Dragons Rising (7 page)

"I'll
go look for some firewood," Korvin said. "Maybe we can keep
warm until night, even roast a few turnips. Those oaks on the hills
might have dropped some branches, and--"

A
distant shriek rose on the wind. Korvin frowned and Fidelity
stiffened and grabbed the hilt of her sword. The shriek sounded
again, and another cry joined it, still distant but growing closer.

"Vir
Requis?" Fidelity whispered. "Firedrakes?"

Korvin
cocked his head. "No. The cries are . . . hollow." He
shivered. "Too high-pitched. They grate on my bones like claws
on stone."

He
stood up and peered through a crumbling, arched window in an old
wall. Two specks of light were flying in the distance, growing
larger--not the orange light of fire but a pale, eerie light the
color of corpses. The cries rolled forth, unearthly, echoing like
falling water in deep stone chambers.

"What
are they?" Fidelity whispered, shivering. "Oh, stars, it's
so cold."

Korvin
nodded, shivering too. Icy tendrils creaked across the stone walls,
sending icicles down from the window's arch. Frost floated in their
breath and crawled across their cloaks like spreading leprosy. The
cold invaded Korvin's bones, burrowing through the marrow, a deep
cold that should not exist this far south, not exist anywhere in the
world.

"I
don't know." His teeth chattered. "But they're not
something we've seen before."

The
creatures kept flying closer, making a beeline toward the ruins.
There were two of them, glowing with sickly light. Korvin could make
out pale wings, ribcages, long claws, frost. Everywhere coldness.
Winter. Death. They reeked of death, of rotted meat packed in ice. Of
frozen corpses. Of worms. Of mold and soil under frost. Their cries
rose again and again, ghostly, seeking him, calling to him, invading
his ears like living beings of sound.

Fidelity
grimaced and covered her ears. She knelt behind the wall, shivering,
teeth chattering. "Stars, they stink."

Korvin
knelt beside her. He pulled his cloak over them both, hoping the
frosted cloth would make them look like nothing but a mound of snow.

"Keep
quiet," he whispered. "Keep still. Let's let them fly by,
whatever they are. Let them--" He grimaced, unable to say more.
The ground beneath him froze, the ice gripping at him, invading his
body, his lungs. The ghostly shrieks pounded his ears, and the stench
of rot filled his nostrils and churned his stomach. Fidelity grimaced
at his side.

"They're
getting closer," she whispered.

The
cries were louder now, and wings creaked above. Blasts of air pounded
their cloak, nearly tearing it off. A screech rose, followed by the
sound of crashing stones. The ruins shook. The wings thudded closer,
and more air blasted their cloak, lifting its edge, revealing the
sky.

Korvin
stared above and lost his breath.

Claws
streamed over him. Light glowed within a ribcage. The segments of a
tail, all its flesh removed, snaked above like a string of bone
beads. The creature dived past him, and a blanket of its smell wafted
down. Maggots rained and pattered against the cloak. The cries rose
louder, and the creature seemed to turn in the sky.

"They
saw us!" Fidelity whispered.

The
cloak billowed madly. Korvin glanced from beneath it, saw the two
creatures wheeling in the sky, then come swooping toward them.

"Fly!"
Korvin shouted. He tossed off the cloak and leaped onto the wall.
"Shift, Fidelity, and fly!"

She
ran forward, placing more distance between them, and shifted into a
blue dragon. She soared, blasting fire. Korvin summoned his own
magic, beat his wings, and rose into the sky as a gray dragon, flames
gathering in his maw.

The
creatures ahead screamed madly, the sound of butchered animals, and
charged toward them.

Bonedrakes.

Korvin's belly roiled in disgust. He had read of such creatures in
his old books. Before him flew not living beings but the animated
bones of firedrakes. Their fangs and claws gleamed in the sunlight.
Balls of sickly light pulsed within their ribcages like hearts, and
shards of the same white light burned in their eye sockets. Shreds of
flesh stretched between the bones of their wings, riddled with holes.
Rotted saddles still rose on their backs, fused with the bones, and
on them rode the skeletons of paladins, their armor rusty, their
lances chipped.
Korvin had only a second to contemplate them.
Before the bonedrakes could reach them, Fidelity blasted forth her
dragonfire. An instant later, Korvin added his flames to hers. The
flaming streams wove together, shrieking and spinning, and slammed
into the flying dragon skeletons.

