Requiem's Prayer (Book 3)

by Daniel Arenson

"Wed us!" Angel screeched. "Wed us now!"

  The priest bowed its great, thorny head. Its eight eyes blinked with sucking sounds.

  "Angel of the Abyss. Raem the Half-Mortal. You are now joined in unholy matrimony, and may you—"

  With a scream, Angel swiped her arm, knocking the priest aside. She spun toward Raem, grabbed his shoulders, and leaned down above him. Her eyes burned, blasting out white light. Her jaw unhinged, and her tongue unfurled to lick him from navel to forehead.

  "Now give me another child," she hissed.

  Face dripping, Raem smiled. He wrapped his tentacle around her and pulled her close. "Let us find a chamber to—"

  She knocked him down. "Now!"

  With blasts of smoke, a twitching tentacle, and leaking lava, they copulated beneath the Throne of Tongues. All around them, faces leered and the screams echoed.

  Raem smiled as he consummated his marriage, as the heat of the Abyss flowed through him.

  I was a prince, then a king of a city. He laughed as Angel's claws dug into his back. Now I am a Demon King. Now the worlds above and below will fear my might. Now Requiem will truly burn.

  LAIRA

  She knelt and lifted the fallen copper scale. Blood dulled its shine. She hefted it in her hand; it was heavy and thick like a plate forged of true metal. Laira felt something tight and cold inside her, constricting her breath.

  "Jeid's scale," she whispered.

  The autumn forest spread around them: oaks with rustling yellow leaves, birches with peeling white bark, maples whose red leaves glided in the wind, and many boulders and fallen boles green with moss. Geese flew above, honking, but no more dragons. The wings of Requiem no longer filled the sky.

  Maev took the scale from Laira's hand. She stared at it, jaw clenched and bottom lip thrust out in defiance. Her fingers tightened around the scale, and her other hand formed a fist.

  "He's still alive," Maev said, forcing the words past stiff lips. "Dead dragons return to human form. They wounded him. They tore off a scale. But he's still alive." She looked at Laira, her eyes blazing with rage and haunting fear. "I know it."

  Laira touched the scale again. It was cold and very smooth like mother of pearl. Her eyes stung and she wanted to caress the real Jeid, to hold him close, to know her husband was safe.

  "We'll keep searching." Laira nodded. "We're going the right way. We know that now. Grizzly flew here, and maybe the others too." She touched Maev's arm. "Maybe Dorvin too."

  Maev took a step back, her expression hardening. She turned and kept walking through the forest, not waiting for Laira to catch up.

  Laira sighed. Whenever I see some warmth to her, her ice returns. Whenever we get close, she pushes me away. Laira feared the sphinxes, feared losing her husband, feared losing all of Requiem. Perhaps Maev feared showing that she was more than a dragon, that she was human too.

  "Maev, wait." Laira struggled to keep up on her shorter legs; Maev was walking quickly, and Laira had to take two steps for every one of Maev's. "Wait for me. Let's not get lost ourselves. I—"

  Howls sounded above. Wings beat. A stench like burning hair and sulfur flared.

  "Sphinxes." Laira clenched her jaw and leaped under a bush.

  Maev, however, remained standing in the forest. She still held the copper scale. She refused to budge, only stared at the sky, her eyes hard.

  "Maev!" Laira whispered urgently, gesturing for her from under the bush. "Come. Hide!"

  Maev looked at Laira, expressionless, then back at the sky. Her hands formed fists. Her muscles coiled, making her dragon tattoos dance. Her lip peeled back.

  "No," the warrior whispered. "I'm done running."

  Sphinx wings hid the sun. Their drool rained from their maws. One cried out, "Below! A weredragon below!"

  Maev growled, tossed the copper scale aside, and shifted into a green dragon. She soared and blew her fire.

  Three sphinxes dived through the treetops and slammed into Maev, knocking the green dragon onto the forest floor. The beasts roared, their massive jaws splitting their bloated human heads down to the ears. Their lion bodies bristled, and their feathered wings beat madly, raising a cloud of fallen leaves. Their claws scratched at Maev, and the green dragon roared.

  "Stars damn it!" Laira leaped from under the bush, shifted into a golden dragon, and leaped toward the fray.

