Tanin roared. He tried to blow more fire, but only sparks left his mouth; one creature’s tongue was constricting him, keeping his fire at bay like a tourniquet. He could barely breathe, let alone blow flame. He clawed and lashed his tail, but more demons landed upon his wings, tugging him down, laughing. One creature landed on his back, tore off a scale, and tossed it aside with a cackle.
Issari screamed and shone her light, but the eyeless moles seemed unaffected. Their tongues tightened around Tanin, tugging him away from the tower. Behind him, he heard Maev shout as demons landed upon her too.
“They’re blind—the light won’t work!” Tanin whispered hoarsely, unable to speak any louder, struggling to blow more flame.
Issari cried out wordlessly. He heard a hiss—a blade being drawn from a sheath. A weight lifted off his back. A flash of white flew before him. Tanin gasped—it was Issari! She leaped through the air, a dagger in her hand, and landed upon one of the blind moles. She drove her blade down, severing the creature’s tongue which wrapped around Tanin’s neck.
He gasped for breath.
Issari leaped again. She landed on his wing, thumping down upon the leathery surface. Tanin looked over his shoulder to see her lash her blade again, cutting down a demon. With a third leap, she landed upon a remaining mole, severed another tongue, and hissed like a wild animal. When first meeting the princess, Tanin had seen an angelic figure, a goddess of piety. Now, covered in blood, her eyes narrowed and full of rage, Issari seemed as fierce as any demon.
The princess leaped again, legs kicking in the air, and caught his neck. She swung around and landed on Tanin’s back. The demons, bloodied and squealing, hovered before them.
“Burn them, Tanin!” she shouted.
He sucked in air. He blasted his fire. Demons burned and fell. Tanin kept blowing his flames, lighting the night, spewing sparks and smoke like a gushing volcano.
“Got him!” Maev cried behind.
Tanin turned and saw his sister spit out another window bar. Prince Sena—thin and pale, his lips tight—climbed onto the windowsill. Chains bound his wrists and ankles.
“Maev, lift him in your claws!” Tanin shouted. “He can’t shift with chains.”
Maev grunted. “Oh, I’m not carrying him. He’ll fly.” As Tanin blew more fire, holding off a new swarm, Maev grabbed his chains between her claws. She grunted as she snapped the bronze links—first around the prince’s ankles, then his wrists, and finally the chains that wrapped around his torso.
“I’ve never flown before!” the prince shouted, standing on the windowsill. “I’ve only shifted in my room.”
Maev grunted. “Now’s your time to learn!” She flicked her tail, knocking him down from the window.
“Maev, damn it!” Tanin shouted.
Issari screamed.
As the prince tumbled down, Tanin made to dive, to try to catch the boy, already knowing he had no time. All he could do was watch.
An instant before Sena could hit the courtyard, the prince shifted.
A blue dragon rose, wreathed in smoke, blowing flame.
The demons, perhaps in awe of a third dragon joining the fight, screamed and cowered. Tanin found himself grinning, found tears in his eyes. It was true. All the stories had been true. There were other Vir Requis. There was hope.
Requiem lives.
The dragons soared. They blew their fire together. The three flaming jets crashed into the army of demons, scattering them, and the creatures fled. The dragons of Requiem flew into the night, ringed in fire.
ISSARI
AS SHE RODE UPON THE dragon, holding the amulet before her, Issari felt something new, something that dampened her eyes and lit her heart. For the first time, she felt pride. She felt power. She knew then that dragons were not weak, cursed creatures for some to hunt, for others to pity and save. She knew that Vir Requis, the children of Requiem, were mighty and strong.
I am proud to fight with you.
As they flew across the city, casting back the demons with fire and holy light, sadness too dwelled inside her, for she knew that she would never see her brother again.
You will fly north with them, Sena, she thought. You will be proud and free.
She looked at him—a blue dragon, the beast that had shifted in their chamber in secret, that now flew and blew fire and roared. Issari had often pitied him, thinking his magic a handicap, but now she envied him. Now she wished she too could shift, could fly, could fight with fang and fire.
She looked down at the city—a city of evil, of fear. And she knew that her task was different than his. Her burden, heiress of a kingdom, was to rule.
