A Birthright of Blood (The Dragon War, Book 2) (10 page)

Rune yowled. Sparks flew.
Doog's scales were thick as steel plates. Rune's claws flared in
agony, not even denting the beast's scales.

He kept diving toward the canyon
floor, smoke rising across him. The men howled and shouted below.
Valien was shouting commands, but Rune couldn't make out the words.
Doog yowled above him, and when Rune glanced up, he saw fire crashing
down.

Stars
damn it!

Rune swooped toward the canyon
floor, then leveled off and skimmed across the cracks and stones.
When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw Doog crash down onto the
canyon floor, cracking the stone before rising again with a howl.

They raced through the canyon.
Rune flapped his wings with all his strength, streaming over the
canyon floor. The wind roared. The canyon walls blurred. Birds
fled overhead. Flames crackled behind him, and when Rune glanced
behind him, he saw the beast following. Doog flew at a totter. A
burly dragon, his belly slammed against boulders, his tail lashed at
canyon walls, and his claws tore the ground. Dust and rocks rained
around him, and he screeched from his wound of a mouth, spraying
fire.

Rune cursed, looked back ahead,
and flew faster. His lungs and wings blazed with pain. The
Castle-in-the-Cliff vanished behind.

He wanted to attack. He had
trained to fight dragons. Yet this felt more like fighting an
erupting volcano.

Rune snarled.

I
tore off the wing of Shari Cadigus herself. I fought an army of
legionaries and axehands. I can defeat this beast too.

The flames licked his tail.
Rune narrowed his eyes, lowered his flight to a mere foot above the
ground, and raced toward a towering boulder that rose from the canyon
floor like a lighthouse. Doog squealed behind him, flames showering
across the canyon and singeing Rune.

With a howl, Rune reached the
boulder, curved his flight, and spun around it. Flames crashed
against the stone. Rune came shooting back toward Doog and blew his
fire.

The jet blazed and roared. Doog
screeched. Flames crashed against him and Rune rose higher. He
overshot Doog and swiped his claws, driving them across the dragon's
back.

Sparks showered. Rune screamed.
One of his claws tore off and clattered down. His blood spilled.

Bloody
stars!
he thought. Did the dragon have scales of steel?

He kept racing along the canyon,
now moving back toward the Castle-in-the-Cliff. When he glanced
behind him, he saw Doog following. The flames had blackened his
scales, but the dragon was still howling and sputtering his fire and
drool.

Rune flew with all his might,
but he was too slow. Doog's claws wrapped around his tail. Rune
floundered, caught in the grip. He kicked, slamming his claws into
Doog's ruined race. The beast bellowed. His mouth, a mere hole with
one fang, opened inside his scar. He drove his head forward and bit.

Rune roared. The fang drove
into his leg, and blood spilled, and fear flooded Rune.

I
can't win this. I will die here.

He kicked and beat his wings
madly, unable to free himself. Doog pulled him down, and Rune
slammed against the canyon floor. Rock cracked beneath him. Claws
lashed him.

"Rune!" shouted a
distant voice; it seemed to be calling from another world. "Rune,
on your feet—burn him!"

He looked up, blinking, but saw
only flames. The heat blasted his back. His scales widened in the
heat and cracked. Pain drove through him like daggers, and the howls
of the beast tore through him. His blood splashed across the canyon
floor.

"Rune!" shouted the
distant voice. "Up, damn you! On your feet."

Valien.

It was Valien shouting in the
distance. In the cloud of pain, memories of his training returned to
him: long nights swinging swords, flying as dragons, blasting smoke,
and lashing claws tipped with wood.

Valien. Leader of the
Resistance. The wisest, strongest man Rune had known. The man who
raised the torch of Requiem, who gave Rune hope.

I
will not die today, Valien.

He snarled, shoved against the
canyon floor, and flipped onto his back.

Doog howled atop him, a demon of
scale and flame, twice his size and showering fire and blood and
smoke.

I
maimed Shari Cadigus. I toppled the walls of Castra Luna. I can
defeat him.

Doog's maw came lashing down,
his fang thirsty for more blood. Lying on his back, wings splayed
out, Rune blew his fire.

