Dragons Lost (20 page)

Cade grimaced, prepared
to fight and die.

Red scales flashed.
Fire exploded. Amity—larger, faster, and wilder than Cade and Fidelity—came
storming forth. She placed herself between the firedrakes and the two smaller
dragons.

"Fly, Cade!" Amity
shouted. "Fidelity, fly with him! Save your book, go!"

With that, the wild red
dragon blasted forth a great jet of flame. She charged forward, spread her
wings wide, and slammed into the firedrakes, taking all their fire against her.
The flames washed across Amity, enveloped her wings, showering outward.

Cade wanted to stay, wanted
to fight with Amity, wanted to find Korvin . . . but he could not let them die
in vain. He could not die with them, the lore of Requiem forgotten.

I have to flee. With
Fidelity and her book.

He grabbed the blue
dragon and tugged her back.

"Fidelity, come! Fly
with me!"

Amity was still
battling the firedrakes, taking on all seven alone. The red dragon was a horror
to behold, burning but still alive, roaring, lashing her claws through the
inferno, screaming for Requiem.

Hovering above the
battle, Fidelity wept. "My father . . ."

"If he's alive, Amity
will find him!" Cade shouted and grabbed her with his claws. "We must save the
book. Come on!"

Cannons blasted below.
One cannonball shot between the two dragons, chipping scales along Fidelity's
leg. She cried out. An arrow flew from below and drove into her foot, and she
yowled. Green lines spread across her leg—the poison of ilbane.

Gasping, Fidelity lost
her magic and tumbled down, a human again.

Cade swooped, grabbed
her in his claws, and flew.

"I'm getting you out of
here." He beat his wings, flying west as fast as he could. Fidelity lay slumped
in his claws, bleeding. A hundred other arrows flew around them.

Cade flew across the
sea, heading westward. Behind him, the cannons still blasted, the firedrakes
still screeched, and Amity still roared . . . then fell silent.

Fidelity hung limply in
his claws, maybe unconscious, maybe dead. Tears ran down Cade's scaly cheeks.
He beat his wings and raced across the water, leaving the islands—and two Vir
Requis—behind.

 
 
GEMINI

He took only one firedrake to the
capital, leaving the rest of his retinue—firedrakes, paladins, and men-at-arms—to
await his sister in Sanctus. He did not want them around him. Not now. Not
anymore. As he flew over the fields, heading home, only one other person was
with him: Domi.

She sat before him in
the saddle, silent. Her red hair, finally cleared of knots, flew back in the
wind to tickle his neck. Her body pressed against him, slender but warm and
soft, clad in the white tunic the seamstress had sewn her. Gone was the raggedy
doll Gemini had met on the beach; before him now sat a beautiful woman, skin
pale and fresh, eyes large and green, a woman Gemini loved. A woman he vowed to
never let go.

Their firedrake beat
its wings beneath them, its copper scales clattering. It puffed out smoke and
grunted as it flew, nothing but a dumb animal. Gemini realized now why he had
always been attracted to Pyre, his old firedrake with scales the color of autumn.
As a dragon, Domi had never seemed mindless. Perhaps Gemini had always seen the
woman within the beast, had always loved her.

Gemini wrapped his arms
around Domi's slender waist. Love . . . yes, he loved Domi. And that scared
him, spun his mind. Domi was a weredragon. Diseased. She had never been
purified, could become a dragon at will. Gemini's faith, his family, his order
of knighthood—all were dedicated to exterminating creatures like Domi. It was
too late for her to undergo purification; her sins demanded death. Yet as he
held her, as her soft hair caressed him, he did not think her a creature worthy
of death. She was diseased, yes. There was no doubt of that. But that didn't
make Gemini want to slay her. He craved only to protect her, to cherish her. To
be the strong man she needed. To save her.

"I will save you, Domi,"
he whispered.

She looked over her
shoulder at him. "I can't hear you in the wind!"

He stroked her cheek. "I
said that we're almost there. Almost at the city." He pointed. "Look ahead! You
can see it now."

