The women and children of Leatherwing and Goldtusk still stood within. They fled from the battling beasts, scurrying into alcoves on the walls. Locked into a ball, Laira and the demon slammed into the great stalagmite rising in the center of the cavern. It cracked and tipped over. Half the pillar, the throne on its crest, drove down and slammed into the cave floor with a cloud of dust. The impact tore Laira and the demon apart. Laira kept spinning, crashed onto the floor, and could not rise.
Laira's wings beat, too weak to lift her back into the air. Her tail flailed. She managed to blow a spurt of fire, but it wasn't enough to stop her enemy. Raem hovered above her atop his demon. The creature's wings blasted Laira with air. Raem gave a sharp, shrill whistle, and with a flutter of insect wings, a dozen motley demons buzzed into the cavern to join him. All hovered above Laira, leering with red eyes, their tongues drooping. Some were furred, others feathered, and some inverted, their exposed organs pulsing. One among them looked like a beetle with human arms, and from each of its fingers grew a tool—scalpels, needles, spools with thread, bone saws, and other instruments. Laira yowled and tried to rise, but demons spat upon her, their globs of saliva hitting her like stones, knocking her back down onto the cave floor. Stars floated before her eyes.
"And now, Laira," Raem said, smiling down from his beast, "your pain begins."
Dragonfire blazed.
A roar echoed across the cavern.
With a clatter of copper scales, engulfed in smoke, Jeid flew across the chamber and barreled into the demons.
The creatures scattered. Some crashed down onto the cave floor. The copper dragon roared, a sound that shook the cave, and the walls undulated in the heat waves rising between the great king's teeth. Jeid Blacksmith—King Aeternum, Lord of Requiem—blasted his fire. The jet shrieked, blue in its center, washing over the demons and crashing onto the cave walls. The inferno blazed across the chamber, the sound deafening, the heat almost intolerable. Laira lay on the floor, gazing up at the holocaust, and for a moment she saw what the humans hunted, what Raem feared—a dragon in his full glory and might, a beast of sunfire and fury.
"Jeid!" Laira called out, tears in her eyes.
The demons crashed down, charred with dragonfire, cut with claws, leaking their innards.
All but Raem's mount. The demonic bat, too lanky to burn, rose from the blaze, skin peeling off her bones. The King of Eteer still sat upon her, the fire clutching at his cloak. His arms burned, wings of fire. But still Raem laughed as he soared, head tossed back, wreathed in the flame.
"So this is Aeternum, King of Reptiles!" Raem raised his sword. "You too will join Laira in the courts of the Abyss."
Jeid landed beside Laira, raised his head, and roared again. The cave shook at the sound. Cracks raced along the walls. Laira struggled to her feet, still in dragon form, half the size of the coppery beast. The two dragons raised their heads, staring up at the demon fluttering above.
"Requiem rises," Laira said.
Jeid smiled crookedly. "With a pillar of fire."
The stone pillar had fallen in the cave. Laira and Jeid roared their flames, the streams wreathing together, rising in a new pillar, a column of dragonfire. The shrieking fountain crashed into the demonic bat.
The creature plunged down.
Laira and Jeid stepped away from each other, and the bat crashed down between them, charred down to bones. Skin peeled off its head, and its hair had burned off. It was still alive, its organs exposed and still pumping. One of its eyes had melted. The other eye met Laira's gaze. Laira winced, the pain of that eye worse than arrows or demon teeth. There was gratitude in that eye. The creature opened her mouth and whispered.
"Thank you." Relief flooded the demon's face. "Thank you."
Its eye closed and its organs deflated.
For a long moment, silence filled the cave. Then a trembling voice spoke.
"Please. Laira, please." Raem rose, covered in soot and blood. His sword was gone, fallen in the battle, and deep gashes bled upon his legs. His arms were burnt, the skin peeling away. He tried to run, but Jeid's foot slammed down, blocking his escape. Raem turned toward Laira. "My daughter. Mercy."
