Dragons Lost (22 page)

Korvin thought again—as
he had thought almost every day since—of High Priestess Beatrix arriving on her
firedrake, screaming for blood, shouting for revenge. Again Korvin saw the High
Priestess stabbing his wife, smiling, blowing him a bloody kiss—her revenge for
him spurning her love. That had been many years ago, back when his daughters
had been only children, but the pain still dug through Korvin. Now Amity had
lost her family—perhaps not a family of blood, but a family nonetheless.

He stepped toward her. "Amity,
I'm sorry. I know your pain is great."

Along with his
memories, guilt filled Korvin. He had arrived on these islands, fleeing the
Temple. Mercy and the other paladins had followed him.

It's my fault,
Korvin realized with a chill.
I led the enemy here.

Amity raised
her eyes. They shone with angry tears. "It'll be war now. War between the
Commonwealth and the Horde. War again, like the war twenty years ago, when I
was just eleven years old and so afraid." She growled and pounded a fist into
her palm. "And this time, the Horde will swarm through the Commonwealth and
crush the Cured Temple and kill them all. And I'll fight with them."

Korvin stared at the
sea outside. "I need to find my daughter and the boy. I need to help them, to—"

Amity grabbed his arm
and sneered. "You need to fight with me! You're a warrior. You were a soldier
once; I saw it in the way you fought. I saw the scars on you; those are warrior
scars." She tightened her grip on him. "I need you, Korvin. Let Spectacles and
the kid print their books; they're not fighters like us. You and I, we're
soldiers, and all we know is war. Travel south with me—to the continent of
Terra, to the vast armies of the Horde that wait there. Not to an island
outpost but to the true heart of our empire. Join me in the Horde's fight
against the Temple."

Korvin grunted. "I can't
leave Fidelity alone."

Amity's eyes flashed. "Your
daughter is a grown woman. How old is she?"

"Twenty-one."

Amity snorted. "I was
half that age when my parents died, when I had to survive on my own. You're no
librarian, Korvin. Look at you, all grizzled, gruff, and grunting. Don't tell
me you were happy living in a library, sorting books for a living. No. You were
like a bear in a cage there. But now . . . now you can fly free. With me,
Korvin." She touched his cheek, and her eyes filled with compassion. "With me."

He stepped outside the
cave and found himself on an islet; it was barely larger than the deck of a
ship. True ships were sailing far in the west, hoisting the Temple's banners.
They were going to hunt his daughter, to hunt Cade, to hunt the last
Book of
Requiem
and destroy the last memories of that fallen kingdom. Korvin
gritted his teeth and turned to face the south. He saw nothing but the blue
sea, but he knew what lay beyond.

The southern continent
of Terra. His old scars blazed with new pain. The land of the Horde. The land
where he had fought and nearly died. He lowered his head. The land that could
now rise up and topple the Cured Temple.

It would seem,
he thought,
that I now must choose which enemy is worse.

And he knew the answer.

Amity came to stand
beside him, and a gust of wind ruffled her hair. She looked at him, silent.

"My daughters are in
danger," Korvin finally said. "My eldest is hunted, bearing the last treasure
of our people. My younger daughter serves those who hunt us, her life forfeit
if her secret is revealed. The enemy threatening my family is the Cured Temple,
and you're right, Amity. I'm not a man of books or words. I'm not wise like
Fidelity, not wild like Domi, not young and eager like Cade. I'm a soldier.
That's all I am. Perhaps that's all both of us are." He stared across the
southern water. "I drew the enemy to these islands, and the guilt of the dead
will forever fill me. Their blood will forever stain my soul. But a beast is
awakening here, a beast that has been slumbering for twenty years." He returned
his eyes to Amity. "We will travel south to the Horde. We will tell its king
what happened here. And we will raise the Horde's wrath and return to the
Commonwealth with an army."

 
 
FIDELITY

"So how are we going to pay for
this printing press?" Cade asked. "The thing probably costs more than a horse."

Fidelity nodded. "It
does. It's a big machine."

Cade pulled out his
empty pockets. "If you haven't noticed, we're broke. I haven't got a copper to
my name, and neither have you."

