Dragons Reborn (13 page)

Everyone
was staring at him. Cade wanted to vanish underground.

"My
. . . father," he whispered.

Roen
nodded. "Aye, don't remember him much, to be honest. Couldn't tell you
what he looked like. But he was wounded—badly. I remember that much. Burnt and
cut and feverish. And he carried you in his arms, a little babe wrapped in
swaddling clothes. Our two fathers knew each other; they spoke like old
friends." Roen stared into his empty mug as if wishing it were full again.
"For the first time, I learned about High Priestess Beatrix. My father had
only told me that the world outside the forest was dangerous, that bad people
would hunt us for our magic. Your father spoke of Beatrix . . . of his wife. Of
your mother." Roen pulled his hood lower over his face and lowered his
voice. "He spoke of his other children being purified, of Mercy and
Gemini. He spoke of wanting to save his third child . . . to save the babe's
magic. To save your magic, Cade. To raise you in Old Hollow, hidden in the
forest."

"What
. . . what happened?" Cade whispered. "Why didn't he stay?"

Roen's
eyes darkened. "I'm sorry, Cade. His wounds were too grievous. He died
that very night. And you, Cade, well . . . we couldn't care for you. We had no mother's
milk. You'd have died too. My father flew off with you in the darkness, said he'd
find you a home, a new family. Said he knew a pair of old friends, bakers in a
distant town called Favilla, who'd raise you as a son."

"Derin
and Tisha," Cade whispered. "Oh stars. It's all true." His eyes
stung. He looked to his side. "Fidelity . . ."

Her
eyes softened, and she pushed her chair up next to his, and she wrapped her
arms around him. Domi leaped from her seat, rushed forth, and joined the
embrace.

"It's
all right, Cade," Fidelity whispered. "It doesn't matter even if it's
true."

Domi
nodded. "You're still a child of Requiem. That's all that matters."
She touched his cheek and turned his head toward her. "Do you remember how
I first told you about Requiem?"

Cade
nodded. "I remember," he whispered.

Domi's
eyes shone with tears. "It was a dark day. A day of death and mourning.
You grieved for Derin and Tisha, those who raised you. They were your real
family." She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "And we're your
family now. My sister and I. And Roen too. All Vir Requis are family."

With
the two sisters holding him, Cade shut his eyes. It was true. He had always
known it was true, deep down. He had known it since Beatrix had told him, since
he had stared at Mercy's face and seen his own face reflected.

"I
need another drink," he whispered.

"Me
too," Roen grumbled. "More than one."

The tall, bearded woodsman rose to his feet and flagged down a serving
girl. Soon four new mugs of ale stood on the table. For a long time, the
companions drank in silence.

Finally it was Domi, still seated beside Cade, who spoke. She reached
under the table to clasp Cade's hand, and her voice was low.

"Cade was right. The time for books is over. The time to burn is
here. But not burn the Temple. We don't have the strength for that."

"So burn what?" Cade asked.

Domi smiled thinly, green eyes gleaming. "The very source of the
Temple's power. The weapon that lets them steal the magic of Requiem. And I
know where to find it."

"Find what, Domi?" Cade asked.

She squeezed his hand. "Beatrix's fields of tillvine."

 
 
GEMINI

For a long
time, he simply waited.

In
his prison cell, he did not know day from night, minute from hour. There was
nothing but darkness here, screams, the smell of blood, his chains chafing his
ankles. Sometimes a guard brought him a meal, a bowl of gruel thick with lumps
and, more often than not, hairs or bugs or other surprises.

"Mother!"
he called weakly sometimes, slumped against the bars. "Mother! Sister!"

Yet
they never returned. The guards came and went. They had dragged out the burnt
corpses of their friends long ago. Now only the other prisoners remained for
company; he could barely see them from his cell, but he could hear their
screams. He could imagine their broken, shattered bodies. Sometimes he saw the
torturers walking down the corridor, carrying the tools of their trade: pliers,
pinchers, whips, hammers, hooks, blades. Then the screams rose loudest. Then
Gemini huddled at the back of his cell, covering his ears, trembling, his
childhood nightmares come true.

