Dragons Rising

by Daniel Arenson

  When she flipped the page again, a sad smile touched her lips.

  "Look, Father," she said. "We too are ancient creatures."

  This page featured a painted blue dragon--the same color as Fidelity's own scales. More words were written here, curving around the painted dragon like ripples, describing how Vir Requis--the book called them "children of the Draco stars"--could become dragons at will.

  "Somebody friendly to us works in this library, or perhaps the priests never bothered reading this book." Fidelity smiled wryly. "It doesn't describe us as a disease to wipe out." She flipped to the next page, then gasped. "There! A bonedrake! Or at least something similar."

  The page featured drawings of several skeletons--a human, a horse, a griffin, and a dragon. Each skeleton seemed animated, hands or claws raised as if in conversation, and white lights were painted within their rib cages and eye sockets.

  "Those are our boys, all right," Korvin said.

  Fidelity leaned closer, so close her nose touched the parchment. "The writing is all faded, and my Osannan is a little dusty, but . . ." She squinted. "It says that . . ." She gasped and read from the page. "And the greatest clerics, blessed in the eyes of their gods, raised the bones of dead men and beasts from the dirt, and prayed to the heavens, and the gods breathed life into the old bones, so that they might walk again upon the earth, swim in the sea, and fly in the sky, serving their masters even from beyond the grave."

  "That's what we've already suspected," Korvin said, frowning at the page. He pointed at a small, shadowy figure drawn at the corner of the page, winged, mocking, staring with red eyes at the bonedrakes. "This little guy seems undaunted."

  Fidelity nodded and stifled a shiver. "A demon." She read the little words drawn around the shadowy figure. "Only creatures of the Abyss, unholy and dark, could withstand the light of the Risen. Heras the Aged, though born a man, wore the hide of slain demons as armor, and with his lance he smote the Risen and their light could not burn him."

  Cold sweat trickled down her back. When she squinted and stared closer, she realized that it wasn't a demon drawn in the background. It was a man wearing a demon hide. The red eyes seemed to stare at her, and a weight seemed to crush Fidelity. She slammed the book shut with a shower of dust.

  "Only demon hide can stop their light," she whispered. She turned toward her father. "We must find a demon."

  DOMI

  "I'm ready to return home." Domi walked around on her wounded leg, limping but strong enough to walk almost as fast as before. "We must fly back to the Commonwealth. We must find the ruins of Draco Murus and the others."

  Gemini stood on the hill, looking a little like his old self. He had finally washed off the blood and dirt of the battle, and he wore armor again. The metal plates were a little dented, a little dusty, but it was fine paladin's armor nonetheless. He had shaved his face and the left side of his head, and had even found someone in the camp to bleach his roots white again. Once more, he was the glorious Lord Gemini Deus, a paladin of the Spirit . . . and once more, he was with her.

  Domi lowered her head. She had thought that, escaping the Cured Temple, she had escaped Gemini too. But like a corpse discarded at sea that washed ashore to haunt its killer, so had Gemini returned to her. Domi missed Cade and the others, but strangely, she found that perhaps . . . perhaps she had missed Gemini too. The man was cruel, imperious, cowardly, but he loved her truly. Domi did not doubt that now. Gemini had done unspeakable evil, but he had done it for her.

  And he will keep doing things for me, Domi thought. I don't love him back, but I will use his love. For my family. For Requiem. Thus will I fight, not only with dragonfire but with his love for me.

  "Will you return with me, Gemini?" she said. "To the north? Will you seek the others with me? Together we can still strike against your mother and sister."

  Together we will give you the Cured Temple . . . so that you will give me Requiem.

  He turned on the hill to gesture down at the distant camp. Past the devastation of Hakan Teer rose the tents, makeshift wooden towers, and firedrakes he had claimed and now ruled.

  "We have the seeds of an army here, Domi." Gemini rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. "But it is only a seed. Let us travel south! We'll travel across Terra to find the bulk of my mother's forces, to bring them under my rule." His eyes shone. "We can rule the south together, Domi! You and I, King and Queen of Terra. We'll build such an army that the world will tremble before us."

