A Dawn of Dragonfire: Dragonlore, Book 1 (27 page)

"Bayrin!" Mori cried.

He kicked and floundered.  His wings fluttered, spilling water, and he rose from the sea.

Mori screamed.

A twisting lamprey clung to Bayrin's back, its mouth locked onto his scales.  The creature looked like a great, writhing worm, tall and wide as an oak.  Its tail lashed in the water.  Hovering above the water, Bayrin tried to soar.  His wings fanned the sea, sending ripples across it, but he was upside down, legs kicking uselessly at the air.  He could not rise.  The lamprey tugged, holding him down like a chain.

"Get it off!" Bayrin cried.

Mori flipped onto her belly, craned her neck forward, and blew fire.

The jet slammed against the lamprey, roaring hot.  The creature opened its mouth, detaching itself from Bayrin, and screamed.  Its mouth was a perfect circle, a foot in diameter, and ringed with several rows of teeth.  Blood filled it.

Bayrin soared, teeth marks on his back.  Below, the burnt lamprey crashed into the water and began swimming toward Mori.

Heart pounding, she leaped from the water, wings flapping.  Waves rippled.  She soared, dripping wet, and the lamprey leaped, soaring after her.  It was massive—easily the length of her tail—its body slick and undulating.  Its mouth opened wide.  Wings thudding madly, Mori screamed, swiped her tail, and knocked it aside.  It crashed into the water, writhing and screeching.

"What the stars was that?" Bayrin shouted, blood on his scales.  He looked from side to side, as if seeking it.

Water rose in curtains.  Two lampreys leaped from the sea and flew toward them.  They had no wings, but they soared as if shot from geysers.  Their maws opened wide, and their teeth glimmered.

Mori screamed and blew fire at one.  The other slammed against her tail, and its teeth sank into her flesh.  She cried in pain, lashed her tail, and began to fall.  It tugged her down—she could barely believe its weight.  She flapped her wings madly, struggling to rise.

"Bayrin!"

He swooped, leveled off, and shot forward.  His flames baked the creature.  It screeched and fell.

Three lampreys leaped from the sea.

Mori shouted, batted one aside with her tail, and flew high.  A lamprey shot up to her right, dripping water and screeching.  She flamed it and kept soaring, and soon the sea was distant below her.  Ten more lampreys leaped from the water, and Mori was sure that she flew high enough.  But the lampreys kept flying upward, as if they were mere fountains of water.  Their mouths opened wide.

Bayrin blew fire at one.  Mori blasted her flames at another.  One flew up directly beneath her, mouth wide, tongue reaching out.  She swerved, and the lamprey knocked against her side, mouth sucking the air.  She tumbled, flapped her wings, and knocked into another lamprey.  She clawed at it, beat it back, and flew higher.

"Bayrin, higher!" she shouted.

They climbed the sky.  Soon they flew so high, the waves were mere ripples, and the air was cold and thin.  When the lampreys crashed back into the sea below, they seemed small as earthworms.  Mori blew out her breath in relief.

"Bayrin," she said, "you're hurt, I—"

Screeches rose below.  She looked down to see a hundred lampreys, maybe more, shoot up from the water. 
They must be mad,
she thought.
  We're hundreds of feet in the air.

And yet they kept soaring, tails flapping, propelling themselves through the air as if swimming underwater.  Mori growled and flew even higher, but the lampreys were faster.  Soon they were feet away, and she bathed them with fire.  They kept shooting up, aflame.  Several shot around her, so fast that she felt the whoosh of air.  Another slammed into her belly, and she shouted, clawed at it, and knocked it off.

The lampreys who overshot her turned in midair and began to fall.  One slammed onto her back, its teeth dug into her shoulder, and she screamed.

A growl pierced the air.  Bayrin swooped, a lamprey clinging to his tail, and slashed his claws.  He dug into the lamprey on Mori's back, and when it opened its mouth to screech, it detached from her flesh and fell.

"Bay!" Mori cried and blew flame, hitting the lamprey that tugged on his tail.  It burned, writhed madly, and tumbled.

Dozens more came shooting up from the sea.

"Damn it!" Bayrin said.  "These things could probably fly to the stars themselves.  If flying up won't stop them, fly north!  Come on!"

