A Birthright of Blood (The Dragon War, Book 2)

by Daniel Arenson

Soon Leresy stood upon the city wall in human form, gazed north at the gathering storm, and spat.

  "Burn me," he said. "Father is mad at you this time, Kae."

  His Lechers stood in a courtyard below, also in human forms—a thousand sweaty, bearded men clad in motley patches of armor and leather. Their shields and sleeves bore their sigil, a black dog. Their stench wafted even to the top of the wall, where Kaelyn stood glaring at her twin.

  "Leresy," she said, "this isn't one of your Counter Squares games. You don't know what you're getting into." She stared at a scar that ran down his cheek. "Is that the scar I gave you?"

  He shrugged. "Father's given me worse. Now it's time to kill him. You and me. Together." He sketched a theatrical bow. "I have officially changed sides."

  She grabbed and twisted his collar. "Leresy! You will die here. You don't know how to fight."

  He snickered. "And you do, Kae? Look at you." He swept his arms across the walls and courtyards. "You have… what, fifteen thousand warriors here?"

  She sighed. "Nine thousand," she confessed.

  "Bloody shite. Well, ten thousand now with the Lechers." He pried her hands off his collar. "Sister, you need me. Let me help you."

  He stared at her, his eyes earnest, and Kaelyn felt her chest deflate.

  "Leresy, you are a bastard."

  "That's what you need here—not righteous, noble warriors of light, but a right bastard like me and the Lechers." He winked. "We fight dirty."

  She stared at the mud caking his clothes. "I'm sure you do… in more ways than one."

  Rune stomped up toward them, glaring and gripping his sword.

  "I've heard enough," the young heir said. "Merciful stars, Kaelyn. He's a Cadigus. He's a prince of the empire. We're here to kill Cadiguses, not fight alongside them."

  As Rune talked, Leresy held up his hand, moving his fingers like a chattering puppet.

  "In case you haven't noticed, boy," Leresy said, "you've been fighting alongside one Cadigus for a while now. Granted, she's got nicer teats than I do, but you'll find my sword just as sharp."

  Rune glowered at the outcast prince. "I trust Kaelyn. She is brave and wise and loyal. I don't trust you. This is all some scheme of yours to… to take the throne for yourself! I see your ambitions, Cadigus. This is no game."

  "Oh, but it is a game," Leresy said and grinned. "And you need my pieces."

  "Like a pig needs more slop!"

  Kaelyn watched the two argue and sighed. Though she hated to admit it, both Rune and her brother were right. She couldn't trust Leresy, and most likely, this was some plot of his—he would attempt to slay their father in battle and seize the throne. And yet, Leresy was right too. She did need his men.

  Rune grabbed her arm and glared.

  "Kaelyn!" he whispered. "You can't be considering this. We can't trust him. They say he…" His voice dropped. "They say he captures women in the capital, murders their families, and rapes them. They say he uses them for a night, then tosses their corpses into the garden."

  Leresy overheard and grinned.

  "Oh, they still tell those stories, do they?" he said. "Excellent! It's all rubbish, of course. Never did anything of the sort. I spread the rumors myself." He hid his mouth and whispered theatrically. "It's good for the old reputation."

  Kaelyn looked at her twin—her poor, haunted, miserable brother, whose quips masked pain she could never understand. She looked at Rune who was still fuming. She looked over at Valien, who stood by a cannon, staring north and ignoring them.

  She whispered to herself, "The wise work with small devils to slay the big ones."

  She had spoken those words to Rune last year about Beras the Brute. They still rang true. She nodded, stepped forward, and meant to shake her brother's hand… yet she found herself embracing him.

  "You poor, miserable fool," she whispered to her twin. "You know we'll both probably die here, don't you?"

  He snorted a laugh. "Death's not that bad. So long as we take the old man down with us."

  Tears burned in Kaelyn's eyes. The memories pounded through her: her father's hands reaching under the bed, grabbing her, pulling her out, holding her down, beating and whipping and burning her.

  Please, Father! Leresy would cry. Please. Don't hurt her. Hurt me instead. It was I who broke the toy. Please, don't hurt Kaelyn.

  She closed her eyes.

  And their father had obeyed. Their father had beaten Leresy until he blacked out in a pool of blood.

