Dragons Lost (30 page)

He left her standing in
the grass. He walked onward toward the mill. When he turned back, he saw her
standing in place. The wind rustled the grass around her, and she watched him,
not turning away, still as a statue. This was the first time in months, Cade
realized, that he would be apart from her.

He walked onward toward
the paper mill. A great wooden wheel spun in the stream, tall as a man, turning
gears hidden inside the factory. Cade could hear those gears clanking as
machines of wood, rope, and metal pounded wood pulp into paper. Chimneys
blasted out smoke, and the smell filled Cade's nostrils.

He knocked on the door.
"Hilda, you in there?"

When he peered through
the window, he saw the mill operating as usual inside: gears churned, wheels
turned, and beams of wood moved up and down like birds dipping to drink. Soggy
wood pulp filled stone troughs. Workers were busy handling the machinery,
pounding out sheets of paper and hanging them to dry.

He saw no paladins. No
soldiers.

With a deep breath,
Cade opened the door and stepped into the mill.

"Hilda!" He spotted the
old woman standing by a towering wooden wheel at the back. "Are you all right?
I'm here to buy some paper for our local monastery. We're looking to write more
prayer scrolls." It was an old excuse he knew nobody believed.

Hilda looked up at him,
and a tear trailed down her cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Cade froze.

He sucked in breath and
took a step back toward the door.

The door slammed shut behind
him, and Cade spun around to see two soldiers standing there, armed with
crossbows.

When he spun
back toward Hilda, he saw Lady Mercy emerge from behind the wheel. She wore her
white plate armor, and she too held a loaded crossbow.

"Don't shift." The
paladin smiled thinly. "Don't resist. This doesn't have to hurt."

Cade snarled and
summoned his magic.

He began to shift.
Scales clattered across him. His wings burst out from his back, slamming
against the machinery. Claws sprouted from his fingers and toes, digging into
the floor, and he sucked in air, prepared to blow dragonfire.

Mercy fired her
crossbow.

The bolt slammed into
Cade's chest, cracking through his thickening scales, and he bellowed. Two jabs
of searing, impossible pain slammed into his back—quarrels from the crossbows
behind him—and Cade pitched forward. The pain drove through him, twisting,
tugging at his muscles, squeezing his ribs.

The bolts are
covered in ilbane,
he realized.

Desperately clinging to
his magic, he tried to reach toward Mercy, to lash his claws while he still had
them.

Smiling thinly, Mercy loaded
and fired her crossbow again. The bolt slammed into Cade's neck.

White, burning,
all-consuming pain filled him, driving down his throat, into his belly, through
his skull.

He was barely aware of
losing his magic. He slammed onto the floor, a boy again, his muscles too stiff
to move.

"Chain him!" said
Mercy.

More soldiers emerged
from behind the machinery, bearing chains. As they tugged Cade's limbs, he
cried out in pain; his muscles felt like splintering wood. He couldn't move,
could barely breathe. The poison coursed through him. The soldiers slammed the
manacles around his wrists and ankles, then slung chains around his torso.

Smiling thinly, Mercy
stepped toward him.

"It hurts, doesn't it,
sweet boy?" She knelt and stroked his sweaty brow. "The poison burns. The pure
ilbane that burns all weredragons. You thought you could escape me, didn't you?
I'm taking you to see your sister now, Cade. I've adopted Eliana as my
daughter. She will watch as I hang you from the tallest spire of the Temple and
the crows eat your flesh."

Cade managed to stare
at her, and through a clenched jaw, he hissed, "And you will burn when Requiem
rises."

Mercy straightened and drove
her fist forward.

Pain exploded across
Cade's head.

He saw no more.

 
 
FIDELITY

Two firedrakes burst into flight
from behind the paper mill. Ten more rose from the city walls a hundred yards farther
north, blasting streams of fire.

Fidelity stood in the
field, staring with wide eyes.

"Cade," she whispered.

Her fingers trembled.
Her breath quickened. Her heart beat against her ribs as if trying to escape
her body. The firedrakes rose higher, screeching, blasting out flame. Paladins
rode on their backs, angelic figures all in white. Mercy herself rode one—a
beefy copper beast—her banner streaming in the wind. And in the copper
firedrake's claws Fidelity saw him: Cade, chained, beaten, bleeding,
unconscious if not dead.

