Dragons Reborn (9 page)

As
Roen bandaged a wound on Domi's leg, the memory would not leave him: Julian
charging into the fire, falling as a burning man, and the firedrakes tearing
him apart. Roen's fingers trembled. He hurriedly finished his work, binding the
gash on Domi's leg, then turned away.

"You'll
find food and drink on the shelves." His throat still felt so damn tight. "Eat.
Rest."

With
that Roen climbed out of the trunk. It was too crowded in there, yet too empty
without his father. He could not bear it. He climbed down into the forest,
walked across the fallen leaves, and stood facing the dark maples and birches.
Finally he let his tears flow down his cheeks.

"This
wasn't a war I wanted," he whispered into the shadows. "Oh, Father, I
didn't want this fight. And now you're gone forever."

Footfalls
sounded behind him, and Fidelity's soft voice rose in the darkness. "He
gave his life for us. So Requiem can live. So—"

He spun
around toward her, and now rage blazed inside him. "I don't care about
Requiem!" He clenched his fists. "I did this for you, Fidelity! For
you! Because you needed our help. I never cared about Requiem, and now . . ."

His
hands loosened, and he fell to his knees before her. Fidelity knelt and
embraced him.

"You're
right," she whispered, holding him close. "I have no words of
comfort. I cannot heal this pain. Just know that I'm sorry, that I'm here for
you, that I love you."

He
held her close, almost crushing her in his arms.

"I
love you too," he whispered.

And
as he held her, all his anger melted away, and he knew that he'd always fight
for Fidelity, that he'd fly through fire and blood, that he'd give his own life
for her. She fought for Requiem, and he would always fight for her. She was as
precious to him as lost kingdoms, as dreams of rising again, as the stars and
all they shone upon.

He
looked up toward those stars, seeking the Draco constellation, but he saw fire.

"Firedrakes."
He grabbed the axe that still lay on the forest floor. "A lot of them."

Fidelity
grimaced and stepped back from him, staring up at the sky. Roen's heart sank.
Several of the firedrakes swooped above, shrieking. Their claws shone in the
firelight that escaped their maws. Above their cries rose a familiar voice—the
voice of Mercy Deus.

"They're
here somewhere! Burn down the forest! Burn down every tree!"

With
blazing heat and shrieking wind, dragonfire roared down toward the forest,
crashing through the trees like comets. One stream slammed down only a dozen
feet away, engulfing an aspen. Red light flooded the forest.

Roen
grabbed Fidelity and pulled her back. They raced toward Old Hollow.

"Bloody
griffin bollocks!" Cade blurted out. The boy jumped down from the tree's
branches.

Domi
followed him, her red hair covering her face, and hissed like a wild beast. "That's
Mercy above."

Cade
grabbed her arm and began to run, dragging Domi along. "You don't say. Now
run!"

They
had taken only several steps before fire rained down, slamming into Old Hollow.

Flames
cascaded over the ancient oak. Its canopy blazed. Its trunk creaked, the fire
cloaking it. For two thousand years, this oak had stood here, a sentinel of the
forest. Roen stood before it, the heat blasting him and stinging his eyes,
watching this ancient tree, the only home he'd ever known, consumed with flame.

Fidelity
grabbed his arm and tugged him. "Run!" she screamed.

The
four Vir Requis ran together, keeping to their human forms. Another blazing jet
slammed down before them, and another tree burst into flame. They swerved,
dodging the inferno, and ran between maples, leaping over roots and fallen
logs. Light bathed the forest.

"I
see one!" cried a voice above. "Burn them!"

Roen
cursed as fire crashed down before him, splashing up against his chest. His fur
cloak ignited, and he tossed it off. He kept running, holding Fidelity's hand.

"Split
up!" he shouted to Cade and Domi.

A
burning tree slammed down before him. Roen and Fidelity paused, spun around,
and raced around it. Cade and Domi leaped between the trees a dozen yards away.
A firedrake swooped, grabbed a tree in its claws, and uprooted it. The roots
rained soil, and the firedrake's rider fired an arrow. Roen ducked and the
missile shot over his head.

"Cade,
meet me at the tavern where we danced!" Fidelity shouted. "We have to
split up!"

