"A little closer," Fidelity said.
Beneath her, Korvin nodded and glided onward, descending toward the mountain where the bonedrake was rummaging. The fear clutched Fidelity's heart and squeezed. The bonedrake was digging for something in the ruins, its back turned toward Fidelity and Korvin. She prayed that the skeleton wasn't busy ripping apart the corpses of her fellow Vir Requis.
Korvin kept gliding down, silent in the wind--or at least, as silent as a burly old dragon could be. Fidelity hefted her spear. With her sword, she had sharpened its tip into a deadly point. She would get only one shot to thrust it between the creature's ribs. If her aim was off, if she missed the pulsing heart of light within the bonedrake, it would burn her and her father before they had a chance to flee.
They were only three hundred yards away, maybe even closer, when the bonedrake noticed them.
The great dragon skeleton spun around on the mountain, opened its jaws, and screeched. The sound waves pounded against Fidelity. They were so loud she nearly dropped her spear to cover her ears. Upon the bonedrake's spine, its rider--a human skeleton in rusty patches of armor--unhooked its jaw to scream too. Bony wings creaked, the skin upon them rotted and tattered, and the creature rose to fly toward Fidelity and Korvin. Light gathered in its chest, grew brighter, and blasted forth in a beam.
"Father!" Fidelity shouted.
Korvin banked and the beam blazed above them, narrowly missing Fidelity's head. Wind roared as Korvin swooped, claws raised.
"Spear him!" Korvin cried.
Fidelity clung to the dragon's back with her knees and raised her spear. She narrowed her eyes, prepared to thrust it into that glowing ball of light.
"Fly across it!" Fidelity cried. "By its ribs--"
With a crack, the bonedrake and dragon slammed together.
Fidelity screamed and nearly fell from Korvin's back, nearly dropping her spear. The bonedrake clawed at Korvin, raising sparks against the gray scales. Korvin bucked and lashed his own claws, and Fidelity screamed and nearly fell again. She scuttled forward, grabbed Korvin's horn with one hand, and rose to her feet.
The bonedrake opened its jaws below her, prepared to blast her with light.
Fidelity leaped off the dragon, arched through the air, and thrust her spear.
The pointed stick flew toward the bonedrake's ribs and the heart within . . . and glanced off bone. The stick tangled up between two ribs, missing the heart of light, then fell down toward the mountain.
Fidelity cursed, falling too. She summoned her magic and beat her dragon wings.
"Fidelity!" rose a cry. "Korvin!"
Fidelity looked up and her eyes watered. "Cade!" she cried. "Amity!"
Both seemed to have emerged from a hidden burrow below. Cade was soaring in dragon form, and Amity rode on his back in a saddle, holding a drawn saber.
The bonedrake screeched, left Korvin, and turned toward the new threat.
With a howl, Cade blasted forth dragonfire, blinding the bonedrake. The skeletal beast reared in the air, blindly blasting its ray of light.
Cade soared higher.
Still in human form, Amity leaped off Cade's saddle and landed on the bonedrake's spine. With a battle cry, Amity drove down her sword, thrusting the blade between the creature's ribs and into its beaming heart.
Light exploded across the world, tossing Fidelity into a tailspin.
She beat her wings, struggling to steady herself. When she was flying straight again, she saw bones raining down to sink into the snowy mountaintop. They were all that remained of the bonedrake and its rider.
"Cade," Fidelity whispered, flying toward him. Tears filled her eyes. The gold dragon flew toward her, and Fidelity couldn't stop herself. She shifted into human form, vaulted across the sky, and clung to his neck, embracing him and kissing his scaly snout.
The four Vir Requis landed together on the mountain by the two remaining columns of Draco Murus. They all returned to human forms.
"You"--Amity jabbed Fidelity's shoulder--"should have chosen a closer meeting place."
Fidelity nodded and began to explain about this place being secret and safe, but Cade pulled her into a crushing embrace, stifling her words, and soon they were all hugging one another, laughing, shedding tears, and talking together.
At first they talked about Domi.
"You haven't seen her?"
