The three firedrakes landed, their claws tearing through a vegetable patch, and Felesar blasted flame skyward.
"Bring out the babe!" Mercy shouted again.
The farmhouse door opened, and a husband and wife emerged, clad in burlap, holding their newborn. They knelt before Mercy, and the mother held out her child. The baby screamed, face red.
"Here, my lady!" said the mother. "Her name is Sania. Purify her, my lady, and may the Spirit bless you."
Mercy took the babe in her arms and gazed upon her. The child still cried, tears flowing, but as Mercy held her, the babe slowly calmed. Her crying stopped, and she gazed up at Mercy with inquisitive blue eyes. Her tiny hand reached toward Mercy's hair.
She looks so much like Eliana, Mercy thought, heart twisting.
Her two fellow paladins placed down the wooden altar, and Mercy laid the babe upon it. She had performed the purification so many times. She had performed it on Eliana herself. She had done so with pride, with commitment to the Spirit, with a prayer to bring about the Falling. Today Mercy moved stiffly, throat tight, like a woman tying a noose.
She had always brought two herbs to every purification ceremony: ilbane to test for the curse, tillvine to cure it.
Today she had only one of the two.
She produced the ilbane from her pouch, the plant that burned the skin of weredragons. As she raised the leaves above the babe, she prayed silently.
Please, spirit, let this babe be one of the few. Let her be the one in a hundred who are born without the curse. Let her be like Gemini, pureborn, raised to breed pureborn children. Please, Spirit. Her eyes stung. Don't let her be cursed.
Her fist shook around the ilbane—the only herb she had here this day. She winced, not even daring to breathe, as she lowered the plant.
Please, Spirit, let the leaves not burn this child. Please.
She touched the ilbane to the baby's arm.
The skin sizzled red, and the baby screamed.
Mercy lowered her head.
"She is cursed," she whispered.
Oh stars, she is cured.
The babe's parents looked at each other, relieved.
"She's not pureborn," whispered the father. "She won't be forced to breed." He wiped a tear from his eye. "Thank the Spirit. She will be purified and returned to us."
Mercy's eyes clouded, and when she stared down at the weeping babe, she couldn't tell her apart from Eliana, couldn't tell herself apart from her mother.
She had no tillvine today. But she had a dagger.
The blade rose.
The blade plunged down.
The weeping died.
The parents screamed.
Mercy rose onto her firedrake, and as she took flight, her tears streamed down her cheeks, and the hot blood stained her armor. Below, she could still hear the parents scream.
She flew onward. She flew to the village in the valley. She landed and cried out: "Bring out your babe!"
Her knife drove down again.
Another babe's scream died.
She flew again, blood on her armor.
She flew from village to town, from farm to city, and her dagger drank the blood of the curse. She was Mercy Deus, a paladin, a purifier, a killer of infants, a savior of her daughter, a holy warrior for the Spirit, a holy warrior for her mother. Her knife rose and fell again and again, taking lives upon a hundred altars, a purification of the Commonwealth, a sacrifice of blood.
"For you, Eliana," she whispered as she purified. "For you, my mother. For you, my god."
She flew on. She killed on. She eradicated the disease with her steel and the ice in her heart.
As the sun set, casting red light across the sky, Mercy turned to fly home. As she flew over farmlands and villages, she heard the screams below. The lands of the Commonwealth wailed with their sacrifice. All across the empire, hundreds of other firedrakes had purified the land with steel.
"You did this, weredragons," Mercy whispered, fists trembling. "You brought this death, Cade the weredragon. You burned our tillvine. This blood is upon you."
She reached the walls of Nova Vita and flew above them. A dozen firedrakes were still streaming across the city, rising and landing, and screams rose from homes. The blood of innocents flowed down the cobbled streets of the capital. Rising from the center of the city like a rotting jewel, the Cured Temple reflected the setting sun, blazing out with white and red light, blinding Mercy, blinding the world, a heart of burnished metal and crystal, the heart of an empire, the heart of a vengeful god.
A twin to my own heart.
