones, swaying in the
wind. The sun was bright, the sky azure. Trails of demon drool
gleamed upon the street. Drawings covered houses' walls—some
depicted the sigils of the gods, wards against evil drawn by the city
folk, while others were demon creations painted in blood, depicting
demons devouring the heads of men, tearing off children's limbs, and
mating with women. Issari held the child's hand, and the rest of the
family walked behind her, their footfalls soft.

When they rounded the corner,
Issari grimaced. Several beasts clustered ahead around a well. One
demon, a lanky being like a strip of dried meat, was chewing on a
dying dog. Two other demons, blobby creatures like dripping tallow,
blinked and groaned as they copulated in the dust. A few more demons
danced atop the well's rim, skeletons draped in bits of flesh. All
turned toward Issari and the family. All sniffed. All let out shrieks
and leaped forward.

The family gasped. Issari
winced, pulled out her amulet, and cried out, "Let me pass!
Stand back, demons of the Abyss. I bear the mark of Taal. Stand
back!"

They screamed. The sunlight
reflected off the amulet, beaming forward in blinding rays, and the
demons covered their eyes.

"Quickly!" Issari
said, looking over her shoulder. "Hurry by them. Do not look at
them. Stay near me."

They walked, crossing the
square. One creature tried to leap at them; the amulet's light
slammed into it, knocking it back and tearing off its legs. The other
creatures cowered. Issari walked briskly, leaving the square and
entering an alleyway between shops.

They kept moving through the
city. They passed by a marketplace where once vendors had hawked
figs, olives, dates, and freshly cooked meat from tin plates. Today
demons rooted through the supplies, guzzling wine and stuffing food
down their gullets. Issari and the family kept walking, passing by
the old Temple of Taal, a towering building of white columns capped
with gold. Priests stood outside the temple's bronze doors, blowing
ram horns and swinging incense, holding back the foul creatures who
tried to leap, crawl, and slither up the stairs. Street by street,
the amulet held out before them, Issari and the family made their way
to the port.