The
bonedrakes roared, a torn sound, as the flames washed over them.

The
skeletons emerged from the inferno and slammed against the two
dragons, biting and clawing.

Korvin
howled. Fangs pierced his scales as easily as a blade through hot
butter. Those fangs were either blazing hot or impossibly cold.
Korvin could not decide, but they stung with agony, tearing at him,
shedding his blood. At his side, Fidelity screamed too, beating her
wings madly as the second bonedrake clawed at her.

Korvin
swiped his claws. They clattered against the skeletal firedrake,
scraping the bones, finding no flesh to cut. He growled, smashing at
the jaws that bit him, slamming into the bones again and again, but
there was nothing to wound, nothing to cut. He fell from the sky and
crashed against the ruins. Bricks tumbled and Korvin roared, and
still the jaws clutched him, freezing him. Korvin's wings beat
uselessly, scattering snow, and his claws reached out and grabbed a
fallen brick.

He
swung the brick, slamming it into the bonedrake's skull. The bone
cracked, a tooth broke, and the jaws released him.

Korvin
beat his wings and soared, lashing his tail against the creature,
knocking it down.

"Fidelity!"
he cried.

She
fought above him, crying out, caught in a creature's claws. She beat
her wings and whipped her tail, but she could not free herself, and
her teeth and claws only clattered uselessly against bones. The
skeleton rider on the bonedrake's back hefted its rusty lance,
prepared to thrust the weapon.

Korvin
growled. Hovering several feet above the ground, he reached down and
grabbed a fallen chunk of a limestone column. He beat his wings
mightily, rising higher in the air, roaring with the effort. He could
barely keep hold of the heavy segment of column, barely rise, but
fear for his daughter drove him onward. He ascended to hover by the
skeletal firedrake attacking Fidelity, howled in rage, and swung the
chunk of column.

The
heavy, rounded limestone drove into the creature's ribs with the
force of a god's war hammer. The bones snapped. Shattered ribs flew
through the sky. The bonedrake yowled and crumbled, freeing Fidelity.
She flew backward, then charged forth, screaming, slamming against
it, shattering more ribs.

Korvin
rose higher, still clutching the broken column, until he flew above
the creature.

He
slammed the column down.

The
chunk of limestone, larger than a man, drove against the skeletal
rider, shattering it into fragments, then crashed through the bony
dragon's spine. The creature snapped in two, beat its wings
pathetically, and then its glowing innards burst like an exploding
sun. Light streamed out, searing hot, melting snow. The bonedrake
slammed down in a rain of lifeless bones.

The
second bonedrake, its skull cracked, still thrashed upon the ruins
below. It beat its wings and began to soar.

Korvin
and Fidelity spewed down their dragonfire together.

It
was a blaze so hot it melted snow, ice, and the rocks beneath them.
It bleached the skeleton's bones, seared off the last bits of flesh
and clinging soil, melted the dead paladin's armor. The creature
screamed and crashed back down onto the ruins.

Korvin
and Fidelity kept blowing down their fire. The bonedrake screeched,
unable to rise. Its bones thinned, withered, crumbled, but still it
cried out, beating its wings, struggling to rise. Its jaws opened in
the inferno, and it blasted out a jet of white, searing light.

The
beam crashed against Korvin with the heat and rage of shattering
stars.

He
couldn't even scream.

His
fire died. His chest blazed. His breath died. He tumbled backward in
the sky, emerging from the roaring, rising column of light the
creature below still blasted skyward.

Fidelity
screamed and swooped. She landed on the ruins and swiped her tail,
shattering the bonedrake's ribs. Korvin gasped for breath, head
spinning, not sure if he was alive or dead. He crashed into the snow.
The bonedrake's light still blazed, flowing from the bonedrake's
glowing heart, along its spine, and finally blasting out of its jaws.
It turned its head toward Fidelity, and the light hit her.

The
blue dragon cried out, stumbled backward, and crashed into a column.
The limestone pillar shattered and fell.

Korvin
coughed, barely able to rise, to breathe.