  Domi turned to look south, to stare at the vast, dry lands beyond the hills. Here on the coast, many pines, carob trees, and mint bushes grew on hills of rich brown soil. But there, miles south, the land sloped into a desert of rocks and cracked earth leading to distant, cruel mountains. It was a harsh land, and it would take her farther from the others.

  "No," she said. "No." She turned back toward Gemini. "For too many years, I ran from my family. I sought to fly as the firedrake Pyre, free and proud and strong, but I found myself imprisoned in a dungeon, spurred and whipped and less free than ever. I sought to seek glory and comfort in the Cured Temple as your servant and mistress, but I found myself imprisoned in a cell. I cannot keep abandoning my family, abandoning Requiem. My path takes me to Draco Murus, to unite with Fidelity, with my father, with . . . with Cade."

  Suddenly both her legs, the wounded and healthy one, felt rubbery. Her mind strayed back to that time she and Cade had fled the burning forests, lain in the grass at dawn, and made love. Domi had made love to over a dozen men before, Cade only the latest among them. To Cade the experience had been new, but he had moved with gentle confidence, and Domi had never enjoyed lovemaking more. Often since that night, she had dreamed of Cade, and even now she felt her cheeks flush.

  Gemini seemed to notice. His brow furrowed, and he bared his teeth. "Cade? My little brother? What is he to you?"

  Domi lowered her head. Yes. Cade was his brother, born to Beatrix herself, if the stories were to be believed. Yet how could the two men share blood? Cade was gentle and kind, and Gemini was cruel, craven, covetous.

  "A fellow Vir Requis." She raised her eyes to meet his gaze. She forced Cade out of her mind for now. "We will continue the fight for Requiem--all Vir Requis united. We must never more drift apart. So you must decide, Gemini, if you will fly south to wage a battle in the distant outposts of the empire, on the wild front line of expansion . . . or whether you will join your cause to mine. To Requiem's. And fly with the Vir Requis."

  He gripped her arms--painfully. His eyes were wild, his teeth bared. "The weredragons are scattered! That Red Bitch who called herself Queen of the Horde is probably dead--that or now spreading her legs in a brothel for copper coins." He snorted a laugh. "As for the others, they're probably drowned in the sea, and good riddance to them. We don't need them, Domi. We--"

  She slapped him.

  Not the delicate slap of an offended maiden, barely more painful than the touch of a silken scarf. Domi slapped him with ringing force, putting all her body into the blow, knocking his head aside. Gemini stumbled and fell, gasped, and clutched his red cheek.

  "Never speak that way of my family." She stared down at him. "Apologize."

  "Domi, I--"

  "Apologize!" she shouted.

  He smoldered and his hand strayed toward his sword. "For what? For--"

  "Apologize now," Domi said, "or I will shift into a dragon and not hesitate to slay you. Just like you slew the healer who saved my life. Yes, Gemini. You thought I was sleeping then, but I know what you did. I know what you are. Apologize to me and vow to never more insult my family or who I am. You will never say the word 'weredragon' again, a cruel slur. I am no longer some meek, frightened girl for you to rescue, no servant for you to own. I am a woman of Requiem and you will respect me. Apologize."

  Her legs trembled and her fingers stung, but she wouldn't look away from him, and this felt good. It felt a thousand times more liberating than letting him ride in her saddle or ride her in his bed. She was n
o longer his to torment. She was strong, and she would show him her strength.

  He saw that strength, and he lowered his head.

  "Domi, I'm sorry." Kneeling, he reached out for her hand. "Please forgive me."

  She shoved his hand away and glared down at him. "Listen to me, Gemini Deus. The others are alive. I know it. I can feel it. And I'm going to find them. Do not get bogged down in a war in the south. Fly north with me and fight Beatrix there, with us. We will strike her at the heart of her realm, at the Temple itself, not here in the outposts. We need you, Gemini. I need you."

  "You do?" he whispered.

