"No," Gemini said, voice shaking. "No, Mercy. No! This ends here. This ends now." His eyes burned and his fist trembled around the hilt of his sword.
"Gemini, stand back!" Mercy screamed.
"No!" Gemini took a step closer toward her. "You think I care about this babe? Cade might, but I'm not him. I don't mind sacrificing babes either. I saw ten thousand babes die in the Horde, and I laughed, Mercy. I laughed as they burned, because each burning corpse was a step closer to you. To here. To this day. To this chamber. To your death." He took another step closer. "And you die now, Mercy."
"Gemini, stop!" Cade cried, reaching out to grab him.
Gemini shoved his younger brother aside. "Stand back, Cade!" He reeled back toward Mercy, and tears now streamed down his cheeks. "This is between me and her. Me and my sister. It ends now, Mercy! All this. All the pain you caused. All the people you killed. All the things you did to me." Gemini's voice was shaking wildly now. His body trembled. "I'm going to stop it all."
Mercy stared at him, eyes wild with rage. "The things I did to you?"
"Do you think I forgot?" Gemini screamed, voice tearing. "Do you think I forgot how you would beat me as a child? How you would mock me, scorn me? How you killed her?" His voice tore with pain. He tasted blood. "How you killed the first woman I loved?"
She stared at him, eyes wide, cheeks pale. "She was a whore," Mercy whispered.
"She was my bride!" Gemini screamed, weeping, shaking. His tears fell. "I loved her! I loved her and you killed her! You killed Shayla! You . . . you stabbed her and burned her and fed her to the drakes, just like you wanted to kill Domi." Mucus and tears streamed across his face. "But I won't let you. I won't let you kill Domi too. I won't let you kill anyone else."
Sobs racked Gemini's body. It had been so many years. So many years of hiding that secret, refusing to think of it, refusing to think of her. Of Shayla. Of sweet Shayla, the woman he had loved, the scribe's daughter he had brought into the Temple. The memories now pounded through him, too real, too painful, and Spirit, stars, please, make them stop. Make it stop. Gemini's sword wavered and his chest shook as he remembered.
"A pureblood stud is never to marry," Beatrix had said that day.
Gemini had screamed. He had begged. He had clung to Shayla, his sweet bride, holding her close.
"Mercy, kill the whore," Beatrix had commanded, voice cold.
How Gemini had screamed! How he screamed now! He saw it all again--Mercy tearing Shayla from his arms, stabbing her, tossing her to the firedrakes, and the beasts had ripped into her--she had still been alive!--but still the reptiles fed, guzzling her down until Shayla no longer screamed, no longer existed, only in a memory.
Until I burned that memory too.
Too much pain. Too much terror. Gemini had forgotten. He had forced himself to forget. Yet now he remembered. Now he would have his revenge.
"For you, Shayla," he whispered.
He screamed. He raised his sword. Howling, weeping, Gemini charged toward his sister and thrust his blade.
Mercy screamed and raised her sword to parry.
Cade leaped forth, reaching out to grab Eliana.
For Shayla. For Domi. For my revenge.
Gemini swung his sword down again and again. Mercy's blade bit him. He screamed and thrust his blade, hacking at her. Her sword thrust through his breastplate and into his belly. He swung his sword again, denting her armor, howling, laughing as his blood spilled.
For you, Shayla. For you, Domi.
Cade had grabbed the babe, and Gemini laughed. Perhaps after all those corpses, he had saved one child. Mercy's sword drove into Gemini's chest, crackling through the steel, cutting into his lung. Blood filled his mouth. Blood covered the floor. Gemini cried out and gave his blade one last swing, but Mercy parried and thrust again.
Her blade once more slipped into his belly.
Gemini fell to his knees before her, his armor broken, his lifeblood seeping away.
No. No, I failed you Shayla. I failed you, Domi.
He tried to raise his sword again. He could not.
"Good," Mercy said, savoring the word. "Good, kneel before me, brother. Kneel like you should before your ruler. You will join Shayla now. You will die like she did--like meat. A meal for drakes. That's all you are, Gemini. A pathetic hunk of mea--"
She screamed as the dragonfire washed over her.
