"I found this about the phoenixes," the princess said, her voice small. "It talks about a Moondisk and a Starlit Demon. Do you know of these things?"
Lyana sat by her, arm around her waist, and the two young women leaned forward to read the book. Lyana scrunched her lips and tapped her chin.
"I remember hearing stories of the Starlit Demon," she said. "My mother would tell me of it. I don't remember much, only tales of Requiem's old kings trapping the beast, burying it deep underground in the Abyss itself, and placing many guardians around it. Does the book have an entry about it? Let's look."
They began flipping the pages, skipping entries about various beasts: undead skeletons from Fidelium, a northern land of ruins; the snowbeasts, gangly creatures of many limbs; the Poisoned, deformed men and women with webbed hands and eyeballs on stalks; the Dividers, hairy beasts who guarded the western borders; and many other creatures, each more hideous than the last.
Finally they found a page titled "The Starlit Demon" and Mori shuddered. An illustration appeared of a creature that seemed hewn from craggy stone. Its claws, spiky tail, and teeth glimmered like obsidian, and its eyes shone like stars.
"It eats fire," Mori whispered, pointing at words on the next page. "Look, Lyana."
The book spoke of the Draco Constellation, holy stars of Requiem, weaving the creature of stone and starlight to fight the phoenixes.
Lyana nodded and read aloud: "The Starlit Demon, ancient and powerful deity of wrath, feasted upon the sunfire of the phoenix and drank from the lava of the Sun God's fury."
Mori gasped and clutched Lyana's arm. Her damp eyes shone. "That's it! The Starlit Demon can defeat them. But where is it? Does the book say?"
She's still a child, Lyana thought, and she's hopeful, and she's afraid, and she will believe anything that can hold her terror at bay. Sadness ran through Lyana, like water dripping through her bones. There was pain in Mori, pain that would perhaps always fill her… but life and hope still flickered in those teary gray eyes. Will I live to see joy return to her or those last flickers extinguished?
She shook her head and sighed. "This book is ancient, Mori, written in the early days when many beasts roamed the earth. Who knows if any still live?"
"The phoenixes still live," Mori whispered and clung to her, pressing her face against Lyana's armor.
"Yes," Lyana whispered. "They do." She stroked the girl's hair and tried to remember the stories her mother would tell her. "In my bedtime stories, the Starlit Demon was wild, dangerous, a creature too powerful to tame. It would topple columns and eat dragons when it found no phoenixes; it was a menace as often as an ally. An old queen—Queen Luna the Traveler, I think, daughter of Gloriae—buried the Starlit Demon leagues under Requiem. It's said only Requiem's monarch can free the Starlit Demon and tame him; all others would die in his starlight."
Mori shivered and clutched Lyana's arms. "Is the demon buried here in these tunnels?" She looked around, as if seeking the demon between the book shelves.
"Deeper," Lyana said. "Many leagues underground, down in the Abyss itself." She shuddered to remember stories of that nightmarish realm. "Around its lair, Queen Luna placed many riddles and ancient guardians that would not die. Mother would tell me that it still lives underground, locked behind a Crimson Archway. When I'd misbehave, she'd tell me that the Starlit Demon ate bad children."
"But that's not true, is it?" Mori asked, eyes pleading. "It eats phoenixes. It has to. The book says so. Right, Lyana?"
Lyana sighed. She had never believed in Starlit Demons, or Moondisks, or old stories of legendary magic. But then again, until today she had not believed in phoenixes either. If stories of an old demon gave Mori hope, well, they were real enough. She stroked the girl's chestnut hair, again and again, until her shivering stopped.
"That's right, my princess," she said and kissed Mori's head. "If we can find the Starlit Demon, he'll help us. He'll eat all the phoenixes."
Mori nodded, closed her eyes, and mumbled, "Eat all the phoenixes…"
I wish I could turn back time, Lyana thought, a lump in her throat. I wish I could have kept you here in Nova Vita, my princess, you and Orin my love. I wish I could have saved Orin's life, saved your innocence, saved everyone who died tonight. I will keep fighting for you, Mori, and for the memory of your brother, and for our home.