She entered the Cured Temple and walked down its halls. Priests and servants knelt before her, and she ignored them, marching forward, eyes staring straight ahead, blood staining her priceless white armor, blood staining her soul. She walked until she entered the chamber and closed the door behind her, and then she closed her eyes, and she fell to her knees, and she had to clench her fists and hold her breath to stop her tears.
A soft, gurgling sound rose through her pain.
She opened her eyes, rose to her feet, and walked toward the crib. Baby Eliana lay within, staring up at her, smiling.
Mercy lifted the babe and held her in her arms. She examined the child—the wide hazel eyes, the soft brown hair.
"The moment Cade fled me, Eliana, I vowed to protect you," Mercy whispered. "When I burned his village down, I had to save you, and I still fight for you. I will drive this blade into the hearts of ten thousand infants, and I will watch forests and cities burn, before I see you come to harm. You are mine now, Eliana. You are my daughter now." She squeezed the baby tightly, desperately, and tears coursed down Mercy's cheeks. "You are mine. You are mine. You are always mine. Always. I swear. I swear."
The baby screamed, crushed in the embrace. Mercy held her daughter close, her tears falling, wanting to never let go.
GEMINI
At midnight, he stumbled out of his cell, bearded, shivering, clad in bloody rags, and free.
He left his chains behind.
The torturer stood in the dark corridor, staring with hard eyes.
"When will I get my treasure?" the man asked, crossing his hairy arms. His toolbox lay at his feet, including the pliers which had ripped off Gemini's fingernail. Gemini shivered to see it.
"Once the Temple is mine," Gemini whispered, lips cracked, tongue dry like a strip of leather. "Once my mother and sister are dead."
He sucked in breath, imagining it. How wonderful it would be! He would plunge the blade into their backs himself, hear the breath gush out of their mouths, feel the hot blood splash him. This was no work for an assassin; he would do the work himself. Perhaps he would kill Domi too. Perhaps he would make love to her one last time, then kill her. Or maybe the other way around. Yes. That would please him.
All women are cruel, he thought, fists trembling. All women are backstabbers. His mother had tormented him since his birth. His sister had always looked down at him as if he were a maggot. And Domi . . . Domi was the worst of them all, the whore who had slipped into his bed for his money, for his power, then left him to rot in this dungeon. She would pay. They all would pay. They—
"Waiting for another guard to show up?" the torturer said and smirked. "Go kill the daughters of dogs. I want my treasure."
"Oh, you'll have your treasure," Gemini said. "Maybe I'll give you a weredragon. Domi would make a good prize for you."
The guard sneered and raised a hammer. "You said money."
"Money you shall have too." Gemini began to walk, taking shaky steps across the corridor. "Make your own way out of the city. Wait for me in Oldnale at the windmill. Once Beatrix and Mercy are dead and my reign is secure, I will come to you."
The torturer grabbed Gemini's shoulder and squeezed, forcing him back. "Slay them now! Tonight!"
Gemini stared at the brute and shuddered. The man was twice his size, and the blood of countless victims stained his apron. "I can't slay them tonight! Are you mad? Do you have any ide
a how many soldiers guard them? You think Beatrix and Mercy would let me just show up with a dagger in my hand? I must first gather my allies, regain my strength, muster my resources, arrange my forces for attack, and—"
The torturer's hand squeezed tighter. Gemini grimaced; he thought the man would shatter his shoulder. "Tonight. Kill them." The brute drew a knife from his belt and handed it to Gemini. "Use this blade. I did not free you to run and hide like a dog. I will not wait. I demand my treasure. Tonight!"
Gemini stared at the dagger. He gulped. "But . . . the guards . . ."
"You are their paladin! They will obey you." The torturer shoved the dagger's hilt into Gemini's hand. "Kill the High Priestess tonight. If you cannot, I will return you to your cell, and I will make you scream." The guard's lips peeled back in a hideous smile, revealing yellow teeth. "I will start by crushing your manhood with my pincers, then move to shattering the segments of your spine, one by one. Perhaps I will cut off your fingers next."
Gemini held the dagger with a shaky hand. Sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging. His knees knocked. "I . . ." He gulped. "I . . ."
