Ventris straightened again. The man was sweating. It was disgusting. "Of course, my lord! I would be glad to serve under you, to help you train the firedrakes, to make sure they obey your every command. I—"
Gemini shook his head. "You're done. We're making changes here today. The Cured Temple is but a game, dear Ventris, no different than a game of counter-squares. And you, my friend, are off the board."
With a thin smile, Gemini thrust his sword.
The blade sank into Ventris's belly, and blood gushed.
Gemini's smile widened as he yanked the blade upward, cutting the man open. As Ventris fell over, spilling his innards, Gemini laughed and stepped back.
"Feast, my friends!" Gemini shouted to the firedrakes. "You have a new lord now, and here is my gift to you! Feast upon your old master!"
The firedrakes screeched, beat their wings, and pounced. Gemini laughed and stepped back. The great reptiles squealed as they tore into the body, ripping it apart, fighting one another for the morsels. One firedrake tugged off a leg and gulped it down. Another grabbed the torso, the juiciest cut, while two others tried to rip the meat free from the glutton's jaws. Three other firedrakes lapped at the bloody cobblestones.
"This will be your last meal for a while," Gemini said softly, gazing at them. "You're going to learn hunger now, friends. You're going to learn true obedience. You're going to learn what a true master is." As they shrieked, the blood tossing them into a frenzy, Gemini turned to stare south. Somewhere beyond that horizon, his sister flew on the hunt. "And you, Mercy, will learn who has the true power in this Temple. You too will learn who your master is."
The smell of death filled his nostrils, and Gemini smiled.
DOMI
Domi flew on the wind, a wild beast with scales the color of fire, and joined her fellow firedrakes above the mountains.
Of course, she wasn't actually a firedrake. Not truly. Firedrakes had no human forms, no human minds. As babes, their human bodies had been burnt in sacramental fire, leaving only a dragon's egg, a hard stone that hatched a rabid reptile, a beast who thought of nothing but blood, flight, and fire, no more intelligent than a hound or horse. Domi had never been burnt, never been cured, never lost her human soul; she was a proud Vir Requis, a child of a forgotten kingdom.
And there is one more among us, she thought, a light of hope rising inside her. There is Cade.
She had only ever met four others, and they—like Cade—lived as humans, hiding their dragon forms. But Domi had chosen a different life. She hated her human form. As a girl, she was small, weak, a scuttling little thing with a mane of red hair, spindly legs, and darting eyes. The human her was little more than a mouse. But as a dragon . . .
She inhaled deeply. As a dragon—a firedrake in disguise—she was strong. She was proud. She could fly on the wind, blow fire, taste the sky. Even if she had to bear Mercy upon her back, even if she had to serve the cruel Temple that hunted her kind, Domi preferred this life.
Better to fly as a dragon, hiding in plain sight of the Temple, than live as a cowering human, she had always thought.
Yet when Domi landed on the mountain among the others and saw Mercy's eyes, she suddenly doubted that thought.
Domi had seen Mercy mad before. Daughter of High Priestess Beatrix, heiress to all the Commonwealth, Lady Mercy Deus had been bred for righteous rage. The young woman, clad in white armor, half her head shaven and the other half sporting long white hair, always seemed mad at the world. Yet now . . . now Domi saw new fury in her mistress's eyes, a rage no longer icy but hotter than dragonfire, a rage that twisted Mercy's face and blazed out from her blue eyes. Night was falling, and the paladins had lit torches; the light painted Mercy's face red.
"Where were you, you miserable cull!" Mercy shouted, marching toward Domi.
Still in her dragon form—she almost never revealed her human body—Domi lowered her head, a mark of submission. She lowered her wing, forming a ramp for Mercy to climb.
Yet Mercy did not mount her. The paladin grabbed a torch from one of her men and shoved it forward, slamming the fire onto Domi's tenderspot.
Domi howled with pain.
Each firedrake, when brought into service, had two scales surgically removed, leaving the flesh bare. The paladins called these tenderspots—places for them to drive their spurs into the hides of firedrakes. Every few days, when new scales began to grow, the paladins yanked them off again—a ritual of pain that never ended, like having one's fingernails repeatedly pulled off. Mercy had often dug her spurs deep into Domi's tenderspots—a pain Domi tolerated for a chance to fly as a dragon—but the paladin had never burned her. Now Domi's flesh sizzled, and she yowled.