They were walking down
a dirt road, aspen trees rustling at their sides. While Fidelity had allowed
herself to wear finer clothes in her library, out here in the open, she wore a
burlap tunic and a rope for a belt—the humble garb all commoners wore. If she
wanted to blend in, nothing would serve better. She hid her spectacles in her
pocket, and she had undone her braid and let her hair hang freely. She hoped
that she now looked like yet another commoner, not a librarian on the run. As
for Cade, he had begun to grow a beard in hope of better disguising himself,
though the scruff looked woefully sparse.

If anyone's looking
for people of our description,
Fidelity thought,
hopefully we look
different—and normal—enough.

She hefted the pack
that hung across her back. Inside lay their greatest treasure: the leather-bound
Book of Requiem
.

The road stretched on
between the trees, leading toward the city of Oldnale; it was still too far to
see.

"A long time ago,"
Fidelity said, "three great houses ruled Requiem. House Aeternum ruled the
throne, House Eleison ruled the armies, and House Oldnale ruled the farmlands.
The legendary heroine Treale Oldnale fought in the great war against the nephilim,
evil half demons from the desert. Back then, there were only farmlands here, no
cities, but where Treale was born, a village eventually grew, and—"

"Fidelity, I don't need
a history lesson." Cade kicked a rock. "What we need is money. Money to buy a
printing press to make copies of all these lovely stories."

She glared at him. "I
was just getting to that part! See, according to my book, before the House of
Oldnale was destroyed in the old Tiran War, back when the evil Queen Solina led
wyverns to burn it, and—ow! Cade, stop elbowing me! Fine, no history lessons.
Anyway, during the war, the Vir Requis buried a treasure here. A treasure of
old Requiem." Her eyes lit up. "We just have to find it, and we'll have the
money we need."

Cade rolled his eyes. "Find
buried treasure? Fidelity, this isn't some old pirate story. How are we going
to find treasure from centuries ago without a map or anything?"

She smiled softly, a
sad smile, a smile that filled her with memories and pain buried as deep as
that treasure. "We're going to find the Oldnales' descendants."

She closed her eyes. She
didn't want Cade to see them dampen.

Roen,
she
thought, and her heart gave a twist.

It had been four years.
Four years since he had shattered her heart. Four years since that summer of
joy, love, tears. She had never forgotten him. She had thought she would never
see him again. And now she would wander right back to his door.

Cade frowned. "I
thought you said the Oldnale farms were destroyed. Something about an evil
queen burning them."

"Not all the Vir Requis
of that ancient house died," she said. "Most fell in the war, their halls
fallen, their fields burnt. But some moved into the forest, lived wild among
the trees like the Vir Requis of old before our columns had risen. And two
still live there today."

She veered off the
road, heading into the forest.

"Fidelity!" Cade said. "The
road's over here. Are you going to, uhm . . . water the soil?"

She shook her head. "Come
with me."

He followed, glancing
around nervously. The woods were thick here, maples and aspens and oaks growing
all around, their leaves rustling. It was still summer, but the forest was
chilly, and the canopy hid the sky. Blackbirds flittered between the trees, and
hares raced across the forest floor. Twisting tree roots grew everywhere, flowing
and coiling together like living tentacles, covered with moss. Eyes peered from
burrows beneath them. Fallen logs and boulders lay strewn between the tree
trunks, and mushrooms grew a foot tall. Dragonflies and fireflies flew around
her, lighting the shadows.

Fidelity lowered her
head. She remembered herself here as a youth, only seventeen years old, racing
through these woods with him, kissing him under the tree, making love to him
upon the grass by the—

"Fidelity," Cade said, "you're
blushing. Are you all right?"

She cleared her throat
and shot him a glare. "I'm fine." She doffed her pack with the heavy book
inside. "Here, carry this. Take a turn and be useful for a change."

As he took the
pack, she saw the hurt in his eyes, and Fidelity sighed. She touched his arm.

"I'm sorry,
Cade. I don't mean to sound harsh. It's just . . . I haven't been here in a
long time. And sometimes memories, well, they can overwhelm you."

He nodded. "I
know."

