A Birthright of Blood (The Dragon War, Book 2) (28 page)

He wanted to fight. Truly, he
wanted to! He tried to rise. He could not. His legs had stopped
obeying him. It was all he could do to even breathe.

"I…" he whispered
and licked his lips. "I can't… I…"

He managed to rise to his feet.
He gripped his sword's hilt, but his hand was too sweaty to draw it.
He stumbled two steps forward, and blood flowed around his boots. He
clenched his jaw and struggled not to gag.

Outside the smashed door, Beras
came lolloping down the alley, boots crushing planks of wood and
corpses. The brute snarled. Half his face was burnt away, yet still
he raised his axe.

Erry stood with her back to him,
dueling another man.

The axe rose higher above her.

Finally Leresy could move. His
heart seemed to stop and his lungs to collapse, but he leaped
forward. A torn howl left his lips. Screaming, he managed to draw
his sword but not raise it. He flung himself into the alley and
crashed into Beras, driving his shoulder into the beast.

"Erry!" he shouted.

Beras
was so large he didn't fall back a single step, let alone fall;
Leresy might as well shove a dragon. But his shove
was
enough to throw off the brute's aim. His axe swung down and missed
Erry by an inch; it embedded itself into a corpse at her feet.

With a grunt, Beras turned
toward Leresy.

The brute looked less like a man
and more like a demon. The burnt half of his face twisted and leaked
blood. Drool dripped between his teeth and down his chin. He
towered, a foot taller than Leresy and twice as wide.

Leresy stumbled and raised his
sword.

With a lurch, Beras tore his axe
free from the corpse and swung it, knocking Leresy's blade aside.
The man's hand—large and hairy as a paw—reached out and grabbed
Leresy's throat.

Leresy sputtered. He tried to
raise his sword, but Beras squeezed tighter, and the weapon fell from
his hand. Stars spread across his vision.

"Well if it isn't the young
princeling," Beras said. He grinned and licked his lips. "My
my. Or is it princess? I never could tell with you. A pretty one,
you are."

Leresy kicked. He scratched at
the hand, but it was like scratching at stone. He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't scream. He tried to look around for Erry, for Yorne, for
the others, to plead for aid, but he could only see the burnt,
drooling mask before him.

"I'm going to cut you
slowly," Beras said. Blood dripped down his wound into his
mouth. "I'm going to savor this, princess."

Stars floated and blackness
spread.

Still clutching Leresy's throat
with one hand, Beras drew his dagger and raised it.

"I'm going to start by
slicing your pretty face," he said. "Then I'm going to—"

Beras howled.

His fingers opened.

Leresy gasped for breath, fell
to his knees, and saw Erry behind the beast. She leaned against her
sword, driving it deeper into Beras's unarmored leg.

With a thud that shook the
alleyway, Beras fell to his knees and howled.

Erry.
No. I can't lose you too, Erry, I can't.

Leresy grabbed his fallen sword,
rose to his feet, and thrust the blade.

The steel crashed into Beras's
neck and emerged bloody from the other side, missing Erry by an inch.

Leresy stood still, clutching
the hilt, staring with wide eyes. His breath froze.

Blood spurted from Beras's
mouth. His dagger clattered to the ground. He raised his hand, and
for an instant Leresy thought he'd choke him again… and then he
fell.

Beras the Brute, enforcer of
Cadigus, the beastliest man Leresy had ever known, lay dead upon the
ground.

I
killed a man,
Leresy thought, staring down at the corpse.
Stars,
I killed a man.

He had dreamed of this moment.
For years, he had dreamed of making his first kill. In his
fantasies, he'd always brag, walk into the Bad Cats with his victim's
head, and be hailed a hero. Dawn and Dusk would welcome him with
kisses, and later that day, his father would host a feast in his
honor. Today Leresy doubled over and heaved; if he'd had any food in
his belly, he'd have lost it.

Erry approached him, grumbling
under her breath.

"Damn mule of a man,"
she said, staring down at the corpse. The bodies of the other
legionaries lay around them, torn apart, bones rising from gore like
shattered branches. The Lechers stood above the remains; Yorne was
busy tugging his blade free from a breastplate it had cleaved.

