This forest will live again.
Upon the column, Queen Lyana Aeternum spoke to her people, voice ringing clear above the ruins.
"We gather in desolation," she said. "We gather in grief. We stand here in spring to mourn our long winter." She looked from person to person—elders with white hair, children with solemn eyes, and warriors with scarred faces and scarred souls. "Today we all mourn a loss. Everyone who stands here grieves for family, for friends, for loved ones. We grieve for those who died. We grieve for our fallen kings. Let us look to our sky, and let us pray for them."
They raised their heads and stared into the sky of Requiem. It was a clear spring sky, cold and bright and empty of clouds, yet Lyana thought that even in the light of day, she could see the Draco constellation, the stars of her fathers.
You are there now, Father and Mother, she thought, and a soft smile touched her lips. You are there, Orin and Elethor. You watch over me. You are with me now. I can feel your light upon me, and I am afraid, but I know that I am never alone.
She returned her eyes to the crowd.
"We are the survivors of Requiem," she said. "And we are her hope. We are Vir Requis, and we have known pain, and we have known tears, and we have known too much blood, too much death. But we are strong, and we are eternal; forever our starlight will glow. It has glowed here for three thousand years since King Aeternum raised this column and carved our stars into its stone. Queen Gloriae found this column standing in ruin after the great wars three hundred years ago; she rebuilt these halls and let starlight fall upon them. King Elethor led us to victory and to hope, and now this torch of starlight passes to me. And I vow to you, children of Requiem, I will rebuild these halls, and we will watch this forest bloom again." She raised her voice and cried to the stars, knowing that Elethor could hear her. "Requiem! May our wings forever find your sky."
All across the ruins, the survivors of Requiem repeated her prayer.
Standing upon a smashed mosaic, Mori smiled at Lyana, her eyes soft and warm. She knelt upon the broken stones before her queen.
"Queen Lyana," she said softly. She held her sword before her upon open palms. "I serve you, my queen."
Bayrin knelt too, blade held before him. Behind them, more people knelt, and soon a wave flowed across the survivors. They all knelt before Lyana upon the ruins, eyes gleaming, lips whispering.
Lyana stood before them, and her eyes stung, and she tasted a tear on her lips.
"I will lead them well, Elethor," she whispered and looked to the sky. "I will lead Requiem down a path of starlight, and I will not stray from it to the left or right, and I will honor your memory. I swear this to you, my husband. I swear this to you, stars of my fathers."
Those stars now did shine in the sky; Lyana could see them, and she laughed through her tears.
The birch saplings rustled.
Spring turned to autumn. The leaves turned red and scuttled across the ruins of Requiem.
All around the city, masons and carpenters toiled, and smithies rang, and people bustled. The first homes stood upon hills, and new columns rose in the ruins of the palace. The farms gave their crops, and baking breads, foamy ale, and hot apple pies filled Nova Vita with their scents, and for the first time in years, Lyana heard laughter ring through the city. Life and light shone.
On a cool autumn morning, Lyana lay upon her fur rug in the small, hillside temple they had built. She dug her hands into the fur and closed her eyes, but she did not scream. Mori clutched her one hand, and Bayrin held the other, and with a gasp and joyous pain, they had another in their family.
Lyana held her son to her breast, smoothed his hair, and smiled.
"Our son, Elethor," she whispered and looked to the ceiling. "He looks like you."
Mori laughed and gasped at the babe.
"Look at his hair!" the princess said. "It's brown like mine. And his eyes, Lyana—they're green like yours." She gingerly touched the babe's head. "What will you name him?"
Bayrin cleared his throat. "She's going to name him Bayrin, of course. After me. What do you think?"
The babe mewled and fell asleep against her, and Lyana stroked his hair, feeling warm and safe.
"I will name him Elarath," she said softly. "And I will raise him to know of his father, and his grandfather, and the great kings who came before him. He will be a great king too someday."
Bayrin patted the child and smiled down upon him.
"Your father was a good king, little one," he said. "You better follow in his footsteps, or Uncle Bayrin will make you regret this day."
Mori punched him, and Bayrin gasped and feigned indignation, and Lyana smiled and held her son close.
"Sweet El," she whispered to the child. "The birches whisper, dawn gilds our mountains, and light shines upon the forest. You are home, El. You are home."
MORI
Mori stood upon the fortress walls, watching winter's first snow fall.
The flakes swirled, glided, and coated the forest below. The trees spread into the distance: young pines, birches, and maples rising from memories of war. Icicles hung from their branches, and the snow soon covered the forest floor, a glittering carpet like fields of stars in a white sky. All around Castellum Luna, this small southern outpost, the snow and light of winter rolled into the horizons.
Mori took a deep breath of the cold air. The wind kissed her cheeks, billowed her hair, and sneaked into her cloak. She looked down at her hands and caressed her luck finger, the sixth finger on her left hand.