The
boy nodded. As another flaming jet slammed down, Cade and Domi raced away, vanishing
into the forest.

Roen
turned and, holding Fidelity's hand, ran in the opposite direction. The
firedrakes kept streaming above, roaring and blowing down their flames. Another
one of the beasts swooped, and its claws tore up a birch. Roen and Fidelity
swerved and raced down a hill between burning trees.

"We
have to fly," Roen said.

Fidelity
shook her head, braid swaying. "They'd see us in the sky. Keep running!"

They
reached a stream and splashed through the shallow water. Trees blazed alongside,
and the beasts kept flying above. As Roen ran, he slipped on a mossy rock
hidden underwater, pitched forward, and banged his elbows. They bled. Fidelity
pulled him up, and they ran onward.

She
pointed. "There!"

A
copse of maples rose along a hillside ahead, not yet aflame. Shadows still
lurked between them. Roen and Fidelity ran out of the water and up the slope,
moving between the trees. When Roen glanced up, he couldn't see the stars; red
smoke hid the sky. The firedrakes kept streaming back and forth. They must have
lost track of their quarry.

"We
need more distance between us and them," Roen said, then coughed madly. It
was a moment before he could speak again. "Once we're far enough, we'll
rise and fly."

He
coughed again and almost fell, but he forced himself to keep running. Fire
seemed to fill his lungs. He had breathed too much smoke; it felt as if embers
blazed inside his chest.

I have to keep going. For the living. For Fidelity.

He kept running, holding Fidelity's hand. She too was coughing, and ash
covered her face. One of her spectacles' lenses had smashed in the flight, and
burn marks rose along her arms.

Along
with the pain, rage filled Roen. Rage for the firedrakes who had killed his
father, who had destroyed his home. Rage for them hurting Fidelity.

These
monsters are who Fidelity has been fighting all these years,
he thought as
he ran.
I didn't want this war, but now . . . now I will burn them all.

They
kept running, leaping over logs and rocks, as the forest burned. Cade and Domi
had vanished into the distance. The firedrakes kept blazing overhead, sending
down death. Roen and Fidelity ran on, two souls alone in the inferno.

 
 
CADE

They flew between
the smoke and stars, two dragons, one gold and one all the colors of fire.

"The
damn paladins did us a favor," Cade muttered as they glided. "The
smoke hides us."

That
smoke blanketed the forest canopy below, crimson and white and black. The two
dragons flew so high the air thinned out, and Cade could barely breathe. As he
gazed down at the flaming forest, his eyes stung, and it wasn't only from the
smoke.

Cade
had never known such turmoil, such pain, such fear. The entire world seemed to
burn, not just the forest below but all his life.

My
home was destroyed. My parents were murdered. My sister is still captive. I'm a
refugee, escaped from prison, and the Temple is burning the world to find me.

Cade
did not know how to process such destruction, such a collapse of his life. He
was only a baker! The only problem he had ever faced was a collapsing loaf of
bread, not a collapsing world. He was used to fire crackling inside his oven,
not spreading across sky and forest.

So
many dead or missing.
His eyes burned.
My sister. My parents. Korvin.
Amity. Fidelity and Roen.

His
breath shuddered, and his chest felt so tight it almost crushed his lungs. He
turned his head and looked at Domi, seeking some comfort.

She
looked back at him, her eyes large and green. The firelight from below gleamed
against her scales. She seemed like a flame herself, airborne, living fire. As
he had so many times since his home had burned—in the darkness, in chains, in
desolation—he thought about the time she had embraced him, whispered "Requiem"
in his ear. Domi had first borne Mercy into his life, had tossed that life into
a maelstrom, yet now, looking at Domi, Cade felt his anxiety fade. Domi had
sparked this flame, yet now she soothed him. Now he saw goodness to her, the
light of a fallen kingdom in her eyes. The Draco constellation shone above her,
and as they flew, it seemed to Cade that the two dragons—the living Domi and
the celestial dragon woven of starlight—were but echoes of each other. She was
starlight woven into flame. She was Requiem risen in the darkness.

