Requiem's Hope (Dawn of Dragons)

by Daniel Arenson

  They flew onward, crossing plains of grass, rustling forests budding with spring leaves, and chalk mountains whose faces gleamed golden in the sun. Sheets of rain swayed in the east, and the sun gleamed in the west. The shadows of dragons swept across the endless world, crossing rivers, hills, and valleys. Tribes of hunters raced below, smaller than ants from up here, pointing upward at the dragon flock. Mammoths raced through grasslands and wildebeests swept across plains. The world seemed eternal, empty, rising from darkness into a dawn of life.

  It's a dawn of dragons, Dorvin thought. Requiem rises.

  They flew until the sun set and the stars emerged. Millions of these sky spirits gleamed, and among them shone their stars—the stars shaped as a dragon, the Draco constellation. Alina called the constellation a goddess, the Sky Dragon who protected their kind, and as she flew, she prayed to those stars. Her voice rose in song.

  "Stars of dragons! Forever we fly in your light. Forever you will shine upon us. We are dragons. We are Requiem. Ours are the stars."

  The others sang too, twenty dragon voices singing in the night. "Ours are the stars."

  They had been flying for many days and nights now, sleeping in the wilderness, crossing the marks, traversing the world, seeking that pillar, that beacon of marble, seeking King's Column—the heart of their legendary home. Sometimes Dorvin wondered if they'd ever find it, if it even existed.

  If there is no Requiem, he thought, and if King's Column is but a fable, we will seek her still. If Requiem does not exist upon the land, she will exist in our hearts, a light that forever guides us.

  Dawn was rising again, gold and blue, when Dorvin saw it ahead, and tears filled his eyes.

  At his side, Alina gasped and wept. Behind them the other dragons whispered, cried out in joy, and sang prayers.

  "King's Column!" they said. "Requiem! Requiem is real."

  Gliding on the wind, Dorvin could barely breathe. He had always thought himself strong, a vicious hunter of beasts, a man with no weakness inside him, yet now tears streamed down his scaly cheeks.

  "It's real," he whispered.

  The pillar was still distant, ten marks away or more, a mere sliver from here. Yet its light shone across the world. The column rose from a forest, taller than any tree, gleaming white and silver. A sunbeam fell upon its capital, breaking into many rays like the fabled lighthouses said to exist across the sea. Birches spread around the pillar, and blue mountains rose behind.

  Requiem. Our home.

  All around Dorvin, the dragons sang prayers—singing for their stars, singing for Requiem.

  Twenty-one banished, lost, hurt souls, the dragons glided upon the wind, tears in their eyes and songs in their hearts, flying toward their new home.

  * * * * *

  They spiraled down, twenty-one lost dragons. Dorvin landed first between the birches, and the others landed around him, their claws sinking into the forest floor. Before them it rose—the Pillar of Requiem. King's Column. Even standing in dragon form, Dorvin felt smaller than a mouse. The pillar rose to the height of fifty men, its capital shaped as rearing dragons in the sunlight. A circle of marble tiles spread around its base, and spring grass grew between the tiles. The birches rustled around the column, their leaves fresh. It was a spring for the world and a spring for dragons.

  And before the column they stood—more dragons. The children of Requiem.

  "Requiem," Alina whispered at his side. The lavender dragon knelt and bowed her head. "A home for dragons."

  A silver dragon, Dorvin tilted his head, a sudden tightness in his chest. "Is . . . this it?"

  He narrowed his eyes. He had expected cities. He had dreamed of hundreds of dragons—thousands of them. And only four stood here before him! Surely they'd come to the wrong place. Surely this couldn't be the kingdom of dragons. Dorvin took a step closer, snorting out fire.

  "I am Dorvin! A leader of dragons. We seek the fabled Requiem."

  One of the four dragons ahead—a burly, copper beast—stepped forward. He blasted out smoke and bowed his head. "You have found Requiem, my son." The dragon's eyes dampened. "Welcome."

  With that, the copper dragon released his magic. He became a hulking bear of a man. His hair was shaggy, his beard bushy, and he wore an old fur cloak. The three other dragons of Requiem took human forms too: a young man with brown hair, a gruff-looking woman with golden hair and tattooed arms, and a runt of a woman—small as a child—with short black hair. They looked as humble, weak, and frightened as the twenty dragons Dorvin himself led.