"I remember her flying off the coast of Terra! She was definitely over the water and alive, but then firedrakes . . ."
"She'll make her way here. Domi is strong. She'll survive."
They all spoke together, words intermingling--words of fear and hope.
Then they talked about Roen.
When Fidelity spoke of Roen's falling, the others fell silent. Cade and Amity both lowered their heads, and their embraces became hesitant, comforting, no longer joyous. And again Fidelity wept and missed him.
"He gave his life to save me," Fidelity whispered, throat tight. "To save the children of the Horde and to save the hope of Requiem."
"Fidelity, I'm sorry," Cade said, holding her. "I'm so sorry." His voice choked. "A light of Requiem had gone out."
They entered the cellar then, and finally . . . finally Fidelity spoke of the new fear in her heart, of the secret she had carried from New Confutatis.
She pulled out the page she had ripped from the book, and she spoke of demons.
KORVIN
As Fidelity spoke of what she had learned in Mythic Creatures of the Gray Age, describing armor made of demon hide, Korvin kept glancing at Amity.
The tall, fiery warrior had seemed happy enough to see him at first. She had nearly crushed him between her arms, kissing his stubbly cheek and speaking of her love for him. Yet now Amity seemed strangely awkward around him, strangely distant. As they all crowded inside the cellar, she kept staring down at her lap, and sometimes her eyes flicked over to Cade--for just an instant--before returning to Fidelity. Cade seemed even more uncomfortable. The boy twisted his fingers in his lap, and his eyes kept darting between the others, lingering on Amity a little too long.
They're hiding something, Korvin thought. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear they've been in each other's trousers.
That made him snicker. Amity was a dozen years older than Cade, and she was a dozen times stronger and braver. To her, Cade was no man but a mere boy.
Amity's eyes flicked toward Korvin again, then back to Fidelity. The warrior leaned toward the librarian. "So are you telling me, Fidelity, that . . . we need to summon a demon? Then strip off its scales for armor?"
"I read about it in a book." Fidelity pulled out another parchment page and unfolded it. "I . . . borrowed this one from a different book, a book about . . ." Her voice dropped to a whisper. " . . . about the occult. It describes how to summon demons. In the old days, thousands of years ago, many demons walked the earth. Whole armies of demons fought against Requiem. They're creatures of darkness, of unholiness, the antithesis to the light of the Spirit. They'll cancel out that godly light and protect us."
Amity snorted and drew her sword. "This protects me. Didn't you see how this blade crushed the bonedrake outside the mountain?"
Fidelity nodded and pushed her new spectacles up her nose. "I saw four dragons barely defeat a single bonedrake. And this is here in the wilderness. If Domi returns, and if we're to attack the Cured Temple, there will be hundreds, maybe thousands of bonedrakes there."
Korvin's jaw tightened. His daughter's choice of word stabbed him: if Domi returned. Not when but if.
Cade rose to his feet and began to pace the chamber. He cast a nervous glance toward Korvin again, seemed sheepish, then looked away. "Fidelity, I've read that part of Requiem's history in our old books. Armies of demons nearly destroyed Requiem. They killed so many dragons. And now you want to open a portal to the Abyss and let them out?" He clutched his hair. "We'd be unleashing an evil just as bad as--if not worse than--bonedrakes."
"Ah!" Fidelity raised her finger. "See, we won't sum
mon the truly scary demons. Not the warlike, violent, terrible ones. In my book, I found a description of a perfect candidate to summon from the Abyss. The book calls them fireslugs."
Cade groaned. "Fireslugs?"
She nodded. "Yes! Do you remember Behemoth? Fireslugs are related to it. Big, huge creatures. Huge! With lots of skin to make armor from. But very slow and harmless. Basically massive scaly slug-like creatures the size of whales. Stupid ones too. Barely any more sense than a plant, in case you feel bad about killing and skinning one. No worse than killing a regular slug." Fidelity's spectacles slipped down, and she pushed them back up and gave her braid an excited tug. "The book describes how to seek out a fireslug and summon it up from the soil, sort of how rain summons up worms."