  One of the sphinxes spun toward her, growling. Its human head leered, covered in tattoos, stretched to several times the normal size as if pumped with water. The beast's feline body crouched and bristled, and its mouth opened. It spewed a cloud of smoke thick with small, bustling demons; each looked like a grub with a human face.

  Laira hissed and beat her wings. She soared above the smoke, hit the treetops, and swooped. Her claws drove into the sphinx's back, through fur and skin and into stringy flesh.

  The creature howled and bucked. Its tail lashed, covered in spikes, and slammed into Laira's back. She roared, scales cracking, and clung to the beast. She leaned down, grabbed a fold of its flesh between her jaws, and bit deep. Acidic blood flooded her mouth.

  At her side, Laira glimpsed Maev fighting two of the creatures. The green dragon rolled on the ground, clawing and lashing her tail. One of the sphinxes pinned her down, and the other blew a cloud of its demon-infested smoke. Maev shut her eyes and her mouth, and even her nostrils pinched shut as the cloud spread over her.

  Beneath Laira, the sphinx she had grabbed bucked madly, tossing her about. Clinging, Laira turned her head and blasted fire against the sphinxes attacking Maev, trying to keep the flames off the green dragon.

  The sphinx below Laira thrashed, bleeding but still alive. It tossed Laira off its back and against a maple. The tree shattered and branches rained. An instant later, the wounded sphinx pounced on Laira, jaw biting into her chest. Laira fell backward, slamming into an oak. The tree cracked and fell.

  The sphinx stood before her, grinning, its claws red with her blood. It blasted its unholy miasma her way.

  Laira blew her dragonfire.

  The two jets crashed together, fire and smoke.

  Trees burst into flame. Grass burned. The weapons roared, and Laira sneered as she blew her fire. She stepped forward, foot by foot, shoving her pillar of flame against the smoke until it drove through the cloud and crashed into the sphinx.

  The creature burned.

  Its magic vanished, and it returned to human form—a blazing, screaming man.

  Laira stepped closer and stomped down her foot. Her claws passed through flames and into the man's chest. She yanked back, tearing out ribs and meat.

  Shaking the gore off her claws, Laira turned to see Maev standing over the corpses of two Widejaws, both back in human form. The green dragon stared at Laira, smoke rising from her nostrils.

  "That," said Maev, "is how we treat the enemies of Requiem."

  "That," said Laira, "almost got us killed."

  The green dragon advanced toward Laira, eyes narrowed and nostrils puffing out smoke. The dragon's every movement spoke of menace. "We're alive. They're dead." Maev snarled. "I'm a warrior. You are too; your claws and fangs are drenched in blood. I will no longer cower."

  Laira was a smaller dragon, but she refused to back away. She glared at her stepdaughter and hissed, puffing smoke against the green dragon's snout.

  "Next time, Maev, you will listen to me and hide. I am your queen, and I am your stepmother, and—"

  "You are nothing to me!" Maev shouted. She tossed back her head and roared.

  "Hush!" Laira ground her teeth. "You'll alert the other sphinxes to—"

  "Good!" Maev blasted flame skyward. "Let them hear! Let them see my beacon. Let them come and die! You cannot stop me, Laira. You cannot! Things were fine before you joined us." Tears filled Maev's eyes, but she still growled and her claws dug into the earth. "We lived in the escarpment. We were safe. Then you drew the rocs toward us. Then your father sent demons to slay us. Now the sphinxes tore Requiem apart, and they might have killed eve
ryone else, and it's your fault again, Laira. Your fault!" Maev blasted more flame, hitting a tree. The forest burned around them. "And to make things worse, you took my father from me. And now he could be dead." Tears flowed down Maev's scaly cheeks. "Queen? Mother? You are only a menace. You destroyed my family."

  Laira's anger flowed away. She felt deflated. As scattered flames flickered around her, she released her magic.

  The green dragon snorted before her, chest heaving, smoke rising. Laira stepped forward in human form, embraced Maev's snout, and laid her head against the dragon's scales.

  "I'm sorry, Maev," Laira whispered. "I'm sorry. I love you. I love you very much."

  The green dragon trembled. More hot smoke blasted out. And then suddenly Maev was in human form again, embracing Laira, crushing her in her arms. Maev's tears fell, dampening Laira's hair.

  "I'm sorry too, Laira." Maev squeezed her desperately like a drowning woman clinging to a floating log. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean what I said. Forgive me."