  All to save me… all to save his sister.

  She blinked tears away and touched her twin's scarred cheek.

  "Thank you, my brother," she whispered. "Welcome home."

  She returned her eyes north and stared. Her brother, her companions, and all her soldiers stared with her.

  In the night, the horizon burned as if the forest blazed. Distant shrieks rolled like thunder. Yet what flew toward them, just beyond the horizon, was crueler than forest fire or storm.

  Death itself flew ahead.

  Rain began to fall, pattering against helmets, cannons, and battlements. It soaked Kaelyn's clothes and steamed over the blazing horizon, rising as clouds.

  Standing upon the wall, Kaelyn looked at her brother. She looked at Rune and Valien. She gripped her sword and sucked in her breath.

  "With rain and fire," she whispered, "it begins."

  RUNE

  He stood upon the wall, staring north at the encroaching wave of shadow and fire.

  They will be here in moments.

  He swallowed and gripped his sword. He did not know if he'd live today. But if today was his death, he would die upon the walls of his home, his friends at his sides.

  "That's not a bad way to die," he whispered.

  I only wish I got to see you again, Tilla, he thought. Do you fly here too? I only wish I got to hold you one last time, Scraggles. Do you run through starry meadows in the night sky?

  As if to answer his thoughts, barking rose behind him.

  Rune spun around, stared down at the courtyard, and gasped.

  His eyes widened.

  His heart leaped.

  "Scraggles?" he whispered. "You're… alive?"

  The black mutt stood below, barking up at him. His tail stood out straight; he was confused, not sure if his master truly stood above.

  "Scraggles!" Rune shouted.

  He had a few moments. Stars damn it, he had time enough! He shifted into a dragon. He leaped off the wall, glided, shifted back into human form, and landed before his dog.

  Scraggles leaped back, eyes widening. He stared, standing still, as if struggling to believe Rune truly stood before him.

  "Scrags," Rune whispered, and his eyes dampened. "It's me! You remember me, right?"

  He reached out to pet Scraggles, but the dog took a step back, eyes still wide, tail still straight, still unsure. His eyes seemed to say: It looks like you, but how can this be? How can you be here?

  Rune laughed. "It's me, Scrags. I've come back."

  The dog leaped.

  He crashed against Rune, all one hundred furry pounds of him. His tail wagged furiously and his tongue lapped at Rune's face. Rune laughed, fell down, and the dog jumped onto him, squirming and leaping and licking him.

  And then something happened that made fresh tears bud in Rune's eyes.

  Scraggles began to cry.

  Long, plaintive mewls rose from him, sounds of loneliness finally ended, of joy and disbelief. As he kept leaping and squirming over Rune, his cries rose across the courtyard.

  Rune held the dog close.

  "I'm back, my friend," he whispered, nuzzling the dog. "I'm home."

  A woman's voice spoke somewhere ahead.

  "Well, leaky maggot guts." A sniff sounded. "Got me all teary eyed, you two did, and I ain't cried since I stepped on a Counter Squares piece a moon ago."

  Lying on the ground, his dog upon his chest, Rune looked up and his eyes widened. A scrawny young woman stood in the courtyard, barely taller than a c
hild. She wore bits of armor over ragged wool, and mud caked her short brown hair.

  "Erry?" Rune's voice rose incredulously. "Erry Docker?"

  The urchin waved. "Hullo, Rune, old boy. Heard you snogged Tilla." She grinned. "Burn me, never thought you had it in you."

  Rune rubbed his eyes, taking in her ragged clothes and the black dog sewn on her sleeves. "Erry! You're… one of the Lechers?"

  "Of course I am! Resistance is too noble. Legions are too stiff. Both of you are mental." She shrugged. "Lechers got booze and song and you don't have to be clean. In fact, dirt is quite encouraged. I like that." She flashed a grin. "Rune, my dear boy, Leresy Cadigus is a right bastard, a sneaky little weasel, and a bloody pain in the arse. But he'll fight with you." She nodded. "If there's anyone he hates more than the Resistance, it's his father."

  Rune rose to his feet. "Erry, I have to put Scraggles somewhere safe. We have only a few minutes. Damn!" He held the dog close. "The castle is too dangerous; there will be fighting there. There will be fighting in every damn tunnel we dug."