  Domi sighed. I cannot antagonize him. Perhaps striking him was foolish. Gemini, she knew, fought from his heart, not his mind. He fought against his mother and sister because they had wronged him. He fought for Domi to prove his manhood, to prove he could be a strong leader, protect her from a cruel world. She would have to play on those emotions now.

  She knelt before him and touched his cheek. "Oh, my sweet Gemini. I'm also sorry. I'm sorry I hit you. I need you with me. I need you to fight with me, for me. Please." She clasped his hand and pressed it to her heart, letting it rest against her breast. "Will you fly north with me? To protect me?"

  Like it or not, she thought, Gemini is the only man who can give me Requiem. His mother and sister would hunt us forever.

  Gemini, ruling the Temple, would allow her to live. Domi would need to suffer his love for his gift of freedom.

  "But . . . the army in the south." His eyes flicked toward the distant desert realms. "We need that army if we're to fight Mother."

  "It's an army of firedrakes, of charging troops, of chariots, of noise and light and fire," Domi said. "Do you remember what happened to the last great army that dared sail against Beatrix? It now lies at the bottom of the sea. What we need is not brute force but stealth. We need you to lead us Vir Requis into the Cured Temple, a single paladin leading a handful of priests. We'll enter in disguise, hidden in robes and hoods. Take us as far as you can into the Temple, to the very doorstep of your mother and sister. There . . . there dragonfire will do the work." Domi leaned forward and whispered into his ear. "But first we must find the others. Fly with me."

  He leaned back and stared at her, then kissed her. She gasped at first, then kissed him back.

  "You need me," he growled into her ear, tugging at her clothes. "Don't you, Domi? You're not strong. You're not a warrior. You still need me to save you, don't you?"

  He tore at her garments, exposing her breasts, then tugged off his armor and tossed the plates aside. He stared at her like a wild animal, hunger in his eyes, and licked his lips.

  I will play this game, Domi thought. I will do whatever I must for Requiem.

  "I . . . need you," she whispered.

  He pounced onto her like a wolf onto its prey. He tugged up her skirt and thrust into her, rough with his passion, and his hands gripped her hair.

  "You tried to fight me." His lips pressed against her ear. "But you could not. You're weak, Domi. You're scared. You still need me to lead you like I always did, don't you? I know it. You crave me to protect you."

  She closed her eyes; they were stinging. She balled her hands into fists, but she let him take her. She let him have this conquest, for she knew that Gemini not only craved to conquer lands. He craved to conquer her. He would never be like Cade, a man who fought at her side. Gemini would forever be a conqueror, forever see her as just another prize, just another soul to subjugate.

  "You are mine," he whispered into her ear.

  "I am yours," she whispered back, hating herself, hating him, but knowing she must appease him for now. Gemini was her only hope, the only hope of Requiem, and she would suffer him for the light of her stars and the life of her family.

  "I will take you home," he whispered, kissing her, thrusting into her almost violently. "I will carve out a kingdom for you. I will kill my family for you. I--" He cried out. "I love you, Domi. I love you. Always. I love you more than all the jewels and temples in the world, more than I love the Spirit himself."

  They flew out that evening.

  Both rode on Lore, the yellow firedrake Gemini had taken from the coastal garrison. The saddle was built for one, but Domi had grown stick-thin during the war, and she easily slipped between Gemini and the saddle's horn. As they flew, she gazed down at the sea, and she lowered her head in memory of the fallen. It had been long days since the battle, but Domi could still see driftwood floating here, the shards of sunken ships. It seemed to her that the cries of the fallen rose from the water.

  Why didn't you save us, Domi? Why did you let us drown? Why did you let us burn?

  "I tried to save you," she whispered into the wind. "I flew out with children on my back. I tried to fly across the battle." Tears budded in her eyes. "I fell. I fell into the water and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I let you die."

  Yet the ghosts kept crying from the water, accusing her, screaming to her in agony and condemnation. You let us fall! You let us burn! They all reached out from below, those who had fallen from her back and thousands of others, thousands of dead for her war, the war of Requiem, forever buried here in the dark waters.

