At his side, Kaelyn spoke the prayer with him. He turned to look at her. The green dragon bore four riders on her back: a Tiran scope bearer and three Vir Requis in human forms, resting from flight. All four slept, wrapped in their cloaks. Gliding on the wind, Kaelyn met his gaze, and her eyes shone.
"We're home," she said.
Valien looked to the east. The sun was rising, but they would not see the capital this day. Even flying without rest, Nova Vita still lay days away.
"If Frey knows of our scopes, he will send no more dragons our way," he said. "He will hole up in the capital, ready his cannons, and sharpen his swords. He will fight house to house, chamber to chamber, not in the sky. We should have a clear flight to the city, but once there..."
He let his voice trail off. The thought had been rattling through his mind for days now. The boy Leresy had lost one scope in the sea, then stolen another. Valien looked over his shoulder at his army, and his heart sank deeper. Four thousand fighters, that was all. Four thousand against the might of the Legions.
"We're down to two scopes," he finally said. "We are outnumbered more than a hundred to one. We are home, Kaelyn, yet my heart is heavy. We might be flying to our deaths."
She nodded. "I am willing to die for Requiem."
"Yet I want to live to see you live." He spat flames. "Kaelyn, we can still turn back. We can return to our islands. We can find another life together, you and me, away from all this."
The idea had been taking root inside him. With every disaster—the lost scopes, the fallen men upon the beaches, the betrayal in their camp—the temptation had grown stronger. He could flee. He could find new life with the woman he loved—with Kaelyn, the light of his heart. He needn't fly here to war, to blood, to death.
"We can," Kaelyn said. "We can find a small island, and we can grow old together, and we will never know war again. But we would not know peace, Valien. Forever we'd be haunted. Rune would languish in his prison. Requiem would moan under the scourge." She shook her head, scattering smoke. "I don't want to die. I want to live too. I want to win."
"Can we still win?" he asked. "We were to fly here with four scopes, one on each side of our army. We shouldn't have lost so much so soon."
She snarled and her eyes blazed. "We lost men, it's true. And we lost scopes. But we smashed an army on the beaches, and we will smash the capital. This is the greatest flight of our lives. Poets will sing of us."
He twisted his jaw. "Aye, but will they be our poets, or those of the emperor?"
Such was youth, he thought. Rune is like this too; he is like her. They are young. They fly with conviction. Justice lights their hearts. But I am old and I've seen that justice often fails, that the righteous often die while evil lingers.
And yet he flew on, for he knew Kaelyn was right. He would find no peace upon a distant island. He was a soldier. He had been a soldier for most of his life. All he could do was fight on.
Even if the battle is hopeless, I will fight it, he thought. Better to die fighting than to flee and wither in pain.
They flew on, the valleys and hills rolling below.
They flew over sprawling Lanburg Fields where snow glimmered, the place where long ago the griffin armies had slain all but seven Vir Requis, the last of their race. They flew over the rolling farmlands of Oldnale, the great wheat basket of Requiem for thousands of years. They flew until they saw King's Forest ahead, its birches coated in ice, where the Vir Requis had first risen, where their magic had first shone.
They flew across Old Requiem, land of their ancestors, until at sundown the first roars of the enemy sounded.
They looked ahead and saw them upon the wind.
A host flew their way, and Valien hissed and felt his belly knot.
"Resistors!" he called and blasted fire skyward. "Spear formation! Cut through them."
His dragons roared behind him. Roused by the alarm, those Vir Requis who slept in human forms leaped off their saddles, shifted into dragons, and blew their flames. Tirans leaped from dragon to dragon in midair, spreading themselves out across the hosts.
Ahead, flying from the west, the Legions covered the sky. Ten thousand or more flew toward them, clad in armor, chanting their battle cries. The banners of Cadigus flew upon them, black streams emblazoned with red spirals. They were a storm, a demon of the air, a great beast of metal and fire and scale. They howled for death.
Valien growled.
If Frey sent this host our way, he thought, he knows we're coming. He knows of our triumph on the coast. He knows of the scopes. And he knows we'll fell his dragons from the sky. Valien bared his teeth and hissed. He sends myriads to die under the Genesis Light... just to slow us down.