  "Where is Requiem?" Dorvin said, remaining in dragon form. "Stars damn it! What the Abyss is this piss-pot of a camp?" He spat. "I've seen piles of mammoth dung more noble than this. Where are the houses, the towers, the armies of hundreds? Shag-a-sheep! I thought this was a kingdom. With a proper king and all. Not . . . not this."

  The bearded man said nothing, but the gruff woman—the one with tattooed arms and blond hair—stepped forth. She raised her chin, bared her teeth, and growled.

  "Watch your tongue, boy." She flexed her muscles; they were damn big for a woman. "Requiem is a kingdom—a kingdom in its infancy but a kingdom nonetheless." She gestured at the bearded man. "And you stand before King Aeternum, the Light of Requiem. Your king."

  The brown-haired young man stepped forward next; he was a tall one, but Dorvin knew he could take this boy in a fight.

  "There are four of us," the young man said. "I'm Tanin, and this is my sister Maev. The fourth is Laira. We are few, but we serve the stars and we're strong." Tanin squared his shoulders. "Join us, friends. Together we will build this kingdom."

  Dorvin blinked, scarcely believing it.

  Then he burst out laughing—a hoarse, twisted laughter that sounded dangerously close to tears. Finally he released his own magic and stood as a young man again, the wind billowing his black hair and fur tunic. He turned back toward his followers; they were releasing their magic one by one, turning from dragons back into men, women, and children.

  "I told you I'd bring you to Requiem!" Dorvin said to them, still laughing, almost sobbing. "Bloody bollocks, here we are. A column and four piss-drinkers whose arses I could kick in my sleep."

  Maev leaped forward, sneering, and gave Dorvin a shove so mighty he nearly toppled down. "We'll see whose backside gets kicked."

  Dorvin barked a laugh. "I don't normally clobber girls, but today I'll make an exception." He raised his fist. "You lot are a sorry pile of—"

  "Dorvin!" The cry rang across the forest. Her lavender robes swaying, Alina—that cursed druid—stepped forth. She grabbed him and tugged him away from Maev, her purple eyes flashing. "You lout! Step back and cool down."

  Maev was still growling and trying to lunge at him. Her own companions were holding her back, though their eyes glared at Dorvin; they seemed to detest him no less than Maev did.

  Dorvin snickered and mussed Alina's hair. "Hey, sweet sister, I was only joking with them. You know how I like to joke."

  The druid shoved him backward and smacked his chest with her staff. "You can have your little pissing contest another time. We stand on holy ground. Go back!" She shoved him another step back toward their followers, then turned toward the four dragons of Requiem. Her eyes softened and she lowered her head. "Please forgive my brother. Dorvin is a child of wildfire, but I was born in starlight. His heart is rash, his mind is small, but he brought us safely to this place." She smiled softly, gazing up at the column. "We've come to join you. To join Requiem." She knelt upon the marble tiles and lowered her head. "We've come to serve you, King Aeternum."

  Standing among his followers, Dorvin stared in disbelief. Rage, disappointment, and fear battled inside him. He had thought to find safety here, to find glory, a kingdom he would be proud to join, a king he'd be proud to fight for. Instead he'd found nothing—not even a village. Just four more ragged survivors. And his sister knelt before them? Before this shaggy, bearded brute who called himself a king?

  "He's not a king," Dorv
in spat out. Several of his people were following Alina's lead; they too were bowing. Dorvin grunted and tugged them up. "On your feet! Stand straight and proud. We do not serve this man." He pointed at Jeid, this so-called King Aeternum. "He's nothing but another outcast. I've led you all winter. I fought for you. I slew monsters for you and brought you here. This is all Requiem is?" Dorvin laughed mirthlessly. "Then so be it. I will lead this kingdom. I will serve as Requiem's king. Requiem will be ours!"

  With that, he leaped into the air, shifted into a dragon, and lunged toward Jeid.

  I won't kill you, old man, he thought, grinning savagely. But I will crush you into subservience.

  With a roar, Jeid shifted too and leaped.

  As the others cried out, the two dragons slammed together.

  Scales cracked, loud as thunder. Fire blasted out and smoke covered the forest.