You've always brought me luck, she thought. You've always helped me.
She placed her hands upon the battlements and looked back into the southern horizon, watching the snow glide down and coat the trees. It was four years to the day since she had stood here, a frightened young girl, and watched the first phoenix rise from the south.
I was so afraid then, Mori remembered. Everything scared me: the creak of armor, the rustle of leaves, and the wilderness that rolls on forever like a sea.
And now… who was she now? No longer a youth. No longer so afraid, perhaps. Four years ago, she had come to Castellum Luna as a frightened girl, and here her world had burned around her. Now she stood here as a woman, older, stronger, a lady of this fort. She ruled Castellum Luna now.
"And I will not let these walls fall again," she whispered. "I will be the eyes of Requiem and her long arm in the wilderness."
She held her luck finger and thought of Orin. He had stood here upon these walls four years ago and fallen.
I will stand here every winter, Mori thought, and I will remember you.
Footfalls sounded behind her, and Mori turned to see Bayrin climbing the stairs from the courtyard. She smiled down at him, and he joined her upon the walls. In his arms he carried their little bundle wrapped in furs. Mori felt her heart melt like butter over hot bread. She took her daughter from her husband's arms, held the child close, and kissed her forehead.
"Good morning, Treale," she whispered.
The babe reached out and touched her cheek and smiled. She was a child of pale skin, red hair, and large gray eyes. Mori thought her the most beautiful child in the world.
"I swear," Bayrin said, "I've never seen a babe go through so many swaddling clothes. We're going to need a whole castle's worth of them delivered down here. Does Lyana's baby soil himself this much too?"
Mori cooed at the child. "Don't listen to him, Treale." She kissed the babe. "If he complains some more, bite him."
Silently, she added words she would not speak aloud.
May you never know loss, my child, she thought, holding Treale close. May you never know war. May you grow in a world of peace, knowledge, and light. May your soul never be broken like mine.
She looked toward the southern horizon. Four years ago the flame of Tiranor had risen here. They had tortured and killed her brother within these walls. They had raped her by his corpse as she screamed. They had flown north from this fortress until they reached her city, and they
toppled it.
Mori closed her burning eyes.
How do I go on? she thought. How can I be a mother to Treale when still the nightmares fill my every night, when still the pain clutches me and does not let go, when still the loss pounds through me?
She blinked and looked south through her tears. She knew the answer. She knew that this pain would never leave her: the pain of those she had lost, of her shattered innocence, of her captivity in Tiranor. Those memories would always haunt her. Those scars would forever clutch her soul, and many years from now, she would still wake up in darkness, afraid and trembling and back underground in chains.
Some scars do not heal, Mori knew. Some memories do not leave us. Some hurts are too great; they will forever be within me.
She looked at her child, an innocent babe. Treale reached out toward her, fingers grasping, lips smiling. And Mori smiled back.
But I have Treale, she thought. And I have my husband, Bayrin. Her tears fell. And I have some light in my life. Stars of Requiem—let whatever light still shines upon me, and whatever joy still fills me, be a beacon for my daughter. I will raise her in your light, and may she never know the pain I feel.
Bayrin placed an arm around her and held her close. Mori hugged her daughter to her breast, and they stood together on the wall, watching the snow fall.
THE END
AFTERWORD
Well, here we are. The long road has ended; another story is told. Thank you, dear reader, for joining me on this journey.
The Dragonlore trilogy is complete, but there are other Requiem stories.
If you haven't done so already, you can read my earlier Requiem trilogy, Song of Dragons. Set three hundred years before Dragonlore, the Song of Dragons trilogy features an earlier generation of Vir Requis.
There will also be future Requiem novels. I'm currently working on a new series set in Requiem; I hope to release its first volume in 2013. I post updates on Facebook and Twitter, and you can also join my mailing list at DanielArenson.com.
And remember: To help spread the word, please tell your friends about these novels, and please leave a review online. These books could not exist without your support.
Thank you again, dear reader. I'm humbled and grateful that you've chosen to share these stories with me. I hope we meet again between the pages of another book.
Daniel, 2013
NOVELS BY DANIEL ARENSON
Standalones:
Firefly Island (2007)
The Gods of Dream (2010)
Flaming Dove (2010)
Misfit Heroes:
Eye of the Wizard (2011)
Wand of the Witch (2012)
Song of Dragons:
Blood of Requiem (2011)
Tears of Requiem (2011)
Light of Requiem (2011)
Dragonlore:
A Dawn of Dragonfire (2012)
A Day of Dragon Blood (2012)
A Night of Dragon Wings (2013)
KEEP IN TOUCH
www.DanielArenson.com
[email protected]
Facebook.com/DanielArenson
Twitter.com/DanielArenson
A Night of Dragon Wings (Dragonlore, Book 3) Page 30
