Her father stared into the sea, inhaled deeply, and smiled.
"We fly back the way we flew here," he said. "You take turns. Every few hours, you return to human form and sleep upon another dragon. We just need to find that other dragon."
And so they spent the night in Altus Mare, and in the morning, they paid a young fisherman three silver coins to fly with them. At first Erry didn't want him riding her. His grin was too wide, his eyes too green, his curly hair too wild. She had fallen for too many pretty boys to let another into her life.
"Not this one," she said, pointing at him upon the docks. "He's too young."
The boy flashed a grin. "I'm twenty years old. I can't be much older than you." He winked. "And I bet I can fly faster."
"You keep pretending that," Erry said. She turned back toward her father. "This one is trouble. You should never have paid him silver. I would never agree to him, had he not already pocketed the coins." She grumbled. "I fly first. And I fly fast, so hold on to your saddle."
She shifted into dragon form. They climbed onto her back. And she flew.
The sea rolled below them, blue patched with green, and he would not stop taunting her, that rude boy with the green eyes. When finally it was his turn to fly, and she rode upon his back with Sila and Miya, she wanted to taunt him too. But she was too tired. So she only leaned back in the saddle, closed her eyes, and slept.
They flew for three days and nights, and finally they saw Maiden Island ahead, a woman rising from the sea, her hair formed of a waterfall, her hip and waist crowned with trees. In the cove between her curves, it waited—the Golden Crane, its masts tall, its hull emblazoned with golden sunbursts. When Erry saw it, her eyes dampened.
My new home.
"You're wobbling again," said the boy on her back. He jabbed her with his heel. "You wobble too much when you fly."
She glared over her shoulder at him. He was smiling his same mocking smile.
"Be quiet or I'll wobble so much you'll fall off."
Upon the Golden Crane, dear old Bantis—he had stayed to watch over the ship—danced a jig and waved and whooped.
My crazy grandfather, Erry thought and laughed.
She flew down and landed on the deck. When her riders dismounted, she returned to human form, placed her hands upon the railing, and inhaled the sea air. In her mind, she could already imagine the sails wide, the ship cutting through the water. She could fly faster than a ship could sail, and yet... flying was lonely. This ship was not merely a vessel; it was family and it was home.
Her father smiled and held her hand. Her sister and grandfather embraced her. They stood together on the deck and Erry smiled too. This was right.
"Well," said the green-eyed boy and stretched. "I suppose now it's back to the village with me. Back to fishing and lying around on the beach." He sighed theatrically. "I reckon you don't need me here, so if you could just take me a few miles back, I'll fly the rest of the way."
Erry groaned, jabbed his chest with her finger, and glared at him. "If you want a job here, pretty boy, just spit it out. Don't play your little games."
He grinned and mussed her hair. When she shoved his hand back, he only grinned wider.
"So you want me to stay! You'd love me to. I can see it in your eyes, little one."
They left Maiden Island, the wind in their sails, only five souls heading into the open sea. He was right, of course. She had wanted him to stay, that rude boy with the taunting smile and green eyes. And their first night on the waters, when her family slept, Erry was tempted again. It would be so easy! She could sneak into his hammock, doff her clothes, and let him bed her. She would look into his eyes, press her body against his, and she would feel warm, feel a respite from the chill that always filled her.
But no. Not this time. She let him sleep, climbed onto the deck, and watched the moonlight glimmer on the sea. This time she would be a different Erry. She had to be different now, not the same old dock rat, not even with this very rude, very pretty sailor. She could wait a little longer with this one.
The Golden Crane sailed on into the night. The wind filled her hair, the good scent of water and salt filled her nostrils, and Erry smiled softly. In the darkness, she thought of Mae Baker, and she thought of Leresy, and she thought of all those she had lost. She remembered the pain of her childhood and the wars of her youth, and she knew those memories would always fill her, that her scars would always burn. Yet standing here upon the deck, she could smile, for Erry knew that while darkness stretched behind her, light shone ahead. And that was all right. That was enough for her.
A gleam upon the sea caught her eye. She leaned over the railing and frowned. Something was floating in the water, small and bright in the moonlight.
Erry leaped and shifted into a dragon. She dived down to the water, gripped the sparkling item in her claws, and flew back onto the deck. When she shifted back into human form, she found a silver amulet in her palm, shaped like a sun.
It was her father's amulet, the amulet that had been hers for so long, that had brought her here. She slung it around her neck and stood for a long time, watching the sea.
RUNE
They walked along the beach, watching sunset gild the waves. The cliffs of Ralora rose behind them, and the sand caressed their bare feet. Seashells glimmered in the light, countless jewels hiding and emerging with every wave. The wind from the sea blew their hair, scented of home.