"Where were you, you worthless beast?" Mercy demanded. She grabbed Domi's horns and tugged her head down, banging Domi's scaly chin against the granite mountaintop.
Domi lowered her eyes, daring not show a single sign of aggression. She had seen what had happened to firedrakes who growled at their masters.
"It's just a dumb animal," said Sir Castus. He spat. "Probably got lost."
Domi stared at the burly Castus. A gruff paladin with a scar splitting his face, he was holding a bundle under his arm.
Eliana, Domi realized, sucking in breath. The paladin was holding Cade's sister!
Mercy knelt and leaned closer. With Domi's head pressed against the ground, Mercy was able to stare directly into her eyes.
"Oh, but you're not as dumb as you look, are you?" Mercy whispered. She caressed Domi's snout. "No, there's some sense in you. You're not as mindless as the other beasts."
Sudden panic flared in Domi, and her heart pounded. Had Mercy seen her become a human? Did the paladin know?
I can burn her now, Domi thought, feeling the flames rise in her gullet. I can burn her dead, burn them all.
She forced herself to gulp down the fire.
No. If I kill Mercy, her brother will become heir. And if anyone is crueler than Mercy, it's her brother, Lord Gemini Deus. Domi shuddered. If I kill Mercy, I myself will die. The other firedrakes will make sure of that.
So Domi only mewled pathetically, begging for forgiveness.
Mercy straightened and kicked. Her steel-dipped boot slammed into Domi's snout, cracking a scale and rattling her teeth. Domi yelped.
"I know you understand me," Mercy said softly. "If you ever cross me again, you pathetic lizard, I will drive my spear so deep into your tenderspot it'll come out the other side. You were a bad beast today. You flew off. You lost your saddle. And when we return home, you will pay."
With a grunt, Mercy grabbed Eliana from Sir Castus and stuffed the baby under her arm. Eliana screamed. Mercy ignored the sound and climbed onto Domi's back.
Domi's saddle was missing; she had used the straps to bind Cade. Mercy rode bareback. The paladin dug her spurs into the tenderspots, and Domi winced; the burnt spot especially ached. She kicked off the mountain, beat her wings, and rose into the sky. Around her, the other firedrakes took flight too. Two no longer bore riders, their paladins dead in the forest.
"Keep scouring the mountains!" Mercy shouted toward the other paladins. "Uproot every tree and turn over every stone. Do not return to the capital until you've found the boy!"
The other paladins nodded upon their firedrakes. The beasts fanned out, traveling across the piney slopes. Already they swooped to uproot trees.
Mercy dug her right spur deeply into Domi. "You turn north, beast. We fly back to Mother. Fly!"
Domi flew.
Leaving the mountains behind, she glided on the wind, leaving the others behind. Whenever she slowed down, Mercy's spurs dug again. The paladin had always been an impatient flyer, but today she spurred Domi onward with extra urgency.
She's not just mad at me, Domi realized. She's mad about Cade. That he exists. That she lost him.
As they passed over the village, Domi looked down at the ruins. Night had fallen, but scattered fires still burned below, and Domi's eyes were sharp. Nothing but the shel
ls of huts and scattered skeletons remained. She could no longer see Cade below. Hopefully the boy was traveling east toward Sanctus, toward the library, toward the aid he'd find there. Hopefully he wouldn't be foolish enough to shift into a dragon again.
Don't die, Cade, she thought. Damn you, don't be an idiot. Stay alive.
She sighed as they flew onward, traveling across grassy plains and leaving the ruins behind. All her life, Domi had known only four other Vir Requis. For years, they believed there were no others. All her life, Requiem had been just them, a secret carried within five hearts. Now another rose. Now the paladins were on the hunt. Now, Domi thought, everything would change.
Mercy will fetch reinforcement, Domi thought. She'll scour the land. She'll seek Cade in every town and city.