"Let
this be a dream," he prayed, huddled up in the corner. "Please,
Spirit, let this just be another nightmare. Let me wake up back in bed, back in
Domi's arms."

Yet
he never woke. And the screams never died. And Domi never came to him.

Domi
had placed him here.

Domi
had placed these chains around his ankles, shoved him into this cell, left him
to rot.

"You
did this to me!" He leaped to his feet, raising his arms as far as the
chains would allow. "You did this, you filthy weredragon! I'm going to
find you, Domi, and I'm going to break every bone in your body, and I'm going
to toss your torso to the dogs! I—" Tears coursed down his face. "I'm
sorry." He fell to his knees and curled up. "I'm sorry, Domi. I'm
sorry. I love you. Please come back. Please free me."

Yet
she, like his mother and sister, never returned.

He
languished on.

He
lay for a long time, waiting to die. He realized that his mother had been
serious; she would leave him here, not just for hours, not just for days, but
for the rest of his life.

Next
time a guard arrives with a meal,
Gemini thought,
I won't eat. I'd
rather die. In shadows. Alone. Without anyone. That's always been my life, a
life alone. So let me die alone.

He
closed his eyes and thought of Domi, pretending that he held her in his arms,
until he heard the heavy footsteps. He opened his eyes to slits, saw a guard's
boots, and closed his eyes again.

"I'm
not hungry!" Gemini shouted. "I don't want the slop you serve. Get
rid of it."

Keys
jangled, and Gemini squinted to see the barred door creak open. He grimaced.
The guards had always shoved his meals between the bars, not opened the door.

"Go
away!" he shouted, shielding his eyes against the torchlight. "Get
lost. I don't want to eat that filth."

But
the guard's boots thumped across the cell, and metal pieces jangled. Gemini
blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light, and screamed.

The
guard was not bringing him food—but a toolbox of torture.

"No!"
Gemini cried, tears leaping into his eyes. "Spirit, no!"

The
burly, balding man lifted a pliers in one hand, a hammer in the other. He wore
a leather apron splotched with old blood, and more dried blood encrusted his
fingernails and clung to his hairy arms. He spat on Gemini. "High
Priestess's orders. She said to treat you like any other prisoner." The
man snorted. "I bet you'll scream louder than the others, though. Most don't
scream till I get started, and you're screaming already."

The
torturer leaned down to grab Gemini's wrist.

"Wait.
Wait!" Gemini tried to tug back his hand. "Stop. Please."

The
guard ignored him, placed his pliers around Gemini's fingernail, and tugged.

Gemini
screamed.

He
screamed louder than he'd ever screamed.

Across
the dungeon, the other prisoners cackled and howled.

"Please!"
Gemini cried, weeping, shaking.

The
guard snorted. "You think I haven't heard men beg before?"

"Not
me! You haven't heard
me
." Gemini scampered back, chains rattling. "You
haven't heard the son of a High Priestess. I can help you. I can . . . I can
give you wealth! Riches! Women! Ask for it and it's yours."

The
torturer paused. He stared down at Gemini, eyes narrowed. "You're
powerless. Your mother rules the Temple. Your sister will rule after you."
He spat again and backhanded Gemini, knocking him to the ground. "You're
nothing but flesh to break."

Gemini
stared up, tasting blood in his mouth. "I'm second in line to the throne.
Free me . . . and I will kill Mercy Deus, and I will kill High Priestess
Beatrix . . . and once the Temple is mine, you'll have more wealth than you,
your kids, and grandkids would know how to spend." He reached up a shaky,
bloody hand. "Do we have a deal?"

The
torturer grabbed his hand and squeezed so hard Gemini screamed again.

 
 
DOMI

She flew through the night, a
dragon with three riders on her back, feeling like Pyre again, like a beast
trained for war.

Only this time, Domi
flew against her old masters.

The fortress of
Castellum Luna rose ahead in the night, still distant, torches flickering on
its walls. Here was one of Requiem's most ancient fortifications, built in the
days before the great war with Tiranor over a thousand years ago. In the old books
of Requiem, this had been a mere outpost rising from the forest. Today a town
sprawled around the ancient fortress, a few scattered lanterns gleaming among
its clay huts. Farms spread around the town, dark squares in the night: fields
of barley, rye, wheat . . . and the cursed plant Domi would burn.

