A Birthright of Blood (The Dragon War, Book 2) (3 page)

"The Green Duck," she
said. "A favorite alehouse among the soldiers."

Rune raised an eyebrow. "The
Green Duck? This is Nova Vita, heart of the Cadigus Regime. I
figured alehouses here would have names like The Tavern of Steel, The
Goblet of Glory, or Frey's Firkin. Something more… imperial."

Kaelyn allowed herself a wan
smile. "This tavern predates my father's regime. He did rename
Lynport after himself—and about half the other towns in the
kingdom—but soldiers have been drinking in the Green Duck for two
hundred years. If he changed
this
name, he'd truly have a rebellion on his hands." She patted
Rune's cheek. "You owned a tavern; you know how soldiers are
with their drink. Now quickly—help me with a poster!"

She looked around furtively.
The street was empty. The soldiers inside the tavern were singing
raucously. Kaelyn unrolled a poster, and Rune opened a bottle of
glue. Within an instant, the poster bedecked the tavern's outer
wall; it would greet anyone come to drink.

"Relesar
Aeternum, true king of Requiem, reigns in the south. Death to
Cadigus!"

Kaelyn grabbed Rune's arm and
tugged him.

"Now come on! We have many
more posters to hang, and the night won't last forever."

He walked after her, wincing.
"Kaelyn, your fingers have bruised my arm by now—and that's
with me wearing armor!"

She glared at him. "If
we're caught, you'll have more than bruises. Hurry. And be quiet."

They
walked down the silent street. Torches stood in palisades, lighting
the night. Dragons flew in patrols above, blasting
streams of fire that crisscrossed the night. Every few blocks, they
encountered more soldiers. Most were other pairs on patrol, their
rank low and their faces hidden behind helms; they did not spare
Kaelyn and Rune a glance. On one street, they passed an officer; he
bore two red spirals upon each shoulder, denoting him a
dialanse
,
a young officer two or three years out of the academy.

"Hail the red spiral!"
Kaelyn and Rune said, standing at attention and saluting.

The officer regarded them, gave
a lazy salute, and kept walking down the street. His legs wobbled.
This one was drunk.

If
my father caught an officer wandering the streets in his cups, he'd
have the man flayed,
Kaelyn thought. But for now, she had more pressing concerns than the
fate of a young commander. She kept marching down the streets until
she and Rune neared the amphitheater.

It loomed before them, a great
ring of stone, large enough to seat fifty thousand souls. Her father
used to force Kaelyn to come here, sit in the upper tiers, and watch
prisoners fed to lions and wolves. Frey rarely hanged or beheaded
his enemies; to him, death was a show, a horror to celebrate. Frey
was not a man for the noose or the axe, killings too quick for his
liking. He lusted for disemboweling, for quartering, for flaying,
for feeding flesh to wild beasts. And he delighted in sharing his
love with his children.

Shari
always loved the executions,
Kaelyn remembered. Her sister herself had once broken a man upon the
wheel, grinning as she swung the hammer.

Her knees began to shake, and
sweat ran down Kaelyn's back. For a moment, the past pulsed too
powerfully, memories of her family torturing its enemies… and
torturing her. She too had felt their lust for blood. Her flesh
still bore the scars of Shari's blades, of Frey's punisher, of the
joy they took in beating her.

Only
Leresy never hurt me,
she remembered.
He
always cried when Father and Shari beat me. He always comforted me
afterward.

But of course, her twin brother
too enjoyed his bloodshed. Leresy would watch in fascination as
beasts tore into flesh. He would stay up all night, reading books of
old battles. He would collect torture instruments in his chambers
like some men collected statues.

But
he never hurt me,
Kaelyn remembered.
I'm his twin. He sees me as part of himself. And he loves himself
more than anything.

"Kaelyn?" Rune
whispered. "Are you all right?"

She looked at him. He was
watching her in concern.

"No," she whispered.
"None of this is all right. But we will make it right. Grab a
poster."

Kaelyn kept guard, glancing
around with her hand on her sword, while Rune glued a poster to the
amphitheater's wall. They moved onward, two soldiers on patrol.

We
don't have much time,
Kaelyn thought.
When
the first posters are seen, dragons will swarm. This city will burn.

"Hurry," she said to
Rune.