Gemini whipped his spinning head around. Cade was flying outside the window, snout thrust into the chamber, blasting a thin jet of flame over Gemini's head onto Mercy.
Mercy howled. The dragonfire washed over her armor, heating and melting the steel. Her face melted with it, the skin dripping off, the muscles below burning, her eyeballs seeping down her cheeks in rivulets. She fell to her knees before Gemini.
"Now you too kneel," Gemini whispered.
As his lifeblood drained, he lifted his sword.
He thrust it through his sister's melting armor and into her heart.
Mercy gave a last gasp, then fell and rose no more.
Gemini followed her to the floor. He hit his side and managed to roll onto his back. He lay in his own blood, and more kept draining from him.
"Gemini!" Cade said. He rushed forward in human form, holding Eliana in his arms. He knelt above Gemini and clasped his hand. "I'll help you. I'm here, brother. You'll be fine. You--"
"Yes, I'll be fine," Gemini whispered. He could not speak any louder. "I . . . I did all right, didn't I?" His eyes stung. "I did what I had to do."
"You did," Cade whispered. Tears filled the boy's eyes, and he clasped Gemini's hand more tightly.
"We saved her, Cade. We saved Eliana." Gemini looked up at his younger brother. "Cade, you are my true brother. You are the only true family I've ever had. Mercy is dead now. There is no more heir to the Cured Temple." His voice shook. "You're the heir now. This Temple is yours now to rule. Tear it down. Tear it all down. And build Requiem again. And . . . in the songs of Requiem, sing kindly of me. Tell my story, but don't sing of a tyrant. Sing of one who gave his life so that Requiem's columns could rise again." Suddenly Gemini gasped. "I can see them, brother! I can see them again."
"See what?" Cade whispered, tears on his cheeks.
Gemini too wept. It was so beautiful. "Silvery halls of starlight. Columns in the sky. Requiem. I see Requiem, Cade." He squeezed his brother's hand. "Cade, tell Domi that I love her. Tell her that I love her and that I'm sorry. Tell her that. That I'm sorry."
Cade tightened his jaw. "You'll tell her that. You're going to get through this. You'll see Domi again."
Gemini smiled wanly. "I already see her in my mind. I will always see her." He closed his eyes, and indeed he saw her there--his Domi. The new love she had brought to his life. The first woman he had loved since Shayla. A woman who had taught him again what it meant to love.
I gave my life for you too, Domi. So you can have your kingdom. Be happy, Domi. Be happy in Requiem. I love you always.
He squeezed Cade's hand, and he thought of Domi's eyes, and he gazed upon the celestial columns, and then he slept--the long sleep of the weary--and for the first time in his life, Gemini Deus was at peace.
FIDELITY
She lay on her back in the courtyard, a human again, as the dragon skeleton pinned her down with his claws.
Roen's skeleton.
"Roen . . . oh, Roen, please," Fidelity whispered. She was too weak, too wounded, to become a dragon again. All she could do was lie on the cobblestones, her lover's claws pressed against her chest. The skeleton sneered down at her, light gathering in his jaws and swirling within his ribcage.
"Roen!" she cried out.
The dragon skeleton snapped his teeth. He roared. He seemed ready to release her, then leaned forward again, sneering, jaws opening and closing. It seemed that he struggled between memory of life and the undead thing he had become, torn between the Roen he had been and the bonedrake he now was, torn between love for Fidelity and his servitude to the Spirit, his new mas
ter.
"Roen, it's me!" Fidelity cried, his claws nearly crushing her. "Don't you remember me? Don't you remember your Fidelity? I know it's you, Roen." She wept. "I can see your last green scales like the last leaves on a tree. I can see your love for me. Don't you remember?"
The undead dragon snapped at her, then tossed back his head and roared, the cry of a monster, a cry of pain.
"Roen, please . . . they're going to kill my father. They're going to kill Korvin. You have to let me go. You have to let me save him."
Tears in her eyes, Fidelity stared up toward the Cured Temple. Many bonedrakes flew there, battling Domi and her firedrakes. Below this aerial battle, Beatrix stood on the balcony, laughing, her glowing hands raised. Korvin hung off the balcony upon chains that wrapped around his torso, limbs, and neck. He was grabbing at the chain around his throat, struggling to breathe, able only to gasp.
