Read Online A Day of Dragon Blood by Daniel Arenson - Free Book Online
Authors: Daniel Arenson
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dagger slicing his face. Her last words to him echoed.
I will kill them all, Elethor! she had screamed, his blood on her face. I will burn them all with my fire. You will watch! And then you will crawl to me and beg to be mine.
He left the wyvern and entered his throne room. He walked toward the Oak Throne, sat between its twisting roots, and gazed upon his hall. Bayrin came to stand before him, hair draggled and face smeared with mud.
"Am I a good king, Bayrin?" Elethor asked, voice low.
Bayrin raised his eyebrows. "You could give me a castle or two, command a few concubines to warm my bed, and I wouldn't mind a golden Bayrin statue in the city square... but otherwise you're doing fine."
Elethor sighed and looked upon the wide hall, the columns topped with dragon capitals, and the charred birches that creaked outside.
"I sent her into danger, Bay. They burned Silas in the town square. If... if they catch Lyana..."
Elethor's throat constricted. He had loved Solina for so many years, a love of fire, pain, and blinding passion. His love for Lyana was newer and had grown gradually, not a crashing flame, but warm embers that heated slowly. Would his first love kill his second?
Bayrin raised his chin and clenched his fists. "My sister outstubborns mules to pass the time. I'd drag her back in chains, if I had any." He sighed. "She will learn what more she can, and she will return. On the summer solstice our future will unfold: for Requiem, for Tiranor, for Lyana... for us. The war is coming, El. It flares again this moon."
War. Elethor's jaw clenched and icy waves rose inside him. His fingertips trembled. How many more graves will I stand over? How many more families will I watch mourn?
He nodded and rose to his feet. "I'll summon a council of the highborn. I'll fly to Oldnale Manor today. We will speak—the three great houses of our realm—of how to crush this threat."
Bayrin gaped at him, white showing all around his irises. "Fly to Oldnale Manor ? Summon a council? Elethor! Solina is at our doorstep. Call the banners. Lead the Royal Army south—today, now, right after you shave your ridiculous beard. We meet Solina over the shore. We kick her lovely golden backside back into the desert."
"No, Bay." Elethor shook his head. "I will not lead Requiem to a rushed war—not without first discussing it with the highborn."
"What's to discuss?" Bayrin raised his hands to the heavens. "Stars above, Elethor, let's fly south now. We'll fly there together. You, me, and these three thousand toddlers you've trained into an army. It's war again and I'm not missing out on the fun."
Elethor laughed mirthlessly and traced the scar splitting his face, the scar Solina had drawn. "This is what the fun of war gave me." He sighed. "Bay, summer solstice is twelve days from today, isn't it? The flight south will take six days, seven if we're slow. That gives us some time." He bitterly twisted his jaw. "You know what Lord Yarin Oldnale thinks of me, what many of the people think too; that I'm but a youth, inexperienced and irrational. I will not fly to war on a whim." He raised his hand to silence Bayrin, who had begun to protest. "War is here, Bay, I know that. And we will fight this war. But we will meet first—House Aeternum, House Eleison, and House Oldnale from the eastern farms—like the great councils my father would hold." He clasped Bayrin's shoulder. "Stay here, Bay. Stay with Mori. I will summon the farmlords and be back here in four days."
Bayrin's face changed like the sea in sunrise. "Mori," he whispered. "Damn it, El, I missed her." He ran a hand through his hair, sniffed at his clothes, and cleared his throat. "How do I look?"
"Slightly worse than the dead wyvern."
"Good enough!" He turned to leave, then looked back and sighed. "If I weren't eager to see your sister, I'd drag you south right now. You got lucky. Fly fast, El. Stars, you better be back here on time. Twelve days, my friend. Twelve days until twenty
I will kill them all, Elethor! she had screamed, his blood on her face. I will burn them all with my fire. You will watch! And then you will crawl to me and beg to be mine.
He left the wyvern and entered his throne room. He walked toward the Oak Throne, sat between its twisting roots, and gazed upon his hall. Bayrin came to stand before him, hair draggled and face smeared with mud.
"Am I a good king, Bayrin?" Elethor asked, voice low.
Bayrin raised his eyebrows. "You could give me a castle or two, command a few concubines to warm my bed, and I wouldn't mind a golden Bayrin statue in the city square... but otherwise you're doing fine."
Elethor sighed and looked upon the wide hall, the columns topped with dragon capitals, and the charred birches that creaked outside.
"I sent her into danger, Bay. They burned Silas in the town square. If... if they catch Lyana..."
Elethor's throat constricted. He had loved Solina for so many years, a love of fire, pain, and blinding passion. His love for Lyana was newer and had grown gradually, not a crashing flame, but warm embers that heated slowly. Would his first love kill his second?
Bayrin raised his chin and clenched his fists. "My sister outstubborns mules to pass the time. I'd drag her back in chains, if I had any." He sighed. "She will learn what more she can, and she will return. On the summer solstice our future will unfold: for Requiem, for Tiranor, for Lyana... for us. The war is coming, El. It flares again this moon."
War. Elethor's jaw clenched and icy waves rose inside him. His fingertips trembled. How many more graves will I stand over? How many more families will I watch mourn?
He nodded and rose to his feet. "I'll summon a council of the highborn. I'll fly to Oldnale Manor today. We will speak—the three great houses of our realm—of how to crush this threat."
Bayrin gaped at him, white showing all around his irises. "Fly to Oldnale Manor ? Summon a council? Elethor! Solina is at our doorstep. Call the banners. Lead the Royal Army south—today, now, right after you shave your ridiculous beard. We meet Solina over the shore. We kick her lovely golden backside back into the desert."
"No, Bay." Elethor shook his head. "I will not lead Requiem to a rushed war—not without first discussing it with the highborn."
"What's to discuss?" Bayrin raised his hands to the heavens. "Stars above, Elethor, let's fly south now. We'll fly there together. You, me, and these three thousand toddlers you've trained into an army. It's war again and I'm not missing out on the fun."
Elethor laughed mirthlessly and traced the scar splitting his face, the scar Solina had drawn. "This is what the fun of war gave me." He sighed. "Bay, summer solstice is twelve days from today, isn't it? The flight south will take six days, seven if we're slow. That gives us some time." He bitterly twisted his jaw. "You know what Lord Yarin Oldnale thinks of me, what many of the people think too; that I'm but a youth, inexperienced and irrational. I will not fly to war on a whim." He raised his hand to silence Bayrin, who had begun to protest. "War is here, Bay, I know that. And we will fight this war. But we will meet first—House Aeternum, House Eleison, and House Oldnale from the eastern farms—like the great councils my father would hold." He clasped Bayrin's shoulder. "Stay here, Bay. Stay with Mori. I will summon the farmlords and be back here in four days."
Bayrin's face changed like the sea in sunrise. "Mori," he whispered. "Damn it, El, I missed her." He ran a hand through his hair, sniffed at his clothes, and cleared his throat. "How do I look?"
"Slightly worse than the dead wyvern."
"Good enough!" He turned to leave, then looked back and sighed. "If I weren't eager to see your sister, I'd drag you south right now. You got lucky. Fly fast, El. Stars, you better be back here on time. Twelve days, my friend. Twelve days until twenty
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