The jet shrieked, crashed
against Doog's face, and showered back down onto Rune. He closed his
eyes against the heat. The weight lifted above him. Rune leaped up,
beat his wings, and flew.

He raced back toward the
Castle-in-the-Cliff. Behind him, Doog howled and chased, claws
banging against the floor, tail chipping the canyon walls at their
sides. They raced through fire and dust and raining rocks.

I
can't cut him,
Rune
thought.
I
can't claw or bite him. I slammed my fire into his head, and still
he flies.

Rune gritted his teeth.

He's
too strong. He's too big. I cannot cut or burn him.

He roared, blood in his eyes.

I
will crush him.

He saw the castle facade ahead.
Cain and the others still stood outside the palace, watching and
howling and cheering. The Stone Guardians framed the castle gates, a
hundred feet tall.

Valien's
words echoed in his mind.
The
true warrior is not he who feels no fear, but he who conquers fear.

Rune
roared and flew toward the palace gates. His wings beat and raised
storms of dust. In mid-flight, he released his magic.

He returned to human form.

He tumbled through the air,
shouted, and landed at the feet of a statue.

He looked up. He saw Doog
flying toward him, belly skimming the canyon floor, claws reaching
out to tear him apart.

The statue creaked above.

Rune leaped back.

The burly, scarred dragon came
flying beneath the statue.

The statue's fist slammed down.

Stone drove against scales. The
fist crushed Doog's head like a war hammer crushing a tin helmet.
The dragon's skull caved in. Blood and gore gushed out. Doog's
single fang tore free and clattered against the canyon floor. He
gave a few last flaps of his wings, and his tail lashed… and he lay
still.

Rune panted, still in human
form, his clothes soaked with sweat and blood. Silence fell across
the canyon. The hundreds of soldiers watched, not daring to breathe.

The stone statue raised its
fist, straightened, and stared blankly ahead. Below, Doog's skull
leaked. With a fluttering of dust, the dragon returned to human
form. He lay dead, a burly man, his head caved in.

Rune stood, breath shaking, legs
bleeding, and clothes smoking. He stared down at the corpse. He
shook his head, clenched his fists, and looked up at Lord Cain with
burning eyes.

"He was only a halfwit,"
Rune said, voice hoarse. "He was only a poor, scarred man with
the mind of a child. And you made him fight." Rune spat. "I
slew him, Cain. I slew him for you." He stepped up toward the
lord, fists shaking, and hissed. "But know this—I will never
more shed blood for your sport. I fly to kill Frey Cadigus next, and
you will fight with me, or it will be your blood I shed once Frey's
throne is mine."

Lord Cain stared back, eyes
shrewd beneath his bushy brows. His lips twisted. His face was like
beaten leather bristly with red and white stubble. His fists
clenched too, veins rose in his neck, and Rune was sure the lord
would strike him.

Then Cain snorted out a great
laugh that ruffled his mustache.

"Aye, you scoundrel!"
the lord boomed, grabbed Rune, and pulled him into a crushing
embrace. He then shoved him back and punched Rune's shoulder.
"Your cheeks might be as smooth as a virgin's teats, but you've
got bollocks, boy."

He roared his laughter. It
echoed across the canyon. Rune only stared, fists still tight.
Sweat and blood dripped down his forehead, but he would not even
blink. He kept staring at the lord.

"Fight with me, Cain,"
he said.

Lord Cain was still roaring his
laughter, chest heaving. "Aye, I'll fight with you, lad. We
two… we will shed blood together." He raised his fist and
roared. "We will roast Frey's warty backside, and the south
will be mine! House Cain will rise!"

His soldiers repeated the cry,
raising fists and howling the name of their lord.

Rune stood still, blood
dripping. Valien approached him, eyes somber, and clutched his
shoulders.

"You did well, Rune,"
the older man said.

Rune did not turn to look at
him. He only stared down at the brute's corpse.

Killing
him was a mercy,
Rune told himself, and his eyes stung.
Cain
tortured him. Cain drove that axe into his face, then forced him to
beg for treats like a dog. It was a mercy.