Ahead she saw it—the coast of Eteer and the black sea. It would take him home. It would leave her here, empty, missing him, a single light in a dark city.
“Fly north with us!” Tanin said between blasts of fire. The red dragon looked over his shoulder at her, his tongue lolling, his face scratched but his eyes bright. “Join us in Requiem.”
Riding on his back, Issari lowered her head. She looked down at her city, and she saw it there, rising from smoke and shadow—the palace. Her father was in the north now, enlisting his allies, hunting Laira. This was Issari’s kingdom to rule, to inherit, to save from damnation.
“I cannot,” Issari said. “Place me down upon my palace, my friend, I—“
Fire blazed ahead.
Issari stared, gasped, and her heart seemed to stop.
The demons across the sky shrieked and fled like birds from a running dog.
Below in the palace courtyard—the place where Raem had beheaded so many Vir Requis—the ground shattered. Cobblestones flew. A rent tore open, and a creature burst from underground, wreathed in fire, beating bat wings. The figure soared, leaving a trail of smoke and cinder. Her body was carved of stone, curved and cracked, seeping flames and smoke. Fire girded her loins, and her fangs shone. Her eyes blazed like cauldrons of molten metal, and a ring of fire haloed around her head. She stretched out her arms as she rose, a pillar of sulfur and heat and light, laughing, shrieking, painting the city with red light.
“Angel,” Issari whispered. “Queen of the Abyss.”
The three dragons halted, reared, and clawed the sky. Their wings beat, scattering smoke and fire. Sparks flew off Angel, showering the city, igniting trees and gardens. The Demon Queen wasn’t much larger than Issari—small compared to the bulky dragons—yet she did not cower. She let out a shriek like shattering glass, so loud that Issari covered her ears, and the dragons shook as the sound waves blasted them. The demon laughed, and rings of fire blazed into life around her, unholy halos that spun around her body, sending out heat and light. Smoke pounded and her wings beat, the wind tearing down trees, scattering stones, and sending the dragons into a spin. At that moment, Angel seemed larger than any dragon.
“Greetings, reptiles!” she cried. “Greetings, stinking, cursed creatures of disease.” As she laughed, the cracks on her body of stone widened, seeping lava like blood. “Do you see this kingdom? Do you see this hive the humans call Eteer? Look upon it! Here is your graveyard. Come to die.”
Sena winced; the blue dragon turned away from the flames. Tanin growled, but the red dragon dared not approach, and sparks sizzled against his scales. Sitting upon Tanin, Issari raised her amulet, but the chain caught fire, and she cried out and tore it off her neck. The amulet seared her palm when she held it, and she could barely see through the pain.
Maev—her green scales chipped, her face bloodied, her wings tattered—seemed the only one undaunted. She reared, roared, and shot forward.
“Enough talk!” Maev roared. “Taste some fire.”
With that, she blasted out her flames.
White-hot, the blaze crashed through the rings of smoke and flame, slamming into Angel.
Engulfed in the inferno, the Demon Queen laughed. She tossed back her head and stretched out her arms, basking in the fire.
“I am a creature from the molten rock inside the womb of the ear
th!” she shrieked, her voice rising like typhoons from the blaze. “Your dragonfire cannot harm me. Now you will taste true heat.”
The Demon Queen swung her arm. A fireball flew from her grasp and tumbled forward, leaving a wake of light. The projectile slammed into Maev.
The green dragon let out a cry like a wounded animal. The flaming ball shoved her back in the sky. Scales cracked. Blood spilled and the smell of burnt flesh rose. Maev fell from the sky, wings beating uselessly, and crashed into the palace below. The rooftop gardens ignited and smoke hid Maev, curling upward in a cloud.
“Maev!” Tanin cried. The red dragon looked down toward his sister, then back up at Angel, seemingly torn between flying to Maev and battling his enemy.
Sena seemed to reach a decision more quickly. The blue dragon let out a roar—a sound that shook the city below.
“For long days, I languished in a cell,” Sena cried out. “I watched as you and your kind destroyed my city, my kingdom, my home. My father is away, and I am Prince of Eteer, and I banish you back into the Abyss. Leave this place!”