Cade bit his lip. "This all sounds too dangerous."
Amity pounded her fist into her palm. "This all sounds too complicated. The best defense is offense. I say we attack! Now, as we are. We'll crush every bonedrake in our way and burn the Temple."
"Not burn it." Cade shook his head, suddenly sounding sad. "Not with Eliana inside."
Everyone turned toward Korvin as if waiting for him to speak. Korvin looked at them, one after another. Cade, the boy who had become like a son to him, eager for the fight, full of grand dreams of Requiem's return. Fidelity, his eldest daughter, wise beyond her years, braver than many of the greatest warriors. And Amity . . . Amity, the first woman Korvin had dared to love since his wife had died, the woman who seemed so distant now, so hesitant around him, her headstrong words hiding pain and secrets he knew lurked beneath.
And among these lights, the dearest people in Korvin's world, were empty spaces. Julian of Old Hollow . . . fallen in fire over the capital. Roen, wise and strong, a lover to Fidelity and a great warrior for Requiem . . . fallen in the south. And Domi--his youngest child, dearest Domi--missing, perhaps dead. If Domi did not return, Korvin knew there would be a hole inside him he could never fill, a pain that would never heal.
Finally Korvin spoke.
"For every firedrake we've seen this winter, we've seen several bonedrakes. And they're growing more plentiful all the time. The bones of many more firedrakes are buried across the Commonwealth, and Beatrix will be reanimating them all to hunt us. They can smell out a Vir Requis even when we're in human forms. We've all seen them do it. They're deadlier than firedrakes too; they have no flesh to cut or burn. The light they blast out is deadlier than dragonfire. We've survived so far, but as the bonedrakes keep rising, more and more every day, we won't survive much longer." Korvin looked at the parchment page Fidelity held, describing the world of demons. "I would do as Fidelity suggests. Let us summon a demon. Let us kill it. Let us skin it. And let us build armor."
They all exchanged glances. Finally Cade tightened his lips, clenched his fists, and nodded. Amity rolled her eyes but nodded too.
"We'll begin tonight," Fidelity whispered.
FIDELITY
As darkness fell, they emerged from the cellar and stood among the ruins of Draco Murus, this ancient fortress of Requiem reduced to rubble. As the sun set behind the mountains, Fidelity stared south, waiting, hoping to see her on the wind . . . but Domi never arrived.
Where are you, Domi? Come back to me, sister. Do not leave me again. For years, Domi had lived away from their family, masquerading as the firedrake Pyre. Her brief return had filled Fidelity with joy, the joy of having a sister once more. I cannot bear to lose you again.
Fidelity tightened her lips. All she could do now was wait and hope and pray. Until Domi arrived, she would continue her fight.
"All right, everyone," Fidelity said. "I'm going to try to repeat the words in the book. They're written in Ancient Eteerian, which I've studied a little. I'll summon the demon from that valley there." She pointed down to a snowy valley. "It should be easy enough."
Cade grumbled under his breath. "Famous last words. I hope you don't end up summoning the entire unholy host of the Abyss."
Fidelity shook her head wildly. "Of course not. I'm going to summon only a fireslug. They're big but harmless. They can't hurt you any more than a real slug could."
"I'm not too fond of real slugs," Cade said. "Massive, scaled ones the size of a whale? Not a nice thought."
"Harmless," Fidelity insisted. "They're a food source in the Abyss, according to my book. Now shift into dragons! And be ready to blow your fire and roast the demon dead when it emerges. Don't worry, it's far less sentient than the cows and chickens we eat. Just . . . aim for the head. Don't damage the hide. We'll need that part."
The others obeyed. Cade shifted into a golden dragon, Korvin into a gray one, and Amity into the wild red beast. Each dragon flew over to stand on a different boulder, facing the valley.
Fidelity took a deep breath. Clutching the parchment, she walked down into the dale.
"Now . . ." She cleared her throat and stared at the parchment, trying to remember what she knew of Ancient Eteerian. She had spent a year as a child studying this dead language, wanting to read the old Eteerian epic poems about Issari, an Eteerian princess and Vir Requis. Yet Fidelity had not read this dead language in years.