"Kaelyn!" he shouted. "Take the right flank."
She nodded and banked north. Miya rode upon the green dragon's back, her hair streaming, a scope ready in her hands.
"Sila, ready your scope!" Valien said to the rider on his own back. "And hold tight."
He banked south, and their army flew forward, a great snake in the sky, driving toward the enemy. Valien and Kaelyn flew ahead of the force like two horns.
The Legions swarmed toward them.
Dragonfire blazed.
Red light beamed.
Screams filled the air.
The Genesis Light tore through the sky, two beams thrusting forward. By the hundreds, dragons lost their magic. Human legionaries fell from the sky, screaming.
"Kaelyn, keep your beam on those falling!" Valien roared. "I'll keep sending them down."
She nodded and dipped in the sky. Legionaries tumbled down, and Kaelyn followed, shining her light upon them, not letting them shift back into dragons. They crashed against the hills.
"Sila, sweep the beam across them!" Valien said.
They flew, swinging their beam from side to side, tearing into the dragons, scattering humans like a broom scattering a swarm of vermin. The legionaries tumbled.
"Burn them!" Valien howled.
Behind him, his fellow resistors roared. Jets of fire blasted, burning the falling legionaries. Arquebuses blasted and iron rounds tore into dragons and falling men alike. Some legionaries managed to dart around the beams, reach the Resistance, and blaze their fire, but they too fell; the arquebuses punched through scales like arrows through flesh.
Valien roared. "Slay them all!"
Only four thousand souls, the Resistance tore through the Legions like a wolf tearing through a herd of deer.
Resistors were chanting for victory, and even Valien's heart was rising, when he heard the howls behind him.
"Slay the Resistance!"
"Hail the red spiral!"
"Hail Cadigus!"
The roars shook the sky. Fire crackled in a typhoon. Heat blazed.
Valien turned his head... and felt his heart sink down to his tail.
A second army flew from the south, twenty thousand strong—two brigades chanting for death and spreading out wide, a claw ready to engulf them. For several heartbeats, Valien could not move.
"Slay every last resistor and drink their blood!" the Legions cried. "Hail the red spiral!"
The western host, cut down to half their size, roared with renewed rage. The eastern host stormed. From the north and south, more forces appeared, chanting and blasting fire.
We are trapped, Valien thought. We are encircled. We will die.
He growled.
Then let us die well.
"Resistance!" he said. "Do not lose heart! I, Valien Eleison, fight with you. Howl for Requiem! Blow your dragonfire! Fire your guns! We will overcome."
They gathered around him, a small host of survivors trapped in a storm, and they roared for their home, and they blasted their fire.
"Valien!" Kaelyn said. She flew up toward him, eyes damp but burning with rage, and upon her back Miya was aiming her cone from side to side. "Let us fly around our men in rings."
He nodded. "Fly clockwise! I'll fly
the other way."
She nodded.
They flew.
Darkness swarmed from every side.
They fought like a sun engulfed by night. The Resistance roared their dragonfire and shot their guns. Their beams blasted out, felling legionaries, but they could not cover the entire sky, not with only two scopes. Always they left a flank exposed, and the legionaries swooped against it, blasting fire and lashing claws. Valien flew from flank to flank, cutting the Legions down, but only exposed more resistors behind him.
Blood rained.
Corpses littered the hill below.
The sun sank and still they fought. Fire lit the night.
When dawn rose, it illuminated a world red with blood and black with soot.
Lashed with claws, his scales cracked with dragonfire, Valien descended toward the hills. He grunted and puffed smoke, his blood leaked, and every flap of wings blazed. He landed upon a hilltop and wheezed. The bodies of legionaries spread around him, tens of thousands. The survivors of the Resistance landed too, lacerated and burnt, coughing smoke and all but collapsing.
Valien resumed human form and walked among the dead, clutching his wounds. Kaelyn strode toward him, her cheeks ashy, her clothes torn and bloody.
He marched toward her and she crashed into his arms. Blood smeared her hair. Crows cawed, picking at the fallen.