Still a golden dragon, Laira growled. She stepped closer to Raem, leaned down above him, and bared her teeth. "I have killed many before. I slew Zerra, the chieftain who spent years hurting me, the chieftain you bought with bronze. I killed many of your demons. And now, Father, I will kill you. You turned me into a killer. You called me a beast, but I was a daughter to you, an innocent child you sent on a path of blood. Your own fear became true, and yes, now I am a monster. You made me one, and this monster will be your death." She roared, the sound pounding against him, her breath flattening his skin against his skull. "In the name of Requiem, in the name of my brother, in the same of all those you hurt, I end your life now."
She leaned down to bite.
"Laira, please!" he shouted, raising his arms in front of his head.
Her jaws snapped shut around his arms, severing both at the shoulders.
Raem screamed.
Blood sprayed from his stumps. Laira spat out both arms, tasting his blood. Raem still stood before her, shouting hoarsely, face pale.
Laira bellowed and leaned in to bite again.
Her father turned and ran.
"Stitchmark!" the tyrant cried. "Stitchmark, help!"
One of the demons—the creature with tools growing from its fingers—had survived the inferno of dragonfire. Its shell was cracked and leaking, and its face was burnt, but it still buzzed forward, wrapped its legs around Raem's torso, and lifted the maimed king. The demon soared, insect wings beating with a fury, and began to fly toward the cave exit.
Fast as a crocodile leaping from water, Jeid lunged upward and snapped his teeth. His jaws closed around Raem's dangling legs. Blood showered and Jeid spat out both legs. Raem screamed again, a horrible sound, high-pitched, almost demonic. Stitchmark flew faster, holding its lord. Raem bled from four stumps, only his torso and head remaining. Jeid snapped his jaws again, trying to catch the king, but Stitchmark flew out of the cave too quickly, bearing the dying, mutilated wreck of a man.
Laira beat her wings and took flight, chasing her father. Jeid flew at her side. They burst out from the cave into a sky full of demons.
"Where is he?" Jeid shouted.
Laira whipped her head from side to side, seeking her father and the creature Stitchmark. Too many demons still flew here, and smoke hid the moon and stars. She couldn't see Raem through the clouds of enemies.
"Grizzly!" rose a cry. A green dragon came flying toward them, blood seeping through cracks in her scales. Maev spat out a chunk of demon flesh. "Father, the demons are fleeing! Victory is ours!" She grinned.
"Hunt them down!" Laira shouted. "Burn them all!" She beat her wings mightily, flying back into battle. Jeid and Maev flew at her sides.
The demons, once a thousand strong, had lost many; hundreds lay upon the mountainside, burnt and lacerated. Pteros, rocs, and dragons kept crashing into them, tearing more apart. The unholy horde, their leader gone, seemed to lose all will to fight. Screeching, they flew south, leaving the mountain, crying out for their missing king.
The alliance of dragons and tribes gave chase. Laira blew her fire, roasting demon after demon. Her claws and fangs tore the creatures apart. The dragons of Requiem flew around her, dozens strong, their flames lighting the night, burning the creatures, and raining down onto the fields. Surviving tribesmen of Goldtusk and Leatherwing flew with them, firing arrows, their beasts catching and ripping demons apart. Rot and blood fell upon the world as the demons fled.
"Slay them all!" Laira cried. "Let none escape. Kill every last one!"
For long hours they flew in pursuit, hunting demons, chasing them in the darkness. The horde broke apart. Creatures flew every which way. Some landed in the forests and fled between the trees. Others sank into rivers. And ever the fire of Requiem lit the sky, illuminating and burning them.
&nb
sp; "Where are you, Father?" Laira asked, flying over fields, seeking him, burning whatever fleeing demon she saw.
He was dead; he had to be. She knew that. She knew no man could survive that injury, the loss of all four limbs. He must have died within moments. Almost certainly, he lay dead back at Two Skull Mountain, hidden among other corpses upon the mountainside. Yet still Laira flew over hills and valleys and forests, hunting demons, seeking him.
Dawn rose, painting the sky and land red. Sunbeams fell between the clouds like pillars of fire. The dragons of Requiem—thirty had survived the slaughter—flew around Laira, gliding on the wind, the sunlight on their scales. Jeid flew at Laira's right side, eyes narrowed, and smoke rose from his nostrils.
"He's dead." Jeid grunted. "The last demons fled or perished. Let us return to Two Skull Mountain and seek what survivors we can."