How could he do this . . . tonight? He had planned to escape first, perhaps with a few of the loyal firedrakes. To find allies in other cities, to raise an army, to fly back as a general, to seize the city with great force and might. How could he get past a hundred guards tonight, alone, clad in rags, a haggard prisoner with a mere knife for a weapon?
"Go." The torturer sneered and raised his pliers. "Go now. Do it. Kill them. If you cannot, I will drag you back into your cell, and we'll get to work. How would you like to lose more fingernails? How about losing your entire fingers? Your nose? Your entrails? Your skin? I can take them all from you and keep you alive. Kill them! Now! I demand my prize."
Gemini was shaking wildly. He almost dropped his dagger. Stars, he had to do it tonight. He had to! He would have to attack all the guards, even if he died assaulting his mother's chambers. And surely he would die. Yet death was better than torture, wasn't it? But . . . he needed his revenge. He needed—
"You will not go?" The torturer reached out to grab Gemini's shoulder. "Very well. Your pain continues. Your—"
Gemini screamed, a howl that tore through his throat, that echoed through the dungeon, that brought blood to his lips, and as he screamed he thrust his dagger.
The blade slammed into the torturer's cheek, scraped across the bone, and drove through the eyeball and into the skull.
Gemini tugged the dagger back with a spray of blood.
The torturer stood for a second longer, then crashed down.
Gemini spat on him.
"More meanness than brains to you." He stared at bits of brain on the blade. "Definitely not much brains anymore."
His voice cracked and he stumbled back, shaking violently. Sweat washed him, and he had to lean over and breathe deeply, struggling not to pass out. It was the first time he had killed.
"But I will kill many more times," he whispered. "I will kill you all. All those who hurt me."
The prisoners in the other cells were laughing. Laughing at him. Gemini straightened and ran, wobbling, through the dungeon. He ran out the door, up the stairs, into the palace hall, out the back door into the night. He stumbled down the stairs into the city, and he laughed, and his head spun, and he stretched out his arms. He breathed the fresh cold air. He was free. He was powerful. He was Gemini Deus, future High Priest of the Cured Temple.
"Firedrake," he whispered, still laughing, still crying. "I need a firedrake."
He would fly for now. He would flee for now. And he would return with the might of a god.
CADE
He stood on the hill, the wind whipping his burlap tunic, and lowered his head. His fists clenched at his sides, and his eyes stung.
They're dead. So many dead. Because of me.
The village nestled in the valley miles away, its lanterns glowing in the sunset. Even from this distance, Cade heard the mournful wails. All across the Commonwealth they cried out in agony. Angels of death had flown across the realm, and now parents—grieving, crying out—buried the innocents, buried the slain, buried a generation.
"We wanted you to grow into Vir Requis," Cade whispered, staring at the land. "We wanted you to grow with your magic, to become dragons of Requiem." He closed his eyes. "Now your light will never shine."
The wind gusted, and Cade did not hear anyone approach, but he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Domi standing on the hill, her hair billowing in the wind like a torch's flame. The setting sun reflected in her eyes.
"It's our fault," Cade whispered to her. "All those dead babes . . . if the Temple still had tillvine, they'd purify them. They would lose their magic, but they'd live." His fists shook. "Now they're dead, all of them, and still dying every day, every moment. Because of us." His throat tightened, squeezing his voice into a hoarse whisper. "Because of us."
Domi pried open his fingers and held his hands. She stood staring into his eyes. "We could not have known. We did what we thought was right."
Cade laughed mirthlessly. "Those who meant well have kindled some of history's greatest wildfires. Good intentions have spilled as much blood as devious plans." Tears burned in his eyes. "Oh, Domi . . . what have we done?"
He expected her to embrace him, to stroke his hair, to whisper into his ear. But instead Domi snarled and her eyes flashed.
"We did nothing!" She pulled her hands back and glared at him. "Do not place this blame on me, on yourself, on any of us. We did not sink our knives into the hearts of babes. Mercy did that. Mercy and her fellow paladins. The only blame is on them, and I will not allow you, Cade, to feel guilt, and I will not allow you to spread your guilt among us. Blame the Cured Temple. Fight the Cured Temple. Keep fighting. I will."