"Behold, children of the Spirit!" Beatrix cried down to the crowd that filled the courtyard. "Behold as Korvin, King of Weredragons, dies in the Spirit's light!"
Light flowed down Beatrix's arms and formed balls in her palms. She leaned off the balcony and pointed down toward the hanging man. The light flowed out of her fingers and slammed into Korvin.
Even chained and barely able to breathe, Korvin screamed.
The light raced across him like lightning. The chains flared as if woven of light. Korvin thrashed, jerking on the chains, howling in agony. Beatrix laughed, casting down more and more light.
"You will die slowly, Korvin!" the High Priestess cried. "You will endure all my pain before I let you fall."
Korvin screamed and Fidelity cried out too.
"Roen!" Her tears burned. "Roen, please! Let me go!"
The bonedrake's claws drove against her, denting her armor. Roen raised his heavy dragon skull and gazed up toward the balcony, then down at Fidelity again. He cried out, confused, torn.
"Roen," Fidelity whispered. She caressed his claws. "It's me. It's your Fidelity."
Bloody tears flowed down his skull.
"Fiiiility," he whispered, the voice emerging from his jaws but sounding miles away, a voice from another life.
The foot lifted off her. His bony wings beat. And the bonedrake that had been Roen took flight.
Fidelity pushed herself onto her feet, dizzy, too weak to even summon her magic and fly too. She stared up.
Roen cried out again, and now it was a cry of rage, of pure fury like Fidelity had never heard. The bonedrake soared, wings churning smoke, until he hovered by the balcony. Standing before the bonedrake, still blasting her light down onto Korvin, Beatrix gasped.
"Fly back, my slave!" the High Priestess shouted. "Stand back, or I'll grind your bones to dust."
Roen reared in the sky, roared out his fury, and flew toward Beatrix, jaws snapping and claws outstretched.
The High Priestess screamed and thrust out her arms. The beams of light left Korvin and slammed into Roen.
The light blazed across the bonedrake, doubling in strength, cascading like exploding suns.
Roen's jaws opened, and he blasted out his own beam of light.
The beam struck Beatrix.
The High Priestess screamed and fell back, and her light flared out in an inferno, crashing into Roen with the heat and light of a god.
With a sound like shattering glass, like shattering souls, like nations falling, Roen's bones blasted out in a fountain. Ribs, claws, femurs, chips of skull, shreds of wings--all flew outward, then clattered down into the courtyard.
Fidelity watched and wept, for she had lost her lover again.
"Rest now, Roen," she whispered, trembling. "Be at peace."
The crowd fell silent. Even the bonedrakes and firedrakes that flew above stared, ceasing their battle. Fidelity gazed up at the balcony, and her heart leaped.
Korvin was still alive . . . and he was climbing the chains toward the balcony.
KORVIN
Dragons, firedrakes, and bonedrakes battled above him. The crowd roared below. And she waited above--Beatrix. The woman Korvin had fled, had fought a war for, had fought a war against, the woman he had flown to this city for, the woman he would now kill.
He trembled with pain. He rasped for air. He climbed the chain.
A bonedrake swooped toward him, screeching.
Korvin grimaced, struggling to summon magic, unable to shift with the chains still wrapped around his torso.
The bonedrake opened its jaws, only yards away, prepared to tear into him.
With a flash of red scales, Amity streamed across the sky and slammed into the skeleton, knocking it aside into a crowd of other bonedrakes. The red dragon roared and laughed as she fought, the bonedrakes mobbing her. Her tail and claws lashed, and her fire exploded across the sky.
Korvin kept climbing the chain, link by link.
Covered in blood and burns, he gripped the rim of the balcony, gritted his teeth, and hefted himself up.
Knees shaking, the chains still wrapped around him, he stumbled across the balcony.
The place lay in ruin. The renegade bonedrake's beam had shattered the windows, doorway, and tiles. Soldiers lay dead, their armor cracked, their flesh charred. In the middle of the devastation, Beatrix lay on her back. The marble tiles were charred around her, and black lines spread out from her in a star. Blood dripped down her chest.