"Cade . . ."

Fidelity summoned her
magic and began to shift.

No!
a voice
cried in her head.
No, Fidelity, you cannot!

She released her magic
and stood panting. The dozen firedrakes rose higher, then turned to fly west—toward
the capital—taking Cade with them.

Fidelity's knees shook.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to chase them. Yet she had promised him! She
had promised to stay behind if he fell, to keep printing the books, to keep
fighting for Requiem. If she chased him, she too would be captured or killed.
Yet how could she just stand here, just let them take him?

She was panting now.
Cold sweat drenched her, and her eyes stung. She could barely breathe. She had
to calm herself. She had to think. Think!

She sucked in breath.

The firedrakes were
flying farther away, Cade in their grip.

Think, Fidelity.

If she charged
recklessly into battle now, a single dragon against a dozen firedrakes and
riders, she would die. She knew that. She could only become a small dragon,
smaller than these firedrakes; she could hope to perhaps best one of the beasts
in battle, maybe two, not a full dozen.

Yet if she simply
remained here, doing nothing, Cade would die. Perhaps he was dead already; that
would be a blessing, she knew. If Cade still lived, Fidelity knew what his fate
would be. She had been fighting for Requiem long enough to know. A couple of years
ago, the Cured Temple had captured another Vir Requis, a man Fidelity had never
even met. But she had heard the tales of his fate. The Cured Temple had the man
whipped in the Square of the Spirit before a crowd of thousands, then proceeded
to cut off his manhood, and finally had him drawn and quartered, letting mules
rip off his limbs. The remains were hung upon the walls of Nova Vita, a piece
at each gate, a warning to any who chose not to purify their babes.

I can't just stay
here as that happens to Cade,
Fidelity thought, tears in her eyes.
Yet
if I chase him, if they catch me, the same will happen to me.

As she hesitated, the
firedrakes were moving farther away, becoming but specks on the horizon.
Fidelity fell to her knees, struggling for each breath.

"I will not abandon
you, Cade," she whispered. She raised her chin and squared her jaw. "I will not
abandon you to torture and death. I promise you. I promise."

She knew what to do.
She would seek Julian and Roen. She would have to convince them to finally leave
Old Hollow, to finally join her fight.

"And then we will come
for you, Cade," she said, staring as the firedrakes vanished across the
horizon. "We will come to the city of Nova Vita, and we will stand before the
Cured Temple as they bring you out to death." Fidelity clenched her fists. "And
then the Temple will see three dragons of Requiem, blowing fire and flying in
all their glory."

She turned around. She
shifted. She rose as a blue dragon and flew south—to the forest, to Old Hollow,
to the only two who could help her.

 
 
DOMI

She stood at the window, wrapped in
a sheet, as the firedrakes flew into the city with Cade in their claws.

Domi knew it was him.
Even standing here, far from them, she knew. Cold sweat trickled down her back,
and her knees trembled. A dozen firedrakes were flying outside above the city,
crying to the sky, and upon them rode paladins in splendor, their white armor
filigreed and jeweled. Mercy herself rode there, and her firedrake clutched
him. Cade was bruised, chained, his face bloody, but even from this distance
Domi recognized him.

"Cade," she whispered,
her breath quickening. "Oh stars, Cade."

A voice rose behind
her, slurred with sleep. "Domi . . . Domi, sweetness, close the curtains. Come
back to bed."

The firedrakes glided
down outside, moving away from her view. They would be heading to their
dungeon, leaving Cade to the mercy of the torturers. Domi's eyes stung.

Oh stars, it has to
be him. He didn't listen to me. He tried to fight and they caught him.
She
trembled.
What do I do?

"Domi?"

She spun around, her
breath shaky. Gemini lay in his bed—
their
bed now—eyes opened to slits.
He reached an arm out toward her, but it thumped down a second later, and he
closed his eyes.

"Come to bed, Domi," he
mumbled. "Let's cuddle."

She spun back toward
the window. The firedrakes were gone.