They kept moving. Kaelyn no
longer sought buildings of importance; that was taking too long.
Every shadowy wall she passed, she pasted another placard. They
moved from street to street. Their bundles of posters dwindled.
Soon they were down to twenty or fewer.

They left the wide, clean
streets of northern Nova Vita behind, heading south into the slums.
Here the houses rotted. Here beggars huddled in alleys, peering with
frightened eyes, then scurrying into hiding as they saw Kaelyn and
Rune. Stray cats stretched on roofs and rats scuttled in gutters.

"You want to raise this
place in rebellion too?" Rune asked, looking around dubiously.
"I thought you wanted to target lords and soldiers to rise up
against Cadigus, not the poor."

Kaelyn smiled softly. "Great
rebellions rarely begin with soldiers or lords; they rise from among
the poor and hungry."

They walked between crowded,
dilapidated buildings. Shop awnings touched above their heads,
turning alleyways into corridors. The houses here had no glass
windows like the abodes of the wealthy, only wooden shutters.
Nightsoil flowed in gutters, and bugs scurried along the cobbled
streets.

"Here," Kaelyn said
and pointed at a wide, brick building. "This place. Let's hang
one here."

It was the largest house in the
neighborhood, but it nestled into shadows, hiding from the city.
Laughter rose from within, and candlelight burned behind the
curtains. A sign hung above the door; it read "The Bad Cats"
and featured two cats licking their paws.

Rune squinted at the building.
"What is this place?"

A door burst open, and a woman
stumbled into the alleyway, squealing and laughing. She clutched
scarves of silk to her naked body, and her hair hung wild across her
shoulders.

"Come back here!" rose
a man's voice from within, thick with ale and lust. "I paid
good coin for you. Back in!"

The woman laughed, saw Rune and
Kaelyn, and forced her mouth shut. She winked, held a finger to her
lips, and rushed back inside.

"Oh," Rune said. "We
had one of these places in Lynport."

He thought back to Lynport's
brothel along the boardwalk. The Cadigus family had burned it down
years ago, killing all those inside. Only one person had fled the
inferno: a young girl with short brown hair and blazing eyes. Her
name was Erry Docker; she had spent the following years living on the
beach, eating crabs and whatever she could steal.

Kaelyn nodded. "My father
does not approve of brothels; he calls the men who visit them weak.
Yet he accepts some sins if they remain unseen. He allows this place
to linger in the shadows to please his generals."

Rune raised an eyebrow. "You
mean… the generals of the Legions visit a brothel in a slum?"
He gestured around him at the rats and gutters. "They visit
this
place?"

Kaelyn smiled wanly. "As
often as they can. I sometimes think this is the heart of the
Legions, not Castra Draco. Here they are not generals; they are men
thirsty for ale and hungry for women. Let these men see our posters.
Let them know that you've returned. We'll hang one right on the
door."

Kaelyn pulled a poster from her
pack, walked into the alley, and faced the brothel's door.
Candlelight glowed through the windows, and laughter and squeals
rose. From the upper floor, she heard huffing and a cry of pleasure.

These
patrons love freedom, laughter, and good cheer,
she thought.
They
might join our cause.

She unrolled the poster, smeared
glue across it, and raised it to the door.

Before she could hang the
parchment, the door swung open.

Kaelyn gasped.

The young man at the doorway
rubbed his bleary eyes. His cheeks were flushed with wine, and he
wore fine fabrics of crimson and gold. His fingers, heavy with
rings, struggled to unlace his pants. Laughter rose behind him, and
women called him to return to their bed.

"Hang on!" the young
man called over his shoulder. "I got to piss, damn you. Don't
put your clothes on, hang on!" He turned back toward the
alleyway and took a step outside, nearly bumping into Kaelyn, then
squinted at her. "Hello… do I know…"

He gasped and his hands fell to
his sides.

"Leresy," Kaelyn
whispered.

My
twin brother. Prince of Requiem.

He stared at her, frozen.

"Kaelyn?" he asked,
voice rising incredulously.

With a snarl, Kaelyn drew her
dagger and thrust it forward.

Leresy screamed. He stumbled
backward. Kaelyn was aiming for his neck, but sliced his cheek
instead. His blood spilled and he squealed. He drew his sword and
barreled forward.