"Tillvine,"
she whispered. She looked over her shoulder at the others. "Ready?"

They sat on her back:
Cade, Fidelity, Roen, all clad in their burlap cloaks and hoods. Four dragons
would be too visible over the plains, even in the darkness. Domi was the
smallest among them, and with only her flying, no firedrakes had noticed them
yet. Black paint covered her scales; she vanished into the darkness.

Her companions nodded.
One by one, they leaped off her back, silently shifted into dragons, and fanned
out.

As practiced, Cade and
Domi flew close together, gliding down in the sky. She looked at Cade, and he
met her eyes and nodded.

It will be our fire
that blazes down.

Meanwhile, Roen
and Fidelity flew farther out, flanking them. Both bared their fangs and
stretched out their claws, prepared for battle.

And they will
slay any enemy that rises to stop us.

Domi stared ahead
and bared her fangs. She saw the enemy there.

"Firedrakes,"
she grumbled.

Several of the
beasts stood around the field, hulking black lumps in the night. They could
have passed for great bales of hay if not for the fire in their jaws,
flickering lights that reflected against their scales. Several human soldiers
stood here too, patrolling the field, armed with longbows. Domi had flown here
enough times as Pyre to know the defenses.

The four dragons
kept gliding downward, jaws shut, fire hidden, scales painted black, mere
shadows in the starless night. The field grew close, and the fortress loomed
ahead, a great shadow topped with fire. Domi could smell the tillvine already—an
acrid, burning smell.

Domi glanced at
Fidelity, who flew to her right, and at Roen, who flew far to her left. She
blew a single spark from her maw, a mere flicker . . . then swooped.

The others swooped
at her sides.

Air shrieked
around her, and the firedrakes below reared and their eyes blazed.

"Remember
Requiem!" Domi cried, and the other dragons answered her cry. "Remember
Requiem!"

She shot down
toward the field. As the firedrakes burst into flight, screeching madly, Domi blew
her flames.

The jet crashed
down toward the field, and an instant later, Cade sent down his own shrieking
pillar.

A row of tillvine
caught fire.

Arrows flew from
below.

The firedrakes
rose and prepared to blow their flames.

Instants before
the great reptiles could attack, two shadows swooped. Fidelity landed upon one
of the drakes, lashed her claws, and ripped out its throat. Roen shot toward
the other drake, spewing flame. The two dragons, blue and green, rose higher,
then plunged down and showered dragonfire against the soldiers below.

Rows of tillvine
blazed in the field, but most of the plants still grew, and more firedrakes
came flying from the fortress above.

"Again!"
Domi shouted to Cade, then looked toward her sister. "More drakes from the
fort!"

Domi beat her
wings, rose higher, and spun in the air. She dived and spewed more fire,
igniting another row of tillvine plants. Cade glided at her side, his fire
raining, and more tillvine burned.

"Agai—"
she began to shout when two firedrakes slammed against her.

Domi cried out in pain.
Their claws tore at her scales. One's jaws closed around her shoulder, biting
deep. Paladins rode on their backs, thrusting lances. Domi screamed, blasting
fire every which way, and dipped in the sky.

A roar rolled down.

A blue dragon swooped
and crashed into the firedrakes, a mad beast, jaws snapping, claws digging into
firedrake flesh. Fire blazed as Fidelity fought, ripping the drakes off Domi.

"Fly, sister!"
the blue beast shouted.

Domi gasped, bleeding
and burnt, but managed to soar and dive. She blew more fire onto the field.
Another row of tillvine burned.

"Slay them!"
a voice sounded in the town. "Archers, fire!"

Domi looked up and her
heart sank. Archers were racing out from the town. They tugged back bowstrings,
and flaming arrows flew through the night.

"Roen, Fidelity!"
Domi shouted and soared.

She was too slow.

An arrow slammed into
her tail, and another shot through her wing. Domi yowled. These were longbows,
their arrows thick and deadly, capable of punching through breastplates and
dragon scales.

Domi gritted her
teeth and dived to burn another row of tillvine.

She rained down
her fire, then bellowed as an arrow scraped across her back. Another glanced
off her horn.