Laira wanted to keep flying, to keep hunting, but Jeid was right. They had not seen a demon for an hour now, but perhaps some demons still remained at Two Skull Mountain, and perhaps some of their people—Vir Requis or tribesmen—lay wounded, needing aid. Reluctantly, the dragons turned in the sky. They flew back to a mountain covered in blood, shattered bones, and the corpses of men and demons. The fallen Vir Requis were almost indistinguishable from the dead tribesmen; in death they had returned to human forms.
Gingerly, Laira landed upon the mountainside beside Dorvin. She lowered her head, folded her wings, and shifted back into human form. She knelt, the pain almost too great to bear.
Dorvin looked up at her, eyes red. He held his lifeless sister in his arms.
"She gave her life for Requiem," the young man said, voice choked. "She was a brave warrior, but she was more than that too. She was a healer. A priestess. A great light." He lowered his head, and his tears flowed. "She was the dearest person I knew."
Jeid approached them, back in human form. The gruff, bearded man knelt by Dorvin and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Through Alina's sacrifice, Requiem rises. We are victorious."
Victorious? Laira looked around, seeing so much death. Half of Requiem had fallen here; sixty dragons had flown to war, and thirty lay mangled and burnt upon the mountain. Many warriors from Goldtusk and Leatherwing lay among them, their bodies crushed, and dozens of the great beasts—rocs and pteros—lay dead among them. Everywhere the corpses of demons rotted.
This is no victory, Laira thought, looking at the few survivors. There is no joy here. This is only a shred of hope. The wind blew against her, scented of blood and ash, and she shivered. We won a battle, but more fear than ever fills me today.
She closed her eyes, seeing her father again, hearing his cruel words, biting off his arms, staring frozen at the creature Stitchmark. They were still out there, maybe still alive, maybe still seeking her. A few survivors were chanting for victory, but their voices sounded too small, too weak in this endless world of despair. Kneeling in blood, Laira hugged herself and lowered her head.
RAEM
Buzzing.
Clatters and whispers.
Sawing and spinning and trickling.
Raem floated through a dream of sounds, lights, and shadows. The creature hovered above him, a beetle of the sky, a god of bone and metal and spinning eyes. Glass lenses moved on copper rods, up and down, forward and back, magnifying and shrinking those peering white eyes. The creature's tongue hung low, and its voice chattered, and always its fingers probed him, hurt him. Fingers of scalpels. Fingers of saws. Fingers of needles. Fingers of spools, the thread around them spinning madly. Beyond this demonic physician spread dark clouds and streams of light, rising and falling suns, nights and days dancing, creaking trees, clouds of pain.
He laughed and bucked, wriggling, trying to rise, to move his limbs. Nothing but stumps. Nothing but pain.
"An abomination." His spittle flew as he laughed. "Look what they did to me. But I still live. I live!"
The insect above him only chattered in its tongue, tools moving in a fury. Dead demons spread around them in the forest, their limbs severed like his own—tentacles, insect legs, claws, strewn around, piled up, leaking. He wondered if his own limbs were among them. He wondered if Laira had swallowed his arms. He wondered if they still moved inside her, grabbing at her innards.
"Stitchmark heal you," the insect buzzed above, its tools dipping and rising, cutting and sewing. "Stitchmark bring back your limbs."
The sun set and rose, the trees moved, rain washed him, and the shadows of a fever dream danced like demons.
Finally in a pale dawn he rose.
He looked down upon his body, then tossed back his head and laughed in the sunlight.
New limbs grew from him. His left leg was that of a great bird, ending with a yellow talon. His right leg was furry and thick, ending with a hoof. His right arm was that of a lobster, its claw clacking. His left arm was now a long, wriggling tentacle.
"You should have used human limbs, Stitchmark!" he said, still laughing, tears flowing down his cheeks.
The demon buzzed and hovered before him. "Human limbs are weak. They rot and fall off. The limbs of demons I gave you, and they made you strong."
Raem took a step. The furry leg moved forward and the hoof pushed into the mud. He took another step. The talon stepped onto grass. He raised his arms, the lobster claw clacking, the tentacle writhing. He was an abomination. He was a demon. He was strong.
"You cannot stop me now, Requiem." His body convulsed with his joy. "You took my arms, Laira. You took my legs, Jeid. You made me so much stronger. I rise greater than ever before! I am Raem Seran, King of the Abyss. The bones of dragons will bedeck my new hall!"