Nova Vita, capital of
the Commonwealth, sprawled ahead across the land. They flew over its thousands
of clay homes, its coiling streets, its fortresses and monasteries, and finally
toward the great Temple. The building shone in the dawn, its base round like a
crystal ball, sending up glass shards and spikes like claws, brilliantly white
in the sun. The Square of the Spirit spread before the Temple, cobbled and vast
enough for armies to muster on. Gemini directed his firedrake toward the Temple
gates, and they landed on the flagstones outside.

Countless times
before, Gemini would lead Domi—then a firedrake named Pyre—down a tunnel here,
into the dungeon beneath the Temple, the bleak chasm where the firedrakes ate
and slept. For the first time, he would now take her into the palace above.

Gemini
dismounted the firedrake and stood before the staircase that led up toward the
Temple gates.

"Stay near me,"
he said, helping Domi out of the saddle. He held her waist and placed her down
before him. "The palace is a place of beauty and splendor, but danger too. My
sister has many ears and eyes in this place, and if she finds out, if . . ." He
swallowed. "Never mind that. You know what to do. You're Domi, an orphan I met
at Sanctus, hired as my servant."

She nodded,
looking up at the gates. "Why can't you tell them the truth?" She looked at
him. "That you love me?"

He sighed. "Domi,
I was born without the disease. Ilbane never burned me. I could never become a
dragon. I never needed tillvine to sear the dragon curse out of me. As a
pureborn, my blood naturally clean, I'm what they call a Holy Father."

She nodded. "A
stud."

He smiled
mirthlessly. "Women will come into my bed. I will sleep with them. I will impregnate
them. But I don't love them, Domi. I love you. You mustn't forget that. But as
a stud, I'm never to fall in love, never to take a wife, never to dedicate
myself to one woman. To do so would be a great heresy; the Spirit himself
demanded this life of me. I dared to openly love a woman once, and—" A bolt of
pain shot through him, and Gemini pushed the memory aside and held Domi's
hands. "We must keep our love secret. Some Holy Fathers—studs, if you will—have
been known to take concubines, lovers who tolerated the endless stream of other
women into their beds. People will perhaps see through the act, know that you're
more than just my servant, but as long as they have a pretext to cling to, they'll
cling to it. What they must never know, Domi, is that you are diseased. That
you are a weredragon. Then I could no longer protect you. Do you understand?"

She bit her lip
and nodded. "They will not know."

He stroked her
cheek and tucked an errant strand of her hair behind her ear. "I'll look after
you here. I promise. It's a dangerous place, but I'll protect you. You're
always safe with me. I love you."

She nodded,
silent. She was shivering. Gemini felt his heart melt, and such pity and love
and lust for her filled him that his head spun. He held her hand in his.

"Come," he
said.

They walked up
the stairs together, stepped through the pearly gateway, and entered the halls
of splendor.

They walked
through the glory of the Cured Temple, the heart of their faith, the dwelling
of the Spirit himself. Priests and priestesses in white walked among them,
golden jewels hanging around their necks. All around spread the splendor of the
Spirit: ceilings of gold and azure, mosaics inlaid with gemstones, columns of
precious metals, statues, chalices, and murals in pastels. Here was the
greatest cathedral the world had ever known, the heart of a god.

As they walked,
Domi gazed with wide eyes, and her grip tightened around Gemini's hand. The
precious thing was scared, he thought. She was like a wandering pup lost in a
world she'd never known. He moved to walk closer to her, their bodies brushing
together.

"I will take
you to my chambers," Gemini said. "A far finer place than the old room in
Sanctus. I—"

A voice rose
behind, interrupting him. "Who do you bring into the sacred hall of the Spirit?"

Gemini turned
around and felt the blood drain from his face.

All across the
hall, priests and priestesses knelt and bowed their heads.

A hundred yards
away, standing between columns of gold and amethysts, stood High Priestess
Beatrix.

Domi pulled her
hand free from Gemini's grip and knelt, head lowered.

"Mother!"
Gemini said. "Since when do you wander the halls? I thought you'd be in the Holy
of Holies, kneeling before the Column, praying for the Falling."

Beatrix walked
toward him, white robes swaying. A cold, dangerous fire lit her blue eyes. Her
thin lips frowned the slightest, tugging wrinkles across her pale skin.

"My service to
the Spirit is not your concern, son," she said. Her footfalls clattered across
the hall's mosaic as she approached. "Who do you bring here?" Beatrix reached
them and stared down at Domi, her frown deepening.