But the High Priestess was still alive. Light still coiled around her fingertips, and she moaned and struggled to rise.
Korvin's breath sawed at his throat. Burns spread across him. His skull felt ready to crack. His sword had fallen in the battle. He wanted to lie down and die, but he forced himself to begin unslinging the chains off his torso. He would need his body free to become a dragon. Loop after loop, he tugged the chains off.
Beatrix pushed herself onto her elbows, then her knees. Bonedrakes kept swooping down, only for the dragons and firedrakes to crash against them, knocking them aside.
I have only a few breaths left . . . only a few heartbeats to kill her before she rises.
He tugged off another loop of chain.
Beatrix rose to her feet.
Korvin sneered. With three loops still wrapped around him, he couldn't shift. He lifted a free length of chain.
"You've lost, Beatrix," he said. "The war is over, and your light is fading."
She laughed, eyes alight, grin insane. The light of her god pulsed through her, showing and hiding her skull. "You are mistaken, my old lover. The Spirit's light will never leave me. I tortured you with that light. I made you scream. But now . . . now I give you the full wrath of my god. Now, Korvin, you die."
That light pooled in her hands. She thrust it toward him.
Korvin swung the chain.
The light slammed into him.
A loop of chain wrapped around Beatrix and tightened.
Light blazed across Korvin, then raced along the chain, flaring out. Red, green, purple, blue, all colors flared across the sky, searing the balcony, searing their flesh. Beatrix screamed. Korvin roared as the light covered him. The skin blackened on his fingers, but he gripped the chain. He tugged. He pressed his boots against the balcony floor, pulling Beatrix toward him even as her light pulsed into him, even as he burned.
His feet hit the edge of the balcony.
He gave a mighty tug.
And he was falling.
Though still in human form, he felt almost like he were gliding, a dragon again. He knew the pain would end soon. He knew the war was over.
I do this for you, my daughters, he thought as the sky streamed around him. For you, Fidelity. For you, Domi. For you, Cade. And I do this for you, Amity. I love you all.
The chain yanked taut, tugging Beatrix to the edge of the balcony above him. The High Priestess shrieked, a horrible sound, desperately trying to cling onto the balcony. She teetered over the edge, burnt and casting out her light. Her skin peeled off. Her scream tore across the city. Above her, the glass steeples of the Temple shattered. Crystal sha
rds flew in a great fountain, gleaming like drops of rain. Ghostly tendrils coiled out from Beatrix, taking the form of screaming mouths, of grasping fingers--the soul of the Spirit fleeing a dying vessel.
The Spirit himself was trying to enter the world.
And then Beatrix fell.
She tumbled down above Korvin, and then they were both falling together, the chain flailing between them. Their hands reached out in midair, still trying to grasp at each other.
Korvin hit the ground first.
Pain flared in a great, all-consuming instant and then died just as quickly. He felt nothing. Only numbness. Only warmth. In that instant, he knew that his spine had shattered.
With a scream, Beatrix crashed onto the courtyard beside him. Her head slammed against a flagstone, only a foot away from Korvin, and shattered. Her skull split open, but instead of soft innards, it was liquid light that spilled out, seeping, screaming with many mouths, reaching with many tendrils, then rising into the sky and vanishing.
The light faded.
The sound died.
Beatrix lay still.
Korvin lay on his broken back, feeling nothing. The pain was gone now. A haze was spreading over him, warm and comforting as a blanket. A rain was falling, a rain of light and bones. Above him, the bonedrakes were shattering. With their mistress dead, with the Spirit fled back into its realm, their light too vanished. They clattered down around Korvin, nothing but bones again, crumbling to dust.
All was dust.
All was ending.
"It's over," Korvin whispered. "The Cured Temple. This war. Our lives, Beatrix. Over."
A cry of anguish sounded above.
Red wings flapped and Amity came diving down. She landed on the cobblestones, kicked Beatrix's corpse aside, and shifted into a human. She knelt by Korvin, eyes wet.
"Korvin!" Amity placed her hands on his shoulders. "Oh, Korvin. You're hurt. I'm going to heal you. I'm going to save you." Her tears splashed against him.
Dragons Rising Page 17
