Dragons Reborn (4 page)

"Domi," he
said. "I need to find Domi first."

It was unlike the girl
to leave his chamber, not so early in the morning, at least. What time was it,
anyway? Gemini frowned at the window. Judging by the position of the sun, it
was . . . three in the afternoon, perhaps four. He groaned.

He opened his door,
prepared to march outside and scour the Temple, only to knock into Mercy.

"Donkey bollocks!"
he shouted. "Bloody Abyss, sister, what are you doing lurking outside my
door?" He moaned. "Your armor is damn hard, and I think I bruised my
elbow."

She stood before him, a
statue of steel. "I've come to wake up your arse." She snorted. "You
have no idea what's going on, do you?"

Gemini blinked,
struggling to bring Mercy into focus. Spirit damn it, he needed more wine. "I
know exactly what's going on. You're being a damn pest who needs to get out of
my way. I'm looking for something very important. So move!"

Mercy sighed, refusing
to budge. "If you're referring to your little redheaded strumpet, you won't
find her."

Gemini was trying to
shove past Mercy but froze, stepped back, and stared at her. Rage flared inside
him. "What did you do to Domi?"

She laughed. "Does
the whore have a name now?"

He swung his arm,
prepared to backhand her. Mercy caught his wrist, blocking the blow, and
twisted it painfully.

"Where is she?"
Gemini hissed, baring his teeth. "Tell me, sister. Tell me, or I swear I'll
bring every firedrake in this city down upon you, and their fire will roast you
alive. Your precious armor will melt across your flesh as you scream." He
shook his arm free and balled his hands into fists. "Where. Is. Domi?"

Mercy sighed. "You
poor, piss-drunk fool." She turned to leave, then looked back over her
shoulder. "Just make sure you're awake and sober tomorrow, will you? We'll
be executing the weredragon at noon. You'll probably want to see it."

With that, she turned
and marched away down the hallway.

Gemini stood in his
doorway, shock pounding through him. His belly twisted. His fingers trembled.
He could barely breathe.

"They know,"
he whispered. "Oh, Spirit, they know about Domi."

His eyes stung with
tears. How could they have found out? How could Mercy and the others have
discovered Domi's curse? Tears streamed down his cheeks.

You vowed to keep it
secret, Domi! You promised me. You promised you'd hide your magic.

Gemini's knees were
trembling now. How could anyone know? Only he had known her secret! Only he had
seen Pyre, the great firedrake, shift into a woman named Domi, a woman who had
become his servant, his lover. Only he—and Domi herself—had ever known.

Mercy's words echoed in
his mind:
We'll be executing the weredragon at noon.

Bile rose in Gemini's
throat.

"No," he
whispered. "No." His voice rose to a howl. "No!"

He began to run down
the hall, his robe swaying around him.

I'm going to find
you, Domi. And I'm going to save you.

He kept racing through
the hall, seeking her. His robe flapped around him, and he wished he had taken
the time to don his armor.

"Stop!" he
cried to a guard. The man was marching down the jeweled hall, clad in chain
mail. Normally only paladins—noble warriors in white steel plates—were
allowed within these halls, not the scummy cannon fodder of the lower classes.

"My lord!" The
man knelt.

Gemini grabbed his
shoulders. "What are you doing here? Since when are common guards allowed
into the palace?"

Sweat beaded on the man's
brow. "My lord, since the weredragon was captured. The High Priestess
commanded us to patrol these halls."

Gemini's heart wrenched
to think of such brutish, foul guards grabbing his beloved. "Where is she?"
he shouted, shaking the man.

"She? My . . . my
lord?"

"The weredragon!"
Gemini shoved the guard backward.

"In . . . in the
dungeon, my lord. I—"

"Give me your
sword."

The guard hesitated,
then gulped and handed over the weapon. It was a crude sword, the hilt wrapped
in leather, and not a single jewel shone upon it. The blade was a coarse hunk
of steel, not engraved or filigreed. It disgusted Gemini, but it would have to
do for now, at least until he had time to return to his chambers and grab a
proper sword. He marched on, leaving the guard behind.