  Laira smiled tremulously and touched Maev's cheek. "You meant it. And I'm glad you said it. It's out of you now. Just know that I'm sorry, that I never meant to bring evil to your doorstep, and I understand how you feel. But I love you and I hope we can be like a true family—not like a stepmother and daughter, but more like sisters. Sisters of Requiem."

  Maev nodded and wiped tears from her eyes. "I’d like that. Now let's keep walking. The smoke and fire are a beacon, and we have to find the others." She squeezed Laira's hand. "Let's walk and if more sphinxes arrive, we'll hide. We'll—"

  A voice rose behind them. "You will come with us, dragons."

  Laira and Maev spun around, gasping.

  A dozen men emerged from between the trees, clad in green cloaks and hoods. Each man held a bow, arrows pointing forward. Instead of a flint or bronze head, each arrow was tipped with a bundle of rolled up leaves and vines.

  With only a glance at each other, Laira and Maev shifted back into dragons.

  The arrows flew and slammed into them.

  The two dragons screamed.

  Upon impact, the leafy bundles unfurled. Green strands spread across Laira like vines clutching a boulder. They squeezed. They spread stinging pain through her. She yowled as invisible hands seemed to grab her magic, to yank it out, to shatter the starlight inside her. Her scales vanished. Her wings and claws retracted. She fell onto the forest floor in human form, the green strands still racing across her, rustling with leaves, stabbing her with thorns. Maev thrashed on the ground beside her, clutched in similar green bonds, her magic also gone.

  "Lift them up," said one of the archers, a tall man with an auburn beard. "Toss them across the horses." He smiled thinly. "Two more cursed ones for the Green Lord."

  Laira tried to shift again, to rise, to fly, to burn them. The robed men grabbed her, tugged her to her feet, and shoved a sack over her head. Darkness spread across her and she screamed.

  JEID

  The young man's voice echoed through the tunnels, hoarse and far too loud, singing a bawdy song.

  "The girl went to the sea

  And got stung there by a bee

  And the bee got her right on the bottom!

  And she took off her clothes

  From her chin down to her toes

  And—"

  Jeid stomped forward. "Dorvin!"

  He rounded the corner and saw the black-haired hunter there. Dorvin sat slumped against the wall, legs splayed out. He held a tin bottle and Jeid smelled spirits.

  "'ello, old grizzly bear!" Dorvin said, waving weakly. He raised his drink. "Want a sip?"

  "I want you to shut your mouth." Jeid glared down at the young man. "There are people sleeping in these tunnels, people praying, people—"

  "—who could use a good song!" Dorvin said. He struggled to his feet, a little wobbly, and held the cave wall for support. With a deep breath, he began to sing again. "And she jumped into the water, where a giant squid caught her, and a fish began to nibble her—"

  "Enough!" Jeid grabbed the younger man's collar, then winced. "You stink. What's that you're drinking?"

  Dorvin grinned. "It don't stink!" He raised the bottle. "This is special stuff. Not just regular wine and ale like they brew in the north. This stuff's from across the sea. Distilled. Powerful. Like a whole cup of wine with every sip. Want some?"

  Surprisingly, Jeid did.

  With a sigh, he released Dorvin, and the two men sat side by side and leaned against the tunnel wall. In the distance to their right, rose the sound of prayer from survivors deeper in the tunnels. To their left, Jeid could hear dragonfire roaring as Vir Requis guarded the entrance, taking shifts.

  "Pass me that bottle," Jeid said. When he sipped, the drink shot through his throat and stung his nostrils, blazing hot and bitter.

  "Good?" Dorvin said.

  Jeid nodded. "Good."

  For long moments, they sat passing the bottle back and forth—a grizzled, burly king and a wiry, fiery hunter half his age. Jeid looked at the young man—Dorvin's sharp eyebrows, his black hair that always fell across his brow at a jaunty angle, and his cheeks which even here in the caves he kept clean-shaven. A vain boy. A stupid, hot-tempered, rude, useless lump.

  The man my daughter fancies, he thought.

  He had seen Dorvin and Maev walking alone through the woods. He had seen them sneak together into huts, emerging flustered, their clothes in disarray.

  "Do you sing these rude songs around my daughter?" Jeid asked.

  Dorvin snorted. "Stars no. Maev clobbers me whenever I sing around her. Damn mammoth arse got fists like two boulders." He rubbed his cheek.