"Fighting for Requiem," Cade said, and the words tasted bitter in his mouth. "Domi, I never wanted this fight. I just . . . I just wanted to be a baker. I never wanted any of this." He held his head. "Not to lose Derin and Tisha and my sister. Not to run, hide, get captured, learn that Beatrix is my mother. Fight for Requiem? I never knew what Requiem was until a few months ago."
Domi dug her fingernails into his hands. "Well, you know what Requiem is now. And you can't go back to being a baker. So you have a choice now, Cade. You can either let guilt, grief, and regret overpower you, or you can keep fighting. Do you think I wanted this?" She barked out a laugh. "I never wanted this war. All I wanted was to live as a dragon, a firedrake in disguise, to fly free. Do you think Roen wanted this? All he wanted was to live in a forest with his father. That father is dead now. The Temple forced this war on us. The Temple killed these infants. So now, yes, I will fight. Will you?"
Two shadows climbed the hill to join Domi and Cade. The sunset fell on Roen, bearded and dour, wrapped in his furs. He stared at Cade, eyes dark. Fidelity stood beside the forester, one of her spectacles' lenses still missing, clad in her old vest with the brass buttons. She too stared at Cade.
"Why do you all look at me?" Cade said. "What do you want me to say?"
Fidelity stepped closer and touched his shoulder. "Just one word: Requiem."
Domi nodded. "Requiem," she whispered.
Roen grumbled under his breath, and his fists clenched and unclenched, but then he raised his chin and spoke in a deep, clear voice. "Requiem."
Cade stared at them one by one. Fellow Vir Requis. His friends. The only people he had left, the only people who understood. Yes. He would fight with them.
"Requiem," he said. He closed his eyes, thinking of the first time he had heard that word: the feeling of holiness, of magic, of home. He could not abandon the dream of Requiem, not even as blood washed the world. He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked at his companions again. "I don't know how I can keep fighting. I don't know what to do. But I will not forget our kingdom, our magic. We will keep Requiem alive."
GEMINI
He burst out of the stables at dawn, riding his sister's firedrake.
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br /> "Fly, Felesar!" he cried, laughing. "Fly!"
The burly copper beast, among the oldest and largest of the firedrakes, beat his wings and soared over the city of Nova Vita. His scales clattered like a suit of armor, and his wings creaked. Fire flickered out of his great maw.
"Fly south! Fly, Felesar!" Gemini wore no spurs, but he pounded his heels into the animal's tenderspots.
With beating wings, they soared higher, flying across the city of Nova Vita. The temple shone behind them, and countless domed huts sprawled out below. Streets crawled across the city like spiderwebs. The rising sun glowed behind a veil of clouds, and a flock of pigeons flew below.
Gemini expected battle—hordes of firedrakes and archers on the roofs. He expected to fight his way out of the city with fire, blood, and screams. But no enemies emerged. The firedrakes who perched on the city walls merely glanced up at him, then back toward the horizons. Guards stared up, then returned to their patrols. All here could recognize Felesar, a fabled firedrake, the oversized copper mount of the Deus Family.
They don't know, Gemini realized. The guards, the drakes . . . they don't know that it's me, or they don't even know that I was imprisoned.
He laughed as he flew over the walls and across the fields. He tossed back his head and breathed deeply of the sweet, cold air, and he kept laughing.
"I'm free." His grin hurt his cheeks. "I'm free and I stole Mercy's favorite pet, and I'll never let them hurt me again." He ground his teeth, forcing himself to keep laughing; to stop laughing meant to weep. "I will be the one hurting them."
He still wore the same housecoat he had been imprisoned with. His face was stubbly, his hair a mess, and more stubble grew on the left side of his head—the side paladins normally shaved every morning. He would need to shave it. He would need armor. He would need weapons. He would need aid.
"We'll find allies, Felesar," he said to the beast as they flew over farmlands, leaving the city behind. "We'll find new armor, new weapons, new soldiers, new firedrakes. We'll return with an army."
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