  "I couldn't save you." She tasted her tears. "I'm sorry. I--"

  "What are you on about?" Gemini demanded. "Why are you mumbling?"

  She twisted in the saddle toward him, and she saw him frowning and grinding his teeth.

  "The dead," she whispered. "All those who fell here."

  Gemini's anger seemed to shift, to move from her toward a distant target. "Yes. These drowned warriors would have captured the Temple for me. My sister killed them. She murdered my soldiers. And she'll pay for her crime."

  "Is that all you care about?" Domi raised her chin, daring to challenge him. "And what of the dead? What of all the lives lost--men, women, children, each with their own hopes and wishes, a kingdom of their own? Do you care about them, or do you only care about your throne?"

  His eyes narrowed. "You've become a different woman, Domi. Not the docile woman I once knew. Perhaps in the south you discovered some sense of purpose, some cause to champion. You are innocent and idealistic, yet I've seen much war, and I know that all men can do in war is seek their own power. Only by supreme leadership can I stop the horrors of the world--not through mercy but through strength."

  Domi had to bite down on her reply. What do you know of war? she wanted to say. You spent your life in a palace, bedding women and drinking wine, while I was fleeing your sister. At least Mercy knows something about how the world works, even if she seeks to crush that world.

  Yet Domi would say none of those things. All year, she had hoped that perhaps, through her love and caring, she could change Gemini. When he had cared for her in the Temple, gentle and kind, she thought she had discovered the goodness in him, a goodness she could foster. She had thought that she could strip away the evil in his soul, mend the shattered pieces of his heart which his mother and sister had smashed. Yet now, more than ever, the task seemed too great to her. Did Gemini's corruption run too deep, and even should she heal his soul, would the rot deep within fester anew? She did not know. Perhaps all she could do now was stay with him, try to hold his evil at bay, and hope he kept true to his word--that he gave her the kingdom of Requiem, his gift to one he loved. She would have to keep him loving her--for Requiem and for his own tortured soul.

  They flew until night fell and the stars emerged. They slept in the saddle, then flew through dawn. Still the sea spread ahead, no sign of land. As fast as their firedrake flew, they were not yet halfway across the sea. Soon Lore was panting and puffing out short bursts of smoke, and his eyes seemed glazed, his wings stiff.

  "He cannot fly the rest of the way," Domi said. "Let Lore fly back to Terra. He has perhaps just enough strength for the journey home. I will carry you on my back, Gemini."

  He shook his head. "No. Lore still has a day's flight in him. Let him keep flying north. He'll take us most of the way, leaving only a d
ay's flight for you."

  "But then he'll never make it back!" Domi raised her hands in indignation. "Do you expect Lore to fall into the sea and drown?"

  Gemini yawned and stretched in the saddle. "As you yourself have said, Domi, thousands have already drowned. What's one more--and a mere mindless firedrake at that?"

  "A life!" she said. "A life we can preserve!"

  "I care for preserving our lives." A hint of anger touched his voice. "We're still two days from the southern coast of the Commonwealth. You cannot fly that distance alone."

  She stood up in the saddle and, before Gemini could grab her, leaped off. She fell down a hundred feet, shifted into a dragon, and soared.

  "Onto my back!" she said to Gemini. "Let Lore go."

  He began to object, but when Domi reached out her claws, threatening to lift him from the saddle, Gemini grunted and climbed onto her back. Seeming grateful, Lore spun in the sky at once and began gliding back south, the weight off his back.

  "Are you sure you can last this journey, Domi?" Gemini leaned across her neck. "It's a long flight. Damn! Why couldn't you have kept Lore around?"

  "It's two days. I can fly for two days straight." Gliding on the wind, Domi managed a smile. "And if I can't, I'll float on the water for a while like a boat."

  She narrowed her eyes and she flew.

  She flew throughout the day until night fell again.

  She flew as a third dawn rose, weary, aching, but flying onward--to her home, to her family, to her dream of Requiem.

  She had never flown for so long before, but she flew until she saw the southern coast of the Commonwealth--once the coast of Requiem--and landed on the sand.