Leresy took two great steps
forward, climbed over the corpse, and pulled Erry into his embrace.
He held her so tight he must have hurt her. Tears filled his eyes
and he kissed her head, smearing his lips with mud.

"Thank the stars, Erry,"
he whispered.

Shrieks sounded above. Fire
crackled.

"Dragons!" Yorne
howled. "Into the tunnels!"

They ran. They raced back into
the pottery shop. Outside, fire bathed the alley. They leaped into
the hole in the floor.

They crawled in darkness,
heading toward their next house.

They had been fighting for two
nights and days, and Leresy hadn't slept and had barely eaten, but
his body tingled with fire.

"I killed Beras the Brute,"
he whispered in darkness, knuckled his eyes, and snarled. "And
I will kill you, Shari. And I will you, Father. I will kill every
last one of you, I swear."

As they crawled, he could not
stop his damn tears.

 
 
LANA

In the sunset, she saw the canyon
ahead, and tears filled her good eye.

"Home," she whispered.

She beat her wings with more
vigor. She glided over the forests, heading toward the chasm. The
refugees of Lynport flew all around her, tens of thousands of
dragons. When they saw the canyon, they wept in relief, blessed the
stars, and blasted fire.

"Home," Lana repeated
as she flew. "Safety."

She took a shuddering breath.
Almost two decades ago, she had hidden from Cadigus for a year in
this canyon. She had seen so many die around her from starvation,
thirst, and disease. She herself had dwindled to only skin and bones
and trembling fever.

"I lost my eye that year to
his fang," she whispered. "I lost my three older brothers.
Do I fly into another year of agony?" She looked behind her
toward Lynport, but the city was too distant to see. "Fight
well, Valien. Make this our shelter, not our tomb."

The dragons pulled their wings
close and dived down, a great herd descending above the forest. The
trees creaked below, the last of their autumn leaves tearing under
the flap of wings. Lana sucked in the cold air, tightened her jaw,
and dived into the canyon. Behind her, the refugees followed, a mass
of scales and smoke and wings that blocked the sky.

The canyon walls rushed at her
sides. Behind her, the myriads of dragons filled the canyon like a
rushing river. She raced down this great stone corridor. The old
pain pounded through her, and her missing eye blazed again, and her
body shook with memory of fever. She flew.

The Castle-in-the-Cliff loomed
ahead, its facade carved into the living rock of the canyon. Its
limestone columns rose hundreds of feet tall. Its Stone Guardians,
great statues with fists like carriages, flanked its doors.

"Home," she whispered.
"Memory. Salvation."

The City of Cain delved deep
into the cliff, a network of great halls, chambers, bridges, and
corridors. Libraries lit with hundreds of lamps hid behind the
stone. Staircases rose and fell, leading to kitchens, armories,
nurseries, and barracks. All those Cain ruled lived here—the Vir
Requis of the Canyon, the dwellers in stone.

We
will barely squeeze Lynport into our halls,
Lana thought.
They
will sleep in our libraries, our armories, our corridors, and our
pantries. They will hide under the stone.

"They will survive,"
she whispered. "Fight well, Valien. Fight well, Rune. Defend
your home. I will protect your people."

Her belly twisted with the old
hunger, and her two eyes blazed, the one in her head, and the one
that still screamed. One eye always seeing the present, the eye of a
woman, a warrior, a leader. And one eye torn away, taken by Cadigus,
the eye of a girl grown up too fast… always seeing old hunger and
blood.

She landed outside the
Castle-in-the-Cliff, her claws clattering against the canyon floor.
She shifted into human form and gripped the hilt of her sword. She
raised her eyes and stared at her home: the statues, the columns,
and the wide stairs that led to a shadowy archway.

The dragons of Lynport landed
around her and took human forms. Mothers clutched their children.
Elders prayed to the stars, the forbidden gods of Requiem. They
huddled close and gasped at the castle carved into the canyon's
facade.

Lana climbed a dozen steps
toward the palace doors, then turned to face the people. The Stone
Guardians rose at her sides.