All I can do is try.
She began to read.
The words felt like gravel in her mouth. Such a harsh, guttural language! Fidelity imagined that when the old Eteerians had spoken it, it had sounded quite melodious, but from her mouth it emerged discordant. She felt as if she were spitting out rusty bits of metal instead of words.
"Rise, crawler of fire!" she said. Or at least, Fidelity thought that's what she was saying. "Rise, fiery slug of the underground! With my blood and soul, I summon you to the surface!"
The sun was almost gone now. That was good; the book said that demons were most active at sunset. As detailed on the page, Fidelity began to walk across the valley. Using a stick, she drew in the snow, forming the shape of an eye inside a circle, ten feet across--an ancient symbol of the Abyss.
She kept crying out to the demon, hands raised above her head.
Nothing happened.
On their perches, the three dragons moved about restlessly. Fidelity refused to give up. She tightened her lips, wiped her brow, and tried again, repeating the words over and over.
Still no creature emerged.
Cade yawned. "You almost done there, Fi?" he called down to her.
"It's supposed to work," she mumbled. "I don't understand why the demon's not here."
"Maybe because it's a damn fairy tale!" Amity cried down from the boulder she stood on.
Fidelity stared up at the red dragon. "Bonedrakes are meant to be fairy tales too. Yet Beatrix summoned them. And I'm going to summon this creature. Hang tight. Let me start over again. I might have mispronounced a word or two."
Fidelity kicked snow over her drawing. With the sun now gone, the dragons let low flames burn in their maws, lighting the valley with an eerie red glow. The light could attract more bonedrakes, Fidelity knew. She'd have to work fast.
She started over.
Again Fidelity read from the page. "Rise, crawler of fire!" Her voice rang across the valley. "With my blood and soul, I summon you!"
She kept reading, drawing the symbol anew.
Again nothing happened.
Fidelity sighed.
"Just a myth," said Amity from her perch. "I told you."
Fidelity clasped her head. Just a myth? But . . . the rest of the books she had read were true! They spoke of Behemoth, Vir Requis, and bonedrakes, all creatures she knew were real. Why would the books lie about demons?
"It should work," Fidelity mumbled, pacing across the snowy valley. "Bloody Abyss, it should work, I--"
She froze.
She gasped.
Of course.
Bloody Abyss.
Fidelity laughed. "Of course!" she said. "One more time. Keep your fire burning."
Korvin spoke for the first time since emerging from the cellar. "Fidelity, the light can attract enemies, and--"
"Just one more
time!" Fidelity said. "Please."
Blood, she knew, smiling. That was the answer.
She began the ceremony again, drawing the symbol anew, calling out the words again.
"Rise, crawler of the Abyss! Rise, fiery slug of the underground! With my blood and soul, I summon you!"
As she spoke that last sentence, Fidelity ran her sword against her palm. She let her blood drip into the snow--right in the center of the eye she had drawn.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
The three dragons grumbled and began to leave their boulders.
"Waste of time," Amity muttered, walking back toward the cellar.
"I'm sorry, Fidelity," Korvin said, then turned to leave too.
"Wait," Fidelity whispered. "Wait . . ."
She remained standing in the valley, confused, helpless. It should have worked!
"Come on, Fidelity," Cade said. "Let's go back inside." He too turned to leave.
But Fidelity remained standing outside, head lowered. She had spent days practicing these words, sure it would work. She had failed. How--
She swayed.
She blinked and frowned.
"Fidelity, come on!" Cade called to her from the staircase that led into the cellar. He had returned to human form. The others had already entered the chamber.
Fidelity stared down at her feet. In the dim moonlight, she saw the snow trembling.
"Wait," she whispered, then raised her voice to a shout. "Cade, wait!"
She swayed again. The mountain was shaking. The snow cascaded, and with a great sound like shattering stone, a crack appeared in the valley.
Fidelity leaped back.
A sinkhole opened up, swallowing the eye she had drawn, growing larger.
A creature was stirring below.
Dragons Rising Page 12