Again Domi felt the fire rise inside her. She rolled back her eyes to stare up at Mercy. Riding on her back, the paladin stared ahead with narrowed eyes, the wind streaming her white hair. Eliana lay before her in the saddle; the baby seemed to be sleeping.
I can kill Mercy now, Domi thought. I can grab her with my jaws and toss her down to her death. I can fly off with Eliana, become a human, vanish into the world, maybe find Cade and run with him forever.
She looked back ahead, eyes stinging.
No. I cannot. If Mercy were found dead, Domi too would be hunted. Mercy was cruel, but without her Gemini would become heir to the Cured Temple, and then the Commonwealth would truly bleed. Mercy perhaps was heartless, but Gemini had a heart of wildfire, a mad heart that would burn down the empire. Better the tyrant of steel than the tyrant of fire. If Domi cut one head off the hydra, another would grow, and her life—this life she had fought so hard for, a life as a dragon—would forever end. And so Domi flew on, suffering the spurs, suffering the shame.
Dawn was rising when she saw the city of Nova Vita ahead.
As always, whenever she flew home, the sight of the city filled Domi with awe and longing.
Thousands of years ago, Domi knew, the first Vir Requis—wild shapeshifters of the forest—had raised a marble column in this place, founding the kingdom of Requiem. For thousands of years, this holy ground had been the heart of that kingdom, a kingdom for those who can grow wings, blow fire, and take flight as dragons.
Then, a mere hundred years ago—the blink of an eye!—the Cured Temple had risen.
And everything had changed.
The city of Nova Vita, once capital of Requiem, had become a bastion of the Temple.
In the old books in the library, the ones the others kept hidden, Domi had seen illustrations of the old city—its proud towers, its marble columns, its great statues of old heroes, its pale homes with their tiled roofs, its banners displaying the Draco constellation.
All that was gone.
In a mere hundred years, all that had been forgotten.
The old towers had been knocked down, their height seen as heretical, daring to challenge the Spirit above. The old homes, dwellings of marble and lush gardens, had been torn down and replaced with clay huts, their roofs domed—dwellings of pious austerity. The statues had been smashed, the gardens burnt. Even the fabled birch trees which had grown among the homes, symbols of Requiem, had been cut down. All beauty—of sculpture, architecture, even trees—was now sinful, an affront to the beauty of the invisible Spirit.
The city now looked much like the village of Favilla, but a thousand times the size. Rows and rows of clay huts—thousands of them—sprawled across Nova Vita, their domes reflecting the sun. From up here, the city looked almost like the scales of a great pale dragon. Cobbled streets snaked between the homes, and people walked among them. The commoners wore burlap tunics, simple garb to purify the soul. Jewelry, cosmetics, even colored fabrics were outlawed, punishable by stoning. The priests—Domi saw several of them walking down a street—wore white cotton robes, the fabric simple but of finer quality than what commoners wore. Only the paladins, holy warriors of the Spirit, wore steel; Domi could see none of those noble warriors from up here, for they rarely mingled with the other classes.
While the city was a model of humbleness, one building shattered the austerity with the might of a sword shattering a heart.
The Cured Temple rose in the city center, a massive monument reaching up toward the sky. There was only one temple in the Commonwealth, only one center of power for the Cured. It soared here with light and wonder, scratching the clouds, dwarfing all other buildings.
The building was built of white stone, round at the bottom, flaring up into many shards of crystal and glass. Some days it reminded Domi of a crystal fist reaching its fingers toward the sky. Other times it looked to her like a gaudy crown. Today she imagined it as a great crab, stretching many claws toward the sun; indeed it seemed an organic structure, as if it had sprouted from the rock, a natural formation of stone and crystal. Its spikes were of different sizes and shapes, a jungle, but all glittered in the sunlight, and even the smallest would dwarf the mightiest oak in the northern forests. Several firedrakes flew around the monolith, guarding its holiness; they seemed smaller than bees hovering around their nest. Here was a great jewel, a center of light, of holiness, of power.
Here was the bright fist that clutched the memory of Requiem, refusing to release it.
Here, hidden within the Temple, invisible to Domi, rose King's Column.
Her eyes dampened.
King's Column, she thought. The pillar of our fallen kingdom. The ancient relic of Requiem.