"I have to save him,"
she whispered. Her eyes stung. She remembered the day she had met Cade, how he
had stood over the graves of his parents, how she had embraced him, whispered "Requiem"
into his ear. She could not let him die here. Could not let one of the last Vir
Requis perish before a crowd screaming for blood.

Domi forced herself to
take a deep, shuddering breath and walked toward the bed. She leaned over
Gemini and kissed his lips.

"Sleep, my sweetness,"
she whispered. She grabbed a pillow and placed it within his arms; he embraced
it as if holding her. "Sleep well."

His breathing deepened.
Domi raised her chin, swallowed the lump in her throat, and grabbed her white
livery. She slipped on the garment, then sneaked out of the bedchamber.

She tiptoed through the
Temple. It was still early morning, but already hundreds of people were
bustling about. Two paladins raced down a hall, their armor clanking. Priests
knelt in a chamber, praying to a marble statue of Druid Auberon, the ancient
founder of the Cured. Servants rushed from here to there, some bearing plates
of breakfast for their lords, others hurrying back and forth with laundry,
dishes, and chamber pots to wash. Five soldiers in chainmail—Domi had never
seen lowborn soldiers inside the Temple—ran by her. All across the Temple, she
heard more footsteps, muffled conversations, and prayer. Whenever she passed by
a window, Domi saw more signs of activity: hundreds of firedrakes perched upon
roofs or patrolled the skies, and thousands of soldiers gathered along the
streets and in the Square of the Spirit.

Soon the bells of victory
will clang,
Domi thought as she rushed down a staircase.
Soon the news
will spread across Nova Vita that Cade Baker, a weredragon, is here.

She shuddered. Two
years ago, Domi had lived here in this city, a wild firedrake, when the last
Vir Requis had been captured. She had stood outside the Temple, gazing over the
square with her dragon eyes, as the priests had tortured the man. The sight of
blood and gore, the screams, the stench of death, and the cheering of the crowd
still filled Domi's nightmares.

I cannot let this
happen to Cade.
Her eyes stung. The guilt of watching one Vir Requis die
still hung across her shoulders; she would not add to it.

"I'm going to save you,
Cade," she whispered.

Where would they take
him?

Of course,
she
thought.

To the Temple dungeon!
She had heard Gemini speak of it during his nightmares, pleading in his sleep,
desperate to escape. The paladins would take Cade there first, she surmised.
They wouldn't execute him right away, not until they spread the word, until they
gathered a crowd.

I have time. I must
simply find the dungeon. I can still save him.

A soldier raced down
the corridor, clanking in his chainmail. Domi came to stand before him,
blocking his passage.

"Wait!" she said.

The man halted, cursing,
and wiped sweat off his brow. "Out of my way, girl."

Domi allowed her lip to
quiver, and she breathed deeply, chest heaving. "I . . . I was told to hasten
to the dungeon! I . . . I'm new here, and I don't know where that is, and I'm
scared." She let a tear trail down her cheek; with everything happening, it
wasn't difficult to conjure.

The soldier grunted. "Bloody
Abyss! Walk down the hall, take two lefts, and down the stairs—four stories
down, and keep to the south wing. And get out of people's way! There's something
up." He leaned closer to her. "A weredragon's captured, I hear. Maybe several.
Every soldier in the city is summoned to duty."

He ran on, leaving her
in the corridor. Domi squared her shoulders and hurried on her way, following
his instructions. She got lost twice, had to backtrack, but eventually found
herself moving under ground level. There were no windows here, and lanterns
hung on the walls, lighting her way. Here too activity bustled. Guards raced
back and forth. A paladin marched down a corridor, barking orders to several
men-at-arms. A priest hurried forth, and a healer rushed by Domi, carrying
bloody rags.

Cade's blood,
Domi thought, belly twisting. It chilled her, but she hoped it was a good sign.
Perhaps fresh blood meant that Cade was still alive, that they were bandaging
his wounds, healing him so he could be tortured to death later. Domi just had
to make sure she rescued him before "later."

She sucked in air and
squared her jaw. There was only one way she could save Cade now.

I'll have to become
the dragon. I'll have to blow my fire. I'll have to burn every last guard, grab
the damn boy, and fly.