"We won," she whispered, holding him tight.
He nodded, looking around at the dead, the screaming wounded, and the gore covering the grass.
"We lost half our people," he said. "But yes, Kaelyn, we won. We won."
She wept against him, and he held her in his arms as ash fell from the sky.
The capital still lay leagues away. They were down to two thousand fighters, and horror clutched Valien's heart so tightly it could barely beat.
RUNE
They crouched between the trees as the sky burned.
The Legions swarmed overhead, a storm of howls, blasting fire, and swirling smoke. The trees bent as if cowering from the host. The scents of fire and oiled steel filled the air, overpowering the smells of the forest. When Rune peered between the branches, he couldn't see the sky, only scales, armor, and smoke. Ten thousand dragons or more flew above, shrieking and chanting.
"Death to the Resistance! Hail the red spiral."
Rune scrunched his lips and crouched lower. Tilla knelt at his side. Both wore garments woven of pine branches, lichen, and twigs. Even kneeling beside her, Rune could barely see Tilla; to the world, she looked like a snowy evergreen.
"They're flying to battle," he whispered. "The Resistance must be near. They're still fighting."
Hope sprang inside him, but fear too. This meant Valien, Kaelyn, and the others were still alive. It meant there was still light shining in the darkness. It also meant war was flaring again... that everyone Rune still cared for could burn.
"How far do you reckon the Resistance is?" Tilla said.
"I don't know," Rune said, "but the Legions are flying east, so we'll follow. We'll follow until we find them."
They knelt until the last formations passed overhead, leaving a sky of smoke and raining ash. With the shrieks distant, Rune and Tilla rose to their feet, two leafy figures like storybook monsters invented to frighten children away from the woods. They shivered, brushed snow off themselves, and kept walking.
The snow was deep and progress was slow. The trees rustled, their icicles gleaming. Rune could not stop shivering, and soon he began to cough. Taken from the gopher hole, his clothes were woven of thick wool, and his cloak was wrapped tight around him, but still his teeth chattered.
"I wish we could fly," he said. "I'm never cold as a dragon. We should fly tonight."
Tilla shook her head forcefully. "No flying! Not until there's a cloudy night. We would be seen in the moonlight. You know only legionaries are allowed to fly as dragons. And you know those legionaries are looking for us."
Rune grumbled. "At this point, I'd welcome a fight against the legionaries. This snow is nastier than every dragon who serves Frey."
Tilla's eyes flashed, and she seemed ready to snap at him, but she bit her lip, stared ahead, and walked silently. Her body was stiff, her shoulders squared.
Rune looked at her and sighed.
What's wrong, Tilla? he wanted to ask but dared not. For the past couple days, it seemed whenever he asked her anything, she had only an angry retort. Her eyes were always flashing, her mouth was always frowning, and fire always seemed to simmer inside her. A root snagged her boots, and Tilla swayed and cursed. When Rune reached out to hold her hand, she glared and pulled herself away. She kept walking silently, not looking at him.
Bloody stars, Rune thought, looking at her, but she ignored him. What happened to you?
For three days—for three wondrous, magical days in the burrow—Tilla had kissed him, whispered of her love, and... Rune's blood heated to remember what else they would do, their naked bodies moving together under the blankets, their lips locked together, their...
He forced the thought away. As lovely as those days had been, they seemed over. Since he'd insisted on seeking the Resistance, Tilla had been cold as a statue.
"Tilla," he said, making one more attempt to soothe her, "I was thinking that after this war is over, we can return to Lynport. Maybe we can rebuild the Old Wheel. I—"
She spoke harshly, not bothering to look his way. "Don't talk to me of Lynport. Please. Just walk silently, all right?"
Rune sighed again; he had lost count of how many times he'd sighed since leaving the burrow.
"I know you're angry," he said, voice softer. "I know you wanted to flee Requiem, not seek the Resistance, not march right back into war. But I promise you, I—"
"Rune!" She snapped her head toward him. Her eyes narrowed and her cheeks flushed. "I told you. I don't want to talk. I agreed to find the Resistance with you. So we will find them. But that doesn't mean I feel like talking to you, all right?"