  "Dorvin, stop!" Alina shouted somewhere in the distance.

  "Grizzly, kill the boy!" Maev was shouting, shaking her fist.

  The two dragons drew apart, and Dorvin grinned again, hissing out smoke. "I'm a leader of dragons." He let the flames grow in his belly. "I lead twenty people; you lead three. Requiem is mine." With that, he blasted out a stream of fire.

  Jeid was a larger dragon, wide and cumbersome, a lumbering beast of heavy copper scales. Yet his wings beat mightily, and he soared fast enough to dodge the flames. The jet raced across the earth and slammed into the base of King's Column, blackening the marble. With a roar, Jeid swooped, barreling into Dorvin.

  Their horns clattered together like the antlers of battling elks. A silver dragon, Dorvin was smaller than Jeid but also half his age, quicker and more feral. He snapped his teeth, tore a scale off Jeid's shoulder, and spat it out. Blood gushed from the exposed flesh. The tangy taste filled Dorvin's mouth, and he licked his lips.

  "Your reign ends now, old man!" He laughed and swiped his claws, aiming at an eye. "I am King Dorvin, Lord of Requi—"

  Jeid's tail cracked like a whip, slamming into Dorvin's head.

  He fell, seeing stars.

  "Kill him, Grizzly!" Maev shouted, hopping up and down.

  "Bash his head in!" Tanin cried.

  Somewhere, Dorvin heard his own people chanting for him, shouting at him to stand up, to keep fighting. But they sounded so far away; he could barely cling to the voices. Alina was shouting too—something about an end to violence—but Dorvin couldn't hear her either. Grumbling, he shoved himself to his feet. But Jeid struck again. The beast's jaws closed around Dorvin's neck, cracking scales, cutting into flesh.

  Dorvin screamed.

  He slashed his claws against Jeid, drawing blood. His wings pounded against the earth. He tail whipped, hitting Jeid's back, but the coppery dragon would not release him. The jaws tightened, squeezing Dorvin's neck, constricting his breath. He tried to shove the beast off, to fly, to fight back, but could not.

  "Serve me," Jeid grumbled, crushing Dorvin's neck. "Serve me now or I snap your neck. Serve me or die. Choose."

  "He chooses death!" Maev said. The young woman ran forward, still in human form, and knelt before Dorvin. She stared into his eyes, smirking. "Say it, boy! Say you choose death. I'll enjoy pissing on your grave."

  He tried to burn her, but only a stream of smoke left his jaws, scattering uselessly against the woman.

  Dorvin managed to whisper hoarsely. "You dare not kill me, Jeid. You're a coward." He spat out smoke. "I surrender to no one."

  "I'm not asking you to surrender." Jeid shook his head wildly, slamming Dorvin's head repeatedly against the earth. "Dragons of Requiem do not surrender. I'm asking you to fight for me. Fight for your king. Fight for Requiem. Do not fight for one you think weak; fight for one who showed you strength."

  With that, Jeid tugged his jaws backward, lifting Dorvin's head several feet above the ground. Then Jeid slammed him back down. Dorvin's temple thumped against the earth so powerfully his ears rang, his eyes blackened, and his magic left him. He lay in the dust, a man again, blood trickling from his head. He tried to rise but Jeid stood above him, still a dragon, pinning him down.

  "Wormy pig guts," Dorvin said, blinking to bring the world into focus. "You're a tough old bastard, you son of a goat-shagger."

  With a grumble, Jeid released his magic and tugged Dorvin to his feet. "Stand up." Disgust filled his voice. "Now kneel before me. Do it now before I clobber you again."

  Head spinning and blood trickling, Dorvin looked around him. Everyone was staring at him—his sister, Jeid's people, his own people. They were all silent, waiting for his move. Dorvin cursed inwardly. If he surrendered like a coward, he'd look weak. If he tried to fight again and lost, he'd look even weaker. He had only one thing to do.

  Stars damn it.

  He burst out laughing, blood in his mouth.

  "You bastard!" He grabbed Jeid and squeezed his shoulder. "You're tougher than rocks in a dragon's gullet." He nodded. "I was only testing you, you lump of tarred mammoth shite. Aye. You proved your strength to me. I'll fight for you, old man." He knelt. "There, I'm kneeling all proper like, you grizzled chunk of meat." He rose again, stared at Jeid solemnly, and nodded. "I'll fly for you. For Requiem." He turned toward his people and raised his voice. "We fight for Requiem, for King Aeternum! Ours are the stars!"