Gemini had not been to
the dungeon in years, not since he'd been a child. His mother used to take him
there, force him to stare at the broken, tortured prisoners, force him to hear
the screams, to watch the bones shatter, the whips tear into the flesh, the
rats feast.

"If you misbehave,
Gemini, I'm going to place you in one of these cells," Beatrix would say. "Be
a good boy, or you'll scream here among them."

Young Gemini would
weep, have nightmares of this place, wake up in terror, unable to move,
thinking himself down in the cell, hammers breaking his bones, rats crawling
over him. In panic, he would hide the sheets he wet during his nightmares, sure
that wetting the bed would doom him to this fate. When he grew older, Beatrix
had stopped taking him to the dungeon, but Gemini had never forgotten that
place, never forgotten the way there.

Now a grown
warrior, he made his way down the staircase . . . and into the underground.

"Please!" the
prisoner screamed in his memory. "Please, no, not the pain!"

Gemini winced and froze
halfway down a dark staircase. His breath quickened and his heart pounded
against his ribs. Cold sweat trickled down his back. He forced himself to take
a deep, ragged breath.

Domi is down there.
She needs me.

He took another step
down. Then another.

It seemed like he
descended forever, plunging miles underground, until he reached the Temple's
dungeon. The hallway loomed before him, lined with cells. The screams rose. The
smell of blood filled his nostrils. The nightmare of his childhood stretched
ahead.

Gemini ground his
teeth, trembling. His eyes stung. The cold sweat no longer trickled; it now
drenched him. Again he saw all those old prisoners, tortured, dying. Did some
of the same wretched souls still hang here in their chains, still screaming
after all these years?

We'll be executing
the weredragon at noon.

Gemini raised his chin,
clenched his fists, and stepped into the dungeon.

Several guards
patrolled the hall, holding maces. They spun toward Gemini, narrowed their
eyes, and raised their clubs.

"Get out of here!"
Gemini shouted. "Leave this place." He tightened his housecoat around
him. "Don't you recognize a paladin without his armor?"

The guards' eyes
widened, and they knelt. "My lord Gemini!" one cried out.

Gemini marched forward
and grabbed a heavy ring of keys from a guard.

"Now leave!"
Gemini screamed, hating that his voice cracked. "I'm here to inspect the
weredragon, and I won't have common scum in my way. You stink more than the
prisoners."

The guards rushed out
of the dungeon, faces pale. Once they were gone, Gemini squared his shoulders,
took a shuddering breath, and began walking down the corridor.

The cells
stretched along the corridor, full of the rotting, languishing vestiges of men,
women, and children. The screams danced around Gemini, a chorus of nightmares.
Gemini wanted to close his eyes, to flee, anything but see these terrors again,
the terrors that still haunted his nightmares. But he had to find her. To find
Domi. The only woman he had loved since . . . since that horrible day when . .
.

He pushed the
thought aside. That was a memory he would not conjure here.

I will save you,
Domi.

And so he walked,
and he looked.

He stared into
every cell—at the broken, mocking remains of humans, only half-alive. At the
mad eyes. The tears. The blood. The broken bodies. The terror Gemini had seen
as a child, that made fresh tears spring to his eyes.

The Spirit
never wanted this,
he thought.
The Cured Temple is about gold, light,
splendor, not this.

He dug his
fingernails into his palms. His thoughts were heresy, he knew. If the Spirit
heard him thinking this, the god would doom him to an afterlife in the Abyss, a
place even worse than this dungeon. He would not contemplate his faith now. He
would focus on finding Domi, on saving a pure light trapped in shadow.

He kept walking
and finally, in a cell coated with blood and cobwebs, he saw her.

His heart
shattered in his chest.

Domi lay curled up
on the rough stone floor, her legs and wrists bound in chains. Her red hair
spilled across her face, and bruises and cuts covered her white limbs. She wore
nothing but tattered burlap, and welts rose across her.

The guards had beaten
her.

Gemini's fists
trembled with rage, and the keys jangled in his grasp. He would kill them! He
would kill them all—the guards, his sister, his mother, the whole damn Temple!
Hot tears burned in his eyes, and a lump filled his throat.

But not before
I save you, Domi.

With shaking
fingers, he began to test key after key in the lock. He had to hurry, he knew.
If his sister found out . . .