Suddenly Mori rose to her feet, freeing herself from Lyana's arms. She bounded across the chamber, scurried up a ladder to a shelf, and pulled out another book. This too was an ancient tome, its leather old and cracked, its pages dusty. Holding it to her breast with both arms—the book was a good foot long—she walked back to Lyana and placed the codex down with a shower of dust. Its cover read: Artifacts of Wizardry and Power.
"I used to love this book as a child," Mori said. "It has pictures of magical rings, and amulets, and bracelets, and all sorts of jewels with special powers. When I was little, I liked to pretend that I owned these jewels, that I had magic that could stop Bayrin from tugging my braids, turn my hair red like yours, or save me from the spiders that crawled in my room." She opened the book and began leafing through it. "But the book has pages about other artifacts too, not just jewelery." She gasped and slapped a page. "Here! The Moondisk."
Lyana leaned down and examined the book. The page showed an illustration of a green disk, chipped and dented; it seemed made of bronze. Golden symbols were worked into the bronze: a crescent moon, a full moon, and a cluster of three stars.
Mori tapped the page. "See? The Moondisk that can extinguish phoenix fire!"
Lyana read from the book: "In the Days of Mist, the Children of the Moon sailed upon ships to the Crescent Isle, built rings of stones among the pines, and danced in the moonlight. A Moondisk they forged of bronze inlaid with gold, and upon it the moon turns, and the Three Sisters glow, and its light can extinguish all sunfire, so that the Sun God may never burn them."
Mori nodded emphatically. "See, Lyana? See?" Her eyes lit up. "We can defeat them! We can kill the phoenixes! I'll find the Moondisk so we can put out their fire. You can find the Starlit Demon, who will eat them." She clutched Lyana's shoulders, panting, eyes desperate. "We can do this, Lyana. I know it. I believe."
Lyana sighed. Magical disks of moonlight? Ancient demons of stars? Were these but myths, fairytales for children? Lyana was a warrior. She believed in the heat of her dragonfire, the sharpness of her claws, the steel of her blade. She knew nothing of ancient magic and enchanted beasts.
"Come, Mori," she said. "Let's take these books to my mother. She knows much of old lore and can interpret these words better than we can."
The young princess shivered. "Do we have to? Adia is near the tunnel entrance, where the phoenixes are, and…" She gulped, nodded, and knuckled her eyes. "But we must, yes. I'm not afraid. Not with you by my side. Let's go."
Each holding a book, the two young women left the library. They walked through the tunnels. As the wounded moaned and prayed, and as the shadows swirled, Lyana's throat constricted.
They had until sunrise, Solina had said. We can surrender and live under their yoke, let them torture us, rule over us with fire and steel… She clutched the book tight to her chest. Or we can go chasing a dream from old books.
She did not know which path led to greater darkness, and the book seemed so heavy in her arms, Lyana wanted to lie down, to place her head against the floor, and to sleep until this nightmare ended. But she kept walking—for Mori's eyes full of grief and hope, for the memory of Orin, for her family, for all those who prayed and wept around her.
I am a soldier, she told herself. Whatever horror dawn brings, I will face it. She walked through blood, fear, and pain, head high and heart trembling.
ELETHOR
He stood in the wine cellar, arms crossed and head lowered, staring at the cobbled floor where centuries of boots had trodden. Dozen of oak caskets rose around him, holding wine from Requiem's vineyards. If we go to siege, he thought, at least we can get royally drunk bef
ore the Tirans break down our doors.
He had chosen this cellar as his war room. My father ruled among columns of marble and gold; I think caskets of wine are a far wiser choice for a king. He did not know how long he'd live to rule. Perhaps future poets would sing of the Drunk King—Elethor Aeternum who was crowned in darkness, reigned from a wine cellar, and died the next day.
He sighed and turned around. Lyana and Mori stood there, staring at him with solemn eyes. Their ancient codices lay on a scarred table between rolled-up maps, mugs of wine, daggers, and a helmet. Around them stood the rest of his inner council: Lord Deramon, a bloody bandage covering his neck; Mother Adia, her eyes solemn and her white robes splashed with blood; and their son, Bayrin, ash in his red hair and fire in his green eyes.
They want me to fight, Elethor thought. Even Mori. He couldn't help it; he laughed bitterly.
"You can't be serious," he said and slapped the old books. "A magical disk that can extinguish sunfire? A Starlit Demon? My nurse told me such stories at bedtime—until I was about nine and stopped believing them."