And yet Rune's heart twisted,
and he couldn't swallow the lump in his throat.

Lady Lana approached him too.
Rune looked up at her, wondering how a woman so fair, her face pale
and noble, could have been born to a monster like Cain.

"Rune," she said
softly. "Stay with us tonight. Feast with us. We will tend to
your wounds, then eat and drink."

Rune looked over her shoulder at
Lord Cain; the man was roaring with laughter and pointing at the dead
Doog.

Kaelyn's words echoed in his
mind, soft and kind.

The
wise work with small devils to slay the big ones.

Rune
closed his eyes. She had spoken those words about Beras, and Rune
clung to them now, but they could not warm the ice in his belly.

"We're leaving this place,"
he said and opened his eyes. He looked at Valien. "We leave
now. Come, Valien. There's still an hour of daylight. We can cross
a few miles before night falls." His voice sounded too dry to
him, too pained. "We're going back."

Without waiting for a reply,
Rune shifted into a dragon, took flight, and soared. The canyon
walls blurred at his sides. When he reached the forest above, he
landed among the trees, shifted back into a man, and gritted his
teeth so hard they hurt. He walked through the forest, refusing to
look back.

 
 
SCRAGGLES

He walked through the forest,
hungry and thirsty and so weary he almost fell. His tongue lolled.
His belly twisted, feeling so shrunken it could touch his back. The
trees rose around him in the sunset, branches creaking and reaching
out like cruel men in armor. They frightened Scraggles, but he had
to keep moving. He had to find food. He had to find water. And
more than anything, he had to find his master.

He had been walking for a long
time now. Scraggles could barely remember the last time he lay upon
a blanket, ate a true meal, or felt warm and safe. Yesterday he had
caught a robin and eaten it, then retched it up later. He had not
eaten since. A few miles back he had drunk from a stream, but the
water had tasted foul, and his throat still blazed.

I
need food,
he thought.
I
need real food—roast meats and stewed vegetables and anything hot
and hearty.

He
thought back to the food at the Old Wheel. His master would feed him
from his table, and Scraggles would feast upon roast boar, fresh
bread, and cheese, and he would even drink of the tavern's ale.
There had been a warm fireplace too, a rope to gnaw, and a blanket by
the hearth Scraggles would rest on. There had been his master
tending to him, patting him, and hugging him in the cold nights.

All that was gone now. The
woman with the pale hair had snatched his master from the tavern.
The dragon had swooped and its fire rained. Scraggles had barely
escaped the flames. He had raced through the city, his fur smoking,
seeking his master, but could not find him. He had spent moons on
the boardwalk, waiting for Master to return, never losing hope.
Finally he had set out into the forest, seeking him.

How far back was the town?
Scraggles didn't know. How many days had he been wandering this
forest? Far too many. He was so thin now. So hungry. So weak and
afraid.

But
I must keep going,
Scraggles
thought, panting as he walked over the fallen leaves.
I
must find Master. I must find Rune.

He tossed back his head and
yowled. Back at the Old Wheel tavern, whenever he'd yowl, his master
would come with food, with pats, with warmth and companionship.
Scraggles howled again and again in the forest, as he did every day,
and every time, he held his breath and expected Rune to come racing
between the trees.

But he never did.

And Scraggles just had to keep
walking.

Head hung low, he forced himself
to move on, ignoring the pain in his paws. The sun was falling fast.
If Scraggles could not find food before the darkness, the hunger
would gnaw on him all night, keeping him awake. He looked around,
seeking more birds, but they all stood high upon the branches. He
saw a squirrel and made a halfhearted attempt to grab it, but it fled
into the canopy.

Maybe
I should turn back,
Scraggles thought.
I
could return to the town. I might find food there. I could eat dead
fish on the beach or beg for scraps from passersby.

But no. He couldn't go back.
He'd come too far already. There was nothing left for him in the
town. His master was no longer there. Scraggles had seen it. The
pale woman had become a dragon, lifted his master, and flown off into
the forest.

I
will find you, Master,
Scraggles thought.
I'll
keep going forever, even if I die here.