Finally one key
fit. He tugged the barred door open and entered the cell.

"Domi!"

He rushed forward
and knelt above her. She lay on the ground, moaning. Her eyes fluttered open—those
huge, green eyes that he had first seen on Pyre, that pierced his heart, that
melted his heart, that were forever his beacon. Her cheek was bruised, and she
whispered his name.

"I'm going to
get you out of here," he said, tasting his own tears. He began testing
keys in her chains' padlock.

She stared up at
him, and she whispered, "Gemini . . . she hurt me, Gemini. Your sister."

Such rage and pain
filled Gemini that he could barely hold the keys. He forced himself to breathe
deeply.

Mercy will pay
for this,
he swore.
She will scream in pain.

Finally a key fit and the padlock opened. Domi's chains fell to the floor.

"Oh, Domi."
He gathered her into his arms. "I'm so sorry, Domi. I'm getting you out of
here. We're going to leave the Temple. We'll find a new place to live, a safe
place, you and me." He touched her bruised cheek. "I should never
have brought you here. We'll find a new home, you and me, I promise. Can you
walk? We must hurry."

She nodded.

Gemini's knees
shook as he held her hand, as he led her out of the cell. He didn't know where
to go. Mercy would hunt them, he knew. The armies of the Cured Temple would
scour the world, seeking Domi, a weredragon.

"We'll take
the firedrakes," he whispered, walking down the hallway. "We'll build
our own army! We'll . . . Domi?"

She had stopped
walking, feet planted firmly on the floor. He turned toward her, and he saw her
staring into another cell. Inside lay a young man with brown hair, chains
binding him.

"Domi?"
Gemini whispered. "Who is—"

She turned toward
him, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Gemini," she whispered . . . and
drove her fist forward.

Pain and white
light exploded across Gemini's face.

His keys clattered
to the floor.

An instant later,
Gemini followed the keys, banging his head, and all went dark around him.

 
 
FIDELITY

They walked down the cobbled road,
heading toward the city of Nova Vita—a father, a son, and a woman with terror
in her heart.

"I swore I would
never set foot in a village again," Roen said, eyes dark. "Now we
walk toward the greatest city in the world."

Fidelity looked at him.
Here on a paved road, no trees around him, the tall, bearded woodsman seemed
out of place. His dark eyes glanced around, nervous as a bear stepping into the
territory of lions, and his hands were tight around his staff. He wore pelts of
fur, not the burlap tunics most city folk wore, and the forest still covered
him—soil under his fingernails, fallen leaves in his dark hair, sap on his
clothes. He looked and smelled of the woods he had spent his life hiding in,
and now she would take him into the streets of the Cured Temple where no flower
or blade of grass grew.

"It'll be all
right, sonny." Julian reached out to pat Roen's arm. "We're here with
you. We'll save that boy and be back in the forest by dinnertime."

Fidelity turned to look
at Julian next, and she felt some warmth, some comfort, fill her breast. The
old man had always been a comfort in her life. She had never seen Julian mad or
nervous, and even now, walking toward the capital and the armies of the Cured
Temple, Julian seemed calm as if strolling through a meadow. Beads were strewn
through his long white beard and hair, and the lines of many years of laughter
crawled across his face. While his son was tall, Julian was short and stocky, and
his fingers reminded Fidelity of tangled oak roots. He too wore fur pelts, and
large muddy boots held his feet.

"And don't you
worry, lassie." He turned to look at Fidelity. He patted her hand. "The
boy will be all right. We won't let him come to harm."

Fidelity looked back
toward the city ahead. Her belly clenched, and her eyes stung.

You're there
somewhere, Cade,
she thought.
Imprisoned. Hurting. Waiting for death.
You need me.

Along with the fear,
guilt flooded Fidelity's belly. Tears filled her eyes.

"I feel so guilty,"
she whispered. "I let him enter the paper mill alone, even though we knew
Mercy might be inside. And then I just . . . just stood there. Just stood there
like a coward as Mercy carried him away."

Roen placed an arm
around her and pulled her close to him, silent and warm. Julian, meanwhile, kept
patting her hand, and his eyes were soft.