Bayrin raised an eyebrow and whistled. "Well, there's a trick. I never believed in phoenixes either, until about ten thousand of them nearly burned my backside to a crisp." He clutched the hilt of his sword. "I don't know if this Stardisk or Moonlight Demon are real, but I'd rather go find a fairytale than surrender to your old flame, El—literally an old flame, in this case."
Face still ashy from the battle, Lyana glared at her brother. "It's the Moondisk and the Starlit Demon, you dolt. And it's not about what you'd rather do. It's about our best chance of saving lives. You might want to go on some adventure in the great outdoors, not caring if the Tirans kill us all in the meanwhile, but I'm sure Elethor cares." She looked at him and sighed. "At least I hope you do, El."
He looked into her green eyes and saw the fear in them. They were all afraid, he knew, even grizzled Lord Deramon.
What would my father do? Elethor thought. What would Orin do? They would rally the troops. They would never surrender. They would fight at all costs. He closed his eyes. And they are dead, while I survived.
He dug his fingernails into his palms. It wasn't fair. He didn't want to be king. He didn't want to make these decisions. He had never asked for this, for any of this! He was only Elethor, the young prince, the sculptor. How did he end up here, bearing the yoke of monarchy, his people depending on him, waiting for his decree? He opened his eyes and looked at them, one by one. A gruff warrior. A priestess. A friend. A betrothed. A sister.
He let his eyes linger on Mori, his dearest love, the last living member of his family. She stared back at him, eyes soft and damp, face so pale. She was a frail, pretty thing, and more than anything Elethor wanted to protect her. If I surrender to Solina, what would become of my sister? Of Lyana and Adia? Of the other women who hide in these tunnels? Elethor was no soldier, but he knew enough of war and conquest. Solina's men would plunder our halls, eat our food, ravage our women. They would spare our lives, but they would make those lives miserable.
And what of him? If he accepted Solina's offer, he would need travel south with her, rule by her side in Tiranor. She still loved him; he'd seen that in her eyes, felt it in her kiss. He could rule there with her, feel those kisses a million times, make love to her like in the old days, forever be with the woman he'd spent seven years sculpting and missing and craving.
And meanwhile, my people would suffer in chains. He shook his head. No. He could not allow it. Even if it tore his soul, even if meant giving up Solina forever, he would fight for Mori. For Lyana. For his people.
"What do you choose, my king?" Mother Adia asked. She stared at him, her eyes deep and penetrating. "Sunrise looms and you must decree."
Elethor stared back at her, though her eyes felt deep as midnight sky, stronger than steel, as wise as the true dragons of old. More than ever, he was struck by how different Adia was from her daughter. Lyana was free and fast as fire, while Adia was like an ancient forest, wise and full of secrets.
He spoke softly. "Solina and her men wore crystals around their necks. When they shifted into humans, their phoenix fire seemed to flow into those amulets. I've heard stories of the Griffin Heart, the magical amulet that once tamed the griffins. I've heard stories of the Animating Stones, glowing gems that let the tyrant Dies Irae animate corpses and send them to war. I thought those only stories, legends, but… if Solina found amulets of fire, perhaps all those legends are true. Magic is real. Who's to say the Moondisk or the Starlit Demon are not?" He took a deep breath, struggling to calm the turmoil inside him. For the memory of the dead. For the living. For Requiem. "Let us find these weapons… and let us fight."
Bayrin slammed his fist into his palm. "Stars yeah! We fight."
Lyana stared at him solemnly, hand on her sword. "We fight," she whispered.
"We fight," whispered Mori, face pale but eyes staring steadily.
Lord Deramon nodded and clenched his fists around his weapons. "For blood and war."
"For peace and starlight," said Mother Adia and raised her eyes to the ceiling, as if gazing upon the stars. "Requiem! May our wings forever find your sky."
They all repeated the prayer, and a tremble ran through Elethor. Be strong, he told himself. Be strong like your father, like your brother, like the great kings and queens of old.
In the silence that followed, Bayrin cleared his throat.
"There is, ahem… one small problem." He sucked his teeth. "How the stars do we find this Moondisk and Starlit Demon? I can't find my socks most days, and Lyana once couldn't find a dagger she'd already strapped to her belt. And as for you, Elethor, I saw you get lost in the palace once, and you're our bloody prince. Well… king now, but the point stands. Finding these things won't be easy."