Rune lost his breath. He had never seen Tilla so angry. He had argued with Tilla before—he had spent his childhood bickering with her about a mancala move, wrestling her on the beach, or just arguing about minutiae like the name of a star. But this was worse. Tilla had changed in the Legions, grown both colder and more fiery. She seemed like a growling wolf now, not even human.
He nodded.
"All right, we'll walk silently for a while."
"Not just for a while. For the rest of the way."
They kept walking. He spoke no more, but his mind raced.
Was Tilla simply mad because he'd insisted on rejoining the Resistance? Or could something darker be stirring in her mind? He glanced at her as they trudged through snow. She stared ahead, face pale, eyes hard, her mouth a thin line. Her hand clutched the hilt of her sword, ready to draw and fight. She moved like a warrior, a slinking beast ready to pounce.
Rune swallowed. Tilla had trained for a year in the Legions. She had fought for them in battle. She had killed for them. Could she still be loyal to the red spiral?
Stars, he thought. Did she free me so I could lead her to the Resistance? So she could draw her sword and slay Valien, the man who killed her brother?
Rune felt dizzy. His throat dried out. Tilla wore pine needles and twigs now, no longer armor, but her every movement still spoke of a huntress, a warrior, a woman ready to kill. Rune felt faint. Was he leading an enemy into his camp?
No, he told himself. No! It was impossible. Tilla had saved him. Tilla had slain Shari. Tilla had made love to him in the burrow. This was no ruse. She was simply... simply mad that he refused to flee with her. That was all.
And yet Rune decided to keep a close eye on her, and he couldn't eliminate the chill in his belly.
They walked in silence, following the trail of fire that blazed across the sky.
In the afternoon the forest thinned out, and they found themselves walking in open sunlight. The snow was deeper here, and Rune began
to worry about their tracks being seen from the sky. Maples and ash trees grew upon scattered hills, and frozen streams crossed the land. Rune stuck his hands under his armpits, but he couldn't stop shaking, and his cough ripped at his throat.
As the sun dipped behind them and dusk painted the sky, clouds moved in from the east. Another mile and the clouds thickened above, hiding the sky. Fresh snow began to fall. Finally, after hours of silence, Tilla spoke.
"We will fly."
Without waiting for a reply or even glancing his way, she shifted. She rose as a white dragon, soared straight up, and vanished into the clouds. With a breath of relief, Rune shifted too and followed.
Stars, this feels good, he thought. He had not shifted in so long. Fire filled his belly and throat. The magic warmed him, flowing through his veins like wine. For the first time this winter, he felt warm.
For a moment he flew blinded, seeking Tilla but seeing only snow and clouds. He pounded his wings, trying to clear the clouds, but they were too thick.
"Tilla?" he called.
He flew on, grumbling, wondering if she'd flown off and if he'd ever see her again. Perhaps she had decided to abandon him, to find her own life away from his war. His belly sank.
"Tilla!" he called again.
A grumble rose in the darkness. Her head thrust out from clouds, and her wings blasted him with air.
"Hush!" she said. "The Legions fly here too. I spotted a battalion flying east about a mile away. We're heading the right way. Now fly quietly!"
Her words were harsh and biting as ever, but Rune breathed in relief. Angry or not, at least she was still with him.
They kept flying, the clouds streaming around them, the snow flurrying. Rune kept close to Tilla, but he could barely see her; he only caught glimpses of her white scales between the wisps. Every few moments, the two dragons rose higher, emerging above the clouds, then sinking again, like whales rising for a breath. During these breaches, Rune could see the Legions ahead beyond the storm. The armored dragons flew east, their fire bright, their howls a distant thunder.
They fly to Valien... and to Kaelyn.
At the thought of Kaelyn, his heart gave a twist, and his eyes stung. He missed her. He missed Valien too, and he missed Erry, and he missed all the others... but he mostly missed her. With Tilla's words still stinging, Rune yearned for Kaelyn's kind eyes, soft touch, and smiling lips. He thought back to that night in the ruined, hilltop temple, the night they had kissed.
A Memory of Fire (The Dragon War, Book 3) Page 16