In the old book—The Book of Requiem—it was written that King Aeternum had raised the marble pillar, that it would not fall while Vir Requis lived. Every night, Domi prayed to the stars, the old gods of Requiem, that the column stood forever, even if it was trapped within the Temple.
And every day, the priests and paladins prayed for the Falling—the day they slew the last weredragon, the day the column fell, the day they believed would bring the Spirit himself down to the world, ushering in an era of peace and plenty.
"Down, beast!" Mercy said, digging her spurs deep and twisting them inside Domi's flesh. "Fly to your stable."
Her eyes widened with the pain, but Domi obeyed. She glided down, approaching the splendor of the Temple. The spikes of crystal and glass rose before her, and Domi saw herself reflected in their polished surfaces. Many firedrakes flew around her, paladins upon their backs, guardians of the Temple. As Domi descended farther, she glided by the wide, round base below the spikes. Many narrow windows peered open upon the white stone, and within them, Domi caught glimpses of priests and priestesses walking along pale corridors.
She passed by the last few stories and landed in a courtyard, claws clattering against the white cobblestones. To her right, a great staircase—wide enough for a dozen people to walk abreast—stretched up toward a white archway, leading into the Temple. To her left, a gaping tunnel led beneath the Temple into darkness.
A man stood outside this tunnel, watching Domi with a thin smile on his face.
Domi's heart sank.
Gemini, she thought, belly curdling.
He looked much like Mercy, his older sister. He too wore the white armor of his order. He too shaved the left side of his head, and he too bleached the long hair growing from the right side. His eyes too were blue and cruel. But while Mercy's eyes bore the cruelty of ice, Gemini's malice was a thing of fire, of passion. Mercy was ruthlessly efficient; her younger brother delighted in causing pain.
"Have you given birth while you were away?" he called toward Mercy.
Mercy dismounted and stood in the courtyard, holding Eliana under her arm. "Creating babies is your job, my dear pureborn brother. Mine is to purify the sick ones." She narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing outside the firedrake pits? You are a paladin of the Cured Temple. You are the son of the High Priestess. You should be off hunting upon the back of a firedrake, not lurking outside their lair."
Gemini's eyes flicked toward Domi, and a strange light burned in them. He licked his lips, then looked back toward his sist
er. "I've developed a taste for tending to the drakes. I dismissed Ventris, the poor caretaker of the beasts. I've taken control of the firedrake pits, dear sister. I'll teach these creatures the proper discipline."
Domi's heart sank deeper. Ventris had been a kind master in the cruel Temple. He often brought the firedrakes fresh meat to eat, clear water to drink, and even played them music on his flute. Whenever Gemini was in the drake pit—and lately the paladin had been visiting more and more often—he would take out all his malice and aggression on the beasts. Many times, Domi had yelped under his rod.
"So the son of the high priestess becomes a glorified stable boy," Mercy said and shook her head sadly.
"Hardly." Gemini approached Domi and placed a hand on her snout. "Firedrakes are far greater than horses. Noble beasts. Mindless, yes. Temperamental. Disobedient. But noble . . . when trained properly."
"This one is certainly not trained properly," Mercy said, looking back at Domi. "The stupid reptile flew off on its own; it was hours before it rejoined the others. Lost its saddle on the way too. Probably chewed it off." She sighed. "Brother, if you insist on becoming their caregiver, at least make yourself useful. Retrain this one. I'll not be flying out again upon a beast so wild."
With that, Mercy turned and marched away, taking baby Eliana with her.
Gemini watched her leave, his smile widening, then looked back at Domi. "Pyre, come!"
He grabbed her horn and tugged. She followed obediently, many times his size, large enough to easily crush him, but she followed. They entered the tunnel and plunged down into darkness. Only a few torches on the wall cast their light. Gemini led the way, tugging her along as she followed, her wings pressed close to her body, her knees bent, and her back scraping along the ceiling.
"Lost your saddle!" Gemini barked as they walked. "Flew off on your own! What kind of lack in discipline was Ventris showing you beasts? I can tell you, Pyre, your good times are over."
Dragons Lost Page 5