"Nothing's ever easy," Elethor said. He unrolled a parchment map across the table, then pinned it open with mugs. "Mori's book says the Moondisk belongs to the Children of the Moon on the Crescent Isle. Well, I only see two groups of islands on this map. One is far in the east, where the griffins live, and I've never heard them called Children of the Moon. And then there's this place." He tapped a cluster of islands in a northern sea, many leagues away, northwest of Requiem above distant realms of myth. "I don't know much about this place. I don't know if anyone alive today does; these maps predate Requiem's fall three hundred years ago, when most other maps were burned."
Bayrin frowned at the map. "Crescent Isle? Never heard of it. You reckon our Moondisk is there?"
"I don't know," Elethor said. "But look here. One island is shaped like a crescent moon. Three smaller islands surround it. Does this remind of you of anything?"
For a moment everyone stared at the map, silent. Mori understood first and gasped.
"They're shaped like the moon and stars on the Moondisk!" She tapped the page in Ancient Artifacts where the Moondisk was drawn in delicate ink. Indeed, it seemed like the golden stars adorning the bronze disk formed the shape of the smaller islands, rising above the larger Crescent Isle. Tears filled Mori's eyes. "It's true. I knew it."
Bayrin raised his eyebrows and bit his lip. "Well, seems like a long chance—literally, since these islands are a long, very long flight away. But… I'm up for a flight. In fact, flying hundreds of leagues away from Solina sounds just about perfect now. Who's going with me?"
"Mori is," Elethor said.
As he expected, the room erupted with raised voices. Mother Adia glared and spoke of Mori needing time to recover from her flight and wounds. Lyana cried that she was a warrior of Requiem, and sworn to defend her princess, and would keep her here under guard. Even Bayrin objected, shouting that Mori would only slow him down, and that he couldn't drag along the princess if he were to find the Moondisk and bring it back for war. Even Lord Deramon spoke up, claiming that he'd send a squad of tough, battle-hardened warriors to find the Moondisk, letting the princess remain in shadow.
Elethor waited for the voices to die down. When they were all silent an
d staring at him, he said, "Mori needs time to heal. That will not be in underground tunnels, under siege, under constant threat of violence. If I fall, she is the last member of House Aeternum. I will not have her here, in a burrow, with the wrath of Tiranor outside our doors. Let her fly north! She will be safer in the wilderness, a single dragon in a wide world, while we fight here in a few chambers and halls. You say she would slow you down, Bayrin? Mori is the fastest dragon in Requiem. She's won every flying race she's ever flown. She flew from Castellum Luna to Nova Vita in only two days. As for sending strong warriors north, Deramon? We need them here, every last man, to protect our people. We don't know if anyone survived the battle over King's Forest other than Lyana. All those soldiers might be dead now, five thousand of them; those we have left cannot be spared." He stared into Bayrin's eyes. "Bay. You are my oldest, dearest friend. Fly north to the Crescent Isle with Mori. Protect her."
Bayrin stared back in silence for long moments, lips tight and eyes fiery. Elethor stared back at his friend, refusing to look away. He knew Bayrin; the man would grumble and quip as easily as he breathed, but he was also an honest man and a good friend, and Elethor trusted him. He could think of no one better to protect his sister.
Finally Bayrin's eyes softened and he heaved a sigh. "Oh bloody stars," he said, "I'm going to regret this, but all right." He walked toward Mori, slung his arm around her waist, and pulled her close. "Looks like it's me and you, Mors. I am sworn to protect you, my princess, and all of that."
Mori looked so slim and frail, pulled against Bayrin's gangly frame.
"Just try to keep up, Bayrin," she said in a small voice.
He snorted. "Just try not to fly into any cobwebs, little one." He turned to Elethor. "Of course, there is one small, tiny flaw in the plan—more a quibble than a flaw, really, but hear me out. How are we to, well…" He cleared his throat and raised his voice. "…leave these tunnels with about a million phoenixes and their mothers outside? I mean, I reckon Mors and I could just walk outside, wave, and say, 'Sorry, old friends, but we'd really like to fly off and fetch a weapon that could kill you all, how about you be good phoenixes and let us pass?' Yes, I think that'll work well."
A Dawn of Dragonfire (Dragonlore, Book 1) Page 10