"Do you know why I love the sea?" Tilla said, voice soft.
Rune looked at her. She was staring into the water, her high cheeks, normally so pale, golden in the light. A smile touched her lips, but a sadness filled her eyes, a good sadness like memories that were too special, too important, for joy alone.
"Because it's always different," Rune answered.
She looked at him. "Yes. Have I told you before?"
He smiled. "Only a hundred and one times."
She looked back at the waves. "This evening the sunlight breaks through the thin clouds, rays fall upon the water, and a path of gold trails into the horizon. Yesterday birds sang here, and the water glimmered with white mottles. Sometimes the water is blue and sometimes it's green. Sometimes the sky is a single, uniform azure, and sometimes it's a patchwork of a hundred colors." She reached out and held his hand, still watching the waves. "And sometimes, standing here, we are young and scared. And sometimes we are older and scarred. And sometimes... sometimes we're just two people in the sand, a story of pain and triumph, and we too are a patchwork like the sky, a dappled painting of hurt and joy. And some days, like today, when the wind is warm and the waves whisper, when the light falls on seashells and sand, and when the sky fades into purple and indigo... I don't know who I am. But I'm happy with that. And I'm happy here with you."
Rune placed a hand around her waist, and she leaned against him. This was the same place, here under these cliffs, where they would wrestle and laugh as children. This was the place where they'd stand before the wars, watching the merchant ships rise from the horizon. This was the place where they had said goodbye two years ago, the first place they had kissed. He smoothed her hair now, and he kissed her again. Two years ago, it had been a kiss of farewell, a kiss that tasted of her tears. This one was better; it was a kiss of hope, of a future, of many more ahead.
They walked along the sand, hand in hand, heading back toward the town. Lynport rose ahead, nestled between forest and sea. Much of the city still lay fallen, but new buildings now rose here like saplings rising from the ash of an old forest fire. A few hundred survivors were finding a new life. A flame kindled in the lighthouse, the first time it had shone in twenty years. A distant figure stood fishing on the docks—Tilla's father, one of the few survivors of the slaughter. Rising farther back, Rune could see the tiled roof of the rebuilt Old Wheel. A warm meal, a welcoming dog, and a soft bed awaited them there.
He began to walk toward the town when Tilla gasped. She squeezed his hand and held him fast.<
br />
"Look!" she said.
He turned back toward the sea and squinted.
A small white square rose from the horizon, caught the sun, and blazed gold. It grew taller, blooming from the water, revealing masts and a hull. Five more ships appeared behind it, sails wide.
"They're returning to Lynport," Rune whispered. "Like they did years ago."
Tilla nodded and smiled, and a distant scent of spice wafted on the wind. Rune held her hand in the sunset, and they stood together on the sand, watching the ships sail in.
THE END
AFTERWORD
Thank you, dear reader, for reading The Dragon War.
This trilogy concludes a longer saga. If you haven't done so already, you can go back and read two earlier trilogies set in Requiem: Song of Dragons and Dragonlore. If you've already read all nine Requiem novels—thank you for being a loyal reader!
So... what's next?
After nine novels in Requiem, I invite you explore a new world. My new series, Moth, is about a world torn in two—one half always in daylight, the other always dark. I hope you enjoy visiting the world of Moth too. You can grab the first novel here or search Amazon for "Moth."
Want to stay updated with news about my books?
* Join my mailing list at: DanielArenson.com/MailingList
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And if you have a moment, please leave an online review for a Requiem book or two. Help other fantasy readers and tell them why you enjoyed these novels.
Thank you again, dear reader, for sharing these stories with me. I hope we meet again between the pages of another book.
Daniel, 2013
NOVELS BY DANIEL ARENSON
Standalones:
Firefly Island (2007)
The Gods of Dream (2010)
Flaming Dove (2010)
Misfit Heroes:
Eye of the Wizard (2011)
Wand of the Witch (2012)
Song of Dragons:
Blood of Requiem (2011)
Tears of Requiem (2011)
Light of Requiem (2011)
Dragonlore:
A Dawn of Dragonfire (2012)
A Day of Dragon Blood (2012)
A Night of Dragon Wings (2013)
The Dragon War:
A Legacy of Light (2013)
A Birthright of Blood (2013)
A Memory of Fire (2013)
The Moth Saga:
Moth (2013)
Empires of Moth (2013)
Secrets of Moth (forthcoming)
KEEP IN TOUCH
Email: [email protected]
Join my mailing list: DanielArenson.com/MailingList
www.DanielArenson.com
Facebook.com/DanielArenson
Twitter.com/DanielArenson
A Memory of Fire (The Dragon War, Book 3) Page 23