His
magic vanished.

He
crawled forward in human form.

The
bonedrake still lay on the ground, its bones weakened by the fire,
several of its ribs snapped, but still it blasted its light against
Fidelity, pinning her against the ruins, burning her. The creature's
heart blazed like a forge fire as it spewed out its beam.

The
ball of light keeps it alive.

Korvin
rose to his feet, drew his sword, and plunged the blade between the
bonedrake's ribs and into the glowing sphere in its chest.

The
world seemed to drown in light, in sound, in pale searing fleeing
life.

Korvin's
blade withered and disintegrated.

The
light bathed him.

He
fell to the ground, not feeling the pain, and stared as strands of
luminescence coiled upward, rising like smoke, then fading, leaving
only a ringing in his ears, only echoes.

For
a long time--silence. Snow fell. A crow cawed in the distance.

"Fidelity,"
Korvin groaned. He pushed himself to his feet and stumbled forward,
crunching shattered bones beneath his boots.

She
lay against the stub of a shattered column, back in human form. She
clutched her chest where the beam had torn through her cloak, tunic,
and steel breastplate, finally burning her skin. She stared up at
him, wincing.

"Bonedrakes,"
she whispered. "Father, they were bonedrakes. Like from the old
books."

He
knelt before her and examined her wound. He grimaced. Her skin was
red and raw. If not for her armor absorbing most of the blow, that
beam would have eaten right through her.

"Nothing
but dead bones now," he said, rummaging through his pack. He had
some ointment in there somewhere; he was sure of it.

"They
were always only dead bones," Fidelity whispered. "But that
light . . . that light let them fly, let them attack us. When it
burned me, I saw . . ." She winced, and tears beaded in her
eyes. "Oh Father, I saw King's Column falling. I saw dragons
dying. I saw . . . I saw a cruel face, made of living light, mocking
me, hurting me."

"It
won't hurt you anymore." He pulled her into his arms. "You're
safe now, daughter."

Fidelity
shook her head. "We're not safe here. Maybe not anywhere."
She looked at him with huge, haunted eyes. "I don't want to stay
in this place. We have to keep moving. Now. We have to go."

She
pushed herself to her feet and began to walk. He followed. They kept
traveling through the snow, leaving the ruins behind, and did not
look back once. Ahead spread leagues of shadows and storm.

 
 
GEMINI

He
carried her through the killing field, ash raining and corpses
spreading around him. The husks of ships, the remains of men, and the
shattered pride of a nation lay strewn across the coast, but he kept
staring ahead, kept walking, holding Domi in his arms.

"Gemini,"
she mumbled, eyelids fluttering, struggling to open her eyes.

"I'm
here, Domi," he whispered. "You're safe now. I'm here. I
vowed to always protect you, do you remember? I'm here."

He
had bandaged the wound on her leg, and already the bandage was soaked
red. She was so pale, so frail, a fragile lily trodden underfoot,
barely clinging to life. Her armor had shattered. Her clothes had
torn. The ashes of those burnt and fallen stained her skin, and sand
and blood caked her hair. But her eyes were the same green. She was
the same Domi he had first seen on the beach of a different nation,
her true form revealed to him. The same Domi he had taken into his
home, into his bed, into his heart. The same Domi who had betrayed
him, locked him in the dungeon, used him to fight her war. The same
Domi he loved, would always love.

"I'm
going to look after you, Domi." His voice was choked. "Like
I promised."

"Gemini,
the . . . the children," she whispered, eyes damp. "I have
to save them. Where are the children?"

"Hush
now, Domi. Don't try to speak."

He
carried her away from the sea and onto the hills. In the east spread
a field of death, once the city of Hakan Teer. It was now a sprawling
graveyard, a city of the fallen. Burnt scraps of tent flew in the
wind. The charred skeletons of children raised little hands like
twigs from the ash. The two great stallions, Eras and Elamar, still
soared above the coast hundreds of feet tall, but the idols that had
once guarded a great nation now stood vigil over the dead. Vultures
flew above, dipping down to feast upon the charred flesh. And above
the vultures . . .

"Firedrakes,"
Gemini muttered. "Paladins on their backs. Worse than carrion
crows."