The lampreys soon soared around them, mouths sucking air, tongues seeking.  The dragons flew forward on the wind, blasting fire at the creatures.  They seemed endless.  Whenever one crashed back into the water, three more shot up.  The wounds on Mori's shoulder blazed; the lamprey's teeth had chipped her scales and dug down to the flesh.  Blood trickled from her leg.  She blew fire in all directions, but soon her flames dwindled to mere sparks; she would need rest and food to replenish them, and she would find neither in this sea.

"Mori, look, ahead!" Bayrin shouted.  He slammed a lamprey with his tail and clawed another.

Mori stared ahead and gasped.  Her heart leaped.  Tears sprang into her eyes, and she howled.

"The island!  The Crescent Isle!"

It still lay leagues away, but her eyes were sharp, and she knew this was the place.  Green and misty, it formed the shape of a crescent moon.  From here, it seemed as small and distant as the moon itself.  She had never felt such hope, such joy and relief.  Her body shook with it.  She blazed toward her salvation.

A volley of lampreys flew at her.  Several slammed into her belly, knocking her into a spin.  Teeth dug into her.  For a moment she saw only spinning sky and clouds.

She clawed the lamprey on her belly, but it wouldn't release her.  More of the beasts flew around her, mouths peeling back, revealing their many teeth.  They leaped from all sides, flew in arcs, and rained above her.  One more slammed into her side and bit.  Soon they were sucking her blood as she screamed.

"Bayrin!"

Three of the beasts clung to him, writhing as they fed.  Bayrin howled.  He tried to roast them with fire, but only sparks left his maw; he too was too tired, too famished, too weak.  He clawed at the beasts, and one fell, but two others slammed into him and bit.

"Fly, Mori, to the island!"

She coughed and gasped for breath.  Two lampreys clung to her, and dozens more leaped all around.  She lashed her claws and tail, knocking them aside.  She couldn't even claw the ones attached to her without letting ten more bite.

"Mori, fly!"

She flew.  Her wings blazed.  She howled in pain.  She shot forward, dipping, rising again, tumbling.  She managed to slash the lamprey on her belly, and it fell, but two more leaped.  One attached its maw onto her leg, and the other replaced the one on her belly.  She screamed and clawed but kept flying.

She dipped.  Soon she flew a hundred feet over the water, then fifty.  The lampreys kept tugging her down, drinking her blood, and she howled as she flew.

Please, stars, give me strength, let me reach the land alive.

She did not know how long she flew.  Minutes seemed like hours.  Her eyes blurred.  She could barely hear Bayrin roar at her side, barely see him.  Mist swirled around her.  Pines rose ahead.

The island.

It lay a league away, maybe closer, its trees towering, dark green columns rising from fog.  She flapped her wings with every last drop of her strength.  Just to reach that island.  Just to land.  To rest.  To sleep.

A lamprey leaped from the water, slammed into her, and bit her neck.

Her eyes rolled back, she tumbled, and icy water crashed around her.

Her head went under.  Water filled her nostrils.  She kicked, dazed, pain pounding through her.  She screamed and bubbles rose around her, white orbs in the deep blue.  Her blood rose like red ghosts.  Weakly, she lashed her claws, pierced one lamprey, and saw ten more swim toward her.

Goodbye, Bayrin,
she thought. 
Goodbye, Requiem.  I go now to the starlit halls… to Father and Mother.  To Orin.

Claws slashed.  A tail swung.  Fangs bit.  Lampreys screeched and fled, and Bayrin grabbed her under her wings, pulled her up, and her head rose from the water.  She gasped for air.

"Mori, fly!  Fly, Mori, we're almost there.  Fly!"

He tugged her, raising her from the water.  Boulders jutted around them.  A rocky beach rose ahead, appearing and disappearing as waves crashed.  She flapped her wings once, rose from the water, flapped again.  Pines rose ahead like the columns of Requiem.  She growled and flew, a lamprey still on her shoulder.  She knocked her feet against a boulder, flapped her wings again, and drove a dozen feet forward.  She hit another boulder, flew again, leaped and soared and crashed onto a beach.

Bayrin landed beside her, three lampreys on his body.  He thrashed and knocked them off.  Mori leaped onto them and bit, digging her fangs into their flesh.  They opened their bloody maws to screech, and the dragons scurried up the shore, coughing and hacking.  Bayrin slammed his tail against the last lamprey clinging to Mori, and it too fell, wriggled down the beach, and disappeared back into the water.