"I welcome you to the
Castle-in-the-Cliff!" she called, her voice echoing across the
canyon. With this welcome, the Stone Guardians would accept them.
"Enter my home. Enter safety."

She turned, climbed the last
steps, and walked through the archway.

The shadowy grand hall greeted
her. Two lines of columns ran into the depths of the cliff.
Braziers crackled between them, lighting a path toward her father's
throne. Beyond the columns, darkness spread; Lana knew that it
spread through many chambers and halls. Figures stood in those
shadows, still and silent. Her father always boasted that his guards
stood in darkness like vipers, ready to strike any who strayed from
the path of light.

Lana turned around to face the
gateway. The people of Lynport stood there, glancing into the
darkness but daring not enter. They were humble townsfolk; most had
never left Lynport before. They clutched their belongings: packs of
clothes, bundles of firewood, pots and pans, and sacks of grain.

One eye of hope, one eye of
pain. One eye saw frightened townsfolk. The other saw starving,
haggard people at siege, dying upon the staircase as the Legions
swarmed upon them.

"Enter my hall, people of
Lynport!" she called. "Enter and find shelter, warmth, and
food."

She beckoned to them. They
hesitated, glancing around nervously, and Lana remembered that to
outsiders, her home looked like a mausoleum to giants. Yet she kept
calling to them, and they climbed the stairs. They entered the
shadows.

Lana turned back toward the
throne; it rose distant across the hall, so small she could hide it
with her thumb. She walked across the mosaics, her boots clattering,
and breathed deeply of the warm air. The shadows of soldiers fell
between the columns, and the braziers crackled and tossed red light.

"Father!" she called
out. "Father, I've returned."

When she drew closer, she
frowned. Her father sat hunched over in his throne, wrapped in a
great bear hide. A man stood beside him, clad in a red cloak lined
with gold. A crimson hood hid his face. Lana gripped the hilt of
her sword.

The colors of Cain were yellow
and gray. The colors of the Resistance were silver and green. Who
would wear red here, the color of Cadigus?

She kept walking forward. When
she looked over her shoulder, she saw the townsfolk of Lynport
follow, elders on canes, mothers holding babes, and children staring
with wide eyes. Again her phantom eye saw them starving, naked, and
begging for water. She blinked and returned her gaze ahead.

"Father!" she called.

She was close enough to see his
face now. He looked up at her from under heavy eyebrows. His hair,
red streaked with white, hung wildly around his leathery face. His
shoulders stooped, and circles ringed his eyes.

"My daughter," he
said, voice gravelly. "My daughter… He killed them. He
killed your brothers." Devin Cain's fists trembled and his eyes
watered. "He killed them all and he took your eye."

Lana paused. She sucked in her
breath. She gripped her sword.

"That was almost twenty
years ago," she whispered. "Father, we can save these
people now. We can—"

Lord Cain rose to his feet.
"No, daughter. I will not suffer another siege. I will not
lose another child." He turned to the man robed in red. "Take
your blood. Take it all and leave."

The man pulled back his crimson
hood, turned toward Lana, and smiled thinly.

"Hello, Lady Lana,"
said emperor Frey. "It's a pleasure to meet you again."
He grinned wildly and raised his voice to a shout. "Purification!"

From among the columns, the
soldiers leaped. They were not men of Cain, robed in gray and
wielding sabers. A thousand legionaries leaped into the hall, clad
in black steel and bearing longswords, red spirals blazing upon their
breastplates.

"Purification!" they
cried.

The people of Lynport began to
flee.

Shrieks echoed as Frey Cadigus
shifted into a dragon, opened his maw, and blasted fire across the
hall.

The flames roared. The people
of Lynport fell and burned. Outside, the shrieks of more dragons
rose, chanting for the red spiral and blasting their flames.

Lana screamed.

"Never again!" she
cried. "Never again, Frey Cadigus! The Resistance will not
fall."

She leaped from fire, shifted
into a dragon, and flew toward him across the hall.

Crossbows thrummed. Bolts
slammed into her. Before her, Frey—a golden dragon twice her
size—laughed and blasted her with flame.

She fell. Her head tilted back.
She stared upon carnage: people burning, people falling to the
blade, people screaming as they died.