  He looked down at the dog. Scraggles stood at his side, pressed against him, looking up with a goofy grin.

  Did I find you only to lose you again, boy? Rune thought.

  Erry grinned. "You resistors with your tunnels and castles. You want secret hideouts nobody can find? Ask a dock rat." She shifted into a thin, copper dragon with clattering scales. "Come on! I know a place. We have just enough time."

  Rune shifted too. He was a larger dragon, his scales smooth and black, his claws long. When he flapped his wings and ascended, he lifted Scraggles in his claws.

  "Hurry, Rune!" the copper dragon said, soared into the air, and winked. "We haven't got all minute."

  They rose from the courtyard. They raced south over the city roofs, heading toward the boardwalk. When Rune looked over his shoulder, he could see the Legions closer now; they were rising from the horizon, a great storm cloud raining fire.

  The two dragons reached the boardwalk, the place where Rune would walk so often with Tilla, the place where Erry had lived feral and orphaned.

  "Here!" the copper dragon said, dived down, and landed by a crumbling windmill. Its vanes had burned years ago; an empty stone shell remained.

  Rune hovered above the boardwalk, wings stirring sand and dust across the cobblestones, and placed Scaggles down. He landed and shifted back into a human.

  Erry shifted too, raced into the windmill, and grinned. "Come on! Step in."

  He glanced at the windmill. Rune remembered that years ago—stars, it must have been over a decade—the windmill would grind wheat into flour. An old fire had put an end to that, burning the sails, the gears inside, and the old man who had operated the place. Rune had not thought it occupied since, but when he stepped inside after Erry, he saw a tattered mattress, a few old blankets, and a colony of feral cats. The place smelled of mold and cat urine.

  "Welcome!" Erry said. "Welcome to my old home. Well… one of my old homes. Well… mostly a home for my cats. Well… mostly a place my cats ate what food I found for them, then buggered off to scrounge elsewhere." She sighed and looked around the place. "It's not much, but it'll keep old Scrags safe. It kept me safe during a few storms."

  Erry stood a moment, staring at the place, and to Rune's surprise, she began to weep.

  "Erry," he said softly and took a step toward her.

  Guilt pounded through him. He had known Erry all his life. He had often brought food to her various hideouts, played mancala with her on the beach, and once—during a heavy storm—let her sleep in his tavern. But Erry would always run off. She'd stay one night, eat one meal, then vanish for days.

  I should have done more, he thought, looking at the ruin of this place. I should have let her stay with us forever, not just once during a storm.

  "Stars, Erry," he said and tried to embrace her. "Are you—"

  She growled through her tears and shoved him back. "I don't need no hugs! I don't need no pity." She knuckled her eyes dry. "I never did. I've always fought, and I've always survived here in this damn, stupid, dirty boardwalk in this gutter of a town." She looked around the old windmill, her eyes still red. "It's dirty and it's cold and it smells like piss. But it's home." She looked up at Rune. "It's our home. And we're going to fight for it. Right, Rune?"

  He nodded and clasped her arm. "Damn right, Err."

  She nodded, sniffed, and gave Scraggles an embrace. "Stay here, boy. Stay here and be safe. Try not to wet the bed."

  With that, Erry and Rune left the windmill, closing the door on Scraggles. As they shifted into dragons and took flight, Rune heard his dog crying for him and scratching the door.

  I don't want to leave you, boy, he thought. I don't want to leave you again. I'll be back soon. I promise.

  The two dragons flew back north toward the wall.

  Above the forest ahead, a hundred thousand dragons screamed, blew fire, and stormed toward them.

  LANA

  They flew on the wind, a host of chinking scales and pluming smoke, fleeing across the forests.

  "Lord Eranor!" she shouted, voice rolling across the sky. "Take your dragons and guard the northern flank. Lord Ferin! Guard the south. Fly them as fast as they'll go."

  The two dragons, knights of the canyon, nodded and snorted and barked orders. The warriors they commanded, dragons clad in armor bearing the sigil of Cain, flew behind them, forming a guard around the dragons they shepherded.

  We must fly fast, Lana thought, looking over her shoulder as she led the flight. Stars, we must fly fast, or all here will perish.