When
Cade looked behind him, he saw the firedrakes in the distance, still dipping
down to burn more trees. Ahead stretched the southern darkness. The two dragons
kept flying until the smoke cleared below, until they left the fire behind.
They glided down to fly lower in the sky, then finally landed in a field of
grass.

Here
they shifted into human forms. The fire was only an orange glow on the northern
horizon, and the song of crickets and rustling grass filled the night.

"Domi,"
Cade said, turning to look at her. She stood before him, the grass rising to
her knees. "Oh, Domi, I don't know how this all happened. But thank you.
Thank you."

She
only stared at him silently, then bit her lip and looked down at her feet. "Don't
thank me. I served the Temple. I served our enemy."

He
took her hands in his. "And you fought against them. You saved me from the
dungeon."

A
tear streamed down Domi's cheek. "But I couldn't save your baby sister;
Eliana is still a captive in the Temple. I couldn't stop Mercy from burning
your village, killing your parents."

Cade
felt a lump in his throat. He wanted to tell Domi what he had learned in the
Temple, that Beatrix was his mother, that Mercy was his true sister. He wanted
to tell her about Korvin falling, Amity burning. He wanted to tell her about
all the pain of the past few months, but he could bring none of it to his lips.
So he just stared into those large green eyes, and then he embraced her.

She laid her head against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him.
They stood for a long time together in the night, holding each other, and she
was warm and slender and eased his fear.

"Requiem,"
he whispered into her ear.

She
nodded. "Requiem."

The
world was burning, all its pillars crashing to the ground, but he had Domi
again. They lay down to sleep in the grass, and she curled up against him. Cade
held her close, never wanting to let go, and slept with her soft breath against
his neck.

 
 
GEMINI

He pounded
against the prison cell bars.

"Let
me out, damn it! Domi! Mercy! Guards!" His chains rattled as he slammed
against the bars again and again. "I am Gemini Deus, paladin of the
Commonwealth! I demand that you release me!"

Nobody
but the other prisoners answered, cackling, screaming, whispering, mocking, the
voices of broken souls, their bodies and minds shattered. He could see no guards,
no priests. Gemini slumped to the floor, chains rattling.

"Domi
. . .," he whispered, tears in his eyes. "Why?"

He
couldn't help it. The damn tears flowed down his cheeks. How had it come to
this? He loved her! He protected her! He had freed her from this dungeon!

He
balled his hands into fists. They trembled.

"The
whore." He growled and rose to his feet. The chains around his ankles
rattled. "You damn whore! I'm going to find you, Domi, and I'm going to
gouge out your eyes, and rip out your entrails, and feed your head to the pigs!"

He
fell back to his knees, weeping now. Blood dripped from his hands where his
fingernails had cut his palms.

"Why?"
he whispered. "Why, Domi? I love you. I love you."

He
didn't understand. Why had Domi done this to him? Why had she punched him,
knocked him out, chained him, locked him here?

"It
wasn't me who imprisoned you here," he whispered. "It was Mercy. Only
Mercy."

He
stared between the bars. One cell was open, its prisoner released. The burnt corpses
of guards lay strewn across the corridor—guards burnt with dragonfire, Domi's
dragonfire. He had to think. He had to understand this.

She
must have blamed me for her imprisonment,
he thought.
She must think I
knew, that I approved it.

He
took a shuddering breath. He had to get out of here. He had to find Domi, to
explain that he had come to save her, that he hated his mother and sister. Domi
had to understand that he loved her, that he'd always loved her, that he wasn't
her enemy.

"Guards!"
he shouted, banging against the bars again. "Guards, damn you!"

Nobody
answered. He slumped back to the floor, curled up, and imagined that he held
Domi in his arms.

He
wasn't sure how long it was before he fell asleep, and it was a tortured sleep,
something half between wakefulness and nightmares. In his dreams, he was making
love to Domi, their naked bodies entwined, only to find that she was a dragon,
that she was Pyre again, that in her lovemaking she dug her claws into him, bit
him with her fangs, tore the flesh off his bones, ripped him apart, not even
realizing she was a dragon, not even realizing that he screamed with pain and
not with pleasure. He woke up drenched in sweat, curled up in the corner of his
prison cell.