Sweat drenched him and he trembled with weakness. He stumbled toward Stitchmark, climbed onto the creature's armored back, and pointed his tentacle to the south.
"Fly, Stitchmark. Fly to Eteer. Our army has fallen but we return home in glory."
They flew, the world streaming around them, skies streaked with many clouds, beams of light like dragonfire, wilted forests, gray seas. They left the north, this realm of dragons, this realm that had purified him, that had cleansed his soul and turned him into a demon, into a great king of the underworld. He was half-starved, mad with thirst and fever, pale and thin but still laughing when Stitchmark carried him back into Eteer, his wondrous city.
"Beautiful Jewel of the Coast." He gazed upon his city with damp eyes. "Fair Crown of Taal." It was an ancient city, perhaps the oldest in the world. It was a beacon of civilization in a world of chaos. It was a hive of demon spawn, shattered bricks, and the birth of a new nation.
His children had been born; today they were all his children. The nephilim perched upon the shattered walls and broken roofs of Eteer, gazing at him with wide, lit eyes. Half demons. Half mortal women. Fallen Ones. They were the size of men already, their skin rotten, their wings leathery and warty. Fangs grew from their mouths, long as daggers. Their sweet, rancid smell filled Raem's nostrils, and he smiled. They had destroyed his city, the lovelies; few buildings remained standing, and the skeletons of many mortals littered the streets. From the ruins rose his palace, one of the few buildings that still stood. Its gardens were gone. Its columns were blackened. The engravings of old gods had been scratched off its walls; the spirals of the Abyss now dripped upon them, painted in human gore.
Stitchmark took him to that great palace, and Raem walked into his hall, his horse hoof thudding, his talon scratching. When he passed by his statue—one of the few statues to have survived the war—he gazed upon that proud, stone king and laughed. He saw a noble man, clean-shaven, his limbs muscular, his body pure. When Raem looked down upon his body, he saw a creature more glorious by far, a creature more than a man. He kept walking, heading toward his throne.
Angel lay here, her body long as a dragon, her wings draped around her. She gazed at him with eyes like embers. Like a serpent, she coiled around his throne. The seat appeared to have been shattered, and strings of skin and veins held it together like flesh growing over broken bone. Upo
n the throne sat a nephil, its eyes large and green, its body raw and wet.
"Our son," said Angel. "Ishnafel."
Raem approached slowly. He reached out his new left arm, and the writhing tentacle brushed against Ishnafel's cheek.
"He is beautiful. He is my heir."
When Raem tried to remove his son from the throne, the nephil hissed and snapped his teeth. His fangs drove into Raem's new arm, but he felt no pain. He placed the prince in his mother's grip. The child nursed at the stone breast, the lava flowing down his throat. Raem sat down, leaned back in his throne, and lovingly gazed upon his family.
LAIRA
Laira stood in the dawn before the communal grave below the mountain. Boulders topped the hill of crumbly earth, one per vanquished life. Over a hundred souls lay buried here at the foothills, Two Skull Mountain forever watching over their rest. Tribesmen of Goldtusk. Tribesmen of Leatherwing. Many of their mounts, dear Neiva among them. Grass rustled around this hill of mourning, and birds sang overhead. The sky was clear, the air fresh, but forever this would be a place of grief for Laira.
"Goodbye, Neiva," she whispered, the wind streaming through her hair and fur cloak. "Goodbye, my husband."
She lowered her head, the pain grabbing and squeezing her heart. She had married Chieftain Oritan to forge an alliance, to bring aid to Requiem, not for love. In his bed, however, she had found the bud of that love, found a man who was strong and mighty yet gentle, loving, kind. She would forever remember how he had gazed into her eyes years ago, treating her—a mere servant—as an equal. And she would never forget marrying him, sharing a life with him if only for a day.
Goodbye.
She turned from the grave to look at those standing behind her. The tribes of Goldtusk and Leatherwing, down to half their size, watched her with solemn eyes—men, women, children. The wind ruffled hair, feathers, and fur cloaks. All were silent, staring, awaiting her words.
Requiem's Hope (Dawn of Dragons) Page 20