  They repeated the chant. "Ours are the stars!"

  As the others stepped closer, Dorvin thrust out his bottom lip, looking around and nodding. "Well, it's a shite-hole, this place is. But not a bad column you've got here, Grizzly King. This column is a backbone. We'll build a body around it."

  His sister smiled and began leading the people in prayer. Dorvin was about to join them, to sing the song of starlight and dragon wings, when the cry rose behind him.

  He spun around, narrowed his eyes, and tilted his head.

  A young woman came running from the forest, her green eyes wide with fear. A dark braid hung across her shoulder, and she wore an uncured pelt of bear fur. The garment stank of blood and old meat, and flies bustled around it, as if the girl had simply torn it off the animal. Beneath, she wore a bloodstained cotton tunic. Strangest of all was her hand; when she reached forward, she revealed a silver amulet embedded into the flesh of her palm.

  "Requiem!" she cried. "Demons attack—an army of demons." She ran a few more steps, then collapsed.

  "Issari!" Tanin shouted and ran toward her. He knelt above the girl. "Issari, by the stars, what are you doing here?"

  The others all crowded around, gasping and whispering. Dorvin stared down at the strange young woman, confusion welling inside him.

  Lying in Tanin's arms, pale and shivering and coated in blood, Issari stared up and whispered through pale lips, "He is coming. Raem. My father. He flies here leading a thousand demons. He flies to destroy Requiem."

  With that, her eyes closed, and she said no more.

  RAEM

  They streamed across the world, festering, screeching, howling for blood, an unholy host, a darkness to crush reptiles. The demon army swarmed.

  "You will feast upon dragon flesh!" Raem shouted, standing in his stirrups. "You will drink dragon blood and suck marrow from their bones!"

  They howled, cheered, laughed, screeched, hissed, bellowed—a thousand creatures flying around him. Some were balls of fat, their sores oozing. Others were long, scaled strips of festering flesh. Some were feathered, others naked, some encased with the screaming faces of victims like plates of fleshy armor. Drool dripped between their teeth. Their eyes blazed like torches. Their wings churned the clouds and sent waves of stench across the land.

  Soon, my daughters. Raem's lips peeled back as he inhaled the sweet miasma of his host. Soon you will join this army. I will break you. I will reform you. I will turn you into creatures.

  He looked down at the demon he rode, a tortured, weeping thing. Once, they said, she had been a woman, a mere mortal. Her bones had been distended, her skin stretched, her body broken and reshaped so many times her mind had shattered. Today this cr
eature flew as a great bat, mouth smacking, wings thudding.

  "An abomination," Raem whispered, disgust flooding him. "And my daughters are sinners. They are abominations too. Soon they will fly as broken creatures. I will ride them."

  The north sprawled beneath him, the hinterlands across the sea, barbarous realms of wandering tribes, backwater villages, and that pathetic Requiem the weredragons called a kingdom. He sneered. Eteer, his kingdom in the south, was a land of towers, of high walls, of lush gardens, of civilization. Here was a benighted wilderness. Here was a den of reptiles. Here was a land he must crush.

  "Seek their column!" he shouted. "Stare, demon eyes, and scan this world, and find the pillar of marble. They built a beacon to draw in more of their kind, a lighthouse for lizards." He laughed. "It will also summon their doom."

  They demons cackled with him. They flew on.

  They flew for hours, for days, for nights, never tiring, never resting, seeking Requiem. She would be there, Raem knew. Issari would be among the other filthy weredragons. He caressed his arm where stitches still held his raw wound, the wound Issari had given him when she stabbed him in the cistern. Raem licked his lips as he imagined how she would suffer, how he would cut every part of her. Perhaps he would stitch Issari and Laira together, forming a conjoined twin, a single daughter to torment. He had seen demons perform this art; he would practice it upon the reptiles.

  They flew onward, dripping rot, scanning the world. Spring had begun, but their wings darkened the sky, their steam hid the sun, and all wilted beneath their rancid rain.

  They flew until they saw the village ahead.