But did he
know? What would a boy his age know of love? Fidelity saw how he looked at her
sometimes, how his eyes sometimes gazed upon her, then quickly flicked away.
She knew that Cade found her desirable—he was a boy of eighteen, after all, and
she was a young woman, the only young woman he knew. But love? He would know
nothing of the pain inside her.

They walked for
a long time in silence. The sun dropped lower in the sky. Fidelity knew these
woods well, and she walked with a sure, steady pace.

Finally she saw
it ahead: Old Hollow.

The forest floor sloped
down here into a declivity, perhaps an old crater or dried out pond. A great
oak grew from its center, its roots stretching out like the buttresses of a
wooden cathedral, covering the sunken bowl of earth, twisting and rising and
sinking back into the soil. The oak's trunk was wide as a home, knobby and mossy,
and it soared higher than any other tree in the forest, ending with a great
crown of rustling leaves. Lesser trees grew around Old Hollow, maples and
birches and elms, bending forward as if bowing to their wise elder.

Leaves shook. A head
thrust down from among the oak's branches above.

"'ello!"

The man's body was
still hidden among the leaves; only the head was visible, hanging upside down.
The tree-dweller grinned, revealing two missing teeth. He had a bushy white
beard strewn with leaves, tufted eyebrows, and scraggly long hair. His eyes
were bright blue, warm and mischievous, and crows' feet stretched out from
them, hinting at many years of laughter.

Fidelity couldn't help
but smile. "Hello, Julian."

The man swung down from
the branch and landed in the dirt, and his grin widened. He wore fur pelts and
a necklace of beads.

"Fidelity!" he said,
reaching out his arms. "Give an old man a hug."

She laughed—a laugh of
relief, of some comfort after so much death and pain. She ran toward him and
embraced him. He was a short man, no taller than she was, but stocky. Under his
thick white eyebrows, his eyes gleamed.

"And who's your friend?"
he said, turning to look at Cade.

The boy approached,
looking a little hesitant at the sight of the wild old forester, and reached
out his hand. "My name is Cade. I'm a friend to Fidelity and—"

Julian grabbed Cade's
hand and pulled him into a crushing embrace. "So you're a friend of mine, laddie!"

Seeing Cade blanch,
Julian released the boy, placed his hands on his hips, and laughed.

"Nice to meet you,"
Cade only said, brushing moss off his clothes, looking as awkward as a shy pup
who bumped into a rambunctious hound.

"Julian, is . . . is Roen
here?" Fidelity asked, and she heard the tremble to her voice, and she felt a
heat rise inside her.

The bearded old man
grew somber, and when he looked at her, his eyes softened. "He's out hunting,
lassie. He'll be back by evening. Come inside meanwhile. I've got a pot of
mushroom stew cooking."

Cade frowned. "Come
inside where? I only see a tree, not a house."

Julian bristled and
raised his chin. "This is my house!" He lifted a branch and rapped Cade's
shoulder. "And you'd be wise not to look down upon it." He turned back toward
the great oak, and his voice became wistful. "This tree here is my castle, my
temple, greater than any in the realm. Certainly greater than that garish lump
of glass and crystal in the capital." He snorted and looked back at Cade. "Don't
tell me you worship the Spirit, boy. If you're a man of the Cured Temple, I won't
have you here."

Fidelity stepped
forward and placed a hand on Julian's shoulder. "Cade's one of us, Julian. He's
Vir Requis."

Julian's eyes widened,
and his jaw fell open. "Well, I'll be! A fellow Vir Requis. Can you do this,
boy?"

The old man took a few
steps back and began to shift. Dry leaves fluttered. Twigs snapped. Wings
creaked, scales hardened, and finally Julian stood as an old silver dragon.

Cade nodded. "I can."
Among the trees, he too shifted, becoming a golden dragon.

The two dragons stared
at each other, then released their magic, returning to human forms. Julian's
eyes sparkled with tears.

"I'll be," the old man
whispered again. "A new one."

He cleared his throat,
blinked furiously, and turned around. He hopped toward the tree, scuttled up
the trunk, and vanished among the branches.

Fidelity and Cade
followed. They climbed over several branches and found a hole leading into the
tree trunk. Fidelity entered first, slid down a little wooden slope, and found
herself within Old Hollow. Cade slid down next, bumping into her.