The wet, wounded dragons pulled themselves forward, too weak to fly, until they crawled beneath the pines.  There they crashed down upon fallen pine needles, panting, blood seeping.

"We made it," Mori whispered, staring up at mist that swirled between the evergreens.  "We reached the Crescent Isle."

Bayrin coughed and smoke rose from his mouth.  Their tails reached out, seeking each other, and braided together.  Soft rain began to fall.  Mori closed her eyes and slept.

 
 
SOLINA

She walked down the tunnel, sabres drawn, and entered the library.  Her lips peeled back in a smile.

The chamber was as she remembered.  Its ceiling curved high above, high enough that if she wanted, she could shift into a phoenix here too, burn all the books and scrolls upon the shelves.  But she was no brute, no mindless killer.  Unlike most of her men, she knew how to read and write—both Old and Common Tiran, the Dragontongue of Requiem, and the High Speech of eastern Osanna.  She knew that books held power—a power greater than steel, as great as magic itself.  She would empty these shelves.  She would take these books and scrolls back to the desert, place them in her temples, and learn from their lore.

Requiem will remain bare of knowledge,
she thought,
a
wasteland of skeletons and dried blood.

"My queen!" said one of her men, a captain with a bloody sunburst on his breastplate.  He bowed before her, fist against his chest.  "The prisoners await your inspection."

She nodded curtly and walked deeper into the library.  At the back wall, twenty weredragons stood in chains.  Solina snarled.  When she had lived in Requiem, the weredragons would taunt her.  They would shift into dragons, fly above, blow fire, and she would watch from below, a scared and weak girl with no magic.  In chains, they were as helpless as she had been.  They had been stripped naked.  Their bodies were lashed, bloody, and broken.  Three were men, supposed warriors; the rest were women and children.

"Reptiles," she said to them, voice dripping with disgust.  "Look at you.  Naked.  Filthy.  Weak."  She laughed bitterly.  "You call yourself a noble race, an ancient and proud people."  She spat.  "I see only wretches."

A few of the weredragons stared back, defiance in their eyes.  Others moaned, blood seeping from their wounds.  The chains chafed their wrists and ankles, digging into the flesh.  One, a girl no older than the princess Mori, was trying to shift.  She grimaced, and scales appeared and disappeared on her body, and wings sprouted and vanished from her back.  When her limbs began to grow, the chains dug deeper, shedding blood, keeping her in her filthy human form.  Tears ran down her cheeks.

Solina approached the girl, a soft smile on her lips.  "Precious," she said softly.  "Do you still try to fight?"

The girl looked up with teary eyes, opened her mouth to speak, and Solina swung her sword.  Raem, her blade of dawn, sliced the weredragon's neck as easily as a fisherman gutting his catch.  Blood gushed, the girl gasped and choked, and her head slumped back.  She lay still, blood spilling down her body to pool around her.

Solina grinned, teeth clenched, as the other weredragons howled.

Five years ago,
this girl would have taunted me,
she thought.
  She would have shifted, soared in the sky, mocked my lack of magic.  She would have burned me too, burned me like Orin did.
  She snarled. 
They all would burn me if they could.

She ran her fingers along her line of fire, the scar that split her face and body.  It still burned sometimes.  She could still feel the screaming agony of fire.  The rage and pain pounded through her, spinning her head.  She turned to another chained weredragon, an old man with one eye, and she lashed her blade across his stomach.  She stared with cold eyes as he screamed, as his innards spilled.

She turned to the next one.  Her blades swung.  She moved from weredragon to weredragon, ridding the world of their evil, banishing their shadow with her light.

"For the Sun God!" she cried as she plunged her blades into the last one, a child clinging to the corpse of his mother.  "For your glory, Lord of Light!  I banish the weredragon curse for you."

Blood washed the floor, rivers of it, intoxicating with its scent.  Blood had splashed her face, Solina realized.  She wiped it with her fingers and licked them eagerly.

Soon I will drink Elethor's blood too,
she thought. 
Soon we will meet again, my love.

"Clean this mess," she said to her men.  "If the blood dirties the books, I will replace the parchment with your hides."

She turned and left the library, grinning savagely, boots sloshing.

 
 
ELETHOR

He stood upon the mountain of bodies, still in human form, and faced the sphinx.  Herathia's feline body rose taller than him, draped in wrinkly skin.  Her torso and head towered, a pale woman as large as a dragon.  The Crimson Archway rose above her, leading into shadow and mist.