"A serving
girl," Gemini said. "And she is none of your concern—"

He yelped as
his mother backhanded him.

"Silence your
slithering tongue!" Beatrix said. "If you talk back to me again, I'll have that
tongue cut off and burnt in the kitchen fires. You don't need a tongue to breed
pureborn babes."

Gemini clutched his
cheek, glaring at her. "Mother!"

She snorted, stared
down at the kneeling Domi, and placed a finger under the girl's chin. She
tugged Domi's face up toward her.

"Pretty little servant."
Beatrix snickered and looked back toward Gemini. "Did you choose her because
she's adept at washing your underpants, or because she has precious green eyes
and probably precious teats under her tunic?"

Now rage flared in
Gemini, replacing the fear. "Mother, I ask that you do not pry into my affairs.
I'm a grown man, and—"

"You are nothing but a
child. An errant child who's good for nothing but to breed like a barn animal."
She snorted. "Your older sister is a true servant of the Spirit. You don't see
her collecting pretty little servants to fulfill her carnal desires. Even now,
as we speak, Mercy hunts weredragons in the lands of the Horde. Meanwhile, you
bring whores onto holy ground."

"I will not have you
call Domi a whore." His voice shook with rage. "I will—"

"Domi, is it?" Beatrix
barked a laugh. "Your whore has a name? Do me a favor, boy. If you'll stoop to
sneaking a woman in behind the priests' backs, at least impregnate her. Give me
another pureborn grandson. If you can't thrust a lance like your sister to rid
the world of weredragons, at least thrust your manhood."

With that, the High
Priestess spun on her heel and marched way, leaving the hall.

The priests and
priestesses across the hall straightened and resumed their business, lowering
their heads as they passed by Gemini, pretending not to have heard the
altercation.

Gemini stood for a long
moment, still and silent. Domi looked up at him, and again he saw it in her
eyes—pity.

He grabbed her hand. He
tugged her along the hallway, almost roughly. The pain simmered inside him, a
humiliation mixed with rage. He took Domi up staircases, climbing story by
story, until they reached his quarters. His chest felt tight and he could
barely breathe. His eyes stung. Clutching Domi's hand, he led her into his
chamber and closed the door behind him.

He leaned against the
door, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths.

The chamber was as
opulent as the rest of the Temple, the walls, ceiling, and floor covered in
gold and gemstones. A nubile young woman lay in his bed, smiling at him,
awaiting him, sent here by the priests.

"Get out of here!"
Gemini screamed. "Out!"

The woman fled the
room, and Gemini fell onto his bed. He lay on his back, struggling for breath,
his fists clenched.

Domi stood in the
corner, hugging herself. "Would you like me to leave too?" she whispered.

He sighed. The poor
little thing was trembling; he had probably scared her half to death. He shook
his head.

"Come sit on the bed,"
he said.

Domi obeyed, and he
pushed himself up and sat beside her. She stared at him, eyes huge green pools.
When he opened his mouth to speak, he hesitated, not sure what he wanted to
say.

She placed a hand on
his knee, and her eyes were soft. "You don't have to say anything." Her voice
was barely more than a whisper. "You warned me about this place. But I'm glad
to be here with you."

He wanted to kiss her
then, to remove the tunic he had bought her, to make love to her here in this
place—not the emotionless, functional act he performed with the other women,
but a true act of love. But he dared not. Something about Domi was too pure for
that, too innocent, too fragile to taint with the carnal acts he had performed
a thousand times in this bed.

Instead he simply
grabbed a blanket and lay on the floor, leaving her on the bed.

"Goodnight, Domi," he
said softly.

For a moment she was
silent. Then she climbed off the bed, knelt above him, and kissed his cheek.

"Goodnight, Gemini,"
she whispered, hopped back onto the bed, and soon sank into sleep.

He lay for a long time
on the floor, and sleep did not find him. Again and again, he replayed the
scene in his mind: his mother backhanding him, berating him, humiliating him.
Again and again, he thought of Domi's eyes, of her kiss. His mind was a storm.

Finally he could bear
it no longer. He rose from the floor and gazed at Domi. She slept in the center
of the bed, looking very small, but she did not seem peaceful. Even in sleep,
her brow was furrowed, and she kicked as if suffering a nightmare.