  Jeid raised his own fist. "Don't call her that. Show her respect. Especially with her missing, maybe—"

  Maybe dead, he thought. He could not speak those words.

  Dorvin nodded solemnly. "I meant to say 'Maev.'" He drank deeply and screwed up his face at the flavor. "I respect her, Grizzly. I love the mamm— I love Maev." Suddenly the young man's eyes dampened. "If she's alive, and if we ever get out of here, I'll let her know that. I'd never sing around her again, or call her a bad name, or annoy her, or anything. I'd just love her. Always." He lowered his head and rubbed his eyes. "Stars damn it! Damn drink always gets into my eyes."

  Jeid grumbled and patted the younger man's back. "I miss them too. Maev. Laira. Tanin and Issari." He took the bottle and drank deeply, the liquid racing through him like fire. "I wonder if they're under the sky now, watching the stars, thinking of us . . . maybe flying as dragons."

  "I hope they're alive," Dorvin whispered, "but I'm scared. I'm scared they fell like my sister." He looked at Jeid, his eyes red. "Do you know what Alina used to say? She said that when a Vir Requis dies, his or her soul rises to the stars. She said that the halls of Requiem stand there, already built, all woven of starlight—an image we must build here in the world. She believed that all who fell now live up there, drinking wine and singing."

  "Not singing your songs, I hope." Jeid took another sip. "And drinking something more proper than this too, if there's any justice in the heavens." He squeezed Dorvin's shoulder. "I don't know if it's true. I don't know if celestial halls rise above us, home to our fallen. But I know this: the stars gave us our magic, and they blessed our column."

  Dorvin stared up at the ceiling. "But they don't shine here. If we die here underground, will we find our way to them?" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "To Alina? I miss her, Grizzly." His voice cracked. "I miss her so badly. And I miss Maev and Laira and everyone else, but with my sister it's even worse. I was such a damn fool." He spat, his eyes still damp. "I never showed them that I love them. Never. Not until it was too late. But if I see Maev again, I swear to the stars—I'm going to be the best damn man I can for her." He looked at Jeid. "I'd like to marry her, if you approve. I promise you, my king, that I would treat her like a princess."

  "She is a princess. She's the king's daughter after all."

  Dorvin nodded. "You know, I us
ed to sit like this under the stars. Would find a nice boulder or fallen log to sit on, stare up, and drink whatever I could get—ale, wine, cider, anything I could trade salted meat or furs for. And I'd just stare up, watching the stars, trying to imagine what they were. We were wanderers, in my tribe. Called ourselves Stonespear. Old name. We'd travel from the southern sea to the northern hinterlands, from the western mountains to the eastern grasslands, and wherever we'd travel, those stars would be the same. I used to think it so strange! How babes were born, elders died, how the earth changed from rock to grass to water . . . but those stars kept shining, traveling across the sky but always coming back home. I used to think I was so small, so lowly, nothing compared to those lights in the sky, those celestial warriors." He thumped his chest. "But maybe there's a little starlight inside me after all. Inside all Vir Requis." He looked at Jeid, and his voice was hoarse. "Grizzly, how do you feel light and joy when you're in darkness, when there's so much pain and death, when you miss people so much, when you feel so alone?"

  Jeid sighed. He slung his arm around the younger man. "You don't. Not always. I don't always feel the light of the sun or stars, the warmth, the beauty of the world. Often all is dark within me. But darkness passes. Loss, grief, fear . . . we cannot always heal these things, but we can find light too. Even in darkness. Even in grief. Even when alone. Hope is like a candle in a dark forest; it doesn't banish all shadows, but it gives you enough light to walk by. And there is always some hope, some light, some joy. You are not alone, Dorvin. No Vir Requis will ever be alone so long as our column stands. And it still stands—out there in our forest."

  Dorvin nodded, rubbed his eyes, and rose to his feet. "We will find our column again. We will find our sky." He emptied his bottle. "And we'll find more of this damn magnificent stuff."

  Jeid rose to his feet, joints creaking. "Now go guard the entrance. It's your shift."

  As the young man walked off, Jeid remained in the dark tunnel, alone.

  He'd be a good man for you, Maev, he thought. And maybe I gave him some hope. He throat tightened. But why can't I feel the same hope within me?