  The people of Lynport flew within the ring of warriors—women, elders, and children. Their scales were soft. Many dragons had lost their fangs to old age; others had not yet grown them. The youngest of Lynport were too young to shift; their mothers flew as dragons, holding human babes in their claws.

  "Forty-seven thousand townsfolk," she whispered into the wind as she flew. "Only a handful of warriors to guard them."

  A shiver ran from her horns to her tail, clattering her scales. If the Legions catch us out here, they will slaughter us all.

  Looking upon the dragons, Lana winced, the old pain flaring. Her right eye saw refugees fleeing over autumn forests, frightened but flying fast. She had lost her left eye years ago, yet forever it kept staring, showing her a mirror image of the world. With this phantom eye, she saw the refugees dying. She saw fire wash them, cracking their scales and burning their flesh. She saw their blood rain. She saw them fall dead upon stone, emaciated, pale skin draped over their bones.

  Lana grimaced, the two images overlaid before her, life and death, present and past. Always two lives flickered within her. The eye she saw with. The eye she remembered with. Which vision would prove true this day?

  "Follow, dragons of Requiem!" she shouted over her shoulder. "Fly as fast as you can. Safety lies ahead."

  She returned her eyes to the northwest. The forests spread into the horizon. The canyon still lay too far to see. Lana filled her maw with flame. They didn't have enough time! Damn it, they should have fled Lynport earlier. She peered east, seeking the enemy, but could not see them. Yet she knew they flew there, a hundred thousand strong.

  Lana cursed.

  "Fly, dragons of Requiem!" she called. "We fly to safety."

  Yet they could not fly faster. These were no warriors. They were elders, youngsters, the ill and wounded.

  Why didn't we flee earlier? Stars, why did we wait?

  The forests streamed below them.

  The sea disappeared behind.

  They raced over the wilderness, alone.

  Weariness tugged on Lana's bones. She spat flames and forced her wings to keep beating. Yet the people trailed behind; Lana was faster and stronger. Fear twisting her gut, she forced herself to slow down.

  "Eranor, keep guarding the north flank!"

  She kept flying. She forced herself to breathe, to calm her racing mind. The Legions did not care to slaughter innocents, she
told herself. They wanted to crush the Resistance. They wanted Valien, Kaelyn, and Rune. It was Lynport—Cadport as they called it—that they craved, not these people.

  Yet still fear pounded through her. Until she shepherded these townsfolk into the Castle-in-the-Cliff, protecting them behind strong walls and the Stone Guardians, she wouldn't feel safe.

  She lowered her head as she flew, gazing down at the oaks and birches. Perhaps it was still that night she feared, that horrible night worse than any.

  She had been twelve, only just leaving her childhood, the winter the Cadigus family seized the throne. How her father, huddled in his canyon, had railed against them! He had pounded the table, shouted threats, and bragged that he'd slay any man who tried to claim his dominion.

  "I am lord of this canyon!" Cain had shouted, voice echoing in his hall of stone. "For too long did I serve the Aeternums. Now is our chance for glory. Now is Cain's chance to rule! I will bend the knee to no Cadigus. I will be King of the South."

  And even in the northern cold, in the distant capital of Nova Vita, the Cadigus family heard word of his treason. Their spies lurked everywhere, even in those days. They descended upon the canyon that winter, tens of thousands of them, an army that covered the sky.

  Cain would not fly out to meet them. He hunkered in his canyon, shouting threats in the hall, inviting the Regime to enter their tomb.

  And we remained in our hole, Lana remembered. For days, for moons, for a year.

  Toward the end, men were drinking their piss and eating their dogs. Thousands fell ill. The Regime tossed rotted corpses into the canyon. Stars, how it stank! The fumes seeped into the Castle-in-the-Cliff and men vomited. The old and weak perished first, then the strong began to follow. Hundreds died of starvation, thirst, or disease.

  How long did it last? Lana thought. Fifteen moons? Sixteen? More?

  Finally they could bear it no more, and Lord Cain and his household flew out to meet the Regime in battle.

  They fell that day.

  Thousands fell dead.

  Lana fought too, young but strong enough to fly, to blow her fire, to slash her claws. She faced Frey himself in duel that day. She never forgot the heat of his fire bathing her, the agony of his claws, the sting of his tail lashing her. She never forgot her three brothers falling around her, burned with the flames of Cadigus.