Angel only laughed and tossed another ball of fire. Sena beat his wings, rising above the flaming missile, and blasted his own flame. The jet crashed into Angel and Sena swooped. The blue dragon slammed into the demon, biting and clawing. Smoke and flame enveloped the two.
“Sena!” Issari cried from Tanin’s back.
Through strands of smoke, Issari glimpsed the demon spinning, clawing, ripping off scales. Sena’s cry rose, torn in pain. Blood rained. The blue dragon and the Demon Queen fought within a sphere of light and heat.
Tanin was flying toward the melee, but it was too late. Sena fell from the inferno, scales cracked, and slammed into a house below. The roof collapsed under him, and the dragon-prince vanished into a pile of rubble and dust. Only his tail rose from the debris, flicking weakly.
Smoke rose from Issari’s hand as the amulet seared her. The pain drove up her arm and along her ribs, and the tip of her braid crackled with fire. Clutching the dragon tightly between her thighs, she raised her chin, and she held her amulet high.
“Hear me, Angel!”
The demon looked toward her, eyes white-hot, searing, blinding Issari. All the princess could see was the white light, two unholy suns.
She shouted louder, “Angel, hear me! I am Issari Seran, Princess of Eteer, a priestess of Taal, heiress to the throne. My father flies across the sea. My brother is fallen, maybe dead. I rule Eteer now. You will stand back! You will let us pass!”
She gripped Tanin’s horn, and she rose to her feet upon the dragon’s nape. She raised the amulet as high as she could, and it blazed to life, humming in her hand. The fire spun all around. Rings of flame burst out, thudding into her dragon, and wind whipped Issari. Burn marks spread across her tunic, and her skin reddened. Yet still she shouted.
“Stand back, Queen of the Abyss! I am Issari Seran, and you are bound to my house. In the name of Taal, god of purity, I banish you. Stand back or my light will burn you!”
The Demon Queen screamed. An inferno of fire and wind, greater than typhoons, burst out from her. The shock waves slammed into Issari, knocking her down. She clung to Tanin’s horn, her legs swinging over open air. The dragon rolled in the sky, wings beating, trying to steady himself. The world spun around Issari—a flaming sky, collapsing buildings, and everywhere that horrible light of the underworld, those two white eyes, those great bat wings.
“You will be my whore!” shrieked Angel, lava spraying from her mouth. “I will take you into the Abyss, Princess of Eteer, and I will break you, and I will feast upon your living flesh, and my demons will thrust into you, and you will feed us. Your blood, your pain, your sex, your flesh; they will be ours to feast upon, and you will scream forever in the depths.” Angel beat her veined wings, rising from the holocaust, and came flying toward her. Her claws stretched out, and her teeth gleamed white in her red, fiery smile. “You will scream for mercy. You will scream for thousands of years. And I will answer you with more pain—your soul, your sanity, your secrets—all will be mine to shatter.”
Overcome by the fiery winds, Tanin howled and began to fly backward, fanning back the smoke.
“Fly to her, Tanin,” Issari said softly, straddling his neck. She patted his cracked, hot scales. “Fly to her and be brave.”
“We must flee, princess!” he said, panting. Blood filled his mouth.
Issari shook her head. “I will not flee from her. Fly, my friend. For Eteer and for Requiem.”
As Angel laughed, spitting out flame, Tanin roared—a roar so great it tore across even that demonic laughter. Cobblestones below shattered. Palm trees cracked and fell. And Tanin, red dragon of Requiem, drove forward into the blaze.
Angel hovered before them, wings churning the smoke.
Issari rose to her feet upon the dragon’s head, clinging to his horn, and leaped forward.
She sailed through the air, legs kicking, and slammed into Angel.
It felt like falling into the sun.
Issari screamed.
The heat and light engulfed her. Wings wrapped around her, and claws slashed her, and those eyes peered into her, those white forges tearing through her veins. She closed her eyes, but still that light blazed.
She felt herself fading.
No. No, Issari. A voice spoke within her—perhaps the voice of her lost mother, perhaps of her soul. You will not die here tonight. For Laira. For our home.