"The Resistance!" he
shouted. "Enemy in the alley! Men! Guards! Guards!"

Kaelyn cursed. She tried to
stab him again, but he was waving his sword wildly. Soldiers came
rushing to the door from within, drawing their own swords.

Rune grabbed her arm and tugged.

"Run, Kaelyn!" Rune
shouted. "Fly!"

They turned. They ran. They
shifted into dragons and flew.

They soared into the night,
moving faster than falcons. The air roared around them, and the city
dwindled below, its lights spinning and its streets spreading out
like cobwebs. Kaelyn laughed and roared fire and her heart thudded.

"Death to Cadigus!"
she shouted, letting her cry ring across the city. "Aeternum
rises and Requiem will be freed. The tyrant must die!"

Her heart thrashed and her wings
beat mightily. Rune soared at her side. Pillars of flame pierced
the night, shooting between them, blazing and crackling and nearly
burning her. When Kaelyn looked behind her, she saw a hundred
dragons rising in pursuit.

Leresy flew among them, a red
dragon shrieking and blowing fire.

"The Resistance attacks!"
he screamed. "Awake, dragons of Requiem! Awake, Legions!
Fly!"

Kaelyn turned and blasted fire
his way.

Her jet blazed through the night
and crashed into her brother.

"Kaelyn, fly!" Rune
shouted and slapped her with his tail. "Don't fight them, just
fly!"

She kept beating her wings.
They streamed south. They soared into the clouds, and more flames
filled the sky. Dragons swooped from above; Kaelyn and Rune darted
between them, swiping their claws. More dragons rose from below.
Thousands of flaming jets filled the air.

Kaelyn darted between the
flames. Rune flew at her side. They rose higher and clouds
enveloped them. Kaelyn could see nothing but Rune at her side, a
black dragon nearly invisible in the night.

As they flew south, Kaelyn bared
her fangs. She felt light fill her and the fire of battle burn her
fear. Thousands of dragons chased them. An entire army roared
behind, and fires lit the sky, yet Kaelyn grinned as she flew, and
she had never felt more alive.

We
struck in the heart of the capital. Now the empire knows Rune is our
king.

The Legions roared behind,
washing the world in fire, thousands of beasts with blazing eyes.
Kaelyn and Rune flew through the night, leaving the city behind,
until forests swayed below and the stars of Requiem shone above, the
old gods guiding her home.

 
 
LERESY

He lay in the brothel bed, his
face blazing and his head swimming.

"More wine!" he
shouted and waved around his empty mug. "Damn it, more wine!"

Wine would dull his performance
in this bed. He knew that. But he didn't care. He didn't have to
prove anything to anyone anymore. Not to the whores of the Bad Cats,
this rundown cesspool. Not to his men. Not to his father.

"Wine!"

What he did need was to forget.
To forget the blazing wound on his face. To forget his lost
fortress.

To forget Nairi.

"Bloody whore arses, I said
wine!" he shouted, pushing himself up in bed. He blinked, shook
his head, and tried to bring the room into focus.

The Bad Cats was a gaudy,
stinking mess. Pastel curtains hid the windows, cheap wool woven to
look like silk. Murals covered the walls and ceilings, depicting
amorous acts and their cost. Each wall showed the woman and man in
different positions, the price scribbled below the painted figures.
Upon the ceiling, two women—painted in peachy pastels—were pleasing
their client together. Leresy had chosen the ceiling's offering; it
was the most expensive, but his pockets were deep, and his pain was
deeper.

"My lord!" said Dawn,
the golden-haired woman to his right. She kissed his ear. "Give
your attention to me, not your cups."

At his left, Dusk—an
olive-skinned beauty of the east—stroked his hair. "Give me
your love, my lord, not her."

Leresy did not know their true
names. He did not care. They were nothing but cheap flesh. They
were nothing but filthy, base, false mockery. Yet he snarled, tossed
his mug aside, and took them again. He closed his eyes while he used
them. He did not want to see their flushed faces, their eyes
fluttering with the mock pleasure he paid them to feign. He did not
want to see these murals around him, their colors so bright they hurt
his eyes. He moved in the bed, and Dawn and Dusk moved with him, and
behind his closed eyelids, Leresy saw her again.