Issari screamed and opened her eyes.
She dug her fingers into a crack on Angel’s body. Clinging on, she drove her amulet forward. The metal slammed into Angel’s face, shattering stone, and light flared out in a dozen beams.
Angel screamed again, and this time it was no scream of rage. This time she was hurt.
Stone cracked and melted. The light of Taal flared, washing over the world, and silence fell. Issari heard only the ringing in her ears.
She plummeted.
She smiled as she glided between sky and earth.
Above her Angel writhed, clawing at her face, and shards of stone fell from her. The demon let out a shriek so mighty that buildings shook. In the distance, Aerhein Tower cracked and fell with a shower of dust and bricks. Above, caught in the winds, Tanin beat his wings, spinning.
Issari’s back slammed down against a palm tree.
She crashed through the fronds, fell through hanging vines, and thumped down onto a patch of grass.
She lay in the rooftop gardens of her palace, she realized. Plants burned around her. Smoke unfurled and flames spread, drawing closer. When she looked aside, she saw Maev lying beside her. The Vir Requis was in human form again, her hair singed; she coughed and rose to her knees.
“I’m alive,” Issari whispered, lying in the grass, the ringing still filling her ears. When she looked at her hand, she found the amulet fused with her flesh, embedded into her palm like a jewel into a crown. “Taal saved me.”
Wings beat above. A red dragon and a blue one—Tanin and Sena—landed in the gardens.
“We must leave,” Tanin said, panting. “Now. Angel retreated but she still lives. She will summon a new horde of demons.” He lowered his wing by Issari like a ramp. “Climb onto my back.”
Issari rose to her feet, shaky. Past the flaming gardens, she caught glimpses of her city—pain and terror still filled it. She could not abandon this place.
She shook her head. “I stay. You are children of Requiem. Go north, find safety, and build yourself a home. But I don’t share your magic. My battle is here. My home is in Eteer.”
The blue dragon shifted back into human form. Sena approached her, hair singed and face sooty. He held her hands.
“Are you sure, sister?” the prince whispered. Tears filled his eyes. “You can come with us. Please come with us.”
Tears streamed down Issari’s face. “I don’t know where Father flies upon his demon; perhaps he has found Requiem, and you will meet him in the north, and perhaps he heads back home, and
I will face him in the ruins of Eteer. But I know this: Here is my battlefield, and here is the kingdom I must fight for.” She embraced her brother. “If you find Laira . . . if you find our sister . . . tell her that I love her. Tell her that I will fight for her.”
Scales clanked as Maev shifted and took flight. “Come on, let’s fly out of this place!” She growled. “Demons are gathering. Boys, shift and fly for pity’s sake! No time for goodbyes.”
Sena gave Issari a last look—a look that said everything, that spoke of his love for her, of their loss, of their fear. He kissed her cheek, stepped back, and rose as a dragon.
Coughing in the smoke, Issari made her way to the roof’s trapdoor, entered the palace, and walked down corridors and staircases. She stepped onto her old balcony, the same place where the demons had eaten the crone, the same place she would always stand and gaze toward the sea and think of her missing mother and sister. She stood gazing at that sea now, hand raised.
In the darkness, almost invisible in the night, three dragons flew across the water.
“Goodbye, Tanin and Maev,” Issari whispered. “Goodbye, my brother. I love you.”
The light blazed out from her hand, a beacon of farewell.
LAIRA
WARMTH.
SAFETY.
LOVE.
FOR SEVERAL days now, these strangers—these foreign feelings, these new spirits—surrounded her. And for several days now, Laira had been scared.
Life in the escarpment felt like a dream, like a strand of gossamer trembling in the wind, ephemeral, vanishing when the light caught it wrong. She spent nights in a cave by a fire, not a muddy pen of dogs. She ate real food—stews of wild game and mushrooms, bowls of berries, apples, wild grains—and not once did she root in the mud for bones or peels. No one beat her here. No one scolded her. Jeid and Eranor told her tales by the fire, wrapped warm blankets around her at night, and tended to her wounds. They treated her not as a creature, but as a friend.
FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy Page 140
